Her Singapore Fling (6 page)

‘I know.'

‘And I thought if I could just stop them from shining on the
bed
—'

‘I know.'

‘And I'm horrified that you've gone and ordered blinds you don't even
want
in some misguided attempt to make me feel more comfortable—'

‘I want them,' he said.

‘And now I've gone and made it worse by offering to pay for them, and now you think I'm throwing money in your face, when all I wanted to do was make my life easier without you having to wear the cost. It's like the housekeeper all over again.'

‘Jianne,
stop
. Please.'

Jianne stopped.

‘The room needed blinds. I've ordered them. I swear if it'll prevent another conversation like this one, you can pay for them.'

‘Really?'

‘Really,' he said gruffly. ‘You need to sleep at night. And just for the record I should have said yes to a housekeeper and let you pay for one.'

‘I should have told you how wealthy my family was before we got married,' she said in a very small voice. ‘Just for the record.'

‘We were young,' he said.

‘Insecure,' she added.

‘Out of our depth.'

‘Completely.'

‘It was chaos.'

‘So it was, and you want to know something strange?' she said with a wry smile. ‘It made me a better person. Not at the time. Afterwards. When I finally figured out what had gone wrong. Where
I'd
gone wrong.'

‘I know the feeling,' he muttered.

‘So, here we are,' she said. ‘Better people. Capable of having a completely rational conversation about who's going to pay for the bedroom blinds.'

‘Jianne?'

‘Hmm?'

‘It wasn't that rational.'

 

They ordered Indian takeaway for dinner that night. Tandoori chicken and roti, and raita and they ate in the tiny dojo kitchen, with the door wide open and the breeze coming in, the better to disperse the heat of a sultry day. The food was good and the noise from the streetscape outside provided a cheerful background murmur to offset the sporadic conversation of Jacob and of Po. Jianne didn't have a great deal to say so she listened instead as Po quizzed Jake on yesterday evening's karate match. The question being why the bigger student with the better technique had not been the victor.

‘He's a good technician, one of my best,' Jacob told the boy after a moment's consideration. ‘But he's never known hunger or homelessness, or fought for his life on
the streets. Yesterday he faced a man who
had
known such things. Hunger and terror and viciousness and blood. That's why our good technician lost.'

‘Have you known those things too?' asked Po. ‘Is that why you win?'

‘I haven't known any of those things,' said Jake. ‘Not one. But I know the agony that comes of loss and I've lived in fear of not being able to protect the people in my care. I've known rage so deep that it threatened to consume me. I still have all of those things buried inside me, threatening to get out. When I fight, some of it
does
leak out. That's why I win.'

‘I've known everything,' said Po with a bleakness that tugged at Jianne's heart. The boy wasn't grandstanding and he certainly hadn't made his declaration with any degree of pride.

‘Then I expect you have the makings of a great fighter,' Jacob told Po, and buried in Jacob's words was a quiet acceptance of the boy, no matter what, no questions asked. ‘Or a great human rights advocate if that's what you'd rather be.'

Po nodded, and the clumsy jerky motion quite unlike the boy's usual smooth movements told Jianne exactly how much Jacob's acceptance meant to him. Po from the dojo was quite a boy.

And Jacob Bennett was quite a man.

‘Old man Chin wants me to help him in his restaurant tonight,' said Po, after a while. ‘His nephew's sick so I said I would.'

Jacob nodded. ‘Keep an eye out on your way home. Someone could be watching the dojo. They'll be looking to see what Jianne's doing here.'

Po nodded and a hard, patient look settled in his eyes. Shortly thereafter Po took his leave.

‘What? No comments about a child Po's age being out on his own?' said Jacob.

‘No.' Jianne took her bowl to the sink and, with her back to Jacob, said what was in her heart. ‘What you said to him… The acceptance you showed him… The guidance and support… It was perfect.'

‘He's a good kid,' said Jacob gruffly. ‘And it didn't feel perfect. This kid…Po…his experiences are so far beyond anything I've ever known. I've got no idea what I'm doing. Whether I'm even helping.' He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘God, I need a Scotch.'

