Untameable Rogue. Kelly Hunter
‘Seen enough?’ he murmured, and she who never blushed felt warmth creep up her neck and along her cheeks.
‘I think so.’ Cursing his appeal, and her blatant reaction to it, Madeline turned her attention back to the table. ‘Where were we?’
‘No idea,’ he said. ‘But I think we should get it over with. It’d speed things up and, seeing as I’m only here for a week…’
‘Get what over with?’
‘Our first kiss.’ They were side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
‘I do know my way around a man’s mouth,’ she murmured. ‘Thing is, I’m not altogether sure why I’d want to kiss a man who despises me.’
Dear Reader
They say that behind every great man there’s a great woman.
The phrase is an old one, and I like the inherent equality in the statement. It’s nice. There’s room to manoeuvre. It doesn’t imply that the strengths of men and women must be equal in every way, but there’s balance there nonetheless. Balance is something I think about a lot when putting heroines and heroes together on the page.
My philosophy’s not exactly brain surgery. I try to give my couples complementary strengths, and I’m all for balancing the equality equation. If my hero regularly saves the world, my gal’s going to need resilience aplenty and the strength to let him do it. If my heroine’s extremely wealthy, my hero had best be bringing something equally valuable to the relationship. Honour. Integrity. Acceptance. Balance.
What else do I think about when putting characters together on the page? I think about letting them have some fun, and I remember a Jim Carrey line from the film Bruce Almighty. I like the inherent playfulness in the statement. It’s fun. Open to interpretation. It’s also not a bad way to open a story.
The line?
‘Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes.’
I hope you enjoy UNTAMEABLE ROGUE.
Kelly Hunter
Untameable Rogue
by
Kelly Hunter
Accidentally educated in the sciences, Kelly Hunter has always had a weakness for fairytales, fantasy worlds, and losing herself in a good book. Husband…yes. Children…two boys. Cooking and cleaning…sigh. Sports…no, not really—in spite of the best efforts of her family. Gardening…yes. Roses, of course. Kelly was born in Australia and has travelled extensively. Although she enjoys living and working in different parts of the world, she still calls Australia home. Visit Kelly online at www.kellyhunter.net
Kelly’s novel SLEEPING PARTNER was a 2008 finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, in the Best Contemporary Series Romance category!
Recent books by the same author:
REVEALED: A PRINCE AND A PREGNANCY*
EXPOSED: MISBEHAVING WITH THE MAGNATE*
PLAYBOY BOSS, LIVE-IN MISTRESS
TAKEN BY THE BAD BOY
SLEEPING PARTNER
* Hot Bed of Scandal duet
CHAPTER ONE
MADELINE MERCY DELACOURTE quite liked looking at near-naked men. She had her favourites, of course. Smooth-skinned willowy young men were easy on the eye and heaven knew Singapore was full of them. Well-preserved older men could also command attention on occasion, although general consensus had it that they were far easier to admire when they kept their clothes on.
No, for Madeline’s money—and she had plenty of money—by far the most appealing type of near-naked man was the hardened warrior, complete with battle scars and formidable air. The ones who wore the gi—the loose martial arts robes—as if they’d been born to them. The ones who didn’t bother with shirts in Singapore’s sultry heat. Instead they let their glistening skin caress the air and please the eyes of those who knew where to find them.
Right now, as Madeline’s eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the shabby little dojo in the heart of Singapore’s Chinatown, she had the definite pleasure of happening upon not one shirtless warrior, but two.
The first was Jacob Bennett, a raven-haired steelyeyed Australian who’d found his way to Singapore around the same time Madeline had—over ten years ago now—and never left. They understood each other, she and Jacob. Survivors both, no questions asked. This was his dojo Madeline was standing in and if he had a softer side to his formidable façade, well, she’d never seen it. He’d scowl when he saw her. He always did. That was what came of asking a kind man one too many favours.
Madeline had never seen Jacob’s opponent before. Not in the dojo, not in Singapore. She’d have remembered if she had. He had an inch or so on Jacob when it came to height, but when it came to muscle mass and the way it wrapped around bone the men looked remarkably similar. Same cropped black hair and skin tone too. A brother perhaps, or a cousin, and certainly no stranger to the martial arts. He had Jacob’s measure, and that was saying something.
They had the long sticks out, the Shaolin staffs, and they fought with the grace of dancers and the ferocity of Singapore’s famous Merlion. Each man appeared intent on annihilating the other but where Jacob was ice, his opponent was fire. Less contained, thoroughly unpredictable. Reckless, even.
Reckless warriors were her favourite kind.
Jacob saw her and scowled. Madeline blew him a kiss.
‘Is that him?’ said the ragamuffin boy standing beside her.
‘That’s him.’
‘He doesn’t look pleased to see us.’
‘He’ll get over it.’
Jacob’s opponent must have heard them speaking or followed Jacob’s gaze, for he looked their way as well. Bad move. Moments later the unknown warrior landed flat on his back, swept off his feet by Jacob’s long stick. Madeline winced.
Jacob looked their way again and he really should have known better because the moment he took his eyes off his fallen opponent the warrior struck and Jacob too went down. A heartbeat later, each man had his hand wrapped around the other’s throat.
‘He looks busy,’ said the boy. ‘We should come back later.’
‘What? And miss all this?’ Besides, she figured the warriors were just about done. With a reassuring smile in the boy’s direction, Madeline sauntered over to the two men, the heel of her designer shoes satisfyingly staccato against the scarred wooden floor. She crouched beside the warring pair and poked the mystery man’s sweat-slicked shoulder with her fingernail, barely resisting the urge to trace a more lingering path. ‘Excuse me. So sorry to interrupt. Hello, Jacob. Got a minute?’
The mystery man had expressive amber-coloured eyes; the predominant expression in them at the moment being one of incredulity. But his grip on Jacob’s throat loosened and Jacob stopped sparring altogether and raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. Madeline smiled and offered the mystery warrior her hand, primarily to ensure he removed it from around Jacob’s neck. ‘Madeline Delacourte. Most people call me Maddy.’
‘Often they just call her mad,’ rasped Jacob.
‘Flatterer,’ said Madeline.
The warrior’s eyes lightened and he smiled a dangerously charming smile as