Page 60 of A Chef's Kiss for Christmas

“Sorry,” she said, backing out of the bedroom.

“It’s fine. You’re welcome to look around. Did I make the bed this morning?”

“Yes. It’s all very neat. It’s a really nice place.”

“Thanks.” He made for the stove. “You left dinner unattended.”

“I switched it off. I’m sure it’s fine.” She grimaced. “I hope so anyway.”

“I was only winding you up about burning it,” he said while filling the bowls.

Anna sat back at the table. “Was Edie okay with eating alone?”

“Yeah. It just took a while to get away because she felt the need to give me a lecture on safe sex.”

The way he deadpanned the words made Anna laugh loudly. “She did not!”

“No.” He put a steaming bowl of stew in front of Anna. “She didn’t. But she had a few questions about my visitor.”

“What was she asking?” Anna dragged her spoon through the stew, smiling at the thought of Warren having to answer questions about her.

He sat opposite her and took a mouthful of his stew before answering. “She wanted to know if you’re my girlfriend.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her you were just my friend, but sometimes you like to pretend you’re my girlfriend.”

Anna shook her head when she caught the mischievoustwinkle in his eyes. “Edie’s right about you and your teasing. You didn’t really say that did you?”

“No. I said you’re just my friend, but she didn’t seem to believe me.”

“I take it you don’t often bring women back here?” Anna asked, hoping she sounded casual.

“All the time. But I usually sneak them in to avoid getting lectures from Edie.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Are you going to say anything serious this evening?”

He stared into his stew. “Okay, fine. I don’t bring a lot of women back here.”

The ensuing silence was uncomfortable. Mostly because she realised she hadn’t been at all subtle in delving into his love life. Since she was probably already bright red, there didn’t seem to be any reason not to blunder on.

“Have you been in a relationship since you moved here?”

He shook his head. “Nothing serious. A few dates here and there, but I’ve been focused on my job.”

“You work really hard,” she remarked, then blew on a spoonful of piping-hot stew.

“It’s easy to work hard when you do something you love.”

“I guess there’s also a bit of pressure now you have a Michelin star in your sights.”

Her words had been jokey, but she didn’t miss the way Warren’s shoulders bunched up as he became suddenly fascinated by his stew.

“Sorry,” she said, a whisper of panic rolling through her that she’d said the wrong thing.

“It’s fine.” He gave a quick shake of his head and seemed to relax again.

“So youdofeel some pressure over that?” she asked quietly.