More Than a Fling? (6 page)

‘This evening on the ten o’clock flight.’

Ross gestured to his office. ‘Stay here and get me a formal
offer before you fly. You do that and we’re in business.’

Ally forced herself not to punch the air in jubilation. She’d
done it...holy smoke, she had her face.

And what a gorgeous, sexy face it was!
Whoop!

Pic, sensing her excitement, stood up and shoved his nose up
her skirt. Ally squealed, and then laughed at the cold nose on her inner thigh.
Pushing his face away, she dropped into the couch and wrapped her arms around
his enormous neck.

Ross moved towards her and got down on his haunches next to
Pic’s head and ran a lazy hand down his dog’s back. ‘I’ve got to go. Get me that
offer—and don’t let this hustler con you into giving him any food.’

‘I don’t know where his food is,’ Ally pointed out.

Ross stood up. ‘He does.’ He slapped a bright green sticky note
onto her forehead with a crooked smile. ‘Wireless code. I’ll be a couple of
hours. If you want anything to eat or drink dial nine and ask Grace for whatever
you need. She’ll also take Pic out if he needs to go. Get me that offer,
Jones.’

* * *

Ross had always thought that he had a fairly impressive
concentration span and an ability to get things done, but he was a rank amateur
compared to Alyssa Jones. His conference call with Japan had taken ninety
minutes and when he’d returned to his office Ally had been on her mobile, pacing
his office and speaking in rapid and very expressive French. She and his damn
dog had barely noticed his return, both of them lost in their own little worlds.
Pic’s eyes had never left her face and Ally had been utterly absorbed in her own
conversation.

When she’d sat down in his large, comfortable leather chair
behind his desk and propped her sexy feet up on his desk, doodling on his desk
pad, he’d realised that he’d lost his office and decided to go and check what
was happening in the Pit. At least people would talk to him there.

In the Pit he’d got sucked into a heated discussion about the
post-apocalyptic world his designers were creating and had had to mediate a
vicious argument around zombies and ghouls. Then he’d brainstormed a storyboard
with Kate, ignored Hardy when he’d told them that what they wanted was
impossible, and then slipped out of the noisy quad and into the silence of the
quiet wing to catch up with Eli.

It was nearly three hours later now, as he sprinted up the
stairs back to his office, and the Pit was all but empty. He looked at his watch
and was surprised to see that it was just after six. While it wasn’t unusual for
his staff to work late, Friday night was party night and they moved their
‘craziness’, as Ally called it, to the local pub down the road.

Sometimes he joined them, sometimes not—but especially not when
he was negotiating a deal with a sexy, dainty shark in heels. Yesterday there
had not been a damn thing she could have said to convince him to be the new
Bellechier face and yet here he was, about to look over an offer to do exactly
that. She’d found his weak spot, exploited it, and was set to get exactly what
she wanted.

Determined, persistent and very, very smart. He’d have to watch
this one, he thought. And that wouldn’t be a hardship either. God, she was
lovely, Ross thought, standing in the doorway and watching as Ally’s hands flew
over the keyboard of her laptop. Her mobile was still surgically attached to her
ear.

Her hair had half fallen out of its knot at the back of her
head and her make-up had faded, allowing him to see more of those delightful
freckles and her lush, unpainted mouth. The top button of her shirt had come
undone, and if he tipped his head just so he could see the swell of her breast,
the edges of a pale pink bra. She looked tired, he thought as she massaged her
temple with her right hand, her left still tapping the keyboard. Tired,
determined, and sexy as hell.

He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. It was a
damn good thing that she was climbing onto a plane tonight, because if she
wasn’t then he’d make another stab at sleeping with her. She’d probably shoot
him down in flames but she was worth the risk...

He hadn’t felt this hot, this needful of a woman, in
months—possibly years.

She glanced up at him, gave him a little wave and made an
effort to get up from his desk. He waved her back down and grabbed his note
pad.

Food?
he scrawled, and slapped the
note down in front of her.

