Page 75 of A Chef's Kiss for Christmas

Chapter Thirty-One

The walk altered Warren’s mood dramatically. Reclined in the hot tub with his head resting back and his eyes closed, he looked utterly content. Anna’s breath fogged in front of her face. The contrast of the cold air on her cheeks and the warmth of the water enveloping her body was wonderful.

Darkness had descended on the garden, but the patio was gently lit around the hot tub and adjacent seating area. Gurgling water sloshed up to Anna’s chin when Warren pulled himself up to take a swig from his glass of champagne.

She kept her eyes on him as he set the glass back beside hers on the edge of the hot tub.

“You’re staring,” he said as he sank back into the water.

“When did you get your tattoos?” she asked, eyeing the black ink on his chest.

“When I was at university,” he said, lips twitching to a smile. “It was my way of rebelling.”

“Why did you feel the need to rebel?”

“Because I hated my course. Spending so much of my time doing something I wasn’t particularly interested in was stifling.Getting tattoos felt like blowing off steam. With the bonus that it pissed off my parents. Especially my dad.”

Beneath the water, Anna found his hand and raised his arm to examine the inked skin.

“They don’t mean anything much,” he said, twisting his arm for her to get a better look. “I really liked going into the shop and leafing through books and just choosing whatever I felt like at the moment.”

“There seems to be a nautical theme,” she said, her finger trailing over the old-fashioned sailing ship and then a compass and an anchor. Between them were twining vines and flowers, with a decent amount of natural skin still showing in between. “I like them.”

“Have you ever thought of getting one?”

“Yes.” Her hand fell away from his arm and sank beneath the bubbling water again.

“And?”

“And then I got one.” She fought to keep a straight face at the way his forehead wrinkled.

“Where?”

“Somewhere hidden.”

He lifted his eyebrows as he stared at her. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t seem like someone who’d get a tattoo.”

“Well, maybe you don’t know me very well.”

“Show me it,” he demanded.

“No.” Her cheeks ached with the effort of containing her grin.

“You won’t show me because you don’t have one.”

She shook her head. “I won’t show you because my brother wouldn’t approve of me showing you.”

His slow blink was extremely satisfying. “Earlier you said Lewis wouldn’t care about us sharing a bed.”

“He wouldn’t, because that could be totally innocent.”

“And seeing your tattoo couldn’t?”

“Not really, no.” Calmly, she closed her eyes and sank lower into the water.