More Than a Fling? (16 page)

Ross sent her a quizzical look. ‘Uh...’ He perched his butt on
the corner of the table and stretched out his long legs. ‘So, that was my
dad.’

Dear Lord, he wanted to talk about it. She didn’t think she
could—not without revealing how devastated she felt. She’d started to hand over
her heart, only to find out that he wasn’t interested in it, and now he wanted
to
talk
about it?

She didn’t think so.

‘We have one more photo shoot scheduled but I don’t think it’s
necessary. I’ve already identified five images I want to use for the print
campaign.’

‘I’m thrilled,’ Ross deadpanned.

Ally risked a quick look at him and sighed when she saw his
narrowed eyes, his set jaw.

‘What’s going on, Alyssa?’

Alyssa. He only called her that when he wanted her to know that
he was being deadly serious and when he wanted to get his point across. Jones
was for teasing and Al was for affection. Sweetheart was for flat-out fun.

Ally licked her lips and tried to pull off an
I-don’t-know-what-you-mean shrug.

‘Are you really going to stand there and not ask me what
happened with my dad?’ Ross demanded.

‘Um...yeah.’ Because that would be opening up a can of six-foot
worms and she would lose it...

‘It’s what a lover would do. Or even a friend,’ Ross pointed
out, his hard tone layering confusion and hurt.

The fact that she had the ability to hurt him—even as a
friend—made her feel off balance. And so, so sad.

But they weren’t lovers—hadn’t he said so? She was nothing. She
wasn’t important. And she’d rather poke a hot stick in her eye than let him see
what that meant to her.

Ally lifted her chin high enough to make her nose bleed. ‘I
never signed on for the emotional stuff, Ross.’

Ross looked at her for a long time before speaking again. ‘I
thought we’d kicked uptight, bitchy Alyssa into touch.’

She had—or at least she’d wanted to—but she’d rather Ross think
that she was cold and unfeeling than know that she was hurt and humiliated.
‘Since I’m leaving in a couple days, does the way I act matter? This will be
over soon anyway.’

‘And if I said that I’d like to make it work?’

‘I wouldn’t believe you,’ Ally shot back.

He was sending too many mixed messages and her head was
whirling.

She shoved her hands into her hair and held her head. ‘Why
would you even say that, Ross? It makes absolutely no sense. Even if I believed
you—which I so don’t—how would we make it work? Two continents, two
careers—’

‘You could—’

Ally pounced on his words before he could complete that
sentence. ‘Don’t you
dare
ask me to sacrifice my
career for yours. Do not even
go
there!’

Ross pursed his lips. ‘I was going to say that you could fly
here occasionally and I could go to Geneva. We have the means to do that. But I
suppose that’s a moot point, given that you don’t seem to want to entertain the
idea of an “us” beyond this fling.’

Ross placed both hands on the dining room table and looked at
Ally with hard eyes.

‘It’s so bloody ironic that on the day that one weight is
lifted off my shoulder another one falls and it’s the same bloody thing. Once
again I’m loving somebody who doesn’t love me more than they love their job. And
I’m back to feeling hurt and resentful because there’s this person in my life
who’s emotionally unavailable, cut off, and a royal pain in my ass. I’m
seriously starting to question my own sanity.’

Had he said that he loved her? Ally felt her heart jump... No,
surely not. That wasn’t possible...

‘Everything I love is in Geneva—my family and my work. That’s
what’s important.’

‘Everything?’ Ross demanded. ‘Come on, Alyssa.
Everything?
’

‘Where is this coming from, Ross?’ Ally demanded. ‘One minute
we’re having a fling, the next minute we’re friends and now you’re talking about
us finding a way forward.’

‘It’s what happens when two people meet, feel attracted to each
other, sleep together and become friends. It’s called a relationship. Friggin’
hell, I’m not asking you for marriage, or to uproot your entire life, I’m asking
you to give us a shot!’

‘But I’m not important. I’m nothing. A fling. That’s what you
told your dad. I heard you.’

Ross stared at her. ‘That’s what this is about?’ he barked out
a laugh. ‘Hell, Ally, I haven’t had a proper conversation with my dad in ten
years and I wasn’t about to spill my soul to him about a girl I’m crazy about.
Not within ten minutes of him saying sorry. We’ve got a long way to go before he
becomes my best bud.’