Ally held up her finger, asking him for a minute, and he
perched on the edge of his desk, waiting for her to finish her conversation.
After she’d said
au revoir
she pulled her fingers
away from the keyboard, yanked her headset off her ear and tossed it onto the
desk.

‘Hi,’ she said, and he heard the weariness in her voice, saw it
in the slump of her shoulders.

‘Hi, back. Tough afternoon?’

‘Brutal.’ She held up her hand in apology. ‘I don’t have an
offer for you yet. I’ve spent the afternoon tracking Luc down; I can’t reach
Justin. Luc is going to brief his father so I just have to wait for the
decision.’

‘Okay. When do you think that will be?’

Ally looked at her watch. ‘Honestly...? Justin will want to do
some research before throwing the foundation’s money at you. Probably not until
Monday morning at the earliest. Luc suggested that I stay in Cape Town until we
get an answer.’

‘Huh...’ Ross picked up the Rubik’s cube that he kept on his
desk and idly turned a few layers, adding a red side to the green and yellow
sides he’d already accomplished. ‘So—food. What do you feel like?’

Ally leaned forward in her chair—no,
his
chair—and held her face in her hands. ‘You don’t look worried at
all,’ she commented.

What was there to worry about? he wondered. ‘That’s because I’m
not.’ He put the Rubik’s cube down and folded his arms. ‘Your father is either
going to go for it or not; I can’t influence his decision one way or the other.
If he doesn’t I don’t get to dress up in poncey—’

‘Careful...’ Ally warned him.

He smiled before continuing. ‘Poncey clothing and goof around
in front of a camera. On the negative side, I’ll have to do some fundraising.
It’s all good, Jones.’

‘For you, maybe,’ Ally grumbled. ‘If he doesn’t say yes then I
am still short of a face.’

‘Yet the world keeps turning.’ Ross stretched as he stood up.
‘Food! I’m starving.’

Pic’s ears pricked up and he lumbered to his feet.

Ross dropped his hand and rubbed Pic’s head. ‘And there’s the
magic word. Come on—let’s go, Jones.’

Ally shook her head and gave him that brief, impersonal smile
he was coming to hate. It was soulless, perfunctory, and very, very
corporate.

‘Thanks but I am just going to go back to the hotel and order
Room Service; I still have work to do.’

Seriously? On a Friday night? Who worked on a Friday night...?
Ah, yes. Crazy people, workaholics and his father. And Ally Jones,
apparently.

‘Seriously? You’re going back to your hotel to
work
?’

He deliberately made it sound like a different kind of
four-letter word.

‘Yep.’ Ally closed down her computer, packed it into her laptop
bag and refused to look at him. She stood up, shoved her feet back into her
silly, sexy shoes and looked over his messy desk to see if there was anything
she’d left behind. ‘Right—ready to go...’ She scrunched up her face in
annoyance. ‘Dammit, I keep forgetting that I can’t step outside and expect a
taxi to come whizzing by. I need to call for one.’

And that would take a while. ‘I’ll take you back to your
hotel,’ Ross offered.

‘It’s too far, Ross, and I’ve taken too much of your time
already. You probably have a date or something and I’ll make you late. If you
can just call a taxi for me I’ll wait outside.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’ Ross waited while she preceded
him out of the office, then switched off his lights and followed her down the
stairs.

‘I should’ve just rented a car...now I’m going to put you out,’
Ally muttered. ‘That’s the problem with impulsive decisions—they just come back
and bite you in the butt.’

‘Mmm... And imagine what would’ve happened if you’d slept with
me—impulsively, of course!’ Ross said, his words as dry as kindling. He caught
the look of horror that flashed across her face and rolled his eyes. ‘That’s a
joke, Ally! Jeez! Do you always make a mountain out of a molehill?’

‘No. Maybe. Sometimes...’ Ally admitted, and Ross was surprised
by her honesty.

‘So, pizza and then hotel?’ he asked, pushing his luck.

‘Just hotel,’ Ally said as they left the building.

Well, it had been worth a try.

