“This is quite the enterprise you have here, Miss Dearing.”
She preened. “Thank you.”
He lazily sorted through a rack of costumes she kept on hand. “I think you must be very passionate about photography.”
“I am.” There was no question of that. She loved everything about the process—posing the subject, picking props and costumes, developing the image—all of it fascinated her.
Saint’s dark gaze was bright as it met hers. “I am beginning to suspect you are passionate by nature.”
She thrilled—just a little. “I am beginning to think you are a terrible flirt, Mr. Saint.”
“How many times must I beg you to not call me ‘mister’? It annoys me.”
He sounded so put upon she couldn’t help but chuckle. He had no objection to being called a flirt, only to being called mister.
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