More Than a Fling? (4 page)

‘Nice try.’ But maybe dinner wasn’t such a bad idea. Ross
shrugged his agreement. ‘Do you want to eat here or on the terrace?’

‘I love the view of Table Mountain from the terrace, and I
could do with some fresh air,’ Ally replied, immediately slipping off her stool.
‘That sounds great.’

Ross dropped his car key into the back pocket of his jeans
behind his wallet and picked up both their drinks as Ally walked ahead of him.
Nice view
, he thought.
Curvy ass and long shapely legs.

He could easily imagine his hands holding that sexy butt as her
legs encircled his hips...

Down boy
, he told himself.
Do try not to totally embarrass yourself.

* * *

‘So what do you think?’ Ally asked, leaning across her
plate as she waited for his response to her succinct top line explanation of why
she thought their products could be branded together.

‘No,’ Ross replied, and grinned at the spark of annoyance that
jumped across her face. ‘Come on, Jones. I’ve rejected branding opportunities
from massive soft drink brands—why would I accept
your
offer?’

Ally thought for a minute, wondering how to express the
thoughts that were tumbling around, half formed and half baked. ‘Because those
other companies wanted to brand Win! But I think I want
you
, not the game.’

Ross frowned. ‘God, that sounds even worse.’

Ally pushed her plate of uneaten steak and salad away and
leaned her arms on the table. ‘We wouldn’t brand Win!. We’d use you.’

‘Still not getting it—and getting more scared by the moment,’
Ross muttered.

‘Initially I thought, like Luc, that Win! and the new
Bellechier line would be a good fit. It’s a sporting and lifestyle game and our
new collection is a lot more relaxed. Good synergy.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Ross was looking at her as if she was about to drop a
concrete block on his head. ‘Are we going to be done with this conversation
soon?’

‘We were on the wrong track looking at Win!. We should be
looking at you. The man behind the game...’

Ross groaned theatrically and released a graphic swear word.
‘Sorry, but that is
such
a load of BS.’

Ally shook her head. ‘It’s really not. Win! is super-hot, and
anyone who is tech-savvy—which is everybody between the age of thirteen and
thirty-five—would be interested in the man behind the phenomena. Who did this?
How did he do it? Add to the fact that you are...well, young, successful and a
good-looking guy—’

‘You think so?’

Ally draped her arm over the back of her chair and held his
eyes. ‘Are you fishing for compliments now? You know that you are hot, Bennett.
We both know that you are hot.’

He lifted one eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Don’t get excited; that’s a professional observation.’ Ally
knew that her voice held ice but she couldn’t be certain that her eyes weren’t
slowly undressing him. ‘I also love the idea of Crazy Collaborations—a
technology think-tank—but I think that we’d have to stick to you as creator of
Win! for the campaign.’

‘We’re not sticking to anything because the answer is still
no.’

Dammit, she wasn’t anywhere near changing his mind. ‘What would
it take?’

‘To get me to do the campaign?’ Ross leaned back in his chair.
His mouth held a hint of a smile and his eyes narrowed in thought.

‘Mmm. Come on—hit me. What would it take? What’s the number?
The demand? Where’s the line in the sand?’

‘You sure you want to know?’

Ally nodded, resigned. He was going to throw a ridiculous
number out there, or ask for something stupid, impractical, unobtainable or all
three. She’d been here before—matching demands with deliverability and, more
importantly, deciding whether they were worth what they were asking.

Some were. Some weren’t.

Ally rolled her head and looked at him from under her lashes.
Oh, well, in for a penny...or for many pounds. ‘Hit me.’

‘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 a flippin’ idiot.

He looked at Ally, who looked as shocked as he was feeling.
Guppy look, Ross thought as his words registered and her eyes widened. He
expected her to make a fish noise at any minute. He raked his hand through his
hair. The words had slipped out. He’d been thinking them, but he normally
managed to keep his thoughts behind his teeth. They were at best wildly
inappropriate, and at worst sexual harassment of the worst kind.

It was pushing her into a corner, asking her to go beyond the
call of duty. Of course she would say no—probably at the same time that she
threw that glass of red wine in his face.

And he would so deserve it. What was he thinking? Oh, wait...
Maybe he wasn’t thinking...maybe he was allowing his
little
head to do the talking.

Ally just stared at him with her surprised fish face 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?’

