More Than a Fling

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.

His erection was hard and unapologetic against her back and she struggled to keep her hands from reaching back and feeling him; she wanted to know him up close and personal.

Very, very personal.

‘Sweetheart, anything is better than country music.’

‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’

Ally tried to interject some feistiness into her voice but her words just came out low and sexy. She felt loose and warm and very, very relaxed. And Ross’s fingers drawing figures of eight on her hip were making sparks run along her nerve-endings straight to her lady parts.

‘Let me stay tonight,’ Ross murmured.

Ally looked at his reflection in the glass and saw her lust reflected in his eyes.

‘I can’t. We shouldn’t.’

‘Why not?’ Ross asked, his words fluttering against the cord in her neck.

‘Because we are doing business.’ Ally managed to find the words, to force them out. ‘Nothing is concluded, settled. I don’t want you to think that I use sex...’

Ross swore. ‘The other night proved that you don’t.’

‘But still...’ Ally tipped her head back as Ross’s lips nibbled on her jaw. ‘Besides, I’m not...’

Ross’s mouth stopped its exploration and he waited for her to continue. When she didn’t he filled in the silence. ‘Not ready? Too soon?’

Ally nodded, thankful that he was astute enough to pick up on what she was feeling without her having to say the words.

Ross turned her around, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he pulled the band from her ponytail, swept his fingers through her hair, raking strands off her face.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured as her hair fell to her shoulders to spill over the fabric of her T-shirt.


Ally watched, mesmerised, as his fingers danced down her throat and over her chest. Ross buried his face into the curve of her neck as he cupped her breasts, easily covering them with his big, broad, dangerous hands. Then she remembered that they shouldn’t be doing this and she stiffened.

Ross rubbed her nipple with his thumb. ‘Relax, Al. Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to. Trust me.’

She lifted her arms to curl them around his neck, lifting her breasts higher and forcing her nipples into his palms. Ross responded by rubbing his thumbs over the hard nubs, lazily watching her eyes fog up. He bunched the bottom of her shirt in his fist and pulled it upwards, gradually revealing her flat stomach and her chest to his appreciative gaze. He looked at her see-through lace bra with obvious appreciation.

‘Oh, yeah...’ he muttered, ducking his head and placing his lips over her lace-covered nipple, drawing it into his mouth, lightly nipping it with his teeth and soothing the flicker of pain with his clever tongue.

Above his head Ally moaned, clasped his head and held it to her breast. Ross responded by slipping his hand between her legs and unerringly finding her sweet spot through the layers of her clothes.

‘God, Ross...’ Ally murmured. ‘That feels so good.’

‘I know, honey.’

Ross pulled her shirt up and over her head. Then he pulled the cup of her bra aside and tasted her nipple without the barrier of lace while he slid down her Capris and pushed them over her hips so that they ended up in a pile around her feet.

Ally tried to protest, but then his hand was in her panties, sliding through her strip of pubic hair and into her slit, touching her * with his thumb. She yelped, and then one long finger pushed into her tight passage.

Ally let out another yelp of piercing pleasure. ‘God, Ross, we should stop,’ she panted, even though her hips were pushing down on his finger, his thumb, demanding more. She almost cried when Ross pulled out of her, but then his two hands were on her hips and she was lifted and carried to the desk, where he pushed her laptop out of the way to make room for her.

‘Not a chance,’ Ross stated, spreading her knees apart with his thigh. With one quick twist the ties of her G-string snapped and he pulled the triangle away from her so that it fell from the desk, revealing her to his hot and heated gaze.

‘As I said...beautiful.’

‘Ross...’ Ally muttered, squirming against the cold wooden desk, desperately—selfishly—wanting him to resume what he’d been doing.

Instead of touching her down below, he touched his lips to the corner of her mouth. ‘What do you need, baby?’

‘What you were doing... I shouldn’t ask because I can’t...won’t... We shouldn’t...’ Ally spoke, but she was not sure if she was making sense. She just wanted him touching her so knowingly, so perfectly.

