Read More Than a Fling? Online
Authors: Joss Wood
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Women
More Than a Fling?
“I will consider doing the campaign—seriously consider it—if you sleep with me.”
When Ross Bennett has the not-so-enjoyable pleasure of hearing those words come out of his mouth, he realises he must have left his pants in charge. Because the woman sitting opposite him may be seriously gorgeous, but this is serious business—not some sleazy backroom deal! Until Ally floors him by agreeing to his terms….
Ally Jones may find Ross utterly irresistible, but that can wait: she has a thing or two to teach him first! Her first lesson? Everything comes to those who wait….
SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT FROM
MORE THAN A FLING?
“I will consider doing the campaign—seriously consider it—if you sleep with me.”
Ross almost looked around, in the vague hope that someone else had suddenly joined the conversation, because he could not believe that those words had come from his own mouth. What an idiot.
Ally just stared, and he shifted in his chair. He wished she would say something and give him a hint of the amount of crap he’d just jumped into.
He lifted his hands in a gesture of apology. “Sorry. That was…”
“Rude? Inappropriate? Offensive?” Ally tapped her finger against the white tablecloth.
“All of the above?”
“Damn right.”
She shrugged a slim shoulder and smiled.
Smiled?
“Okay, let’s go.”
Whoa!
Stop the bus! She was prepared to do this? Had he heard her correctly? No, he couldn’t have.
“Seriously?”
Dear Reader,
I have a crazy life. I have a day job, I write and I run after my two very busy, sociable children. Like millions of women the world over I am a master juggler, and I like to think that, most days, I have a reasonable balance between working and writing and being an involved mom. But I have to admit that while I was writing
More than A Fling?
I frequently dropped the balls of my life, and as a result I felt stressed and on edge.
And that’s why I found the character of Ally so easy to write. It’s easy to lose your balance and to become superinvolved in your career (or children or both) and forget to feed your soul. Showing Ally the error of her workaholic ways was fun, and as I got her life on track, mine became easier, too.
Ross is the exact opposite of Ally, and it’s through him that she realises that her job isn’t everything and that love and fun is far more important. Love and fun is
always
more important.
Wishing you happy reading!
With my best wishes,
Joss
xxx
Come and say hi via:
Facebook:
Joss Wood Author
Twitter:
@josswoodbooks
www.JossWoodBooks.com
MORE THAN
A FLING?
Joss Wood
About Joss Wood
Joss Wood wrote her first book at the age of eight and has never really stopped. Her passion for putting letters on a blank screen is matched only by her love of books and traveling—especially to the wild places of southern Africa—and possibly by her hatred of ironing and making school lunches.
Fueled by coffee, when she’s not writing or being a hands-on mom, Joss, with her background in business and marketing, works for a nonprofit organization to promote the local economic development and collective business interests of the area where she resides. Happily and chaotically surrounded by books, family and friends, she lives in Kwa-Zulu Natal, South Africa, with her husband, children and their many pets.
Other Harlequin® KISS™ titles by Joss Wood:
Flirting with the Forbidden
The Last Guy She Should Call
Too Much of a Good Thing
If You Can’t Stand the Heat…
This and other titles by Joss Wood are available in ebook format from
www.Harlequin.com
.
This book is dedicated to two people who were taken from us far too soon.
To Robbie Adam, the Third Earl of Thornham, who lost his life spear fishing off the coast of Madagascar…I swear we could hear your laughter whistling through the trees at Thornham yesterday.
And to Jenny Heske—wild woman, sage, free spirit, soul sister—who passed away in October 2013 at the Norman Carr Cottage, Namakoma Bay, Malawi. Smart, funny, brave and so, so wise. Our kids adored you, as did Vaughan and I. You will always be our Lady of the Lake.
ONE
‘Getting slow
boss?’
Ross Bennett slapped the ball from his opponent’s hands and
dropped a three-pointer into the basket. He flashed a relieved smile.
‘Does that look slow?’ he demanded, hands on his hips.
‘Lucky,’ was the quick response and Ross snorted.