Ally walked over to the huge windows and looked across the
ocean. She so wanted to take a chance, to let Ross in, to plot a way forward to
make this—whatever
this
was—work. But she knew that
the further she ventured down this path the more it would hurt when the road
ended at the end of a cliff.

‘You really don’t want to do this, do you?’ Ross asked from
somewhere behind her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. It was just that she was so
damn scared. What if she let him in and he let her down? What if he died? What
if he met someone else and decided that person—happy, bubbly, normal—was the
love of his life and she was left out in the cold?

Again.

She didn’t think she could survive being left on her own
again.

‘Give us a shot, Ally. We’re smart people, we can make this
work.’

Ally heard the plea in Ross’s voice, heard a hint of
desperation and, worse, a smidgeon of doubt. He wasn’t a hundred per cent
convinced they could do that, and if he had some doubts and she a shed-load of
them then what chance did they have?

Zero? Less than? And could she spend every moment waiting for
the axe to fall? Maybe it was better to cut the rope holding that axe right now
and get it over with.

Ally turned and looked at Ross with widened eyes filled with
sorrow. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

‘Trust us—trust this,’ Ross said, his eyes pleading. ‘Trust
me.’

Ally put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. ‘I
can’t.’

Ross opened his mouth to say something and quickly snapped it
closed. He put his hands on his hips and stared down at the table. He swore a
creative streak and when he looked at her again his face was set in stone. He
gestured to her laptop and the papers on her desk.

‘If you need to talk to me about the campaign do it through the
lawyers or through Luc. I think we’re done here, Jones. You got what you
wanted—a face for your campaign—and I got my heart stomped on. You probably
think that’s a fair trade.’

She couldn’t leave it like this...couldn’t let him walk out
through the door feeling like this. ‘Ross?’

‘What?’ Ross snapped, whirling around. ‘What else is there to
say, Ally? I love you, but you are so damn scared to take a risk on me—on
us—that you would rather bury yourself in work than be with me. You are so far
up your own ass that you can’t even think out of the box and consider how we
might make it work.’

‘It’s not that...’ It
was
that. Of
course it was that. Despite her backing off, her heart had split right in two
and splattered all over the floor.

‘Then what is it, huh?’ Ross demanded. He stared at her, his
eyes hot and hurt, and when she didn’t answer the heat faded and resignation
slid over his face. ‘You don’t love me...you don’t feel the same. This was just
a fling to you. I was falling in love with you and you weren’t. How the hell
could I have read it so wrong?’

Dear God, she loved him so much...that was the problem. She
just couldn’t trust... Tears rolled down her face as she struggled to find
something to say...

Don’t go. Don’t leave me. I’m so
scared...

The words were there but she couldn’t spit them out. For the
second time in her life her vocal cords were frozen, her tongue refused to work
and her heart writhed on the floor.

Ross turned, yanked on the handle to the front door and
disappeared through it. Ally’s heart sent her feet a message to move but her
brain kept them glued to the floor. It was better this way, the grey matter
insisted. It would hurt for a while but it could be so much worse.

Ally, who couldn’t catch her breath from the sobs trying to
claw their way out of her throat, didn’t see how.

TWELVE

Ally walked
next
to the pilot of the Bellechier Gulfstream jet and felt his brief touch on her
back as he escorted her up the stairs into the luxurious cabin. She would never
normally ask to use the jet and she fully intended to pay—
eek!
—for the privilege. But she’d pay the enormous costs just to get
her sorry self out of the country, to stop her from running down the road and
throwing her arms around Ross’s knees and begging him to...what?

Love her? Hold her? Take her heart?

Because that was exactly what she wanted to do but she was so
damn scared. If she stayed in Cape Town she would run to him. So last night, in
between her sobs, she’d called Sabine and asked for the jet to collect her.
Sabine, bless her, had agreed immediately and said nothing more.

Ally dumped her bag on one of the cream-coloured leather seats
and rubbed her hands across her face.

‘We’ll be leaving in about ten minutes, Miss Jones.’

‘Thanks, Paul.’ Ally turned as the door to the bathroom opened
and her jaw dropped as Sabine, dressed in designer jeans and a silk top, stepped
out.

