More Than a Fling? Read Free Page A

couple of
random pictures she’d found on the net had not done justice to the sheer
presence of the guy. He practically radiated charisma and testosterone and heat
and sexiness, and that meant...dammit...that meant Luc and Patric were
right.
    Blergh.
    Ally glanced at her watch, realised that she still had a while
to wait for Ross and returned to the primary source of her
aggravation—specifically her brothers. Ally wrinkled her nose, as always
uncomfortable with the word. She wasn’t technically their sister—because the
Bellechier-Smith family had never formally adopted her—but she had been part of
their family since she was fifteen years old so what else could she call them?
Anyway, they were the reason she was in Cape Town, and she was not amused
because she now had to eat her words.
    She hated it when that happened.
    She adored Luc and Patric, and she knew that they were fond of
her, but they weren’t close. When she’d arrived at Bellechier Estate as their
foster sister they’d both been at university and living their own lives. To
their credit, they had initially tried to connect with her but she’d been
distant and wary and had resisted their easily offered comfort and
compassion.
    Because pushing people away and stuffing her emotions down
rather than expressing them was what she had been taught to do. Her father’s
motto had always been: Buck up, don’t cry, deal with
it . That was just what he’d done when her mother had dumped on him
the six-month-old daughter he’d never known about, and she supposed that was the
way he’d dealt with life. How well he had taught her to do the same.
    After losing her dad at fifteen, it had been easier, and far
less scary, to withdraw into the bubble of self-sufficiency and emotional
independence she’d created while living with her introverted, just-deal-with-it
father. Thirteen years later and that bubble now had the thickness of a Sherman
tank.
    She’d had some therapy, and had attended sessions long enough
to learn that she was ‘emotionally unavailable’—that her father’s insistence
that emotions were wrong had, in the therapist’s words, ‘mucked her up’ for
life. He had tolerated her only if she was reasonable and unemotional and,
despite her foster parents’ encouragement to express and display her emotions,
she’d never quite got the hang of it.
    Emotions were messy and ugly. Indulging in them, allowing them
to be a factor in her life, was like climbing into a small car the size of a
sardine can and playing chicken with a F-17 fighter jet. Something was going to
crash and burn and it wouldn’t be the fighter jet. No, it was far better to be
sensible and safe.
    Why was she even thinking about her past? Ally wondered,
switching her thoughts back to the task on hand. She was good at that, she
thought with a twist to her lips. She could always focus on work...it was the
best way to distract herself from the memories and to keep her from thinking how
empty her life was. Work was where she found silent companionship, where she
felt safe, needed and valued. It was a harmless place to invest time and
emotions.
    So, Ross Bennett... He wasn’t a celebrity, an actor, a musician
or a sportsperson. He was—she glanced at the folder on the seat next to her—an
entrepreneur and the creator of a computer game. A computer game that was
selling squijillions, apparently.
    Ally recalled the conversation at a family dinner a couple of
nights ago that had led to her leaving Geneva and heading south.
    ‘Run it by me again, Luc.’
    Luc had tapped the stem of his glass with his finger. ‘Today’s
heroes are not always sportsmen or actors or models. There are others who are
doing amazing things...explorers, eco-warriors, conservationists.’
    ‘Titans, pioneers, visionaries...’ Patric added, leaning
forward and placing his arms on the table. ‘Social media has changed the way we
live our lives.’
    ‘Computers, gaming, technology.’ Luc snapped his