It was, actually, since it was the only basket he’d landed in
ten minutes. Either his geeks were getting better or he was getting old and
slow; he chose to believe that they were getting better.
Despite the fact that he was getting his ass handed to him on
the makeshift basketball court abutting his building by two kids just into their
twenties, Ross Bennett was having a good day. It would be better if his guys
were actually doing some brainstorming on the post-apocalyptic world that was
integral to the new game they were designing—rebuilding the world after the
apocalypse while fighting pockets of evil zombies and ghouls was not
easy!—instead of having so much fun running rings around him.
‘Hey, I don’t mind you playing, but you’ve got to do some work
too,’ he stated as they regrouped. ‘If you’re not going to try and come up with
ideas for our destroyed world then get your asses back to your desk.’
He saw a couple of sheepish looks and heard one ‘Sorry boss...’
and hid his smile. These guys were some of his best recruits and weren’t sorry
at all.
Ross felt his mobile vibrate in the pocket of his combat shorts
and pulled it out. Lifting it up to his ear, he mouthed
zombies versus ghouls
at his staff and gestured them to carry on
playing while he took his call. ‘Bennett.’
‘Ross, darling.’
Ross sighed at the dulcet tones of his mother. ‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Hi, baby.’
Thirty-three years old and he would always be her baby.
Mothers. ‘What’s up?’
‘I was wondering when you might be coming back home...back to
London?’
‘Is there a problem. Is Dad okay?’ Since his father had had a
heart attack a couple of months back it was a valid question.
‘No, he’s fine. Back to work.’
Back to work
: such an innocuous
phrase, except when used in relation to Jonas Bennett. Ross felt the familiar
burn of resentment and anger.
‘I was just hoping that you might come back for Hope’s
thirtieth birthday.’
His little sister was thirty? How had that happened? ‘I hadn’t
really thought about it, Mum. What are you planning?’
‘A family dinner.’
Since he was no longer part of the family her statement was
wildly optimistic. Ross lifted his face to the spring sunlight and pushed his
long, sun-streaked hair back from his face. ‘Mum, I’m happy to have dinner with
you and Hope any time it suits you, but I’m not ready to break bread with Dad
yet.’
‘Will you ever be? Will this stupid cold war ever end?’
Her guess was as good as his. It wasn’t up to him. ‘I don’t
know, Mum.’
‘I hate being in the middle of you two,’ Meg Bennett
complained.
Then stop putting yourself into the
middle, where you’re going to get squashed like a bug
, Ross silently
told her.
‘Can’t you just apologise, Ross? You know how stubborn he is.
Just apologise and he’ll forgive you. You’ll be part of the family again, he’ll
reinstate your position at Bennett Inc., and give you your trust fund
back...’
I’d rather swallow poisonous tree
frogs.
Ross dragged his hand through his hair. His father, and clearly
his mother, thought that his inheritance, his trust fund and his position as the
heir apparently were all-important, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of
that. His independence was far more valuable to him any day of the week.
He didn’t need his father’s money or approval...he just needed
his freedom. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. ‘Mum, I’m
not discussing this anymore. I’ve got to go, so...’
Ross listened to her goodbyes and rested his mobile against his
forehead. Then he shoved the phone into the back pocket of his shorts and tossed
Table Mountain a look.
It glinted purple and green today, and was without the
tablecloth cloud that was frequently draped over it. It was one hell of a view,
he thought. He could look at Table Mountain from his office and the Atlantic
Ocean seaboard from his house—two of the many reasons he loved Cape Town.
Another reason was the fact that it was halfway down the world, so he didn’t
have to deal with his mother’s nagging face to face. He liked Cape Town, liked
the laid-back, artistic vibe, and he had no problem attracting young people to
live here as it was consistently rated as one of the most beautiful cities in
the world.
What was more, when he’d been trying to establish RB Media the
pounds he’d saved had gone a lot further in this city than they would have done
in London, and that was what had initially attracted him here.
Ross looked back towards his huge, multi-functional building
and felt a flicker of pride.