Those eyes bored into him. ‘Wasn’t it a serious offer?’

‘Yes. No... Dammit, I didn’t expect you to say yes!’

Ally cocked her head. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I didn’t think that you were the type.’ And, more
worrying, he really didn’t want her to be the type. Over the years he’d met far
too many women who’d use any weapon they could, including their sexuality, to
get one step higher up the corporate ladder. Grasping, greedy, power-hungry
women who thought it was acceptable to sleep, lie and manipulate their way to
the top.

The realist in him knew that he was a target for those
predatory types. He had money, influence and, according to that stupid poll
recently, power. What that meant exactly he had no damn idea, but he couldn’t
help feeling disappointed that Luc’s sister used the same tactics.

Disappointed, yeah...but he was attracted enough, wanted her
too much, not to take what she was offering.

And he
did
want to have sex with
her. He wanted to see whether her eyes deepened or lightened in passion, whether
she huffed or moaned her pleasure, whether her skin was as fragrant as he
thought, whether those long legs could wind around his hips just as he’d
imagined they could.

Ross took a sip of whisky and nearly choked when Ally stood up
and draped a black leather bag over her slim shoulder. ‘So, shall we go
upstairs?’

‘Fine.’

Ross nearly bit his tongue trying to get the word out.
Your room, my room, the lobby floor
, Ross thought in a
daze. He couldn’t believe that his stupid flip comment was going to lead to him
getting it on with this gorgeous woman.

Utterly bemused, sure that he was operating in an alternative
reality, he stumbled to his feet.

This was proof that God did, indeed, look after the intensely
stupid.

* * *

How could she be both incredibly turned on and
scorchingly angry? Ally wondered as she stepped into the lift ahead of Ross. She
didn’t have any objection to sleeping with Ross—her monologue in the Ladies’
earlier was proof of that—but she despised the link between sex and her
career.

How dared he make sex with her a condition of doing business?
That behaviour was no longer acceptable in any circumstances! Sex was sex and
work was work and the first one should never be used as a tool for negotiation.
This was the twenty-first century and men didn’t get away with that kind of
testosterone-fuelled crap any more. And it hurt like a man-o-war sting that he
thought that she was stupid enough, desperate enough, insecure enough about her
job that she would even consider sleeping with him to get what she wanted from
him.

She might be one or all of those things—but she’d never use her
body as she would her laptop or her mobile.

As for the turned-on part—jeez, Louise. She was in a small,
slow lift with a super-fine guy who twisted her panties with just one look out
of those lazy gold-green eyes. Despite the fact that he was a Neanderthal, she
wanted him in the worst way possible. But there was no way she could have
him...
ever
.

But she
could
teach him a lesson in
sexual harassment. Oh, yeah, she was going to harass the hell out of him...

Ally watched the doors close and was grateful they were the
only occupants of the lift. She knew it would take about a minute to get to her
floor, so she’d better get busy.

Before she could talk herself out of it she whirled around,
grabbed Ross’s shirt and slammed her mouth on his. His mouth opened in surprise
and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue inside. Her body sighed at the
heat and spice of his mouth. She opened her hands and spread her fingers across
his wide chest, her palms loving the feel of hard muscles and the slow
thump-thump of his heartbeat.

It took him only seconds to react, and then his hands were in
her hair, and he was in charge of their kiss, and he was angling her face to
tongue her deeper. One hand dropped to yank her hips against his. The hard, hard
length of his erection pushed against her stomach, and she had to restrain
herself from reaching down and cupping him, sliding her thumb up and across its
full tip.

If she did that she’d never stop this, and she had to...

Ten seconds more
, she thought as
the doors slid open and the bell dinged. Ally wound her arms around his neck and
tangled her tongue with his in a low, sexy swirl that had him moaning into her
mouth. She withdrew and plunged again, and was only dimly aware that Ross had
shoved out his hand and was holding the doors open, keeping the lift on that
floor.

‘I want you,’ he growled in between hot, wet kisses.

‘I know.’

It was now or never, Ally thought, desperate for more...so much
more. If she let him get out of this lift then she’d let him into her room and
she’d be flat on her back and naked before her head had stopped spinning.

She wanted to see him, explore him, taste him, touch him. But
not like this. Because while she didn’t need to love a guy to have sex with him
she did have to like him, and there should be at the very minimum mutual respect
between them.

