More Than a Fling? Read Free

and number two, stood gripping the balcony railing, an anxious
look on his face.
    ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘Jac-tech have picked up a bug in that app we sent them to test
and they are not happy. You need to smooth some ruffled feathers, pronto,’ Eli
told him, waving his hands in the air.
    Along with computer games, RBM also designed game apps for
smartphones. It was a very lucrative part of their business.
    ‘It’s a brand new app...we told them it would have bugs.’ Ross
slammed his hands on his hips. ‘Who has their panties in a wad? The suits or the
tech?’
    ‘Suits,’ Eli replied. ‘Who else?’
    Ross yanked the band from his hair and raked his hand through
it. ‘Figures. Why can’t they keep their noses out of it?’
    ‘Because they are power-hungry control freaks?’ Eli threw his
words back at him. ‘Get your ass up here and deal with it. I’m in development,
you deal with the suits.’
    ‘Yeah, coming.’
    Eli jerked his head. ‘Who’s the babe?’
    Ross grinned and dropped his voice. ‘Another co-branding offer.
Give me two minutes and tell Grace to video conference Paul at Jac-tech.’
    Eli saluted and turned away. Conscious of the dull headache
brewing behind his eyes, Ross spun around and walked back to the source of the
pain in his butt. ‘I have to go.’
    ‘But—’
    He should just tell her to get lost, that he wasn’t interested
in any branding deals, but there was something about her—apart from her
space-high hot factor—that intrigued him. It was those eyes, he realised, the
layers and layers of blue. Confidence, sassiness, intelligence, and once or
twice a flash of something deeper, darker. Wilder...
    He knew he shouldn’t, but he did it anyway. ‘Where are you
staying?’ he asked.
    ‘The Riebeek.’
    Of course she was. Stately, old, rich... His mouth twitched. It
suited the boring clothes and the severe hair, but not the shoes. Those shoes
intrigued the hell out of him. ‘Be in the lobby bar at seven-thirty. You can buy
me a drink and have your five minutes.’
    ‘At least thirty minutes if I’m buying,’ Ally stated, in a
don’t-mess-with-me voice.
    ‘Fifteen.’ Ross countered, backing away.
    ‘Twenty.’
    ‘Twenty minutes, two drinks.’ Ross whirled around and walked
away. At the door, he glanced over his shoulder and sent her a wicked grin.
‘Kick-ass shoes, by the way.’
    ‘They’re from the new line—the one we want you to endorse. It’s
not boring or snooty!’ Ally shouted at his back.
    Ross had to smile.
    He liked women who could think on their feet. And women with
dimples.
    * * *
    Sitting at the long dark bar in the hotel that evening,
Ally felt out of her depth—and she knew that it was all Ross Bennett’s
fault.
    She crossed one leg over the other and stared at her glass of
icy white wine. She’d completely cocked up their first meeting and that never happened to her... She was always professional,
calm and collected. She just hadn’t expected the CEO of RBM to be playing
basketball at noon and looking so...
    Incredible? Amazing? So super-freaking-perfect that her heart
had tripped over itself and bounced off the inside of her ribcage? Ally bit the
inside of her lip. Within ten seconds of seeing him she’d known that Ross
Bennett had the elusive X-factor she needed for the face of the new line. In
fact he had it in spades—along with the sexy-factor and the hot-factor and any
other damn factor she needed. That meant that Luc and Patric—the
know-it-alls—had, essentially, done her job for her.
    Ross would be abso-freaking-lutely perfect as the new face of
Bellechier. If she, social hermit that she was, was conjuring up fantasies of
ripping his clothes off with her teeth and getting him naked and on top of her
as soon as humanly possible, then normal women—and not a few men—would do the
same when they saw the commercials. At the very least it would make them buy
Bellechier...
    Lots and lots of Bellechier products. Holy smoke. The