Single Girl Abroad: Untameable Rogue

CHAPTER FIVE

SOME men had a way about them. Luke Bennett’s way was nine tenths warrior, one tenth lazy suitor, and very nearly irresistible, decided Madeline as Luke paid for their meal and ushered her outside. He knew how to tease and he knew how to touch, his hand to the small of her back as he drew her closer to him to allow the passage of tourists walking the other way. Nothing proprietary about that touch, just a whole lot of warmth and protection that she missed when the pedestrians passed and his hand fell away.

They walked the waterfront and Madeline’s need for more of his touch grew, and with it her tension. The rogue knew that she wanted his hands on her but the tiger seemed to sense a trap and the warrior chose to wait.

And wait.

He waited until they stood outside the private lift that would take them to her penthouse, and when it came and she asked him if he wanted to come up, he shrugged and stepped inside. When the lift arrived at its top-floor destination he made no move to get out. Instead he leaned back against the mirror and shoved his hands in his pockets, drawing the fabric of his trousers tight against a part of him no lady would be caught staring at.

Luke caught Madeline staring, and smiled.

‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ she said.

‘It’s not a good idea.’

She was well aware of that. But it hadn’t stopped her asking.

‘I can only play the gentleman up to a point, Maddy,’ he said. ‘If I came in, I’d want to stay until morning, and I’m really not sure I want to know what your housekeeper would serve up for breakfast.’

‘If you’re looking for excuses to stay away from me, you forgot to mention William’s ghost and William’s fortune,’ she said.

Luke seared her with a glance. ‘I believe I’ve already mentioned them. I’m still trying to decide if I can work my way around them. Don’t push me, Maddy. Give me time.’

‘Hey, you’re the one who’s only here for a week,’ she murmured.

‘Two.’

She smiled wryly. ‘Sorry. Two.’

‘Sometimes an explosive situation takes a lot longer to assess than you originally thought it would,’ he said grimly. ‘Sometimes you have to circle around it a while until you know what’s going on.’

‘And here I thought you were the reckless type.’

‘Guess you were wrong,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to slow us down. You could try helping in that regard. Because God only knows where we’ll end up if you don’t.’ His eyes glittered with a darkly sensual promise. ‘You want to risk it?’

Suddenly, Luke’s refusal to come in for coffee and whatever else she might have offered him seemed like a very good move. Vacating the elevator before giving in to the primitive edge of desire that swirled around them seemed like an even better one. ‘No. You’re right. No coffee and give my regards to the boys.’ Madeline took a step back and put her finger to the control panel when the lift doors would have closed. ‘Do you still want to attend the art exhibition together on Friday?’

He nodded.

‘Okay, good. So I’ll just … go.’

‘Wait.’ That deadly soft voice stopped her; flowed over her. ‘You forgot something.’

‘What?’

‘Your goodnight kiss,’ said Luke grimly and hauled her into his arms as the lift doors began to close. Surely, he thought as her lips opened beneath his, soft and warm and willing. Surely he wouldn’t invite catastrophe with just one more little kiss.

And still her taste slammed through him, hot and wild and perfect. Still, his breath came hard and harsh and his body ached for just that little bit more when finally he released her.

‘Go.’

Turning, Madeline pressed the button and waited for the lift doors to open once more, while every muscle screamed at her to turn around and lose herself in the white-hot desire to be found in Luke Bennett’s arms. But he’d warned her not to unleash him, and it seemed a warning well worth heeding. For now.

She looked back as she stepped out—how could she not? He stood leaning against the back wall again, with his hands in his pockets, his head thrown back, and his eyes were as hungry as hell. Madeline looked down over him as the lift doors began to close, looked down to where a lady really shouldn’t look.

And smiled.

Friday came around quickly for Madeline. Bruce Yi had wasted no time in getting Elena to extend an invitation to the art exhibition; one invitation and two distinct names.

Bruce Yi’s request for more information on the South Singapore apartment project arrived half an hour after Madeline had emailed Elena an acceptance to the gallery show on her and Luke’s behalf.

Madeline had the information at her fingertips, all ready to go. She’d had it ready for weeks. Cursing, she stared at the folder and thought of the hope and ambitions it contained. Of the year of work that had already gone into visualising the project. Delacourte was ready for this project. She was ready, and it’d be so damned easy now that she had a card to play to simply play it, and get what she wanted out of the deal, and leave Jacob to fend for himself. Surely as the head of Delacourte Enterprises it was her job to be ruthless in the pursuit of profit? Luke had as good as told her to work Bruce Yi to her advantage and let Luke and Jacob take care of Bennett business. Surely Jacob could protect himself from Bruce Yi’s machinations?

Couldn’t he?

Damn, damn, and damn!

Madeline opened her desk drawer, shoved the file inside it, and slammed the drawer shut.

An empty desk now, and another stronger curse for good measure.

William had been the softest businessman in the world. He’d taught her many things during their time together, but ruthlessness hadn’t been one of them. Madeline had been left to discover ruthlessness by herself in the wake of William’s death. She’d had some tough decisions to make when it came to restructuring the company, what to keep and what to shed, but she’d made them, and worn them, and Delacourte had emerged the stronger for them.

