More Than a Fling? (8 page)

By her immediate frown Ross knew that this would be
problematic—or that she would make it more problematic than it had to be.
Ally... Hell, she could complicate jelly.

‘I can certainly spend a day or two in Cape Town, but once the
concept and storyboards are approved the rest of the project is in the hands of
the ad agency.’

‘I want you here,’ he said stubbornly. Partly because he didn’t
like the idea of being passed off onto the ad agency, but mostly because he
couldn’t get his hands on her, get her out of his system, if she was on another
damn continent.

‘The rest of my work doesn’t stop because you want me in Cape
Town, Ross. And this will take a couple of weeks at least—it’s going to be
tricky for me to be away from the office for that long.’

‘You can bring your laptop with you and nobody is
indispensable. Delegate. Make it happen, Jones.’ There was no room for
discussion in Ross’s voice.

‘How much wiggle room do I have on this?’ Ally asked.

‘Absolutely none,’ Ross replied. He folded his arms and stared
her down. ‘I thought that this project was a priority— that you had to make this
happen no matter what else bounced onto your desk?’

‘It is—you know it is,’ Ally retorted. ‘And I would, except
that... Hell.’

She stared off into space and Ross waited, knowing that she
would capitulate eventually. Not only because the campaign was important but
also because she wanted to take last night’s...experiment...to its logical
conclusion.

‘Okay, I’ll temporarily move to Cape Town. Anything else?’

Ross wanted to suggest that she pick up five kilos before she
returned, and tell her that he didn’t want to see any raccoon rings around her
eyes, but he thought that he might be inviting a slap.

‘No.’

‘I really have to go.’

Was that regret he heard in her voice or just wishful thinking?
He wished he could tell.

‘Yeah. I’m sorry I can’t take you to the airport but I have a
meeting in fifteen.’ Ross held the door to his office open and waited for her to
walk through. ‘I’ll walk you down.’

‘Thank you.’

Why did his heart feel so heavy at the thought of her going?
What was wrong with him? Women passed in and out of his life all the time and he
never thought twice about it, but he felt hollow thinking that Ally was another
of those passing ships.
Get a grip, Bennett. She’ll be back
in a few weeks.

‘What time is your flight?’ Ross asked guiding her along the
side of the downstairs offices—ignoring the speculating glances of his staff—to
the front door.

‘This afternoon,’ Ally said, pulling her sunglasses out of her
bag as they stepped into the hot sunshine.

The taxi was parked a couple of feet away, ready and waiting to
take her away from him. Ross grabbed her elbow to hold her still and she slowly
turned to look at him, tipping her head back to look into his face. ‘It’s
been...interesting.’

Ally’s sexy mouth quirked as she pushed her hair out of her
eyes. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’ She reached up and planted a kiss on his
cheek, holding her face against his for a moment as if to soak in his smell.
‘Bye, Ross.’

Ross touched her face again. ‘Bye, Jones. See you in a couple
of weeks, okay?’

Ally managed a small smile and they walked over to the taxi.
Ross opened the back door and waited until she was inside before slamming it
shut. The taxi pulled away and Ross watched it turn the corner and disappear out
of sight.

Ross shoved his fist into his sternum, like Ally often did, and
turned to go back into his building.

She was breathtaking, in a fist to the solar plexus kind of
way.
Not good
, he thought. But he had a couple of
weeks to wrap his head around that. Because he had no intention of letting her
become important.

No intention at all.

SIX

Ally looked
out of
her window into the pouring rain and leaned back in her office chair. A few days
ago she’d been swimming in the Indian Ocean and riding on the back of Ross’s
bike in the hot, hot African sunshine and she missed it.

She missed
him
. Which was
ridiculous, since she hardly knew the guy. But the reality was that her life,
never a carnival, had seemed a little more monochromatic since she’d returned
from Cape Town, her mood a little bleaker. And, although she knew there was no
point, she kept checking her e-mail to see if maybe—possibly—miraculously—an
e-mail from him would pop into her inbox... Just a
Hello,
how are you doing?
Anything to let her know that he was thinking of
her as much as she was thinking of him.

She couldn’t even find anything to e-mail him directly
about—and she’d tried. Legal was dealing with the contracts, and nothing was
settled yet with regard to the adverts themselves. The Bellechier stylist had
e-mailed him to get his clothing and shoe sizes, so there was nothing she could
use as an excuse to make contact.

Damn.

She was behaving like a teenager, wishing and projecting like
this. Realistically she knew that Ross hadn’t given her—Ally Jones, not the
campaign—another thought since she’d left RBM in that taxi; why should he? He
had a busy life that she wasn’t a part of.

Ally cursed softly at the knock on her door and, seeing Sabine
behind the glass panel next to the door, nodded for her to come in. She stood up
and met her foster mother as she entered the room, kissing her on both cheeks
and accepting a quick hug.

Sabine sat down and crossed her still lovely legs. ‘I came to
see if I can take you to lunch.’

Ally gestured to the piles of paper on her desk. ‘I’d love to
but I have so much to do.’

