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English history, she had to wonder if he might be…No that was silly. He couldn’t be royalty. She knew enough about the current monarchy to know he wasn’t related to Prince William or Prince Harry. Was he titled? A lord? If so, what was he doing studying at Cambridge? It wasn’t unusual for nobles to send their children to study at Oxford or Cambridge, but after they’d gotten their undergraduate degree they didn’t normally pursue graduate studies. Of course, the simpler explanation was that he was simply wearing the ring as a fashion statement. A lot of British movie stars wore signet rings to give themselves an aura of mystery.
    “What’s the symbol on your ring?” she asked, nodding at his hand.
    A shadow flickered across his eyes, and he glanced away before he replied. “A family heirloom.”
    That only created a hundred other questions, but she was prevented from asking anything else because he’d successfully lit the candle.
    Once the wick caught fire and burned steadily, he pocketed the lighter and took the plate from her hands.
    “Now make a wish and blow it out.” Tristan’s eyes locked with hers, and that enchanting blue-green was now bright with fire. They were so close, only the plate separating them, as he watched her, waiting.
    She leaned down, closed her eyes.
    I wish… What did she wish for? A funny thought popped into her head, and she felt strange enough to go with it.
    I wish to have an adventure . She was tired of reading about them between the pages of old books, she wanted to live one. Standing here with Tristan and kissing him tonight was the start, and she wanted more, so much more. With a puff, she blew out the candle, and smoke curled up from the blackened tip of the wick.
    “Happy birthday, Kat,” Tristan whispered.
    “Thank you.” Kat meant for more than just his sweet words. She meant for the cake, for the kiss in the pub, for setting her down a path of living. She flicked her gaze up to his again as she removed the candle from the slice of cake and set it aside on the counter.
    A slow smile curved his lips as he handed back her plate and collected his own. Then he walked over to her bed and sat down.
    Tristan tasted his cake, and she wished he were tasting her. She wanted to be back in his arms, kissing him. And part of her was curious to know what made him so notorious that women were whispering about him in pubs.
    I have to be smart about this . There was no way she could ask him to kiss her again and open that door to more intimacy. Not after he’d made a promise to behave like a gentleman and just eat his cake. But she was torn. Wanting him to stay, wanting more, and being afraid of that desire and where it could lead. After just a short while of being around him, she could see that heartbreaker side to him, the one that would hurt her if she fell for him. He was full of charm, sex appeal, and mystery. There wasn’t a woman in the world who wasn’t intrigued by that, or seduced by that…
    “Mmm…The baker wasn’t lying. This cake is sinful.” He patted the bedside next to him. “Come sit.”
    Kat tried to ignore her confusion about Tristan and the way he made her feel. Hesitant, excited, off balance, fascinated. He was too handsome to be in her room and on her bed. And his simple presence on her bed made her mind go to wonderful places. The images he put in her head with just a thought should have scared her. She wanted to do things with him that she’d never thought about before. Like having him push her flat onto her back and pin her wrists on either side of her head while he kissed her, ruthless, seductive, hard, as she wriggled beneath him, desperate for more. His eyes promised that and so much more as he licked his lips and watched her.
    She was finally nineteen, but he made her want to be twenty-five, worldly and experienced. Being around Tristan, she wanted to be someone interesting. Which brought her back to a question that plagued her: Was he pretending