More Than a Fling? Read online

  But it was personal. Because if she wasn’t performing at a hundred per cent she was failing them, wasn’t she? They’d given her so much, and since she couldn’t give them what they most wanted—her thoughts and feelings—she gave them what she could—her labour and her loyalty. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise...you’ve done nothing wrong!’

  His words were kind but Ally could imagine Luc shoving his hand into his coal-black hair in frustration. She frequently frustrated her very emotionally expressive and intelligent family. Dammit.

  She looked for an excuse to end this conversation. ‘I’m just a bit tired, Luc.’

  ‘Tired, thin...probably undernourished. You’re working far too hard and you are going to burn out, Alyssa. And then Maman is going to kill me!’

  Back to this old chestnut... She’d always been thin—that was nothing new. And, yes, she was working hard, but she always had. ‘Luc, I’m fine! How many times do I have to say it?’

  ‘We don’t believe you...mostly because you look like a panda and you barely touched your food the other night. Are you coping at work?’

  Ally’s eyes narrowed as the barman topped up her wine and she sent him a grateful smile. ‘Do you have any complaints?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t.’

  ‘Then I’m coping at work.’

  Ally heard the long breath he expelled. ‘You are the reason I don’t have a girlfriend, Ally; I spend too much emotional energy worrying about you.’

  Ally had to smile at that. ‘Rubbish. You don’t have a girlfriend because you have a low boredom threshold.’

  ‘That too. Listen, with Ross try your best, okay? Be charming...funny...because despite the fact that you are as prickly as a hedgehog I know you can be both. Je t’adore, Alyssa.’

  She wished she could give him those words back but, as always, they stuck in her throat.

  ‘Bye, Luc.’

  Luc disconnected and Ally dropped her phone into her bag. Her brothers: good-looking, smart, kind. Even if she was prepared to get involved with a man, could get involved, she’d probably still be single because they’d set the bar extremely high.

  One day maybe she’d feel brave enough to try to find a man who matched up. Maybe one day she’d have the time to try. One day.

  But not any time soon.

  TWO

  ‘Something with your wine?’

  Ally looked up into those amazing green-brown-gold eyes and her heart kerplopped in her chest again. His caramel-brown hair was squeaky clean and had been left to curl down his strong neck. Even in the low light of the bar she could see the sun-kissed blond streaks and tips. Too natural to have come out of a salon, she decided, and he didn’t seem to be the type to fuss. He’d removed the two-day-old shadow off his face—sadly, in her opinion—and his cargo pants and vivid red tee had been replaced with a very nice fitted pair of dark jeans and a loose button-down black linen shirt, the cuffs of which he’d rolled up his tanned arms.

  Oh, yeah...he so had the X-factor and the Y-factor...and the make-her-hum-factor.

  ‘Ally?’

  The way he said her name, in his deep, quizzical voice, had her pulling herself together. ‘Wine... Hi... The wine is fine. Why do you ask?’

  ‘You were scowling into it.’ Ross slid onto the stool next to her and ordered a beer from the bartender. Then he turned back to her and made a big point of inspecting her from top to toe. ‘You surprise me, Jones. I was expecting another black and white combo. Nice.’

  So he’d noticed...good. Changing his perception about Bellechier—that it was snooty and snobby—was her first goal, and that was why she’d deliberately chosen a very different outfit for this evening. He needed to see that their new line was fun and casual and would suit his obviously casual approach to life and work.

  So as part of her strategy for the evening she wore the only dress she had brought with her: a short, flouncy cobalt number that was trimmed in black and cinched in at the waist with a funky silver belt. It also happened to come from the new line they were launching in a few months’ time.

  This morning she’d wanted to look professional, and had opted for one of her many easy to wear, smart but comfortable outfits that travelled well. But tonight Ross Bennett needed to get a sense of the line, an idea of what they wanted him to promote, so she’d slipped on the dress and teamed it with another pair of kick-butt shoes. She’d just forgotten how damn short it was.

  Now she resisted the urge to pull the skirt towards her knees. She was not comfortable in anything that only hit midthigh and felt particularly conscious of the amount of time Ross was spending looking at her legs.

  It made her feel squirmy and hot, unsettled. Dammit, she wanted him to think about the line, about business, not her legs.

  Ally flushed under his scrutiny. ‘Thank you. This dress is from the new line we’d like you to endorse.’

  ‘Okay, not what I expected.’ Ross smiled his thanks as his beer was placed in front of him. ‘And that’s a damn nice watch you’re wearing—very unusual. Is it also part of the line?

  ‘No.’ Ally looked down at the man’s watch that dangled on her wrist. Flipping it around, she touched the face with its very distinctive dial and ran her finger around the oyster-style band. ‘It was my dad’s—the first Bellechier watch he owned. He bought it before he even started working for Bellechier.’