FIVE

Ally heard
the
knock on her hotel room door, pushed her chair back from the desk and wondered
who was bothering her at five-fifteen on a Saturday afternoon. She hadn’t
ordered Room Service and nobody but Ross knew she was in Cape Town.

Ross...it could only be.

Ally licked her lips and wished her heart would get the message
and not go all fluttery and stupid and...and
girly
...whenever she thought of him. It was just...silly.

Ally looked down at her outfit: sensible beige Capri pants that
finished midthigh and a black crop top that ended two inches above the waistband
and showed off the straps of her purple and black push-up bra.

Not the most seductive outfit in the world.

He knocked again and Ally crossed the room to open the door.
Ross, dressed in bottle-green board shorts, a white T-shirt and flip-flops that
showed signs of being chewed upon, stood in her doorway. He looked rumpled and
sexy and desire roared through her body.

He was standing in the entrance to her room and it was all she
could to not yank him inside and climb all over him.

Ally folded her arms. ‘Um... Ah... I didn’t expect to see you
here...I mean again—at least not until Monday when I...you know...’

Jeez, smooth. Like...not.

She took a deep breath and gathered her scattered wits
together. It took a while because some of her wits were eyeing his mouth, others
were imagining his ass beneath her hands and the sluttier wits were checking out
his package, which looked very impressive indeed.

She eventually managed to string a complete sentence together.
‘What are you doing here?’

Ross’s mouth quirked up at the corners. ‘Grab some shoes and
let’s go.’

‘Where to?’ Ally asked, and then twisted her lips. ‘I mean...I
can’t, Ross.’

‘That wasn’t actually a suggestion. I’m going out to listen to
a jazz band and you’re coming with me,’ Ross countered.

‘Ross, seriously—thank you for the offer, but no.’

‘Okay, then.’ Ross pushed past her, sat on the edge of her bed
and flopped backwards. ‘Let’s stay here and neck. That sounds like an even
better plan.’

Ally flushed, unable to take her eyes off his large, masculine
frame. That was the best idea she’d heard in weeks. She could just walk on up
between his spread open legs, lower herself down onto his wide chest and sip at
that stunning mouth. Those impressive arms would keep her anchored as she moved
against his erection...

‘One of these days I’m going to be part of your daydreams,
Jones,’ Ross promised, his eyes molten gold.

Ally snapped back at his words and silently screamed when a
deep, dark flush spread up her neck and into her face.

‘Will you please leave?’ she demanded, her voice hoarse.

‘Go out or stay in—your choice,’ Ross countered. ‘I vote for
staying in.’

Ally rubbed her forehead with her hand and wished that Ross had
even a slight acquaintance with the word
no
. Devil
and deep blue sea, she thought. If she went out with him then she’d have to talk
to him, and she was already, very grudgingly, fascinated with the man. Spending
more time with him, talking to him, would make her more so.

If they stayed here they’d end up having sex, which would be
beyond stupid. He would, she just knew it, be an amazing lover, and she also
knew that he had the potential to become deeply addictive.

And she couldn’t let that happen...

He crept into her thoughts more often than was healthy and they
hadn’t even got to making love yet. She was trying to avoid being alone with him
because it seemed to be the intelligent thing to do, but Fate was making this so
damn hard! She was drawn to Ross in a way that scared her, because no
penis-toting human had ever had the impact on her that he did.

Dear Lord...
Ally swayed where she
stood, befuddled and bemused. Ross snapped her out of her daze when he stood up,
walked over to her and gently pushed a strand of hair off her face.

‘Look outside... It’s a stunning spring evening: warm and soft.
Everyone is outside except you. We’ll take Pic for a walk along the promenade—at
the moment he’s entertaining, or maybe terrifying, the reception staff
downstairs. We can have a couple of drinks and some food, listen to good jazz.
We won’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. Just take a break from the
small screen for a while, okay?’

How was she supposed to resist that low, sexy voice and that
tempting, charming look? Ally felt herself wavering. It
was
Saturday night and she’d had a hell of a week. She could
probably do with some sunshine—and when last had she breathed fresh air?

Her brain capitulated but her entire body whimpered in protest.
It wanted to stay in and play with the big girl’s toy in front of her...

