Her Singapore Fling Read Free

offered warily.
    After careful appraisal the boy decided to speak. ‘I’m Po. The sensei’s apprentice,’ he said in flawless Cantonese. When she didn’t reply at once he repeated his introduction in Mandarin.
    â€˜Which sensei would that be?’ Jianne chose English as her language of reply and the boy did not disappoint.
    â€˜Sensei Jake.’ And when again she didn’t reply immediately, ‘Bennett.’
    â€˜And does Sensei Jake Bennett also teach you English?’
    â€˜I know it already,’ said Po. ‘And Tamul. And some Malay.’
    â€˜I’m impressed. How do you come to be fluent in so many languages?’
    Just like that the boy’s openness disappeared. ‘I just do.’
    â€˜Well, then.’ She offered up a smile. ‘Hello, Po. I’m Jianne.’
    â€˜Hello.’ Fathomless black eyes regarded her steadily. ‘You’re prettier than your picture.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ Coherent thought followed the automatic reply. ‘What picture?’
    The light from a nearby lamp dimmed as someone moved into place beside her. Jianne knew before she looked up that Jacob had joined them, a silent brooding presence bringing new tension to her already overloaded senses.
    â€˜Hello, Jacob,’ she offered, and if her voice shook, and her insides trembled, well, it was only to be expected. He always had been able to unnerve her. ‘I’ve been making the acquaintance of your apprentice.’
    â€˜So I see.’ Jacob turned his gaze on the boy. ‘What picture?’ he echoed grimly.
    Po hesitated as if caught between devil and demon. Jake’s gaze hardened. ‘Po?’
    â€˜The one in your wallet.’
    â€˜You’ve been in my wallet?’
    â€˜I didn’t steal anything,’ the boy said hurriedly. ‘It was ages ago. The day I came to the dojo. I—’ The boy stuttered his way to silence beneath the weight of his sensei’s glacial glare. ‘I wanted to know more. About you. Wallets are good for that.’
    Boy and man stared at one another in fraught silence.
    â€˜You dishonour me,’ said Jacob finally, in a flat, measured voice.
    With a stricken glance for Jianne, Po bolted into the crowd. Jianne stared after him, wishing she could do the same.
    â€˜He’s yours?’ she asked tentatively.
    â€˜After a fashion.’
    Not Jacob’s by blood for the boy was wholly Chinese, but there were plenty of other ways a child could become a man’s responsibility. Po’s mother could be dead. Jacob could have been seeing her, living with her even, and then when she died…and in the absence of other relatives…responsibility for Po could have fallen to him. ‘How?’
    â€˜Ask Madeline.’
    Hardly a comprehensive answer. ‘Will you punish him?’
    Jacob’s lips tightened. ‘He took my wallet and went through it. He deliberately invaded my privacy. You don’t think he should be disciplined for that?’
    â€˜Yes, but…Jacob, he’s just a child.’
    â€˜What? No beating him?’ The deadly edge in Jake’s voice flayed her. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. Jianne ducked her head and stared blindly at her champagne glass.
    â€˜For heaven’s sake, Jianne, I’ve never raised a hand to either a child or to you and I don’t intend to start now. So why don’t you just drink your champagne and stop behaving as if I’m about to crucify you? I’m not. I won’t. And the sooner you and everyone else watching us realises that, the better.’
    Jianne lifted her glass to her lips and sipped. It seemed as good a suggestion as any. Another sip and her champagne half gone while she tried to think of a way to rescue a conversation that had plunged to hell with effortless inevitability.
    â€˜You look well,’ she offered. Nothing but the truth. ‘More formidable than