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Caroline laughed and shook her head. “Yes but you're completely insane. Now, feed me so I can go home and soak. Is there a chair? I don't want to sit on the floor but I'm tempted.”
“No chairs in the kitchen,” he said apologetically.
He watched as she boosted herself up onto a stainless steel counter. “I'm breaking all kinds of health codes. I know.”
“Just don't put your feet on my butcher block and we're good,” he advised, his lips twitching.
Chapter Two
Caroline Lundquist slid herself onto the counter and let out a sigh of relief as the throbbing pain in her feet began to subside. She watched Magnus as he moved efficiently around the kitchen. Dammit. Why was he being so charming now? It would have been so much easier to write him off if he had just continued being an asshole.
She couldn't remember the last time anyone had bothered to make her food. Even if it was just reheating it. It was actually pretty sweet of him. The few times she'd seen him she had suspected he was built, but this was the first time she'd seen him without his chef's jacket on. Holy hell. Between the shaggy dark hair, the dark brooding eyes, and that body, it was a wonder that women didn't fall at his feet.
His skin was a creamy ivory, with the exception of the rough stubble that was beginning to grow in on his face. That proper British accent seeped through every so often and it was an absolute killer. When he'd been joking earlier, he'd asked if she found him more attractive than Jamie Oliver. Hell yes. Magnus Corbett was beautiful.
At that moment he spun around, two plates in hand. She caught sight of the sleeve tattoo underneath the cuff of his shirt and gestured at it, saying, “The colors are really vibrant against your skin.”
He set the plates down, then tugged the sleeve of his shirt up and said, “Yeah. I wanted something bright.”
“I think I'd be too much of a wuss to do the inside of my arm. I have three and they all hurt like a son of a bitch.”
“Really? You don't strike me as the type.”
“I had pink hair before I worked at the casino,” she said in response. She watched as his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“No kidding?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“No kidding,” she confirmed. She pulled at the collar, displaying the pink and black stars on her collarbone.
Magnus grinned and pulled up his pant leg, showing off the whisk tattoo he had on his calf.
She unbuckled the cuff bracelet on her wrist and showed him the small tree she had there. She was startled when he took her hand and turned it toward the light.
“The detailing is amazing on that. You can even see the veins in some of the leaves. That's awesome for being so small,” he commented. Then he released her hand and pulled up his shirt to show her a phoenix that he had on his ribs.
She tried her hardest not to stare at his abs. Jesus. He was chiseled. Instead she focused on the thought of the needle tattooing over pure muscle and bone. “I bet that hurt like a bitch,” she said, wincing as she put her bracelet back on.
“By the end, I was ready to cry like a baby,” he agreed. “Where's your third? You said three.”
Caroline shook her head. Laughing, she said, “There's no way you're seeing my third.”
His eyebrows raised. Then he chewed on his lower lip and appraised her. Finally he asked, “What am I missing out on, then? At least tell me that?”
“Three birds in mid-flight, small, completely black.” Then, anticipating his next question, she pointed to the slope of her breast.
He frowned and eventually said, “That's a shame.”
“What? That I have a tattoo on my boob?”
“No. Not that,” he assured her, grinning. A moment later he admitted, “It's a shame I can't see it.”
“Oh stop,” she scolded, laughing.
“I'm a man, Caroline. It's my biological imperative, I'm afraid,” he informed her, a smirk pulling at his lips.
Holy shit. He was totally flirting with her.
Caroline gave him a mock frown and said, “Gee, and I thought my left breast was so special. Can you pass me a fork, please?”
