More Than a Fling? Read Online Free Page A

clean
and had been left to curl down his strong neck. Even in the low light of the bar
she could see the sun-kissed blond streaks and tips. Too natural to have come
out of a salon, she decided, and he didn’t seem to be the type to fuss. He’d
removed the two-day-old shadow off his face—sadly, in her opinion—and his cargo
pants and vivid red tee had been replaced with a very nice fitted pair of dark
jeans and a loose button-down black linen shirt, the cuffs of which he’d rolled
up his tanned arms.
    Oh, yeah...he so had the X-factor
and the Y-factor...and the make-her-hum-factor.
    ‘Ally?’
    The way he said her name, in his deep, quizzical voice, had her
pulling herself together. ‘Wine... Hi... The wine is fine. Why do you ask?’
    ‘You were scowling into it.’ Ross slid onto the stool next to
her and ordered a beer from the bartender. Then he turned back to her and made a
big point of inspecting her from top to toe. ‘You surprise me, Jones. I was
expecting another black and white combo. Nice.’
    So he’d noticed...good. Changing his perception about
Bellechier—that it was snooty and snobby—was her first goal, and that was why
she’d deliberately chosen a very different outfit for this evening. He needed to
see that their new line was fun and casual and would suit his obviously casual
approach to life and work.
    So as part of her strategy for the evening she wore the only
dress she had brought with her: a short, flouncy cobalt number that was trimmed
in black and cinched in at the waist with a funky silver belt. It also happened
to come from the new line they were launching in a few months’ time.
    This morning she’d wanted to look professional, and had opted
for one of her many easy to wear, smart but comfortable outfits that travelled
well. But tonight Ross Bennett needed to get a sense of the line, an idea of
what they wanted him to promote, so she’d slipped on the dress and teamed it
with another pair of kick-butt shoes. She’d just forgotten how damn short it
was.
    Now she resisted the urge to pull the skirt towards her knees.
She was not comfortable in anything that only hit midthigh and felt particularly
conscious of the amount of time Ross was spending looking at her legs.
    It made her feel squirmy and hot, unsettled. Dammit, she wanted
him to think about the line, about business, not her legs.
    Ally flushed under his scrutiny. ‘Thank you. This dress is from
the new line we’d like you to endorse.’
    ‘Okay, not what I expected.’ Ross smiled his thanks as his beer
was placed in front of him. ‘And that’s a damn nice watch you’re wearing—very
unusual. Is it also part of the line?
    ‘No.’ Ally looked down at the man’s watch that dangled on her
wrist. Flipping it around, she touched the face with its very distinctive dial
and ran her finger around the oyster-style band. ‘It was my dad’s—the first
Bellechier watch he owned. He bought it before he even started working for
Bellechier.’
    ‘Your real dad or foster dad?’
    From a flyaway comment of hers he’d remembered that she was
fostered. That was impressive, she thought. ‘My real dad. He was CFO of
Bellechier for ten years and Justin Smith’s best friend.’
    Ross frowned. ‘Justin Smith? Don’t know him. How does he fit into the picture?’
    Ally sipped her wine before she explained. ‘Quick Bellechier
history lesson: Sabine Bellechier is my foster mum and her great-grandfather
established Bellechier watches in the early twentieth century. Sabine was an
only child and she inherited Bellechier. She fell in love with the Bellechier
Sales Director—Justin Smith. Justin then took over the CEO position and together
they expanded into apparel and accessories. Their sons, Luc and Patric, have a
double-barrelled surname: Bellechier-Smith.’
    ‘Ah, okay. I get it.’ Ross nodded at her wrist. ‘So how did
your dad die? And when?’
    Ally’s mouth dropped open. ‘God, you are so nosy!’
    ‘Then tell me to butt