More Than a Fling

ELEVEN


The following morning Ally was sitting on Ross’s veranda, working on her laptop, while Ross surfed on the beach below the house. She wasn’t making a lot of progress because she kept thinking of their conversation the night before and how Ross had made sweet, tender, passionate love to her afterwards.

She didn’t have much time left in this country; the shooting for the commercials was finished and the studio shots were scheduled for tomorrow and the next day. She was due to fly back to Geneva on Thursday and then this...this thing with Ross would come to a slamming stop. Just the thought of leaving made her want to dry heave.

When had he become so important? When had she lost her grip on her emotions and her distance? The first time she’d met him? The second? From the moment they met he’d challenged all her preconceptions about her career, her life. He made her think and, worse, he made her dream.

Was he right? she asked herself, lifting her cup of coffee to her lips. Was she wasting herself, wasting her life, spending all her time at work, keeping herself closed off and living scared?

She wanted to live a more balanced life, she admitted. Dammit, she wanted to have a life. But she didn’t want a life that didn’t have Ross in it. She couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t have Ross in it.

She wasn’t sure what love felt like, what love was, but she’d never felt like this before. Safe and thrilled in equal measure, challenged and accepted at the same time. Ally pushed her hair back from her face and, as always, logic floated to the surface.


Was she just feeling...attached to Ross because he was the first to give her a taste of what she was missing from her life: fun, a man, passion...fun? Was she projecting her feelings on him because he’d breached her defences? Was she feeling affection because the thought of throwing herself back into dating made her want to break out in hives?

Ally dug deep, thought of going back to Geneva, and her heart belted away into the deepest, darkest corner of her ribcage. She couldn’t imagine not talking to him, not making love to him, not having him in her life.

Maybe this psychotic, thrilling, heart-thumping feeling in her stomach and heart and throat was love. It sure as hell was something...

Ally heard the doorbell ring and frowned. Standing up, she peered over the railing and looked out to sea. Immediately she saw Ross sitting on his board, waiting for a wave. Okay, so she’d answer his door.

Ally walked back through his lounge, moved a pair of his trainers out of her path—the man left shoes and clothes everywhere—and touched the wooden statue of a monstrous head at the door before yanking the door open.

Ross’s face in thirty years stared back at her. ‘I’m looking for Ross Bennett. I was given this address.’

Ally held out her hand. ‘I’m Ally, Ross’s...’

Ross’s what? Girlfriend? Lover? Temporary fling? Colleague?

‘Ross’s friend. Come on in. He’s out surfing but he should be up soon. Would you like some coffee?’

On the deck, Ross rinsed his board, pulled off his vest and draped it over the railing, then wrapped a towel around his wet board shorts. After rinsing off his feet he slid open the door and walked into the house, looking for sex and food. Or food and sex.

Either would work.

‘Jones? Get off your computer, sweetheart, and let’s make breakfast and fool around.’

Ross stepped through the doorway to his kitchen and raised his eyebrows as he saw someone sitting at the breakfast bar, Ally on the other side of him. He sighed...company... Dear God in heaven—the company was his father.

What the hell...? Ross sent Ally an accusing look.

She lifted her eyebrows and her hands. ‘What? He rang the bell!’

Ross folded his arms across his chest and asked the only question he could. ‘Jonas, what are you doing here?’

‘I was hoping to talk to you...face to face.’

‘Why? What can you say to me that we didn’t cover on the phone the other day?’ Ross demanded, feeling the old feelings of disappointment and resentment bubble up. ‘You want me to come back to Bennett Inc. I would rather chew my wrists off. You wasted a trip.’ He sent Ally a cold look. ‘You saw him in—you can see him out. When I get out of the shower, I want him gone.’

Ross turned around and ran up the stairs to his bedroom and headed straight for the shower. All he’d wanted, he thought as hot water pounded his head, was sex and food.

Trust his father to kill his appetite for both.

When he walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his hips, Ally was sitting on the edge of his perfectly made bed—of course she couldn’t leave it in a tangled mess—looking stubborn. Here comes the lecture, he thought.

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ he told her, heading for his dressing room and grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

‘Tough,’ Ally said as she crossed her legs. ‘He flew out here to talk to you. That took courage and determination and the least you can do is hear him out.’

‘It’ll be the same old story.’

‘Maybe, but you can’t assume that.’

Ross pulled on his underwear and jeans, quickly buttoning the fly. After pulling on the T-shirt, he ran his hands through his short hair.

‘Why the hell did I cut my hair? He hated my long hair!’

Ally grinned. ‘You sound like your sixteen-year-old self. Trust me—knowing you, I’m pretty sure you’ll find something to say to annoy him.’ Her smile died and her eyes darkened with pain. ‘A day doesn’t go by when I don’t wish I could see my dad again, Ross, as difficult and reserved as he was. Go and talk to him. Please?’