‘You want more?’

Ally placed her hands on the desk behind her and arched her back as his finger rolled down the column of her throat, down her chest and across one nipple.

‘Do you want me to touch you?’

‘Yes! God, it’s been so long.’

Ally dropped her head back as that finger—that knowing, amazing, lightning-infused finger—explored her belly button, went lower, touched her bead and slid into her hot, wet, demanding passage. Then a second finger joined the first, and his tongue swirled into her panting mouth as he stroked her bead, and she launched herself up and shouted with embarrassing abandon.

She pumped and he kissed; he stroked and she whirled away on a starburst of pleasure. Until a dazzling display of fireworks erupted from her innermost core. Colours swirled and twirled and she danced in them until they fizzled and died, and then she slumped in Ross’s arms, her face in his neck, as she tried to suck in air.

Ross pulled his hand out from between her legs and held her head against his neck, his hand sticky on her thigh.

‘Dear God...’ Ally murmured when she had enough air for words.

‘That good, huh?’ Ross dropped a brief kiss on her temple.

Then she realised that he was still standing between her legs, fully dressed and very hard. She rested her hands on his pecs, feeling the thud-bump of his heartbeat under her hands.

‘You—are we?—can I—?’ Ally tripped and stumbled over her words, inwardly cursing herself for being so inexperienced, so damn gauche. And for letting things go this far.

The backs of her fingers brushed his erection and his penis jumped in response.

Ross groaned, grabbed her hand, lifted it to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘Not tonight, Ally.’

Ally stared at him, bemused. ‘Why not?’

His knuckles rubbed her cheekbone. ‘Because you still have that what-the-hell-am-I-doing? look in your eyes. When we come together—and we will come together—you’re going to want this as much as I do and you’ll have no regrets in the morning. Sorry about your panties.’ Ross leaned forward, kissed her cheek and tapped her nose. ‘Swing by with that offer on Monday before you leave.’

Ally perched on the desk with her legs firmly closed, watched him pick up the wallet and car key he’d left on the coffee table. It was only after the door snicked closed behind him that his words actually made sense.

They still had business to do. She’d have to pretend that he hadn’t brought her to a stunning orgasm while she presented Bellechier’s offer and—nearly as annoying—he’d destroyed one half of an expensive lingerie set.

But, my oh my, it had been so worth it.

* * *

Three steps forward, thirty back, Ross thought as he lifted his head up and saw Ally at his office door, a sheaf of papers in her hand. Her hair was pulled off her face, curls tamed into a tight knot at the back of her neck, and she wore a severe black skirt that ended just above her knee and perfectly applied make-up on that face that said, ‘Let’s pretend that you didn’t see me orgasm around your fingers.’

That cool, remote, can’t-mix-business-with-pleasure face.

They were two single healthy adults who were smart enough to recognise the line between the two...well, he was at least. He was beginning to realise that while Ally was a sharp operator in the boardroom, she was less experienced in the bedroom.

Why? She was smart, gorgeous, had a body made for sex... She should be a lot more at ease with the hot and heavy stuff than she had been on Saturday night. And he knew that it had been a long while since she’d had an orgasm like the one he’d given her.

‘Hi,’ Ally said, her hand on the frame of his door, her eyes wary.


‘Hi, back. You’re later than I expected,’ he said, pushing back his chair and standing up behind his desk.

‘Sorry. I thought that it was silly to come across town and then go back to the hotel, so I’m heading straight for the airport when I leave here.’ Ally waved her hand. ‘I have a taxi coming back for me in half an hour.’

Pic, realising that his latest crush was back, let out a deep, appreciative bark and lumbered to his feet, shoving his snout into Ally’s free hand. Ally sent Ross a quick look, handed him the papers and bent over and rubbed his dog’s head. Pic’s eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned with pleasure.

Ross knew exactly how he felt.