Could she really abandon a ten-year friendship with one of the finest men she knew to the beast that was business?

A grim little smile twisted her lips. It would surprise no one if she did. She who’d married a soft touch for his money, buried him three years later, and never looked back. She who continued to play by rules no one else could fathom. The trophy wife who thought she had the wit to rebuild Delacourte. The woman who saw in a homeless street waif the spark of something pure and good and had known just the man who could take that spark and coax it into a strong and steady flame. The woman who loved the security that only extreme wealth could bring, but who nonetheless donated her annual wage to charity.

Delacourte made the money, paid Madeline and hundreds of others a wage, and Madeline gave her portion away. That was the way of it ever since William’s death and the why of it was unfathomable even to her.

The workings of such a system, however, depended entirely on putting Delacourte Enterprises first. Everything else flowed on from that. That much she did know.

She’d already sacrificed love to the altar of financial security. Why not friendship too?

Round and round her thoughts went as the afternoon wore on. First one way and then the other.

Round and round again.

At four-thirty, Madeline put her office phone to her ear and called the dojo in search of Luke. When he wasn’t around, she got his mobile number from Jake and called him direct.

‘There’s access to gallery parking at this show tonight. I thought I might take the car,’ she said when Luke answered his phone. No need to mention that a goodly portion of her reasoning for wanting to take the car was a heartfelt desire to stay out of elevators that had Luke in them. ‘So I’ll swing by the dojo and collect you around seven? How does that sound?’

Silence. Then, ‘Wrong,’ muttered Luke dejectedly. ‘So wrong in so many different ways.’

‘Luke Bennett,’ she scolded, thoroughly amused and not particularly surprised. ‘Is this a money thing?’

‘No, it’s a car thing. The money thing is only a peripheral problem in this particular instance. The boy acquires a car. The boy picks the girl up in his car. The girl is impressed by the lad’s ability to procure, drive, and run said car. The car is a metaphor for his ability to provide for her. That’s how it works.’

‘Quaint,’ she said, smiling into the phone. ‘What say I take your ability to provide all manner of things as read, and cut you a break seeing as you’re a stranger in a foreign land and pick you up at seven?’

‘What say I hire a car?’ he said a touch desperately.

‘Now why would you want to do that when I’ve a perfectly good vehicle sitting here practically unused?’ she said sweetly. ‘Would it help if I let you drive?’

‘No, that would merely add insult to injury.’

‘Whatever happened to equality of the sexes?’

‘The Bennett boys opted out. What kind of car is it? No, let me guess. It’s a pastel-coloured fuel-efficient compact.’

‘It’d serve you right if it was,’ said Madeline.

‘It’s not lime green with those smiley hubcaps that don’t turn round, is it? Because if it is, we’re walking.’

‘It’s a Mercedes convertible.’ Madeline wasn’t above a little teasing of her own. ‘SL class, twelve purring little cylinders. Lots and lots of buttons to play with. You’ll like it.’ A strangled sound happened along the phone line. ‘Luke Bennett, are you whimpering?’

‘Yes, but only because the tailor just found my inside leg with a pin. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the thought of being picked up from my brother’s house in that car by a woman whose wealth is vastly superior to my own. My ego is far more robust than that.’

‘Of course it is. So I’ll pick you up from the dojo at seven, then?’

‘Whatever,’ he said glumly.

‘What colour’s your suit?’

‘Black.’

‘Perfect.’ Madeline smirked. ‘You’ll match the car.’

‘Life is cruel,’ said Luke and hung up.

‘Just because a tiger purrs, doesn’t mean you have to pet it.’

Yun’s words of farewell rang in Madeline’s ears as she slid to a halt outside the dojo at seven that evening, ignoring the ‘no parking’ sign in favour of giving Po—who stood on sentry duty in the dojo doorway—a smile and a wave. Po smiled back and disappeared inside. Moments later Luke appeared and Madeline’s heart thumped hard before settling into an irregular rhythm.

He’d been Navy once, she remembered, and those boys knew how to suit up when occasion demanded it. No discomfort from this man about wearing formal evening wear—just another uniform in a long line of uniforms that would help to get the job done.

Po skipped alongside Luke, a small boy with wide eyes as he stared first at Madeline and then at the convertible as Luke slipped in beside her.

‘Jake said to tell you that if Luke’s not home by midnight he’ll think the worst,’ said Po with a grin. ‘He said you wouldn’t want him to be thinking the worst because then he’d have to bust Luke’s sorry arse.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Madeline.

‘Easy for you to say.’ Luke eyed Madeline darkly.

Po slipped back inside and Madeline eased out into the traffic with a discreet rumble. Luke studied her as she drove and she wondered what he saw. A nervous charlatan playing dress-ups or a confident woman who knew exactly who she was and what she wanted? Because when the Delacourte jewels went around her neck and the designer evening gown slid on, Madeline didn’t feel confident and empowered at all. Mostly, she just felt vulnerable.

