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don’t.” A flush crawls up my neck, and I look past him at the wall. “And, um, when you do I don’t always listen.”
    He doesn’t seem surprised to hear this. Maybe my yawning when he talks about Franciscan ideologies is evidence enough of my disinterest.
    “So, what, you want to start listening?” he asks.
    “Maybe,” I reply cautiously. “Working at the historical museum opened up a window for me, you know? I like learning what people did in the past. What they wore, what they ate, how society worked. And I think I’d find your research really interesting if I paid attention to it.”
    For a minute he just stands there looking at me. An irrational fear rises in me that he might want to keep his work and his home life separate, which of course is stupid since the man works from home much of the time.
    “Of course, if you don’t want to…” I hasten to add.
    “Liv. I’d be happy to talk to you about my research.”
    “Even if I don’t always get it?”
    “You don’t have to know Latin and Greek to understand medieval history.” Dean approaches me and brushes a lock of hair away from my shoulder.
    “So maybe we could discuss illuminated manuscripts sometime,” I suggest. “When I went to your lecture at the conference, I thought of about ten questions I wanted to ask you.”
    “So why didn’t you?”
    “I don’t know. They were sort of basic.”
    A smile tugs at his mouth. “Can I tell you something?”
    “Sure.”
    “I have had two great loves in my life.”
    “Um.” My heart stutters a little. “Two?”
    “The first is you,” he says. “You’re the most important. The one I can’t live without.”
    “Who’s the second?”
    “Medieval studies.” He shrugs. “I know it’s not like being a brain surgeon or research scientist. In the grand scheme of things, the relative importance of iconoclastic aesthetics is probably not all that high. But when I went on my first archeological dig and started unearthing objects from hundreds of years ago… it was like I was connecting through time with people who didn’t want to be forgotten. Like I had a duty to them.”
    “And that was it?”
    “That was it. Since then, I never once looked back. Never wanted to.” He brushes his thumb across my mouth. “Same thing happened with you, Mrs. West.”
    Oh, Lord. I’m melting.
    “And I can think of few things I’d like better than to introduce my first love to my second one,” he adds.
    I smile. “We’re sure dorky, aren’t we?”
    “Uh huh. Good thing we have plenty of explosive sex to counteract that.”
    A shiver runs through me. Good thing, indeed.
    “You know, not that you’ll have the time, but you can take a class at King’s, if you ever want to,” Dean says.
    “Any class I want?”
    “Any class you want. Just apply as a non-degree student, and you can officially enroll in courses.”
    “Could I take one of your classes?”
    “Sure. Next time I teach I’ll be offering my intro class on illuminated manuscripts.” He frowns, still rubbing his thumb across my lower lip. “Though don’t expect any special treatment.”
    My lips are starting to tingle. “You mean I won’t be the teacher’s pet?”
    “Oh, you’ll be the teacher’s pet, all right,” he says, “but you’ll have to earn your A.”
    “I’ve always been a good student.”
    “I know.”
    Suddenly it feels like we’re no longer talking about illuminated manuscripts.
    Though I know I won’t have time to really take one of his classes, it’s a fun thought. I imagine myself sitting in a lecture hall, my pen poised over my notepad, listening to my husband as he speaks authoritatively about imagery in the Canterbury Tales , then strides to the board to write down an arcane word or point out a detail on a slide…
    “I’d like that,” I murmur, my mouth moving against the pads of his fingers.
    “So would I.”
    He slides his hand across my cheek and around to the back of my neck. Then he pulls me to