She could do that for him. Put her knee to the counter to give her some height and haul down a glass and the Scotch bottle and pour generously as Jacob stood and came towards her. She could feel the heat in him. The tension, tightly coiled as he picked up the glass and drained it in one long swallow.

‘Better?' she queried.

‘Maybe.' He reached for the bottle. ‘Want one?'

‘Yes.'

He poured for her, and he wasn't being frugal. Same glass, which he held out towards her. ‘You want a different glass, princess?'

She took the glass from him and downed the Scotch before handing it back to him with a cool smile. ‘Yes.'

He got another glass from the shelf and half filled both this time, before handing her the fresh one. ‘Better?'

‘Thank you.'

‘I told you I'd mended my ways,' he murmured. ‘I have manners now. Of a sort.'

‘You always did,' she countered. ‘Of a sort. What happened with the building inspector this morning?'

‘He's sending a report. Nothing to worry about.' Jake's gaze rested briefly on her lips. ‘Not in the grand scheme of things, at any rate. In the grand scheme of things your unwanted admirer takes the hint and stops pursuing you, Po becomes a human rights lawyer, and I get my mind and my serenity back. It doesn't seem a lot to ask.' He stared down at her, his eyes darkening. ‘Did you really do the naughty in my chair?'

Jianne took a great gulp of Scotch and swallowed hard before answering. ‘No.'

‘What about the shower?'

‘It's a very nice shower, don't get me wrong,' she murmured huskily. ‘But no.'

‘I knew it,' he said. ‘I
knew
my bed looked used and abused.'

‘You are
not
getting a confession out of me on this issue, Jacob Bennett.' Jianne drained her glass and set it on the counter. ‘Not ever.'

‘More Scotch?' murmured Jacob silkily.

‘Not even then.'

His smile came slow and lazy and shot straight through her. Jianne curled her fingers around the bench to either side of her and drew in a ragged breath.

‘Did you think of me?' he whispered. ‘Did you think of the things we used to do to each other as you pleasured yourself in my bed?'

Jianne shook her head emphatically to signal no.

Jacob smiled his tiger's smile as he moved closer and his body brushed hers. ‘I think you did.'

Jianne closed her eyes. ‘Prove it,' she whispered.

‘Can't,' he whispered back, and his lips brushed the curve of her cheek before sliding down to settle at the edge of her mouth. He took her lower lip between his own and bit down none too gently. ‘Do you ever think of me? Of the things we once did?'

‘Do you?'

‘Yes,' he murmured, and soothed with his tongue what he'd marked with his teeth. Jianne put her palm to his cheek, holding him in place as she slanted her lips across his and surrendered her mouth to his possession.

He kissed like a man who had known hunger and homelessness and aching, lasting loss. He kissed like a man who hadn't fed for years and was trying to take his time but couldn't.

Jianne didn't want him to.

Both hands to his face now as she feasted on the flavour of him, the sweetness and the savagery. Giving him every leeway to do what he would, take what he wanted and to hell with tomorrow. His hands on her hips, dragging her into his hardness. Her hands in his hair, at his neck, keeping him in place where her ravaging mouth could have him.

Gasping as he stroked long fingers down the crease of her buttocks with a sensuality that was his alone, down and down and then lifting her effortlessly so that she sat on the bench. His hands on her thighs now, pushing her skirt up and parting her legs wide as he stepped in close and dragged her against him again, and all the time his lips not leaving hers for more than a moment.

‘I thought of you,' she confessed. ‘I thought of you, and I made do,' she whispered as she slid her hand to his wrist and forced it down between their straining bodies.
‘Like this.' And she surged against his hand as he took his cue and stroked her, his stroke so much bolder than her own and vastly more effective. ‘Jacob?'

‘What?' he asked hoarsely.

‘I'm tired of making do.'

He moved fast when he wanted to, did Jacob, but so could Jianne. His belt went, the zipper of his trousers. He'd barely managed to drop his trousers an inch or two before she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and found her way home.

