LITMIR.BIZ

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Jacob gave Po his full attention. ‘Do you even want to learn karate, kid?’

      Po shrugged. ‘I want to live.’

      ‘Can’t argue with that,’ said Luke Bennett cheerfully.

      ‘You take him, then,’ said his brother.

      ‘Sorry.’ Luke’s lips curved unrepentantly and Madeline suddenly found herself ensnared by a man in a way she hadn’t been for years. Rapid heartbeat, a curling sensation deep in her belly, an irresistible urge to bask in the warmth of that lazy smile—the whole catastrophe. ‘You’re the upright citizen. I’m the homeless one with the specialised skill set. I’d only corrupt him.’

      ‘What exactly is it that you do?’ Madeline asked.

      ‘Mostly I examine sea mines and weaponry for the military.’

      ‘Mostly when they’re about to go boom,’ added Jacob dryly. ‘Life expectancy is a problem.’

      ‘What’s life without risk?’ countered Luke with a glance in her direction. Amber eyes could be warm, she discovered. As warm as a lazy smile.

      ‘I’m guessing that particular line of reasoning works for you a lot,’ she said. ‘I’m guessing you’re inclined to categorise women into two main groupings. Those who run screaming when you smile at them and say that. And those who don’t.’

      Jacob guffawed, never mind that it landed him on the receiving end of a flat golden glare.

      ‘This way, kid,’ he said, still grinning as he turned and strode towards the far door. ‘I offer a room with a bed and a pillow, one set of linen, provisions for three square meals a day, and below minimum wage. In return I require loyalty, obedience, honour and dedication from you. If you’re not interested, feel free to go out the way you came in.’

      Jacob didn’t turn to see whether Po had chosen to follow him. Jacob knew street kids. He knew the boy would follow, if only to see if there was anything worth stealing later.

      Luke Bennett watched Po and his brother walk away, his expression a mixture of exasperation and reluctant pride. Madeline watched Luke. It wasn’t a hardship.

      ‘You do this to him often?’ he asked, turning and catching her examining him. She didn’t blush.

      ‘Often enough.’

      ‘Do they stay?’

      ‘Often enough.’

      ‘Are you in love with my brother?’

      ‘That’s a very personal question.’ Not one she felt inclined to answer. ‘Why do you ask?’

      ‘Jake doesn’t let down his guard very often. He let it down for you.’

      Madeline shook her head. ‘The outer perimeter, maybe.’ But Jacob Bennett’s heart was locked down tight and Madeline knew with blind feminine instinct that she didn’t hold the key to it. ‘What would you do if I said yes?’

      ‘Lament,’ he said. And on a more serious note, ‘I don’t poach.’

      ‘How very honourable of you. But then, I’d expect nothing less from a brother of Jacob’s. Tell him I had to be going.’

      ‘And my question?’

      Madeline considered him thoughtfully, knowing the question for what it was. A declaration of interest, an invitation to play. She’d taken only one lover in the six years since William’s death. She’d still been grieving, and in retrospect she’d wanted the comfort that came of intimacy far more than she’d wanted her lover’s love. He’d wanted a woman he could honour and respect. It hadn’t turned out well.

      What would Luke Bennett look for in a lover? she wondered. Passion? Passion hadn’t touched her in such a long time. Laughter? She could do somewhat better there. Honesty? She could give him that too, for what it was worth.

      And then there was honour, and that she could not do.

      ‘How long are you staying in Singapore, Luke Bennett?’

      ‘A week.’

      ‘Not long.’

      ‘Long enough,’ he countered. ‘A person can pack a lot into a week if they try.’ He shot her a crooked smile. ‘You still haven’t answered my question.’

      ‘Only because I don’t want to. Consider it one of life’s little mysteries.’

      ‘I hate mysteries,’ he said. ‘Fair warning.’

      Hard not to smile a little at that. ‘Enjoy your stay in Singapore, Luke Bennett. There’s plenty to entertain.’

      ‘There certainly is,’ he murmured.

      ‘There’s plenty of things you’d do well to avoid too.’ Fair warning. Smiling wryly, Madeline turned on her heel and let herself out.

      ‘So what’s the deal with you and Madeline Delacourte?’ Luke asked his brother as they resumed their battle with the Shaolin sticks some fifteen minutes later, this time with a watchful pickpocket for an audience. ‘You into her?’

      ‘Why the interest?’ asked Jake and followed through with a glancing blow to Luke’s side.

      Luke stopped talking and started concentrating on his defence. But the image of Madeline Delacourte—she of the knowing smile, honey-blonde hair, and long shapely legs—just wouldn’t go away. ‘Why do you think? I’m not asking for a kidney here. All I want is a straight yes or no answer from one of you.’ He really didn’t think it was too much to ask.

      ‘No,’ said Jake, blocking Luke’s next blow. ‘She’s just a friend.’

      ‘Is she married?’

      ‘Not any more.’

      ‘Engaged?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Attached?’

      ‘No.’ Jake’s stick caught him on the knuckles and damn near took his fingers off. ‘Madeline’s choosy. She can afford to be.’

      ‘She’s wealthy?’

      ‘Very. Her late husband’s family were British spice traders, back when the East opened up. They made a fortune and sank most of it into real estate. Maddy’s husband owned a string of shopping centres and hotels along Orchid Road and half the residential skyscrapers in southeast Singapore. Maddy owns them now.’

      ‘Her husband died young?’

      ‘Her husband died a happy old man.’

      Luke winced. He didn’t like the picture Jake was painting. ‘Any kids?’

      ‘No.’ More blows reached him. ‘You’re not concentrating,’ said Jake.

      ‘I’m still coming to grips with the trophy-wife thing.’

      ‘Maybe she loved him.’

      ‘How much older was he?’

      ‘Thirty years,’ said Jake. ‘Give or take.’

      Luke scowled and came in hard, peppering his brother with blows, his growing disillusion with Madeline Delacourte giving him a ferocious edge. The fighting ceased being a sparring exercise and became instead an outlet for emotion of the explosive kind as he went for Jake’s hands, the better to rid them of the long stick. Not a berserker, not quite, but a creature of instinct nonetheless and one Jake would have no peaceable defence against.

      Cursing his lack of control, Luke grounded his staff and stepped back abruptly, breathing hard as he bowed to formalise the end of the session. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, and headed for the stack of towels piled on a low wooden bench over by the wall.

      Jake had walked towards Po and was speaking to him in the calm quiet way that Luke had always loved about his brother. The kid nodded

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