Kelly Hunter - Single Girl Abroad

‘Just a beer.’

Madeline pulled a bottle of Tiger Bitter from the shelf and reached for the bottle opener. Pointless asking what year Luke had been born, really. His zodiac sign was a foregone conclusion. She retrieved a cold beer glass from the fridge and poured for him, before starting in on the fixings for a gin and tonic for herself. Staple fare in this part of the world—any time and anywhere.

‘So what brought you to Singapore?’ asked Luke as she found a lime and sliced into it with a paring knife. A quarter for his beer if he wanted one. Definitely a slice for her gin. And running alongside the busy work, small talk between strangers that should have been easy enough to answer but wasn’t.

‘I came here looking for my brother,’ she said finally. ‘He was travelling around South East Asia. Singapore had been his starting point, so it became mine as well.’

‘Did you find him?’

‘Eventually.’ Madeline had no inclination to explain her extended crawl through the dark belly of humanity in search of Remy. ‘He’s dead now.’ There’d been no saving him.

‘I’m sorry.’ Luke’s clear gaze rested thoughtfully on her. ‘Is that why you try and help children like Po?’

‘Maybe.’ Madeline shrugged. ‘Probably. I saw a lot of things in my search for my brother—a lot of things I would fix if I could.’

‘Is that why you married money? So you could fix the things you’d seen?’

‘Still judging me, Luke Bennett?’ Always, he seemed to circle back to the question of why she had married William.

‘No.’ And with a wry smile, ‘Maybe. Maybe I’m just trying to get to know you a little better.’

Maybe she could give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘My brother and I were orphans,’ she told him. ‘Wards of the State of New South Wales. Remy craved oblivion and found it. I craved security, stability, and wealth.’

‘And found it,’ said Luke.

Madeline nodded. ‘Yes. Does knowing my background make my choice of marriage partner any more palatable to you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Luke smiled bleakly and looked around the room.

Madeline looked too, trying to see her home through his eyes. An eclectic mix of the comfortable, the best, and a smattering of old and distinguished money in the form of sculptures and paintings. Madeline didn’t deliberately flaunt the Delacourte wealth at her disposal, but she did enjoy it. No apologies.

‘Nice place,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’ She studied him a while longer. ‘Money doesn’t mean much to you, does it?’

He shrugged. ‘I have enough. I’ve no need for more.’ His eyes grew dark as his gaze met hers. ‘You going to judge me wanting again, Maddy?’

‘Because you don’t crave wealth?’ she said lightly. ‘No. Each to their own.’

So different, she and Luke Bennett. Maybe even too different. The man was reckless, where Madeline craved control. Addicted to danger, whereas she was addicted to security. As for him being unaware of the impact he had on a woman when he exploded into her life … she hadn’t quite decided if he knew how truly potent he was or not. But judge him wanting? That she could not do. ‘We really don’t have much in common, do we?’ she said.

‘Not so far.’ Luke put his drink down carefully on the coaster she’d provided. He leaned forward, elbows on the bar, closer, and closer still, until his lips were almost upon hers. ‘But we might dig up something eventually,’ he murmured, and Madeline’s gaze dropped helplessly to his lips. ‘That’s what first dates are for.’

‘And second kisses?’ she whispered. ‘What are they for?’

‘They’re to see if we remembered the first kiss wrong.’ His lips brushed hers, slow and savouring before returning to offer up just that little bit more. Desire unfurled deep within her. She hadn’t remembered their first kiss wrong.

He pulled back slowly and drew his bottom lip into his mouth as if committing the taste of her to memory.

‘What are your feelings on standardising and enforcing international deep-sea-fishing quotas?’ he murmured.

‘I’m all for it,’ she said. ‘Although the enforcement bit could prove tricky.’

‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Common ground at last.’

Not to mention uncommon heat in their kisses.

Yun chose that moment to enter the room with a tray of bite-sized spring rolls and a chilli dip. Smiling wryly, Madeline pulled back and turned her attention to the diminutive housekeeper.

‘It’s plenty hot,’ warned Yun, with a sour sideways glance in Luke’s direction. ‘Fire is useful weapon against hunting Tiger. Bullets also,’ she muttered, and disappeared.

‘She’s very loyal,’ said Madeline.

‘Not quite the word I had in mind,’ murmured Luke, eyeing the finger food cautiously.

Madeline picked up a roll, dipped it into the dressing, popped it into her mouth and bit down through the flaky pastry to the mince mix beyond. So far, divine. But the bite of chilli was there, and growing ever stronger. It stopped short of a conflagration, but only just. ‘They’re very exciting,’ she said hoarsely. ‘You’ll probably enjoy them.’

‘What about the ones with the little squiggle on the side?’ asked Luke.

Not a squiggle, thought Madeline, looking closely at the spring rolls, but a snake. ‘Those are for me.’

He took one of those, dipped it in the sauce and made short work of it thereafter. ‘They’re good,’ he said, reaching for another, this time without the snake motif on the side. This one made him smile. ‘They’re very good.’

‘We should probably go soon,’ she offered weakly. She didn’t know what embarrassed her more: Yun’s dubious hospitality or her body’s extravagantly sensuous response to his recklessness. ‘I haven’t booked. I thought we might wander down towards—’

‘The wharves,’ he said.

‘Exactly.’ Plenty of water down by the wharves. She could use it to douse the flames.

The rows of restaurants surrounding the wharves shone crowded and cheerful, even if the food was hit and miss. Lights from the surrounding city shimmered in the background and found reflection in the inky harbour water.

Luke sat back in his chair once they’d ordered their meals and aimed for casual conversation, the kind a man might make in passing. Did Madeline enjoy living in Singapore? Yes, she did. Had she ever considered heading home to Australia? No, she hadn’t.

And then Madeline began to counter with questions of her own. Where was he based?

Nowhere of late, though he had an apartment in Darwin that he often returned to in between jobs. He didn’t need much. He didn’t have much.

Unlike some. She’d said that his lack of monetary focus didn’t bother her and heaven help him he believed her. The problem now lay in deciding if the disparity in their wealth was going to eat at him . When it came to a short-term relationship, the extent of Madeline’s wealth shouldn’t bother him at all. It was only when he started thinking long term that her wealth and his comparative lack of it became an issue.

‘What?’ she asked, more attuned to him than he wanted her to be.

‘What would you do if you woke up tomorrow and you’d lost all that Delacourte money your late husband left you?’ Not that he was thinking long term. No way.

‘Start again.’

‘Beginning with marriage to a rich man?’

‘Not necessarily,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I know a little something about the making and keeping of money these days. I’d probably try and make my own way.’

‘You’d fight to be wealthy again?’

Her eyes flashed green fire. ‘The Delacourte empire wasn’t in particularly good shape when William died. I sold the family estate, bought the apartment I live in now, and used the change to restructure the company. Big business can mean big losses. I fight to stay wealthy now .’