Ally wrenched her mouth away, ducked out from under his arm and
hit the close doors button before he could even react. She stepped out of the
lift as the doors started to close.

‘What the hell, Alyssa?’ he demanded, hot eyes blazing, his
hands easily pushing the lift doors open again.

‘Yeah, so
not
sorry. Did you really
think that I was that easy or that desperate? That I would just fall into bed
with you so that I could get you to sign on the dotted line?’ She gave him a
frosty smile and gestured to his tented pants. ‘Enjoy trying to hide
that
as you walk through the lobby... Oh, hello! Do
you want me to hold the lift for you?’

Ally stepped aside to let two elderly ladies into the lift and
grinned when Ross turned his back to them.

Except that now she had an eyeful of that super-fine taut ass
she’d had her hands on a minute before.

Ally placed her hand on her forehead and stumbled towards her
room.

This was the problem with playing with fire: you ended up
getting a little scorched.

THREE

Ally touched
the
side of her Bellechier sports watch as she jogged up to the steps that led to
the hotel’s seaside entrance and placed her hands on her knees, hauling in wet
air. Humid, she thought, and hot already at seven in the morning. She glanced at
her watch: six miles in fifty minutes. Not her best time, but
acceptable—especially since she’d tossed and turned all night and when she’d
finally slept had had incredibly restless dreams.

All featuring last night’s sexy jerk.

Behind her sunglasses Ally scowled at the waves smacking the
beach across the road and promenade. She might have left him in an awkward
position last night—good, he
so
deserved it!—but she
hadn’t emerged from their dizzying encounter unscathed. She’d felt tense,
fidgety...
horny
, dammit.

Apart from her inability or unwillingness to connect...and her
crazy work schedule...and the fact that she hadn’t dated or felt attracted to
any man in a long time...apart from all that she was still a reasonably normal
woman in her late twenties and she did get normal urges.

Up to now she’d always been perfectly content with a bit of
self-love and was easily able to sort herself out. She’d tried that last night
and, like most of the few lovers she’d had, she hadn’t delivered. She had just
ended up feeling more frustrated and hornier than before, which sucked. Maybe it
was time to cave in and buy that dildo she’d seen online. Except that now she
wasn’t sure that it would help. She wanted masculine fingers between her legs, a
hard body above hers, the hot, thick thrust of an erection pushing into her.

She still wanted Ross and that pushed up her irritation levels.
Even a long run hadn’t banished her frustration; maybe a cold shower would do
the trick.

Ally stood up, placed her hands on her hips and walked to the
low wall that separated the beach from the promenade. Placing one foot on the
low wall, she did some warm-down stretches as she watched the ships on the
horizon and thought about the day ahead.

She was booked on a flight back to Geneva that night so she had
the day open to do as she pleased. She could buckle down in front of her
computer—as long as she had her computer she could work anywhere—and get a solid
eight hours in either in her room, one of the lounges or on one of the many
verandas in the hotel. That was what she should do.

Bellechier had a second store opening in Hong Kong and another
in Miami, and there were countless items on her to-do list to ensure that these
new additions exuded the same class and charisma as their other stores. As Brand
and Image Director, it was her job to make sure that the look and feel of the
new stores was everything their customers expected them to be.

Then she had magazine adverts to approve, paperwork regarding
their sponsorship of a yacht race to plough through and a new face to find for
the new line.

Ally wiped the perspiration from her brow before resting her
forehead on her knee. She wished she was the type of person who could just pull
on a bikini, grab her e-reader and towel and hit the beach—who could spend the
day in the sunshine doing nothing. But that just wasn’t Ally. No: she’d sit down
and within a half-hour she’d be feeling guilty because she wasn’t being
productive, feeling tense because she’d be making mental lists of what she could
be doing.

The truth was that she was happiest working; at work she didn’t
have to think about anything else except the next task she had to do. Work was
her entertainment. She felt safe there. It was her demanding lover. Ally looked
at the beach again and sighed.

Intellectually she knew that she should want to take time off,
that she was entitled to relax, to have some fun, but she couldn’t translate the
thought into acceptance. Working was her way of repaying her debt to Sabine and
Justin; it was her way of saying thank you. She couldn’t be the soul-sharing,
emotionally expressive daughter they wanted—dear God, she would be if she
could—so hard work was all she could give them.