He walked around his desk and sat on the corner, his legs stretched out in front of him. He flicked the papers with his thumb. ‘So this is the offer?’

Ally straightened. ‘Yep.’

‘Will I be happy with it?’ Ross asked.

‘Why don’t you take a look and see?’ Ally retorted, sitting on the arm of one of his easy chairs and crossing her legs.

Ross couldn’t help looking at that slim thigh under the black cotton and a picture of her legs falling open in front of him scorched his retina. He heard her panting, remembered how she’d looked without the covering of those silly panties...hot and wet and slick with pleasure.

He was instantly half hard, his dick protesting against his zip. That line between business and pleasure could blur with one memory, he realised with a shock. That hadn’t happened before. Friggin’ hell.

He stared at the distorted words in front of him as he attempted to get control of his raging hard-on, tried to keep from reaching for her and slamming his mouth against hers and pushing his way home. This is what happens when you spend your days imagining taking her ten ways to Sunday, he moaned to himself.

‘So, what do you think?’ Ally asked.

Ross looked at her, confused. ‘About what?’ Taking you right here? Sure, let’s go.

Ally gave him a what-the-hell? look. ‘The offer, Ross. Does it work for you?’

Oh, the offer. He was scrunching it in his hand. ‘Let me read it again,’ he said.

Hell, he needed to read it for the first time. Pulling in a deep breath, he skimmed through the Bellechier offer, didn’t quite believe what he was reading and read it again.

‘Holy hell, Jones, this is unbelievable.’ They’d literally made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He wouldn’t need to do any extra fundraising for the think tank for the next two years if he accepted their offer. He could buy a lot more equipment than he’d originally wanted, and could finance the research into so many more projects than he’d originally envisaged.

He just needed to give them his face and lend his name to their campaign for a limited period. It was a no-brainer...

‘I could push them for more if you’re not happy,’ Ally said, erroneously interpreting his silence as displeasure.

Ross considered her words for a minute. The businessman in him was savvy. Her words suggested that they were prepared to go even higher. But the moralist in him said that they’d already offered nearly seven times more than he really wanted and he was grateful. He wouldn’t push his luck.

‘No, I’m good. This offer is fantastic.’

He saw the look of relief that flickered across Ally’s face.

‘You thought I’d push you for more?’ he said, and caught her nod.

‘Everyone does,’ she replied. ‘We pride ourselves on making fair offers but people invariably want more. The negotiations become...’

She fell silent and Ross filled in the words for her, trying to help her identify the emotion, the word she was looking for. ‘Annoying? Disheartening? Tedious?’

‘Tedious.’ Ally picked up the word, tasted it and then nodded her approval. ‘Celebrities are...greedy. I’m glad you’re not. If you sign both copies you can keep the top one and I’ll take the other one back to Geneva.’

Ross stood up, reached for a black pen and placed the documents on his desk, signing his name where she indicated. ‘What now?’ he asked, handing her a copy.

‘We send you a proper contract, you get your lawyers to look it over and you send it back to us. I get started on the fun stuff—designing the campaign, which includes both commercials and print ads.’

Ally tucked the papers into the side pocket of her bag and resumed her spot on the arm of the chair. Pic, the tart, placed his jowls on her thigh and looked adoringly up at her as her fingers disappeared into his coat.

Ally looked at her watch. ‘My taxi will be here soon. I need to get going.’

He didn’t want her to leave—not just yet—so he held up his hand to keep her in her seat. ‘I do have a few provisos with regard to the campaign,’ Ross stated, in his best non-negotiable tone of voice.

Ally tipped her head. ‘Okay...what are they?’

‘Everything I’m needed for has to be shot in Cape Town. I’ve still got a business to run here.’

Ally didn’t reply at first, and he could almost see her gears turning.

‘I’m sure we could make that work. It’s a stunning city.’

‘And I want you to oversee this project. You are here for every minute the camera crew and the photographers are here. If I’m involved then you’re involved. It’s your baby. You don’t hand it off to one of your lackeys.’

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.