‘Okay, maybe for a little while.’ Ally grabbed her bag off the
couch and moved towards the door, needing to leave the room before she did
something really stupid—like stripping naked and throwing herself at him.

‘Jones?’

Ally, her hand on the door handle, turned to look back at him.
‘Yeah?’

Ross pointed at her bare feet. ‘Shoes would be a good
idea.’

* * *

Ally and Ross walked down to the promenade that ran from
Sea Point past Bantry Bay and all the way up to Mouille Point. As Ross had
pointed out,
everybody
was outside: pensioners,
teenagers, cyclists, joggers, lovers and dog-lovers walking their fur
people.

Pic ambled along next to Ross, and Ally wondered who was
walking who as Pic explored the exciting smells on the boardwalk and they
followed his zig-zag path.

Ross bought them ice cream and she licked and sighed, happy to
feel the still warm dipping sun on her bare shoulders and face. ‘Where are the
jazz players?’ she asked.

‘At a pub a little further down. What sort of music do you
like?’

Okay, that wasn’t too personal. Music....what did she like? She
had to think for a minute. ‘Modern country,’ she said eventually on a huge sigh,
knowing that she was about to be mocked.

She wasn’t wrong. Ross looked as if he’d just found a dairy
worm in his cone. ‘Dear God,
why
?’ he asked, utterly
pained.

‘The songs normally have a story; I like stories,’ Ally
replied.

‘Frig, you need help. Hard rock, indie, even house—but
country
?’

Ally was about to tell him exactly what he could do with his
help when her mobile rang. She pulled it out of the back pocket of her Capri
pants and squinted at the display. ‘Tante Sabine.’ She sighed.

‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’ Ross demanded.

‘Maybe later.’ Ally said, tucking the phone away again. She and
Sabine both had the latest smartphones and all the Bellechiers liked the video
calling facility. Ally hated it, because they could tell when she was where she
shouldn’t be—mostly in her office, but on this occasion with Ross. She was in
the company of a good-looking guy on a Saturday afternoon and that would raise a
lot of pesky questions from her nosy foster mum.

Ross ate the rest of his ice cream and didn’t refuse when Ally
offered him her half-eaten cone to finish. ‘How long have you known your foster
mother? How old were you when you were fostered?’ he asked between bites.

Ally licked the top of her lip. ‘I was fifteen when they
fostered me, but I’ve known them my entire life. Their second oldest son and I
are the same age and we were in the same class. I spent most afternoons in their
house with them.’

‘And you call her Tante? That’s aunt, right?’

Ally wished the world would open her up and swallow her. While
she’d kept lecturing herself about not probing into Ross’s life, she hadn’t
considered that he might probe into hers.

‘Why hasn’t she been upgraded to Mum, Ally?’

She had asked her to, about six months after her dad had died,
but she hadn’t been ready to make that step. She hadn’t ever asked her again,
and Ally had been too scared to raise the subject in case they were happy to
keep the status quo.

Her mobile rang again, and of course it was Sabine...

‘Where are you?’ she demanded in French.

‘Walking along a promenade in Cape Town,’ Ally replied in the
same language, looking down at the screen and seeing her face.

‘By yourself?’ Sabine demanded.

Ally’s eyes flew to Ross and she didn’t see Sabine’s quick
smile of delight. ‘I’m with Ross Bennett,’ she said eventually, and turned the
phone so that Sabine could see Ross. Ross grinned down at her and Sabine smiled
slowly.

The flirt.

As she’d thought, Ross could melt any woman’s panties,
regardless of age, at fifty paces. This was why his was the best face to launch
the new Bellechier line.

‘Bonjour, madame.’

The words were polite but the inflection was pure,
Hey, sweetheart...

‘Ross Bennett. Thank you for showing my...’ Sabine’s eyes
flicked to Ally and quickly away again. ‘...Alyssa Cape Town.’

He’d like to show her a lot more than just Cape Town, but Ross
was pretty sure that Sabine Bellechier didn’t need to know that. On the other
hand, judging by her approving look and the twinkle in her eyes, she might
approve and cheer him on.