‘Diamonds suit you,’ he said finally, and Madeline shot him an uncertain smile.

‘They belonged to William’s grandmother.’

‘They still suit you.’

‘I like your suit,’ she said.

‘It has its uses.’

One of which was to drive her insane with wanting to peel him out of it.

‘What do you know about Bruce Yi and his family?’ asked Luke next.

Solid ground. Finally. ‘Elena is Bruce’s first wife, which is something of a rarity for a man of his wealth and age. Elena’s family is practically Shanghai royalty. Bruce Yi’s lineage is equally impressive but Singapore based. Word has it that the marriage was an arranged one. Somewhere along the way it became a happy one.’

‘Any children?’

‘Two sons, our age. They work for their father. They work hard for him. No free rides there.’

‘Are the sons in relationships?’

‘Never for long. They play as hard as they work.’ Madeline thought back to the family relationships Bruce Yi had spoken of the other night. Of Ji being Elena’s brother’s child. ‘So Ji’s a Shanghai Xang?’

Luke nodded.

‘That’s serious wealth.’ Wealth enough to more than match the Delacourte family fortune. ‘How did Jake cope with that?’

‘You mean when he finally found out?’ said Luke dryly. ‘Not well.’

‘I can imagine,’ she murmured. ‘Was that the reason their marriage failed?’

Luke shrugged. ‘One of them, maybe. But there were other difficulties. Other responsibilities that Jake had to shoulder that got in the way of a marriage.’

Whatever they were, Luke didn’t offer them up. Instead he changed the subject. ‘You said you and your brother were wards of the state. When did that happen?’

‘My mother died when I was seven. My brother was four. My father drank himself to death a year or so later.’ She offered the information up as fact, no sympathy required, and no real expectation of Luke’s understanding.

There was no way to describe the desperation that came of growing up in the care of the state. No money, no permanent home, no control. She hadn’t even been able to keep Remy with her. Only what would fit into a carry case and the dreams she’d carried in her head. One day when I’m old enough … One day when I’m rich … One day when I’m loved …

Madeline lifted a hand from the steering wheel and lightly touched her necklace. That someone, anyone, could love her had come as such a shock. William’s innate kindness had simply sealed the deal.

‘It’s still there,’ said Luke gently. ‘The necklace.’

Silently, Madeline returned her hand to the wheel.

‘My mother died when I was thirteen,’ said Luke next in a rusty voice that bespoke a topic usually avoided. ‘My father’s still alive, but he wasn’t much of a father for a while. There were five of us kids, and we were luckier than you. We got to stay together. We had a house. We had a father in residence, at least on paper. Occasionally, he even remembered to pay the bills. And the four of us younger ones … we had Jake.’

‘I’m glad,’ she murmured, and drove in silence until they reached the skyscraper that housed the first-floor gallery. She drove down into the underground car park, took one look at the bank of lifts and parked by the stairs. The stairs would bring them out onto the street level. Glass doors would take them into the building, and an escalator would take them directly to the gallery door. Luke would doubtless enjoy a little Orchid Road sightseeing far more than he’d enjoy looking at the inside of yet another lift.

She couldn’t be alone in a lift with Luke Bennett right now. Not without reaching for him. Not without wanting him far more than she should.

Luke strode through the luxury marble-and-glass foyer without really admiring it. He liked having enough money that he would never go homeless or hungry. He didn’t see a whole lot of appeal in courting the kind of wealth that Madeline and the Yi family administered on a daily basis, no matter how sweet their rides.

He was here for his brother, and maybe—almost certainly—he was here because he couldn’t stay away from Madeline Delacourte, she of the unwieldy bank balance and gut-wrenching vulnerability. He’d seen the broken child in her eyes when she’d offered up her brief childhood history. He’d seen it in the uncertainty with which she wore those shiny stones. He got it now, he finally got an inkling of why wealth and power ruled her.

The homeless child demanded it.

That same child who hadn’t been able to walk past Po without doing something to help him.

The child tore at his heart. The woman the child had become had the capacity to steal it from him whole.

An art show.

Lord save him, this wasn’t his world.

‘Ready?’ she said lightly.

To fall in love with her? ‘Not in the slightest,’ he said as they stepped off the escalator and approached the door, where a weather-beaten little peacock of a man stood waiting beside a podium that might normally be used to display a menu but tonight held only a list of names.

‘Madeline Delacourte,’ the man said, with what looked to be genuine delight. ‘It’s my pleasure to see you out and about again. It’s been too long.’

‘Arthur,’ said Madeline in reply, and bestowed on him a polished smile. ‘You rogue. What are you doing here?’

‘My job,’ said Arthur. ‘You’re looking at Gallery One’s latest curator.’ The little rogue peacock put his palm to his chest. ‘Arthur,’ he said grandly, ‘has fallen on his feet.’

‘Congratulations,’ said Madeline, and turned towards Luke, as if conscious of having left him out of the conversation. ‘William was very fond of acquiring antique Chinese porcelain pieces. Arthur was very fond of finding them for him. The last piece Arthur found for him was a magnificent funeral vase which cost a small fortune, even by William’s standards.’