He twisted his lips. ‘Dammit, but you are pain in my ass.’

Ally stood up and kissed his cheek. ‘So you keep telling me. I’ll hang on up here for a while to give you some privacy.’

* * *

Ross couldn’t stop staring at Jonas. ‘What the hell do you mean, you’re selling Bennett Inc.?’

They’d moved to the veranda, where Ross felt he could breathe.

Jonas sat in one of the plump couches, his coffee on the table in front of him, his eyes on the view. ‘Hell of a place you have here, son.’

He couldn’t remember when his father had last called him son. Ross, normally the brightest lightbulb in the room, was struggling to keep up. ‘Whoa, back up! You’re selling the company?’

‘Yep.’

‘Why, for God’s sake? You love Bennett Inc.’

Jonas slanted him a look that he couldn’t interpret. ‘Well, you don’t want it, and Hope isn’t interested either. What’s the point of carrying on with it? I only built it for the two of you, and neither of you want it, so it can be sold.’

‘But...but what are you going to do?’

He couldn’t imagine his father not working. It was like trying to imagine a rap star without bling.

‘Your mother and I are buying a boat and we’re going sailing. Do you know she already got her skipper’s licence?’

What? The? Fudge?

‘Uh...no...’

Jonas stretched his arms out along the back of the couch and grinned. ‘Last week—the day before we spoke—she told me that, with or without me, she was going sailing. I could either go along or stay. I’m choosing to go.’

Ross just stared at him, mute with shock.

‘I’ll give you the account number and the access codes for the bank account I’ve set up. Then you can bail your mother out when she ends up in a foreign jail for chopping me up with an axe,’ Jonas joked.

Ross just stared at him. Who was this man who was cracking jokes and looking relaxed? It sure wasn’t the uptight father he remembered.

‘Your mother made me choose. The company or her.’

Go, Mum, Ross thought, as proud as hell of his tiny mother.

‘After our last discussion I realised that I’d sacrificed everything important to me—you and your sister, possibly your mother—for a business nobody cares about. It was suddenly too big a price to pay.’

Holy crap, Ross thought.

‘Close your mouth,’ Jonas suggested. ‘There are flies about. And talking about money...’


‘I don’t want a damn cent,’ Ross said, pushing the words out between his teeth as Jonas pushed his favourite button.

‘Tough!’ Jonas said on a sharkish grin. ‘I’ve reinstated your trust fund and when the sale goes through it’s going to be seriously fat. Use it...don’t use it...give it away. I don’t care.’

Jonas leaned forward and his face was suddenly serious and...sincere. Ross almost didn’t recognise the expression—had he ever seen sincerity on his father’s face before?

‘All I care about is whether you’ll accept my apology for being a...how did your mother put it?...a total dipstick.’

‘Uh...’

Jonas rubbed his hand over his grey hair. ‘I was hoping to avoid this part. Okay, if I have to say it, then... Hell.’ He pulled out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. ‘Your mother made me write it down.’ He opened up the paper and extended his arm to squint at the words. ‘I’m sorry for being a crap father, for not allowing you to follow your own path, for—’

Ross laughed, snatched the paper from his hand, crumpled it and tossed it over his shoulder. ‘I think that’s more than enough of Mum’s soppiness.’

‘Thank God. But I am very proud of what you’ve achieved...on your own.’

Jonas smiled and Ross ignored the sheen of emotion in their eyes.

‘Well, so...I really like this house. I can see myself spending some time here. I also like the idea of Crazy Collaborations. Need some help with that?’

Ross thought for a moment. He didn’t have enough time to spend on his think tank project and it could only benefit from his father’s excellent business brain. It would also give Jonas something to do instead of driving his mum nuts on the boat.

‘I’d be grateful for your long distance away, e-mail-based help on one condition.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You keep your nose out of RBM.’

‘Deal,’ Jonas quickly agreed.

Ross, his brain working overtime at the thought of having his father back in his life, guilt-free, sat down on the chair opposite Jonas and placed his bare feet on the table. He smiled when Jonas slipped off his shoes and copied his actions.

‘So, tell me about Ally. How long have you been together?’ Jonas asked.

Ross slanted him a look. While he was thrilled that he and his father seemed to have turned a very steep corner, he wasn’t anywhere near able to discuss his love life with him.

‘Don’t get excited, Jonas. She’s temporary—a fling. We’re just having a bit of fun until she goes home. She’s not important.’

Ross felt his stomach clench at the lie and realised that speaking the words didn’t make them true. Ally was getting to be just the opposite; she’d slipped under his skin and he had no idea how he was going to find the strength to wave her goodbye.