As Ally and Sabine chatted away—in English, for his benefit—he
wondered what the deal was between these two. They acted like mother and
daughter, had the same crazy, jump around, finish-each-other’s-sentence
conversations that he remembered his sister and his mum having, and they very
obviously adored each other. So why were they both so damn scared to take the
step and acknowledge the mother-daughter bond that was so tangible he could
almost taste it?

Families were...
weird
, he thought.
And he couldn’t judge—his was as screwed up as any.

He turned his concentration back to their conversation when he
heard his name mentioned.

‘Ross, my husband Justin would like me to pass on the message
that he has no problem making a donation on behalf of the Bellechier Foundation
to your think tank project in exchange for you being the face of the new
campaign. I trust that is acceptable to you?’

‘It depends how much he wants to give Crazy Collaborations,
madame
.’

‘I think you will be happy with the amount he intends to offer,
Ross,’ Sabine said, her face serious. ‘You will have a formal offer on your desk
first thing Monday morning. If you accept it, Alyssa will bring it back to
Geneva with her and the contracts will follow.’

‘Let me see what the offer looks like and we can take it from
there,’ Ross said, totally unfazed. ‘Thank you.’

Ally and Sabine chatted for a minute longer and then Ally
disconnected, pushed her mobile into her pocket and slipped her sunglasses back
onto her face. ‘Sabine— matriarch of the Bellechiers.’

‘She seems nice.’

‘She is. What’s your mother like?’

Ross jammed his hands into the pockets of his basketball
shorts. ‘Bubbly...loving...fussy. Lonely.’

Ally’s eyes sharpened at that comment and Ross hissed a mild
curse for letting the words slip out.

She was too sharp to let it slide. ‘Lonely? Why?’

Ross stared out to sea. ‘My dad is very driven, very ambitious.
He’s a compulsive workaholic and, while he loves my mum, work always comes first
with him. My mum gets the crumbs of his attention.’

As we did. All our lives. Unless we joined
the family business. Then we were golden until we left and became
nothing.

Harsh, but true. And that was why he would never allow work to
consume him or become emotionally involved with anybody who allowed work to
consume her life. He was never, ever going back to playing the cymbals in the
orchestra of his life again.

Which reminded him...

He steered Ally towards his favourite pub and shook his head in
dismay. ‘Country music? Seriously?’

* * *

Being alone with him was dangerous, Ally thought, as she
shoved her keycard into the slot to pop open the door to her hotel room. But
instead of saying goodnight in the doorway she allowed Ross to follow her into
her dark room.

He walked over to the small sitting area and flipped on a lamp
that cast a golden light over the room.

Jeez, she’d even settle for Pic as a chaperone right now, but
Ross had unfortunately dropped him off at his house before bringing her back to
her hotel.

‘I liked the pub. Nice place...nice music,’ Ally gabbled,
so
conscious of him standing there, looking at her as
if he wanted to slurp her up just as he had that ice cream earlier.

‘Mmm. Not that I could concentrate on a damn thing,’ Ross
responded, walking across the room to where she still stood by the door. What
did he mean by that?

He placed one finger under the strap of her bag and gently
pulled if off her shoulder. It dropped to the floor with a muted thud.

‘Shall we order some wine from Room Service?’ he asked, his
hand rubbing her from shoulder to wrist in a gesture that soothed as much as it
aroused.

‘No, thanks. I’m buzzing as it is.’ Ally made herself step away
and walked over to open a window, hoping that the breeze would cool her down and
bring her the common sense she needed to resist him.

She
had
to resist him; they had
business to do and she couldn’t jeopardise it now. It was too important...

All thoughts of work fled when his hands gripped her shoulders
and pulled her into him, her back to his chest, his arm diagonally across her
chest. She couldn’t help sighing, resting her cheek against his bicep.

Ross cupped one hip in his hand. ‘So you liked the jazz,
huh?’

‘It was better than I expected,’ Ally admitted, feeling his
fingers spreading across her stomach.