She’d do anything they asked unless it involved her heart—not
that she was sure she had one any more. She knew what her life could have been
like, and the thought of it still made her shiver. If Sabine and Justin hadn’t
pulled her out of that sterile hotel room the Thai authorities and later the
British Embassy had shoved her into after they’d removed her dad’s body from the
beach in Phuket, God knew what would have happened to her. She had no other
relatives—none that she knew of anyway—and no one else would have run to her
rescue.

She owed them for giving her a home and an education, but she
couldn’t risk loving them too much—just in case they got whipped away as well.
She didn’t think she could survive that.

She had to work this morning, but it would be an absolute sin
not to spend some time on the beach. So...what if she printed out those reports
she needed to go through on her portable printer and took them to the beach with
her? She would still be working...
and
getting a tan.
And since she needed to concentrate while reading them she wouldn’t have time to
think of Ross Bennett—the A-grade sexy dipstick.

But she’d only be productive if she didn’t think of his clever
mouth, his big hand on her breast, that hard thigh pressing into her crotch.
Ally sighed as her skin prickled and her crotch throbbed. Casting a last look at
the ocean, she turned to walk back into the hotel.
Here we
go again.

A cold shower was her last resort; if that didn’t work then she
was definitely ordering that sex toy.

* * *

Like most of his gender, Ross hated apologising. It made
him feel stupid and weak and...stupid.

But stupid he had been, and although Ally had punished him for
it—being in a lift with two nosy old ladies with a full erection had not been
fun—he knew that he still owed her an apology. He’d tried most of last night and
all of this morning to find a reason why he didn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t—and
still hadn’t found one.

He’d opened his big mouth and by doing so he’d screwed up, and
he was enough of a man to admit it. For most of the morning he’d tried hard to
ignore his conscience but at noon, when he realised that he’d achieved sweet FA,
he’d given in and left his office to head over to Ally’s hotel.

He needed to apologise—not only because his conscience dictated
it but also because his father had never been able to do so...
Saying sorry is for wusses, pansies and pathetics.
That was one of Jonas Bennett’s favourite sayings. But Ross had always vowed to
be as little like his dad as possible.

Propositioning Ally in the way he had was the kind of thing his
father would do: when Jonas wanted something he used any means he could to get
it. Winning, getting his way, coming out on top was all that mattered to him,
and last night Ross had proved that in certain ways he
was
still his father’s son.

He loved and hated that fact. Loved that he had his father’s
drive, passion and work ethic. Hated the fact that he also had his deeply
competitive streak. And his stubbornness.

His mother was either a fool or a saint for staying married to
him for nearly thirty-five years. How did she do it? Love, she’d once told him,
wasn’t an emotion but an action. When you’d been married as long as they had,
she’d added, sometimes you had to choose to love and to fight for love.

That sounded too much like hard work, and Ross had yet to find
a woman who interested him enough to consider the possibility of a lifetime with
her. Ally Jones definitely wasn’t a candidate. Besides, even if he was looking
for ‘the one’, he wouldn’t choose a tense, pushy, uptight corporate drone. He’d
left that world behind years ago—and all the stress that went with it; why would
he ever get involved with a woman deeply entrenched in it?

No, he liked to keep his personal relationships simple and
above all honest. So if he hooked up with someone he always made it clear that
he wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. One thing was for sure: when he
did
find Wonder Woman—he was still too busy to
commit the time needed to find her—he’d never let his partner feel she had to
compete with his work for his attention, as he’d had to do as a child.

Right—enough introspection. Let’s get this
damned apology done and dusted so I can get some work done today.

He believed Miss Jones was on the beach, the concierge told
him, so Ross walked out through the doors leading to the promenade, flipping his
sunglasses onto his face to hide his eyes from the blistering glare of the
midday sun.

Standing at the wall, he scanned the beach, which was
reasonably busy for a Thursday in September. Female faces were hidden under
floppy hats, caps and sunglasses, so how was he going to find her?

By going up to every single woman on the beach and acting like
a pervert, that was how. Perfect. Just what he needed.

Ross stepped onto the beach, ignoring the hot sand that crept
into his flip-flops as he made his way to the most populated part of the beach.
He looked out to the sea and watched as a woman walked out of the waves and
pushed her wet hair back from her face.

