TENDER DECEIT (Romantic Suspense Mystery Novel): First Love Series ~ Book 1 by H.Y. Hanna Page A

nodded to her cocktail with a grin. “Don’t tell me—you love it.”
    “And you don’t?” Leah smiled.
    He shuddered. “Sickly sweet cough syrup.”
    Leah laughed. “It’s not that bad. I think it’s quite nice.”
    “Ah, well, you would ,” he said, smiling. “It’s pink and you’re a girl. My name is Steve, by the way, Steve Birkin.”
    Leah offered him her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr Birkin.”
    “Call me Steve,” he said, taking her hand in a grasp that lingered slightly longer than was necessary. “So you’re Julia’s old school friend, Leah. Hmm… I was thinking of refusing when Julia called me to join her for lunch today, but boy,” he waggled his eyebrows, “am I glad I came now.”
    Leah laughed. His flirting was outrageous. But it was harmless and, in a way, she welcomed it after the storm of tumultuous emotions that Toran had awakened. In fact, Steve was the complete opposite of Toran in every way—his hair was a sun-streaked blond, cut short above a pleasant, square-jawed face, and his eyes were a warm brown. Slightly too warm, perhaps, as he looked at her now.
    Leah shifted slightly. “So what do you do, Steve?”
    “I’m a photographer.”
    “Really?” Leah said with polite interest. “What sort of things do you photograph?”
    “I’d love to photograph you if you give me the opportunity,” he said, leaning closer and flashing his teeth in a brilliant, white smile.
    Leah shifted back in her seat. She forced a laugh and shook her head. “I’d make a terrible subject.”
    “Oh, no, I think you’d make a fascinating subject. Aside from the fact that you’re obviously wildly photogenic, there’s something in your eyes… some kind of vulnerability… and your hair…” He reached out gently with a hand towards her head.
    Leah jerked back sharply. The move was too reminiscent of Toran’s gesture in the cable car last night and felt like a violation of something intimate that was only shared with him. She gave Steve a bright smile to cover her reaction. “What do you photograph when you’re not trying to chat up unsuspecting women?”
    “Mainly portraits and still-life,” he said, more seriously. “Very occasionally, I’ll take on some special projects of personal interest. For example, I was recently asked to photograph an exhibition of Malaysian kris daggers.”
    Something stirred in Leah’s memory. “Oh, I think I sa w a magazine article about that.” Her eyes widened. “Did you take those photos? They’re fantastic.”
    He showed his teeth again in a dazzling smile. “Thanks. Actually, the daggers were a blast to photograph. Such amazing pieces. I’ve been fascinated by traditional weapons ever since I was a young boy so that commission was a dream come true.”
    “Are they at the Asian Civilisations Museum?”
    “Oh, no, most of them were actually from private collections in Singapore. The most valuable dagger belonged to Bentley Warne. That was the gold one inlaid with rubies.”
    Leah sat up straight. “Bentley Warne?”
    He tilted his head. “Yes, you’ve heard of him? He’ s an Australian property tycoon; took up residence in Singapore several years ago. Apparently, he collects kris daggers, although the gold one featured in the article is his personal favourite. Always carries it with him—wears it on his belt at all times. He even came and stood by me, watching while I photographed the piece, and then put it straight back on as soon as I was finished.” Steve laughed. “Maybe Warne believes the old superstition that a kris dagger can ward off evil and protect its wearer.”
    Leah thought of the picture of Warne she’d seen on her laptop earlier. So that was the multicoloured gold thing attached to his belt. The jewelled sheath and hilt of a kris dagger. Somehow, knowing that the man wore a killing weapon on him at all times made him fit better into Toran’s description of a ruthless murderer.
    “What are you two gossiping about?”