He broke their kiss with a gasp, and stilled as if he didn't quite believe they were doing this, but they were. He filled her and then some, and she had no intention of letting him go. They stared at one another for long moments before she locked her ankles around him for purchase and dug her hands into his shoulders and started to ride.

Jacob's sapphire-blue eyes fluttered closed as he picked up her rhythm with unspeakable grace. His lips parted and he sought her mouth again. Her gasps and his; wordless noises drenched in desire.

How they ended up with Jacob's back to the doorframe she didn't know. Or her back to the stairwell wall. Or with Jacob beneath her on the stairs themselves, with his shirt off and his hands fisted in her hair as she moved above him, every stroke a languid promise, every promise pushing her higher.

‘Not yet,' he whispered as she leaned down into a kiss filled with a need so pure and perfect that Jianne gasped at its beauty.

‘Too late.' Too late for her, as the undulating dance and the fullness of his possession ripped her effortlessly into ecstasy.

Jake ate her cries of completion straight from her mouth and they fed him as nothing else had ever fed him. Not for twelve long years. He made it to his knees, to his feet, with Jianne locked in his arms and with him still buried deep inside her. He made it to the top of the stairs before taking her down to the floor with him again, saving her the bruises by keeping her above him.

He wanted her hands on his chest and she willingly complied, her nails scraping tracks across his skin as he sucked in a breath and rode pleasure to the point of pain. Her mouth soon followed, her tongue laving his nipple before she bit down ungently. Impossible not to bury his hands in her hair and bring her head up and take her mouth with a ferocity she knew damn well he had in him.

No hiding from this woman exactly what he was and how he hungered. He couldn't do it—he'd never been able to hide his savagery from Jianne the way he hid it from others. She drew it from him effortlessly, fed it with every move she made.

Her nails leaving crescent moons on his forearms now as she took more of him, all of him and whimpered in the taking, her knees high and her heels digging into the floor. Easy to position her for unfettered penetration so that she rubbed against his shaft with every stroke, so easy to slake his thirst for more. Because she was just as wild in their lovemaking as he was, that was the key to it.

‘Come with me,' he ordered raggedly.

‘Make me.'

He never had been one to ignore a challenge.

He made her scream before he was through with her. He rolled her onto her back and made her writhe and bite and beg. He made her come. And this time he fell into oblivion with her.

 

Jianne never quite figured out how they made it to the bed. She remembered the top of the stairs, the madness of pure passion, and the ecstasy of surrender. She remembered feeling boneless in the aftermath and being picked up in strong arms and she remembered a kiss so raw and worshipping that her eyes had filled with tears and she'd had to close them lest he see.

She didn't talk for fear of breaking the spell that had brought them to this. She didn't say a word as he gathered her close, just pressed a trembling kiss to the bite mark on his chest, and tried to smooth away the ridges made by her nails.

‘Don't,' he whispered and in his voice was an apology so profound she felt her heart tremble beneath the weight of it. ‘I wanted you to mark me. You know I did.'

‘I needed no encouragement, Jacob,' she whispered. ‘I never have.' Didn't mean she couldn't tend to him afterwards. She pressed gentle lips to the welts on his chest, and wrapped her arms around him and held on tight when he shuddered hard and his arms came round her in a crushing embrace. Always so hell bent on staying in control was Jacob. Always so fragile after the rare occasions when he lost it. ‘And I need you again.'

Slow and tender this time, to counter the madness that had overtaken them earlier. Wordless whispers and
feather-light touches. Long, slow strokes as they took the time to cherish and temper that which had destroyed them before.

No words in the aftermath as Jacob held her, just held her, and stroked his fingertips over her skin until she slept.

W
HEN
Jianne woke it was as dark as it ever got in this room and Jacob was gone. Not over in the shower, not getting some clothes to put on, he was all the way gone.