  ‘Your real dad or foster dad?’

  From a flyaway comment of hers he’d remembered that she was fostered. That was impressive, she thought. ‘My real dad. He was CFO of Bellechier for ten years and Justin Smith’s best friend.’

  Ross frowned. ‘Justin Smith? Don’t know him. How does he fit into the picture?’

  Ally sipped her wine before she explained. ‘Quick Bellechier history lesson: Sabine Bellechier is my foster mum and her great-grandfather established Bellechier watches in the early twentieth century. Sabine was an only child and she inherited Bellechier. She fell in love with the Bellechier Sales Director—Justin Smith. Justin then took over the CEO position and together they expanded into apparel and accessories. Their sons, Luc and Patric, have a double-barrelled surname: Bellechier-Smith.’

  ‘Ah, okay. I get it.’ Ross nodded at her wrist. ‘So how did your dad die? And when?’

  Ally’s mouth dropped open. ‘God, you are so nosy!’

  ‘Then tell me to butt out.’

  ‘Butt out,’ Ally shot back, but she couldn’t help but like his straightforward attitude. After the fake politeness she endured day after day it was refreshing.

  She leaned back in her chair and played with her belt buckle. The words were out of her mouth before she could haul them back.

  ‘He died of a heart attack when I was fifteen.’

  In a foreign country halfway across the world. But Ross didn’t need to know that—and, besides, she never spoke about those dark weeks after his death. To anyone.

  ‘My mother left when I was a baby.’

  ‘That sucks,’ Ross said with no hint of morbidity, which she appreciated. After a little silence he sent her a mischievous look. ‘You can ask me about my family if you want to. I might not answer, but you can ask.’

  ‘Thank you, but I’m not nosy. And I’d really prefer it if we kept this conversation to the business at hand.’ Mostly because she wanted to ask him a whole bunch of personal questions...which was very, very out of character for her. She’d learnt a long time ago about the notion of quid pro quo.


  Ross slapped his hand on his chest. ‘Ouch. Touché.’ He rested his elbow on the bar and pushed his hair out of his eyes. ‘So, no personal stuff. Damn, that’s boring. Are we going to talk about clothes now?’

  ‘No, the campaign.’

  ‘Ugh,’ Ross replied, taking a long swallow of his beer. ‘Let’s go back to talking about your clothes, then. Specifically these shoes of yours. How the hell do you keep them on your feet?’

  ‘You’re beginning to sound like you’re slightly obsessed with my clothes,’ Ally said, and made the mistake of slamming her eyes up to his. Green deepened to gold as she watched them heat and she could almost hear his words... I’m obsessed with getting you out of them.

  Oh, wait—maybe that was her silently saying, yelling, panting that phrase. But there was definitely heat in his gaze...something she was pretty sure she hadn’t imagined.

  Ross just looked at her as she fumbled around for something to say. She was so out of practice with this man-woman attraction thing, Lord, she hadn’t even been on a proper date since who could remember when.

  Blow her down with a feather... And that made her imagine Ross drifting a feather over her torso, lower, lower, and following its path with his wicked mouth.

  Feeling herself starting to ignite from the inside out, she fumbled for her wine glass, lifted it up to her lips and allowed the icy liquid to slip down her throat. She drained the glass and gestured to the bartender for a refill.

  ‘I would pay a lot of money to be on the road trip you just went on,’ Ross drawled in a husky voice...a bedroom voice.

  ‘Uh, yeah...sorry about that.’ Ally shook her head and held up her hand. ‘Would you excuse me for a minute? I need to...take a...Ladies’.’

  Ross stood up as she did and somewhere, in a part of her brain that still had some sort of cognitive thinking, she appreciated his manners. Pulling her bag over her shoulder, she quickly walked over to the Ladies’ restroom, slammed the door open and paced the small area in front of the basins.

  She wanted him in the worst take-me-now, stop-this-throbbing way. Every pore on her skin was prickling, and she was intensely aware of every breath he took, each flick of his eyelids, every movement of his strong thighs, each bob of his throat. His deep voice sneaked into places that had been so cold for so long and set her nerve-endings on fire...

  She wanted to ask him up to her room for a one-night stand and the thought terrified and shocked her. They hadn’t even discussed the launch of the new line, but at this moment it didn’t matter and she so didn’t care.

  Ally shoved her hands into her hair and pulled. She’d never not cared. Who was this stranger in her head?

  Ally looked at herself in the mirror above the sink and didn’t recognise the flushed, wild-eyed woman looking back at her. Lifting her finger to her lips, she closed her eyes in horror. This crazy, sexy-looking woman wasn’t her. She looked out of control and fairly unhinged.