There was nothing they could do, he thought, and it was never going to work out. Her career, her life was in Geneva, and he could never ask her to give it up and move to Cape Town to be with him. After what she’d told him last night that would be too big an ask of her.

And he couldn’t give up RBM. He’d worked so damn hard, and he had people relying on him—clients, customers, staff who’d relocated, changed their lives to work for him.

Love, he realised as regret clutched his heart and squeezed, couldn’t conquer everything.

* * *

She’s temporary—a fling. We’re just having a bit of fun until she goes home. She’s not important.

She hadn’t been eavesdropping—well, maybe a bit.

Ally had instinctively backed away from the door leading to the veranda and when she was certain that Ross wouldn’t hear her footsteps had dashed up the stairs to Ross’s room.

She’d had to leave—needed to be out of his house before he saw her wet eyes and her obvious distress. Now, a couple of hours later, back in her apartment at Camps Bay, she kept calling herself a fool. She’d been thinking about how Ross had changed her life, how awful it would be when she left and how much she’d miss him—and all the time he’d considered her to be nothing more than a casual fling.

If there were awards for chronic stupidity she would be a right up there in the running. So they’d shared a couple of confidences? It seemed that meant nothing in the scheme of things; Ross wasn’t on the same page as her.

Hell, he wasn’t even reading the same book.

Ally heard the entry buzzer, walked into the kitchen and looked at the small screen above the intercom. There was Ross, looking dark and dangerous on his solid black Ducati. She pressed the button to allow the gate to slide open and realised that she had about a minute to get her crazy, bruised emotions under control. She couldn’t allow him to know that his words to his father, so casually uttered, had made her feel as if he’d scraped out her insides with a teaspoon.

She hauled in a deep breath and pushed her hair off her face. She would be cool and in control; she would not melt into a puddle at his feet. This was the problem with feelings, she thought, they were wild and upsetting and left you feeling out of control.

Her father had been right all along: it was better to keep them all locked down. It didn’t hurt that way.

‘Hey,’ Ross said as he walked into the airy, light-filled apartment.

Ally knew that he was walking over to kiss her so she popped around to the other side of the dining room table, which she was using as a massive desk.

‘Hi,’ she replied, staring down at her screen. ‘Bert sent me the photographs of the office shoot...they’re good. Do you want to take a look?’

Ross sent her a quizzical look. ‘Uh...’ He perched his butt on the corner of the table and stretched out his long legs. ‘So, that was my dad.’

Dear Lord, he wanted to talk about it. She didn’t think she could—not without revealing how devastated she felt. She’d started to hand over her heart, only to find out that he wasn’t interested in it, and now he wanted to talk about it?

She didn’t think so.

‘We have one more photo shoot scheduled but I don’t think it’s necessary. I’ve already identified five images I want to use for the print campaign.’

‘I’m thrilled,’ Ross deadpanned.

Ally risked a quick look at him and sighed when she saw his narrowed eyes, his set jaw.

‘What’s going on, Alyssa?’

Alyssa. He only called her that when he wanted her to know that he was being deadly serious and when he wanted to get his point across. Jones was for teasing and Al was for affection. Sweetheart was for flat-out fun.


Ally licked her lips and tried to pull off an I-don’t-know-what-you-mean shrug.

‘Are you really going to stand there and not ask me what happened with my dad?’ Ross demanded.

‘Um...yeah.’ Because that would be opening up a can of six-foot worms and she would lose it...

‘It’s what a lover would do. Or even a friend,’ Ross pointed out, his hard tone layering confusion and hurt.

The fact that she had the ability to hurt him—even as a friend—made her feel off balance. And so, so sad.

But they weren’t lovers—hadn’t he said so? She was nothing. She wasn’t important. And she’d rather poke a hot stick in her eye than let him see what that meant to her.

Ally lifted her chin high enough to make her nose bleed. ‘I never signed on for the emotional stuff, Ross.’

Ross looked at her for a long time before speaking again. ‘I thought we’d kicked uptight, bitchy Alyssa into touch.’

She had—or at least she’d wanted to—but she’d rather Ross think that she was cold and unfeeling than know that she was hurt and humiliated. ‘Since I’m leaving in a couple days, does the way I act matter? This will be over soon anyway.’

‘And if I said that I’d like to make it work?’

‘I wouldn’t believe you,’ Ally shot back.

He was sending too many mixed messages and her head was whirling.

She shoved her hands into her hair and held her head. ‘Why would you even say that, Ross? It makes absolutely no sense. Even if I believed you—which I so don’t—how would we make it work? Two continents, two careers—’

‘You could—’

Ally pounced on his words before he could complete that sentence. ‘Don’t you dare ask me to sacrifice my career for yours. Do not even go there!’