The clock atop the bookshelf told her it was ten past three, which might go some way towards explaining his absence. Jianne's wakeful nights had caught up with her and when she'd finally fallen asleep she'd fallen hard. Po would have come home at some stage. Jacob would have gone downstairs to make sure of it. That was just his way.

But he hadn't returned.

Only the scent of him lingered on her skin and in his bed. No words of love as he'd left her, or even words that might make her feel more at ease. Maybe he'd been waiting for her to say them. Maybe he'd come back before dawn and hold her, just hold her, before starting his day. It was a slim hope but Jianne clung to it. At five-thirty, with the first faint sounds of stirring downstairs, Jianne gave up her optimism and headed for the shower.

Shortly past six, and with a karate class in full flow, she walked down the stairs and into the training hall. Her appearance was noted as she headed for the kitchen.
Students glanced sideways. Some of them stopped their exercises and stared. Perhaps because she'd washed her hair and hadn't taken the time to dry it completely and pin it up atop her head. She hoped it wasn't what she was wearing, because she thought it modest enough. A long-length skirt and boots and a modest camisole top. Whatever the reason for their stares, she wore their looks and returned them with cool composure.

One of Jake's younger students smiled and thumped his fist to his chest, heartbeat style. Jianne felt her lips tilt a bit at that. A moment later the sensei had him doing push-ups. Men hid smiles. Jianne didn't bother hiding hers. Jacob glared at her, Jianne lifted her chin and an eyebrow in silent enquiry before heading for the kitchen. Jacob was the one who'd insisted she sleep in his apartment and the stairs were the only way down. Let him berate her for it if he dared. Jianne wasn't inclined to make Jacob's life easy this morning.

Funny that.

Po was sitting at the kitchen table when she walked in, a half-eaten takeaway meal at his elbow and some sort of workbook in front of him. Simple schoolwork, Chinese characters that had to be traced over and then reproduced, she realised as she leaned in to look at it and pressed a kiss to the top of his head as she did so.

She didn't know which embarrassed Po most—her kiss or the fact that she'd caught him studying. He shut the book with a snap and blushed beet red. Jianne ignored his reaction and opened the fridge door instead.

Takeaway container, takeaway container, takeaway container, condensed milk for coffee. Water, beer, beer glasses, peanut butter, and eggs. The leftover butter
chicken was tempting but, unlike Po and Jacob, Jianne did not do five or six hours of constant physical exercise a day.

Nocturnal activities notwithstanding.

An orange and a cup of tea, then, and a cup for Po as well. And maybe some thought given to grocery shopping, for in spite of her background of privilege and household staff Jianne knew how to cook. She hadn't always. When she'd married Jacob she'd barely been able to butter toast and hadn't really seen a reason why anyone would want to. Nowadays her cooking expertise spanned Chinese, Japanese, Thai, and French cuisine. She still wasn't overly fond of buttered toast.

‘What time did you get in last night?' she asked the boy.

‘Before one,' he said. ‘I didn't see anyone watching the dojo.'

Jianne couldn't contemplate the kind of life Po must have led for him to speak so casually of working until one and keeping an eye out for people watching the dojo on his way home. She wanted to object to both activities. What she said was, ‘Thanks for keeping an eye out.'

‘Who's after you?' he asked curiously.

‘A man. A very powerful and persistent man.'

‘Did you steal from him?'

‘No. Nothing quite so simple. He wants me for his consort.'

‘Can you say it in Chinese?' he said.

‘He wants me to be his companion, preferably his wife. Both our families are very powerful. A union would be advantageous.'

‘Advantageous?'

‘It'd be good for business,' she said, switching once more to English.

‘But not for you,' he said solemnly.

‘I don't love him. I don't even like him.' Jianne shook her head. ‘A union between us wouldn't be very good for me at all.'

‘So you ran away and ended up here,' said Po.

Jianne nodded. ‘So how many words did you just learn meanings for?' she asked.

‘Three.'

‘What was the third?'

‘Union.'

‘Ah.'

‘Sensei says I've got a good brain,' said Po. Not a boast. A trying-on of a new persona for size.