  Ally ran the tap and flicked some cold water onto her cheeks, patting them dry with a paper towel, taking long deep breaths to get her heart-rate to slow down. She didn’t do crazy and she didn’t do unhinged and she didn’t put herself into situations that could get complicated...

  And she never mixed business with pleasure. Ever. Or she wouldn’t if she allowed herself to have a social life.

  She’d never felt so attracted to a man. He set her libido alight with his masculinity and his hottie factor, and she could dismiss that a lot more easily if she wasn’t so mentally attracted to him. She liked the fact that he was an alpha male—smart, decisive, mentally strong. He was a lot like her brothers and it annoyed her—scared her, kicked her off-balance—to realise that he would be the type of man she’d look for in the future, if or when she got her act together.

  Well, this wasn’t the right time, and she wasn’t ready for a relationship.

  But Ross isn’t about a relationship, her lady bits protested. He is pure lust...biology at its most basic form. He would be about pleasure and relief and hot, raw sex...we could do with a whole bunch of that!

  Ally gripped the edges of a basin and dropped her head. Even if she threw every caution she had to the wind—and she had a truckload—she might still have to work with him. Because, despite his current opinion, Win! was a perfect match to their new line, and it was her job to convince him of that. She was good at her job and she rarely failed. So when Ross became the new face of Bellechier it would be rather awkward to work with him and keep a ‘pretend you haven’t licked me from top to toe’ expression on her face.

  Because she just knew that he would lick her from top to toe. And back up again...lingering in certain places... Ally squirmed against her damp panties and scrunched up her face. Damp panties...? This man was more lethal than she’d thought.

  Get a freaking grip, Jones! She was not going to ‘do’ Ross in any shape or form. That was just crazy and it was time she pulled herself together. She’d wobbled a little bit, had a strange physical reaction to him, but now it was time to be sensible and...professional, dammit. Cool. Controlled.

  All the things she was so good at.

  Ally put her hand against her sternum and breathed. Long, deep and slow. It was no substitute for hot, sweaty sex but it did bring her colour down and whip her thoughts into line.

  If only it would work for the ‘do me now’ look in her eyes...

  * * *

  Ross placed his forearms on the bar and looked at his foot, resting on the gold rail of Ally’s chair. What was he doing? He should be heading home. He still had hours of work ahead of him tonight. He had a full day tomorrow and he was nuts even to consider prolonging this evening with a rather lost beauty with dark rings under her eyes.

  He’d toss back his drink, pick up takeout on the way home, take a cold shower and head into his home office.

  Those resolutions flew out of the room as he watched Ally walk back towards him. She wore her hair down tonight and it was longer than he’d expected, way past her shoulder blades and naturally wavy. She’d reapplied lipstick in the bathroom and her bland corporate face was back—which was totally at odds with that sexy, sexy dress. Pity... He rather liked the flashes of wildness he occasionally glimpsed in those black-ringed navy blue eyes.

  She hadn’t noticed that he was watching her as she stopped between two empty tables and twisted her neck. Ross swallowed as she gripped her hands behind her back and pushed her chest out and... Hell, she wasn’t as scrawny as he’d first thought. Her dress outlined her breasts and pulled across her flat stomach, lifting the hem of that dress up another inch.

  In any other woman that stretch would have had him walking out through the door, because it was such an obvious move, but he could see from Ally’s painfully scrunched face that she wasn’t even remotely concerned whether he was watching or not. He could see pain flicker across her face as her shoulders rose and then slumped, the way her eyes contracted when she rolled her head on her shoulders.

  Then she glanced across to the bar, saw that he was watching and immediately straightened her spine, giving him a long, cool look. So, Ms Priss didn’t like anyone seeing her less than cool and controlled.

  ‘Problem?’ he asked when she slid back into her seat.

  ‘A muscle in my shoulder is on fire,’ Ally replied, wincing. ‘I swung my suitcase off the luggage conveyor and felt the twinge. Crazy, since I’m always picking up luggage.’

  I can massage it for you. Ross opened his mouth to say the words and
closed it again. And after I rub you into a gooey mess I’d like to sleep with you.

  Ross sighed. She’d never accept—not in a hundred years. Smart, uptight women didn’t do that. Especially after five minutes of conversation.

  She was uptight and she didn’t look like an idiot. In fact she had the most intelligent glint in those amazing eyes. And smart, uptight girls rarely said yes to casual sex.

  He thought that was tragic.

  Ross decided that it would be a very good idea to get his mind out of the bedroom and back onto the purpose of this evening.

  ‘So, tell me what you and Luc are thinking about with Win! and Bellechier.’

  Ally looked at her new glass of wine and sighed. ‘It’s getting late... Have you eaten? My treat.’ She flashed a smile. ‘You might be more receptive to my suggestions on a full stomach.’

  ‘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.