RBM was
his
—achieved through blood,
sweat, swearing and—although he’d never openly admit it—a couple of angry tears.
Despite the fact that his father had predicted his failure, he now owned one of
the most respected games and animation development studios in the world, had the
most successful game on the market—Win!—and employed some of the brightest, and
craziest minds in the business.
And housed on the top floor of the building was his baby: Crazy
Collaborations. It funded projects—water purification, renewable energy, search
and rescue detection systems—that could really make a difference in the
world.
Yeah, it was all good—even if he still had to endure his
mother’s incessant nagging. It would be even better if his guys would stop
nattering like old ladies about women—what else?—and do some work.
His geeks were suddenly silent and Ross looked around to see
what had grabbed their attention this time. Silently he whistled behind his
teeth.
Right, so
that
was why their
tongues were dragging on the floor—and he couldn’t blame them.
Light brown and gold streaky hair pulled back into a bun, sexy
black nerd glasses, a knee-length black skirt that hugged surprisingly curvy
hips and pulled the eyes down to the most stupendous pair of legs he’d ever
seen. Those pins ended in a pair of red heels that seemed to be attached to her
feet by magic. The buttons of a classic white open-neck button-down shirt hinted
at the lacy bra beneath.
She looked like the hot, sexy, nerdy librarian of his teenage
fantasies, who pulled unsuspecting students behind the bookshelves to shove her
tongue down their throats.
He felt a flicker in his trousers and reluctantly admitted that
maybe he hadn’t left that fantasy behind in his teens.
Her body rocked, but it was her face that kept his feet glued
to the floor.
It was a knock-your-socks-off face—high cheekbones,
made-for-sin mouth and a straight nose—a nose that was lifted high enough to
give her altitude sickness.
The noise of the traffic from the road behind them faded as she
approached him on those barely there, utterly ridiculous, spiked scarlet heels.
Her scent reached him first: a light, citrus, grassy scent that made him think
of sunshine and light. Those eyes behind her glasses—real? Fake? Who cared?—were
a deep, deep blue. Both guarded and, he thought, irritated. And on closer
inspection a little shadowed and baggy... Hot Librarian looked as if she needed
a couple of nights of getting a solid eight.
‘Ross Bennett?’
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘Who wants to know?’
‘Alyssa—Ally—Jones. You’re a hard man to get hold of, Mr
Bennett.’
Good grief,
Mr
Bennett? That
catapulted him straight back to Bennett Inc. and yanked bile up into the back of
his throat.
‘I’ve sent you no less than three e-mails and left countless
requests on your mobile and answering machine for you to call me back. Don’t you
have a personal assistant?’
Ross frowned. ‘Where are you from?’
‘Bellechier.’
Right—the clothing and accessories company. Swiss-based, very
upmarket. He recalled the messages, the requests for a meeting to talk about
branding and franchise opportunities. He wasn’t interested. Bigger and better
brands had approached him and he’d refused them all, but he had to admit it was
amusing to see exceptionally well-dressed corporate drones jump through hoops to
impress him.
Ross watched as her eyes slowly swept his body, taking in his
red V-neck T-shirt, cargo shorts and battered trainers. Just to see her
reaction, he dipped his hand into the pocket of his pants, pulled out the band
he kept there and tied the top section of his hair off his face.
Judging by the slight lift of her nose, Ms Prissy liked short,
back and sides... She folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head like
an inquisitive bird.
Suddenly he felt like a piece of prime rib being judged for its
freshness. If that interest was sexual he wouldn’t mind so much, but her
intelligent eyes were all business.
‘Shorter hair would suit you better,’ she said after a long
pause. ‘But long hair works with the bad-boy CEO vibe you have going. I’m glad
you lost the goatee, though.’
Ross wanted to look around to make sure that she was still
talking about him.
Bad-boy CEO?
Seriously? Surely a
bold geometric tattoo on his right forearm and long hair didn’t make him bad-ass
these days? In the nineteen-fifties, maybe.
As for the scruff she’d called a goatee—he hadn’t had one for
over a year. And this conversation was starting to get weird...
