More Than a Fling

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.

If it worked out the way he planned they could spend the weekend together before he needed to be back at Heathrow to catch a plane on Monday night—

Eli jabbed him in the ribs and Ross frowned at him. ‘What?’

‘Stop tapping that bloody mobile and concentrate!’ Eli hissed.

Yeah, okay, Ross thought. But his mind immediately went sliding back to Ally. He was going halfway across the world to have sex. Was he mad? There were plenty of willing girls in Cape Town. But he didn’t want them. He wanted her. He just didn’t understand why. He had no idea as he certainly didn’t want to be intrigued by an uptight workaholic whose life was her job.

She was the perfect hook-up—she had no expectations and didn’t ‘do’ emotions. It was a good job he wasn’t thinking of her in terms of anything more—like a lover or a partner—because then he’d be screwed. He just needed to get this woman out of his system. If he slept with her maybe he could banish her from his thoughts and dreams.

No, if he were looking for a lover then no way would he choose an uptight workaholic like his dad. Loving someone who was wedded to their job was a good way to get kicked in the teeth and to end up feeling lonely, unloved, emotionally and physically abandoned.

No, the minimum he expected from a lover was to come first, and that would never happen with Jones. And that was okay. This was only about making her come first anyway.

Ross grinned and Eli jabbed him in the ribs again. ‘For God’s sake, Bennett, get a grip and concentrate!’

Ross looked around at the faces of the people—some annoyed, some amused, all curious—and thought that maybe Eli was right.

He might not be corporate but he was normally professional.

* * *

‘You still enjoying my flowers, Jones?’

Ross’s deep voice slid across the miles and over her skin and Ally shivered. She automatically glanced at her watch and saw that it was past ten. It was still raining. Leaning back in her chair, she placed her feet on her desk— something she would never normally do, but since she was pretty sure she was the only one in the Bellechier building at this time of night she thought she could.

‘They are looking a bit sad,’ Ally admitted, looking at the drooping bunch on her desk. ‘The orchids are still fine, so I’m going to take them home with me tonight.’

‘You’re still at work?’

Ross swore and she imagined him raking his hand through his hair.

‘You need to get a life, woman.’

‘Apparently I am—unless you’ve called me to rescind your invitation,’ Ally said. Her voice was cool although she sucked in shallow breaths.

‘Not a chance. But why are you still at work?’

‘Long day... Looking over sponsorship deals and the set-up for two new stores in Hong Kong and Miami. Brainstorming storyboards with the ad agency for your campaign.’

‘Do not make me look like a wuss,’ Ross threatened.

‘Ah...there goes my idea of dressing you up in skintight shirts and pants and having you arranging flowers and composing haikus,’ she teased.

Ross chuckled.

‘Where are you?’ Ally asked, needing to know.

‘Standing on my veranda overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks. Drinking a glass of red wine.’

Ally closed her eyes. ‘Damn, that sounds good.’

‘Well, get your ass over here. I’ll ply you with wine and do wicked things to you,’ Ross suggested, his voice deep as night, rich as Swiss chocolate and so, so sexy.


Dear God, she was tempted. So tempted. But she couldn’t; she had too much on the boil here—too many responsibilities, too much that could go wrong. She needed to make this job work, needed to make these projects a success...failure was not an option.

‘I wish I could but it’s simply not possible. Even the time I spent in Cape Town has put me days behind in my schedule.’

‘Yet the world keeps turning,’ Ross muttered. ‘You’re a workaholic, Jones.’

No, she wasn’t. ‘I’m just dedicated.’

‘Trust me—I know one when I see one.’

Ally heard Ross take a sip of his wine and wondered why he sounded so bleak, so sad.

‘Don’t burn out, Jones.’

She frowned at his terse tone. ‘I’m fine.’ Dammit, she was saying that a lot lately.

Ross was quiet for a little while and Ally was happy to listen to him breathe, to hear the occasional thud of a wave in the distance.

‘How close are you to the beach?’ she asked eventually.

‘Not far. You walk out of my yard onto the dunes; the beach is just beyond that. Easy access—which is perfect since I surf most days.

‘So...the reason for my call. I am going to be in London in two weeks’ time. I have business on the Tuesday and Wednesday and thought I could fly to Geneva on the Thursday evening. Does that suit?’

Ally asked him to hold on while she consulted her diary. She knew that she was flying in from Hong Kong on the Wednesday. She’d have Thursday at the office to catch up, so she could probably skip out early that evening. Was she going to do this? Really?

She took a huge breath and jumped. ‘That could work.’

‘Good,’ Ross said, his voice so low and so hot that it set her nerve-endings on fire, her pulse jumping and her panties damp. Dear God, if this was what he could do to her over the phone, then he’d be lethal in the bedroom. ‘Two requests, okay?’

Oh, frig, what? Whips? Chains? Blindfolds?

Ally licked her lips. ‘What?’

‘Wear those red panties for me.’

‘Okay. What else?’ Please let it not be anything weird...please.

‘Leave the office now. Eat something. Get some sleep.’

Okay, not what she was expecting. Ally looked at her monitor and the half-finished report on the screen.

‘It’ll still be there in the morning, Jones,’ Ross said, reading her mind from miles and miles away. ‘Drop your feet, push your chair back, grab your bag and go.’

Surprisingly, Ally found herself doing exactly what he’d said.

Her last thought as she drifted off to sleep—the first time in months and months that she was in bed before eleven—was that if he could get her to do his bidding over the phone, how much more difficult would it would be to refuse him anything face to face?

Ally pulled a pillow over her head and prayed that he wasn’t into kinky sex. She just wasn’t ready for anything like that...

Yet.