‘I think he's right.'

‘About what?' said Jacob from the doorway.

‘Po's brain.' Jianne looked to the doorway in as casual a fashion as she could manage. ‘Has your class finished already?'

‘No, but I thought you might be leaving for work early. Po, you want to go out front and keep an eye on the class until I get back?'

Po nodded, and slipped away, leaving silence in his wake.

Jianne risked a more thorough perusal of the man she'd given herself over to last night. He had the faint outline of fingernail marks on his forearms. His T-shirt and trousers covered the other marks she'd put on him.

‘I'm not sorry,' she said regally, and the faintest of smiles crossed his lips.

‘I promised myself I wouldn't take advantage of you while you were under my protection,' he said in gruff reply.

‘Noble of you,' she countered and sipped her tea. ‘What was your position on
me
taking advantage of
you
?'

‘I thought it unlikely.'

‘Ah.' Jianne bestowed a smile upon him. ‘No concrete position on that eventuality, then. Maybe you should come up with one and leave out the guilt.'

‘Maybe I will.' He studied what he could see of her that wasn't hidden by the table. ‘Did I hurt you?'

She had a bruise or two, in places. Was a little tender, in places. But the wildness of their encounter had been her choice just as much as his. ‘I think I broke a nail,' she said demurely.

This time Jacob's smile went all the way to his eyes.

‘Will you pick me up from work this afternoon?' she asked.

‘Can you be ready to leave by five? I have to be back here for a class at about a quarter to six.'

‘I can be ready by five.'

He nodded. ‘We should go out later tonight. For a meal or a show. Somewhere high profile, where we'll be seen.'

‘My uncle has a table reserved for a charity function this evening. That might suit. In fact, Zhi could well be there. Shall I secure us some seats?'

‘Okay.'

‘Okay.' They seemed to have run out of conversation. ‘So I'll see you at five, then?' He nodded.

‘And I won't kiss you good morning.'

‘Wise move,' he murmured.

‘May I kiss you goodnight?'

‘Depends,' he said as he headed for the door.

‘On what?'

‘Whether you want to sleep.'

 

Sleep was overrated, decided Jianne as she readied herself for the evening. People could exist on a lot less than seven or eight hours of slumber a night. People could quite conceivably exist on three.

For a while.

After a while a person's psyche got a little frail, their comprehension of events a little shaky. Take tonight's charity ball, for instance. It shouldn't really have taken this long to get ready for it. Her floor-length blood-red gown was a classic and a favourite and did not require ironing. Her hair had taken five minutes to redo and only required dressing with pearls to be complete. The application of make-up had been a problem seeing as Jacob had a shaving mirror the size of an orange and no other reflective surface in the dojo whatsoever. A harried call to Madeline, and ten minutes later Luke had arrived with a wall mirror under one arm, and what might well have been a car spotlight under the other.

‘You're very kind,' she told him by way of thank you. ‘May you have five children—all of them girls.'

‘You don't scare me.' Luke grinned at her, completely unfazed. ‘Maddy figured you might need a car for the evening as well. It's black, it purrs, it's parked in old man Chin's loading zone, and I'm really looking forward to seeing who out of you and Jake gets to drive it.'

‘I don't have a Singapore driver's licence yet.'

‘There's no justice in this world,' muttered Luke darkly. ‘None.'

‘Oh, I don't know,' said Jianne soothingly. ‘Maybe your sixth child will be a son.'

Luke had left the room in search of his brother shortly after that and Jianne had turned to the application of a radiant complexion. Fifteen minutes later she was ready to go but for a decision on what jewellery to wear. Her grandmother's diamond and ruby choker for her throat, and matching earrings for her ears, but what about rings? More specifically, should she wear her engagement and wedding rings? They weren't showy—a small solitare diamond set in a wave of platinum, and a wedding ring that linked to it.

Jacob's wedding band had been of the same wavy pattern and twice as wide and he certainly didn't wear it nowadays. These days Jacob wore no jewellery whatsoever, not even a watch.