‘You always do.’ Sabine cocked her head. ‘How are the
arrangements coming along for the campaign?’

Ally wrinkled her nose. ‘Fine. The ad company sent through
their storyboards earlier and they are wonderful. Ross will be...
is
...utterly perfect... I mean they’ve done a good
job.’

‘“Utterly perfect”? That’s an interesting choice of words.’
Sabine’s lips twitched.

Ally lifted her head at another knock on her door and her
assistant shoved her head inside.

‘Hey, Francine. What’s up?’ she asked in French.

‘I have something for you.’

Ally gasped as she saw the huge bouquet of purple and blue
flowers in Francine’s arms.

Francine tottered over to her desk and handed her the card.
‘Afrique du Sud.’

Ally resisted the urge to rip open the envelope, her heart
thumping. There was only one person she knew in South Africa... Wow, this was
better than any e-mail.

Sabine peered at the blooms as Ally took the bouquet from
Francine, reverently touching the petals as if she’d never seen flowers
before.

‘Do you know what flowers they are?’ she asked Sabine.

Sabine nodded and pointed. ‘Blue orchids, anemones, hydrangeas,
sweet peas, delphinium and Bachelor’s Button. Dear Lord, it is beautiful. From
whom,
ma petite
?’

Ally placed the card on the desk and handed the flowers back to
Francine. ‘Can you find a vase for me and bring them back?’

‘Sure.’ Francine took the bunch and hopped from foot to foot,
hoping to hear the answer to Sabine’s question.

Ally knew that if she exhibited the smallest bit of curiosity
Francine would pepper her with questions. Her assistant had no concept of
boundaries and tact. Then again, neither did Sabine.

‘Thanks, Francine,’ Ally told her assistant, and grinned at her
obvious frustration.

Sabine just crossed her legs and looked inquisitive. Ally
wouldn’t be able to dismiss her as easily.

She sighed, knowing that Sabine would out-stubborn her. ‘They
are from Ross.’

‘Ah...that’s quite a gesture from someone you’ve just met.’

‘I... He’s...’ Ally bit the inside of her lip and stared at her
desk. She wished she was one of those women who could just open up, spill what
she was thinking. She knew that Sabine wished she was too.

‘Talk to me, darling. Please.’

Okay, maybe she could try. Just this once...

She presumed that Sabine knew that she wasn’t a virgin,
although she’d never brought a man home. Around the time that she’d felt she
could
take one home, they had all—to a
man—dumped her because they were tired of playing second fiddle to her work.

Ally licked her lips. ‘We had a very hot encounter...’

Sabine’s thin eyebrows lifted. ‘Sex?’

‘No, just a hot kiss.’ Well, that wasn’t quite all, but she
wasn’t telling her that.

Sabine pouted in disappointment. ‘
Pfft!
You need sex, not a kiss...’

‘Tante Sabine!’

Although, honestly, she couldn’t disagree. She
did
need sex—now more than ever. A toy would never cut
it now.

‘Alyssa!’ Sabine retorted. ‘You need sex like nobody I’ve ever
encountered. It’s an amazing method of stress relief.’ She examined her
fingernails, her expression mischievous. ‘Why do you think that Justin and I are
so...how do you English say?...frigid?’

‘Chilled,’ Ally replied, before putting her hands over her
ears. ‘And I
so
didn’t need to hear that.’

‘Sex releases endorphins....’

‘La-la-la-la.’ Ally stuck her fingers in her ears. ‘Heard of
the expression
too much information
, Sabine?’

‘Between friends? Mother and daughter?
Non!
’ Sabine stood up, walked around the desk and placed her cool
hands on either side of Ally’s face. ‘Darling girl, you need a man. You need
sex. You need fun. You need not to work so hard. You need to let people in. You
need to chill. And,
mon Dieu
, you need to eat!’

Ally covered those hands with hers. ‘I know that you think you
know best...’

Sabine’s frown warned her to be careful.

‘But I am fine—I really am. I’m busy and productive. I’m
happy.’

Sabine removed her hands, but not before tapping Ally’s nose
with a red-tipped finger. ‘This grew bigger with that lie, Alyssa.’ She shook
her head in frustration before walking across the room to the door. ‘I’ll order
lunch to be sent up to you from the deli on the corner.’

Sabine needed to fuss and to nurture and Ally was happy to let
her order lunch if it made her happy. ‘Thanks, Tante Sabine, that would be
great.’

‘Any chance of showing me the card?’ Sabine asked hopefully as
she reached the door.

‘No.’

‘Zut!’

As soon as Sabine had closed the door behind her Ally reached
for the card and ripped the envelope open. After much cursing—had they used
superglue to seal the flap?—she yanked the plain white card out of the envelope
and flipped it open, her stomach quivering with anticipation.

He’d scanned his note and sent it to the florist, who’d pasted
it onto the card. His handwriting was strong and masculine and untidy.

Blue... I’m noticing it a lot lately and not
one shade matches your eyes. Maybe one of these flowers will.