He instantly recognised that body, its essential bits covered
by fluorescent aqua triangles; he had felt it tremble under his touch last
night. A waist he could span with both his hands, curvy hips, legs that went on
for ever. Ross swallowed, realised that saliva had disappeared from his mouth
and stood still as she strolled up to a beach blanket and dropped onto it,
tipping her elfin face up to the sun.

A fist grabbed his heart and squeezed. She was utterly,
maddeningly, crotch-jumpingly beautiful and he still wanted her. Probably would
do anything to have her.

Just for a night...a couple of nights; just to get lost in that
face, that body, the comprehensive femininity of her. And, because he’d been an
utter ass, he probably never would.

That sucked.

Ross ran a hand through his hair, gestured to a beach vendor
and bought two bottles of water from the elderly man. Cracking the seal on one,
he took a long sip and headed to the beach blanket where Ally lay back on her
elbows, smiling at two toddlers who were arguing over a spade.

He sat down next to her, handed her a bottle of water and
jumped right in. ‘Sorry.’

Ally took the bottle, raised her eyebrows at him and curled her
lip. ‘You think a cold bottle of water and a half-assed apology is going to
work?’

‘No.’ Ross twisted his lips in frustration. ‘But I thought I
would give it a go.’

Ross removed the bottle from her grasp, cracked the lid for her
and handed it back. ‘I opened my mouth and spoke without thinking—not something
I often do. I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them.’

Ally cocked her head.

Bloody Nora, the woman had a stare that had all the power of an
industrial laser. And why did that turn him on?

‘Then why did you follow me up to my room?’ she asked.

What?
Was she kidding? Judging by
her puzzled look, obviously not.

‘Have you looked at yourself lately? You are seriously
hot
!’ He sighed and lifted one arrogant eyebrow
slowly. ‘Men are simple creatures, Jones. When they hear “let’s have sex”
everything else goes out the window. I thought I’d hit the mother lode. Yeah, I
messed up, but you were prepared to ignore that and nail me anyway. I wasn’t
going to turn you down. A saint couldn’t—and I’m no saint.’

‘I just bet you aren’t,’ Ally muttered, sitting up and reaching
for her bag.

Pulling out a pair of sunglasses—Bellechier, slick and sexy—she
pushed them onto her face and leaned back on her elbows again, bending her knees
and digging her toes into the sand. Drops of water still lay on her skin,
gathered in her belly button, and Ross wished he could sip the salty water from
that little receptacle, slide his mouth over her flat stomach, explore the skin
that covered her hipbones.

Frick
, the woman could rock a
bikini.

‘Gorgeous day,’ he mumbled, staring hard at the ships on the
horizon, waiting to dock in the harbour further down the beach.

‘Very.’

‘So...sorry.’ He thought he needed to say it again—hopefully
for the final time.

Ally tipped her head back and her wet hair, curly with salt
water, almost touched the sand behind her shoulderblades. ‘Your apologies could
use some work, Bennett.’

True. ‘So I’m forgiven?’

Ally shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

It did, actually. Ross lifted one shoulder. ‘I’m a straight
shooter, Ally. Normally. Despite last night’s mix-up, I don’t play games and I
don’t confuse sex with business.’

Ally looked at him and he couldn’t believe how relieved he felt
when he caught her mouth twitching with amusement. Leaning over, he pushed her
glasses down her nose and saw that her eyes were lighter, almost dancing with
mischief. He felt stupidly relieved.

‘What?’ he asked, not entirely sure if he really wanted to know
why she was smiling.

‘So how long did you spend in the lift facing the wall?’

‘Far too long,’ he growled. ‘Those wrinklies thought I was
sick. They kept asking if I was all right.’

Ally grinned. She lifted the water in a toast. ‘Are you
expecting me to apologise?’

‘For the kiss or for leaving me high and dry for the rest of
the night?’ Ross asked sourly. Ally gurgled and he couldn’t help smiling at her
infectious laughter. ‘I loved the kiss and I deserved the frustration. I’m a big
boy. I coped. Are we done with this now?’

Ally hiccupped a laugh. ‘Oh, no, you’re not getting off that
easily.’ She dropped her knees and sat up, pushing her glasses into her hair.
‘
You
, mister—’ she rammed a finger into his
bicep ‘—are going to sit through my entire presentation and you are going to
seriously consider my offer.’