Free Her Singapore Fling by Kelly Hunter Page A

She definitely heard the clatter of cutlery against Japan’s finest crockery.
    But the bowls did not break.

CHAPTER FIVE
    J IANNE’S second night in Jacob’s bed was no different from her first. Light filled, largely sleepless, and heavy on the erotic fantasies. Fortunately, she had a plan. It began with a blanket, a broomstick and Jacob’s reading chair. The chair went beneath the windows that fed light directly onto the bed. Jianne stood on the chair, the blanket hooked over the broom. Up went the broomstick to push the blanket between the window panes. The closing of the slatted window panes kept it there. Getting the window panes to close on the blanket but not the broom was the trickiest part of the process but, frankly, she had all night.
    The second part of her plan involved A Comprehensive History of the Civilised World —a hefty hardback tome borrowed from her uncle’s research library. If the contents didn’t put her to sleep she could always belt herself over the head with it.
    The third part of her plan was only to be put into motion if all else failed. It involved creeping downstairs in a teeny-tiny singlet and fitted cotton boxers and appropriating a suitably large glass of Scotch from the bottle on the shelf above the kitchen sink.
    She toyed with the idea of adding a large belted black raincoat to her stealth wear in order to cover her near nakedness but the raincoat was a little on the rustle-y side and would doubtless wake the dead.
    No, what she really needed to do was buy a bottle of Scotch in her lunch break tomorrow and bring it upstairs when she came in from work, thus avoiding night-time trips to the kitchen altogether.
    At ten-thirty a quiet knock sounded on her bedroom door and Jianne called out a wary ‘who is it?’ as she put her raincoat to use after all.
    â€˜Po,’ said a youthful voice. ‘I have some tea for you.’
    She opened the door. So he did. Tea in a coffee mug that sat on a dinner plate. A strip of packaged sugar and a spoon completed the tableau.
    â€˜It’s herbal,’ said Po. ‘We thought it might help you get to sleep, if you weren’t already.’
    â€˜Oh. How very thoughtful.’
    Po eyed her quizzically. ‘Are you going out?’
    â€˜No, I’m for bed and for sleep.’ Please let there be sleep tonight. ‘Right after I drink my tea.’
    Po handed the tea over, and then proceeded to eyeball the roof.
    Jianne followed his gaze. Nothing up there but iron struts and warehouse roof. ‘What are you looking for?’ she asked finally. There were no rats—she’d have seen them last night. Probably not dark enough in here for them either.
    â€˜Water.’
    â€˜Ah.’ She nodded wisely. ‘I see. Well, thanks for the tea.’
    â€˜The sensei said to tell you there’s a kickboxing class at six in the morning and that it’s probably going to wake you but it finishes at seven. The one after that doesn’t start until nine.’
    â€˜Tell the sensei that I appreciate the warning.’
    â€˜He wants to know if you need a lift to work between seven thirty and eight thirty.’
    â€˜Tell him I’ll take a taxi.’
    â€˜Is there anything else you want me to tell him?’ asked Po.
    Jianne smiled angelically. ‘Tell him his bed’s very comfortable. Tell him goodnight and sweet dreams.’ Because damn sure she’d be having some.
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    But instead, there was a great deal of tossing and turning and cursing of neon lights. There was fantasy, and imagination, and a deepening need for sexual satisfaction and for that she cursed Jacob.
    She’d forgotten over the years just how deeply sexual their relationship had been. She’d failed to remember how thoroughly Jacob’s nearness affected her, how all he had to do was look at her for her to want him. He’d looked at her plenty today. He’d touched her with his eyes and with