‘Uh...’
He caught the snort of one of his employees and without
dropping his eyes from her face, he told them all to get back to their desks.
When he could no longer hear their footsteps, Alyssa—Ally—pulled her bottom lip
between her thumb and fingers. It made no sense that he wanted his lips where
her fingers were, doing what her fingers were doing... What the hell?
Was it five degrees hotter out here than it had been ten
minutes ago?
‘You might just do...’ Ally murmured.
Boy Wonder in his pants perked up and looked around.
Who’s doing what to who? Can I join in?
Hell, he was
an embarrassment to suave single guys the world over.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. ‘Do you always talk in
riddles?’
She flashed a row of small, white, even teeth and two shallow
dimples appeared, one on each side of her mouth. He’d always been a sucker for
dimples...
‘Sorry... So, can we chat? Or can we make a time to chat if now
doesn’t work for you?’
Okay, persistent and gorgeous.
Ack
.
‘Look, I don’t mean to be rude...’ But he would be if he had
to. ‘If I didn’t respond to your sixty e-mails and ten thousand phone calls,
don’t you think that’s a solid clue that I’m not interested?’
‘I don’t hear “no” so well.’
That, he thought, was a solid gold truth. Actually, he
instinctively knew that she didn’t hear ‘no’ at all. And here
he
was—someone who never did anything he didn’t want
to do and never, ever followed the herd.
A saying popped into his head: irresistible force meets
immovable object.
‘How did you get my personal mobile and e-mail address, by the
way?’
Slim shoulders lifted and fell. ‘I know people who know
people,’ she said mysteriously.
He wondered if he would ever get a straight answer out of
her.
Anyway, as fun as it was, trading barbs with this gorgeous,
ultra-feminine woman—she was a girly girl from her perfect make-up and tousled
hair to her dainty toes—he had things to do. ‘Got to get back to work. Enjoy
your trip back to wherever you came from.’
‘Geneva—and you haven’t heard my proposal yet.’
‘Nor do I intend to. The Bellechier brand is old-school—slick
and snobby. It’s everything that Win! is not.’
She had the temerity to look insulted. ‘Excuse me?’
All five and a half feet of her—in heels—vibrated with
indignation.
‘Bellechier is one of the most iconic clothing and accessories
brands in the world... I’m
wearing
Bellechier!’
Ross deliberately yawned.
‘It’s sophisticated!’ Ally protested.
‘Dull,’ Ross countered, just to be argumentative. Okay, not the
shoes, but everything else was. He was really enjoying the sparkle in those
fire-blue eyes, the flush on her prominent cheekbones, watching her fight to
keep her irritation under control.
Damn
, she was
hot.
‘Why would you even consider linking Bellechier with Win!? They
have nothing in common.’
‘They do! Of course they do—or else I wouldn’t have travelled
twelve hours to see you.’
He tipped his head enquiringly. ‘Are you on crack?’
‘Hey! I’m not the one playing basketball at—’ she snapped a
look at her watch ‘—twelve fifteen on a Wednesday morning in this heat! That’s
insane!’
‘I suspect that my playing basketball when I should be working
is what most offends your corporate sensibilities.’
He hadn’t thought that nose could be lifted any higher but she
managed it.
‘I don’t care how you spend your time, or whether you give
yourself heatstroke. I just want an opportunity to talk to you about a
campaign.’
Ally looked away and he sensed that she was trying to keep her
cool. When she looked at him again her face was devoid of expression but her
eyes were still spitting spiders.
‘This isn’t the way I envisaged this conversation going... I
don’t normally end up in arguments with potential ambassadors in the first five
minutes of meeting them.’
‘You do it so well,’ Ross said, his voice super-bland. Time to
stop baiting her, he thought. Jamming his hands into his pockets of his cargo
shorts, he rocked on his heels. ‘Let’s get this over with, Ms Jones. Even if I
was interested in exploring branding opportunities, I don’t see any obvious link
between Win! and Bellechier. So—not interested.’