She closed her eyes, opened the door, and called down for Po. Within moments the boy was at her door. ‘I need your help,' she said, and told him what she needed to know.

 

Dressing up in full black-tie regalia to attend a charity dinner with wealthy strangers wasn't Jacob's idea of a good night out. The thought that he might finally come face to face with Jianne's aggressive suitor helped sweeten the deal a little but, overall, his general mindset was not one of enthusiasm. His middle brother, the eternal optimist, wasn't exactly helping matters with his inside scoop on Jianne's aunt and uncle. Apparently Jianne's aunt was practically Shanghai royalty, Jianne's
uncle held a similar status here in Singapore, and their marriage had been an arranged one that had gradually developed into a love match.

According to Madeline, when it came to influencing Singaporean society, Bruce and Elena Yi wielded only slightly less power than God.

So much for dining with mortals.

‘Do I want to know the going rate for a seat at tonight's table?' Jake asked Luke.

‘You really don't,' said Luke. ‘Think of it as part of the Yi family's contribution to getting Zhi Fu off Ji's back and enjoy that ten-thousand-dollar steak.'

‘You're not serious.'

‘Aren't I?'

Jake swore, and started unbuttoning his white dress shirt. This one had button cuffs. For a ten-thousand-dollar steak he was going to have to do better than that. ‘Where's Po?'

‘Here,' said the boy from the doorway.

‘Can you go up and get me the white shirt at the very end of my clothes cupboard?' he asked. ‘On the shelf above it you'll find a shoebox full of old watches and stuff. You're looking for a pair of jade cufflinks set in platinum.' They'd been a present from Jianne on their wedding day. A Something New. She'd been trying to embrace western customs at the time. Heaven only knew how much they'd cost.

‘Anything else?' said Po. ‘From the box?'

‘Like what?'

‘A watch or something?'

‘No watch.' He didn't have one good enough.

‘Here, borrow mine,' said Luke. ‘Best fake Cartier in the business, according to my good friend Po's very good friend Jimmy the Rat. The diamond chips are real zirconium.'

Jake took the watch and studied it a while. ‘Nice,' he said mildly. ‘How much?'

‘Fifty Sing.'

‘Po your go-between?'

Luke nodded.

‘Deal done in Chinese, was it?'

‘Most of it.' Luke shot Po a hard glance. ‘Something I should know?'

Po shook his head.

Jake shook his. He'd sort it out later. Give Po the benefit of the doubt for now. Maybe the boy would come up with a reasonable explanation. Even a halfway reasonable one would do. ‘You got a good deal.' Considering the very real possibility that the watch was the genuine article. The way this evening was shaping, Jake would probably come across the real owner of the watch tonight. That'd work well.

‘Anything else?' said Po, looking a picture of innocence. ‘From the box?'

‘Just the cufflinks.'

‘Because I could bring the whole box down,' said the boy. ‘In case you saw something else you wanted from it.'

‘Just the cufflinks. And the shirt.'

Po departed, swift as ever. The kid had speed and stealth enough to make even the most accomplished martial artist weep. When the power came—and it would—the boy would be a truly formidable opponent.

‘What was that all about?' asked Luke.

‘The watch or the box?'

‘Not the watch,' said Luke. ‘I'm not sure I want to know what's wrong with the watch.'

‘Good call.'

‘So what's with the box?' asked Luke.

‘I really don't know.'

 

'Jake needs a different shirt and some cufflinks,' said Po as Jianne opened the door and ushered him into the room. ‘He's not wearing a ring.'

‘Thanks, Po.' Jianne tried not to let heaviness settle over her like a shroud. ‘That's all I needed to know.'

 

Luke and Po had decided they would be Jake's chauffeurs for the evening and were waiting—along with Jake—in the training hall when finally Jianne deigned to descend the stairs.

‘Oh, man,' muttered Luke reverently. ‘You are so screwed.'

Jake took one look at his wife and felt every last bit of blood to his brain head south. ‘Go and get the car,' he said.