Ross pursed his lips. ‘I was going to say that you could fly here occasionally and I could go to Geneva. We have the means to do that. But I suppose that’s a moot point, given that you don’t seem to want to entertain the idea of an “us” beyond this fling.’

Ross placed both hands on the dining room table and looked at Ally with hard eyes.

‘It’s so bloody ironic that on the day that one weight is lifted off my shoulder another one falls and it’s the same bloody thing. Once again I’m loving somebody who doesn’t love me more than they love their job. And I’m back to feeling hurt and resentful because there’s this person in my life who’s emotionally unavailable, cut off, and a royal pain in my ass. I’m seriously starting to question my own sanity.’

Had he said that he loved her? Ally felt her heart jump... No, surely not. That wasn’t possible...

‘Everything I love is in Geneva—my family and my work. That’s what’s important.’

‘Everything?’ Ross demanded. ‘Come on, Alyssa. Everything?’

‘Where is this coming from, Ross?’ Ally demanded. ‘One minute we’re having a fling, the next minute we’re friends and now you’re talking about us finding a way forward.’

‘It’s what happens when two people meet, feel attracted to each other, sleep together and become friends. It’s called a relationship. Friggin’ hell, I’m not asking you for marriage, or to uproot your entire life, I’m asking you to give us a shot!’

‘But I’m not important. I’m nothing. A fling. That’s what you told your dad. I heard you.’

Ross stared at her. ‘That’s what this is about?’ he barked out a laugh. ‘Hell, Ally, I haven’t had a proper conversation with my dad in ten years and I wasn’t about to spill my soul to him about a girl I’m crazy about. Not within ten minutes of him saying sorry. We’ve got a long way to go before he becomes my best bud.’

Ally walked over to the huge windows and looked across the ocean. She so wanted to take a chance, to let Ross in, to plot a way forward to make this—whatever this was—work. But she knew that the further she ventured down this path the more it would hurt when the road ended at the end of a cliff.

‘You really don’t want to do this, do you?’ Ross asked from somewhere behind her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. It was just that she was so damn scared. What if she let him in and he let her down? What if he died? What if he met someone else and decided that person—happy, bubbly, normal—was the love of his life and she was left out in the cold?

Again.

She didn’t think she could survive being left on her own again.

‘Give us a shot, Ally. We’re smart people, we can make this work.’

Ally heard the plea in Ross’s voice, heard a hint of desperation and, worse, a smidgeon of doubt. He wasn’t a hundred per cent convinced they could do that, and if he had some doubts and she a shed-load of them then what chance did they have?

Zero? Less than? And could she spend every moment waiting for the axe to fall? Maybe it was better to cut the rope holding that axe right now and get it over with.

Ally turned and looked at Ross with widened eyes filled with sorrow. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

‘Trust us—trust this,’ Ross said, his eyes pleading. ‘Trust me.’

Ally put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

Ross opened his mouth to say something and quickly snapped it closed. He put his hands on his hips and stared down at the table. He swore a creative streak and when he looked at her again his face was set in stone. He gestured to her laptop and the papers on her desk.

‘If you need to talk to me about the campaign do it through the lawyers or through Luc. I think we’re done here, Jones. You got what you wanted—a face for your campaign—and I got my heart stomped on. You probably think that’s a fair trade.’

She couldn’t leave it like this...couldn’t let him walk out through the door feeling like this. ‘Ross?’

‘What?’ Ross snapped, whirling around. ‘What else is there to say, Ally? I love you, but you are so damn scared to take a risk on me—on us—that you would rather bury yourself in work than be with me. You are so far up your own ass that you can’t even think out of the box and consider how we might make it work.’

‘It’s not that...’ It was that. Of course it was that. Despite her backing off, her heart had split right in two and splattered all over the floor.

‘Then what is it, huh?’ Ross demanded. He stared at her, his eyes hot and hurt, and when she didn’t answer the heat faded and resignation slid over his face. ‘You don’t love me...you don’t feel the same. This was just a fling to you. I was falling in love with you and you weren’t. How the hell could I have read it so wrong?’


Dear God, she loved him so much...that was the problem. She just couldn’t trust... Tears rolled down her face as she struggled to find something to say...

Don’t go. Don’t leave me. I’m so scared...

The words were there but she couldn’t spit them out. For the second time in her life her vocal cords were frozen, her tongue refused to work and her heart writhed on the floor.

Ross turned, yanked on the handle to the front door and disappeared through it. Ally’s heart sent her feet a message to move but her brain kept them glued to the floor. It was better this way, the grey matter insisted. It would hurt for a while but it could be so much worse.

Ally, who couldn’t catch her breath from the sobs trying to claw their way out of her throat, didn’t see how.