Ross

Ally hiccupped a laugh and buried her face in the fragrant
bouquet, her heart pounding a staccato beat. So he
was
thinking of her...had thought of her enough to make him order a
bouquet of expensive blue flowers.

Her stomach was fizzing with pleasure—a very pleasant change
from the scorching heat of heartburn.

It was a thoughtful, lovely, sexy gift and it deserved at the
very least a response. His business card was attached to her stationery jar and
on it was his personal e-mail address. It would be so easy to drop him a quick
line...

Ally reached for her laptop and thought a while.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Nice surprise.

I didn’t realise that my eyes had made such an impression on
you...

Ally.

PS The bouquet is stunning. Thank you so much.

It wasn’t a minute before his reply appeared in her inbox.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Nice surprise.

Your eyes are amazing but your boobs, butt and legs are even
better. You are the reason I toss and turn at night.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Um...

Not sure what to say to that except that we did—do—seem to have an
unexplainable and hectic chemical reaction.

My sleep has also been disrupted by certain memories...and
fantasies.

The mouse hovered over the ‘Send’ button as she debated whether
to send it or not. What the hell? she thought, but immediately wished she could
pull it back as it winged off. What was the point of exchanging flirty, sexy
e-mails with a man so far away? What could they do about it except become
increasingly frustrated?

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Um...

Am about to go into a meeting and now have a hard-on. Thanks a
bunch.

When are you going to give me one I can actually use? With
you?

Holy frosting on a cupcake
, Ally
thought, and licked her lips as moisture appeared between her legs.

Before she could formulate a reply—dear God in heaven, what
could she say to
that
?—another message appeared in
her inbox.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Re: Um...

Is that a possibility?

A straight-up, no-strings offer this time. All personal and no
business.

Was it? Ally thought quickly and thought hard. She was
incredibly attracted to Ross, and he’d made her feel more alive than she’d felt
in months...years. Maybe she needed to step out of the comfort zone she was in
and live just a little.

They could have a brief, hot, fizzy affair when she went back
to Cape Town. An affair that had a time limit—a logical conclusion. One that
made her feel in control, secure, because it couldn’t carry on for longer than
that. He lived on another continent and there was no possibility of her getting
emotionally attached because there wouldn’t be enough time. Besides, she didn’t
open up to anybody and it wouldn’t be any different with Ross...

It would be a working holiday, she thought; the best of both
worlds. She’d work during the day, as she always did, and hook up with him at
night.

What would be the harm? Having some fun... Everyone— okay,
Sabine—was telling her to have some fun, some sex, so why not with him?

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Dying here...

You still there? Need a reply, Jones, or else I’m going to be less
than useless in this long, long meeting...which is about to start!

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Dying here...

When I get back to Cape Town, maybe. That’ll not be for another
four weeks, though...

And, just to be clear, we’re talking a hook-up only, right? No
messy emotions. No expectations. I don’t do emotions and have no
expectations.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: I’ll make a plan.

I can’t wait that long so I’ll come to you. A hook-up works for
me... I don’t do long-term either.

Got to run...enjoy the flowers.

Later.

Ally stared at her screen and couldn’t believe that she’d
agreed to have sex with Ross. Had she lost her ever-lovin’, cotton-pickin’ mind?
Was she bat-mad insane? She didn’t do hook-ups, one-night stands, have crazy sex
with men she hardly knew.

Then again, if she didn’t do any and all of the above then why
was she feeling so damn pleased with herself?

* * *

Ross was worse than useless for most of the meeting;
thank God it was largely technical talk, which Eli could handle, allowing him to
drift.

She’d said yes...

Friggin’ hell.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d thought that he’d lob it out there
and had expected a snotty equivalent to a kick in the nuts rebuke.

Ross checked the e-mails on his mobile; nope, he hadn’t been
imagining the whole thing.

She’d agreed to a casual hook-up.
Hurrah.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her... Her long
legs, flat stomach, the deep blue of her eyes. The perfect feminine bits of
her...

Okay, not a good time to go there... He slipped his hand under
the table and adjusted himself to find a little comfort.

It had been a long, long time since a woman had had the ability
to give him a hard-on just from a memory—to distract him like this, to creep
under his mental skin. One minute he’d be concentrating on some paperwork and
the next she’d leap into his head, like a mischievous kid who hid behind doors
and yelled
boo
!

She was such an intriguing mix between business and sexy, smart
and vulnerable. And wild... There was a lot of passion bubbling under the severe
clothes and the strait-laced attitude. He wanted to be the one to release that
passion...the one who held her while she was burning with it. The one who was
inside her when she screamed from it, exploding around him.

That was if he didn’t spontaneously combust from sheer
frustration first.

He
had
to get to her.

Logistics, logistics... Ross tapped his mobile on the boardroom
table. He wanted to go online and book the first flight out to Geneva, be there
by late tonight. But that was crazy and would make him look desperate. What he
should do was combine it with a trip to see his mother in London, his sister in
York. He could interview that new computer animation student who was reputedly
brilliant. After a little work he could pop over to Geneva late Thursday
afternoon, take Ally to dinner and then to bed.