‘Sabine, what are you doing here?’ Ally asked, her eyes welling
as she hurried to her and stepped into her open arms. She buried her face in
Sabine’s sweet-smelling neck and felt the tears build again.

‘When my daughter calls in the middle of the night with a
broken heart and asks to be collected I come too.’ Sabine brushed Ally’s hair
off her face. ‘Oh, baby girl, what happened?’

‘It’s a long story.’

Ally managed to get the words out as Sabine pulled her to a
seat, sat her down and pulled the seatbelt across her lap. Settling herself in
the chair next to Ally, she clicked her own belt shut and turned in her seat,
holding Ally’s hand in hers.

‘The best stories always are,’ Sabine replied as the engines
rumbled below them.

Ally was dimly aware of the plane taxiing towards the runway
but her head was on Sabine’s shoulder and she felt...
safe
.

Her mum was here and she felt safe. Sabine wasn’t her birth
mother but, unlike her real mother, who’d never given a damn, she’d commandeered
the plane in the middle of a cold Swiss night, dropped everything and come for
her.

Ally was stunned at this demonstration of her love, but habit
had her protesting.

‘You didn’t have to come for me. I’m fine,’ Ally whispered. She
lifted her head and wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers. Then a tissue
appeared, as if by magic, between Sabine’s fingers and Ally grabbed it
gratefully.

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Sabine shook her head, her
eyes deep and dark with love.

‘Get what?’ Ally asked, confused.

‘How much I love you.’

Ally closed her eyes. ‘But how could you? You’re not my
mother.’

‘What did you say to me?’ Sabine asked in French.

Oh, crap.
She recognised that tone.
All her kids knew that when Sabine switched to French midconversation it was a
massive clue that she was at the end of her patience.

‘I was your mother from the day you slid your hand into mine in
that hotel room in Phuket. Who sat with you night after night in hospital as you
struggled with pneumonia? Who dressed you and fed you and did hours of
brain-numbing homework with you? How
dare
you utter
those words to me?’

Ally wanted cover her head with her arms. ‘Sabine—’

‘I’m not finished. Even before your dad died who took you to
school and kissed your grazes better? Bought you your first puppy and Barbie and
iPod? I explained the birds and the bees to you and I kept your father and
brothers off your back when you went on dates with loser boys.’

Oh, if love was action then Sabine had always showed her how
much she loved her. Ally tried to speak, to apologise, but Sabine didn’t give
her a gap to jump in.

‘Who took you to your first spa treatment, made you
extra-chocolatey ice cream sundaes, picked you and your friends up from a party
at three in the morning and told your father that you were home by eleven? Who
wouldn’t go back to work because she thought it was more important to raise you?
It was
me
, you ungrateful brat! And what have you
given me in return?’

‘I’ve worked hard... I’ve tried to do well!’ Ally said in a
little voice. ‘I wanted to show you how grateful I am.’

Sabine slumped back in her chair. ‘I never wanted your
gratitude
, Alyssa. I wanted you. I wanted you to talk
to me, to let me in, to share your soul. I wanted to be your mama, to be there
for you.’ Sabine sent her a piercing look. ‘I wanted—I
want
to be allowed to love you. And, by the way, if you are hurting
nothing will stop me from running to you, and if someone has hurt you then I
will hunt them down and kill them.’ Sabine thought for a moment. ‘Or at least
hire someone to do it.’

Ally hiccupped a small laugh. Sabine—no, her mum—would be
relentless in her pursuit of revenge. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

‘Pfft.
’
And in
the blink of an eye, her anger was replaced with concern.
‘So who has
hurt you, baby? Ross?’

Ally shook her head, twisted her fingers back into her mum’s
smaller hand and put her head on her shoulder. ‘I did. I hurt myself. I am my
own worst enemy.’

Sabine stroked her head. ‘Tell me.’

Who else could she talk to about this? Nobody. Who else did she
want to talk to about this? Nobody. It was time to let her in.

‘We have a connection...a big one,’ Ally admitted. ‘I’m in love
with him and I think that he might be in love with me.’

Ally didn’t see Sabine’s very satisfied smile. ‘That’s a good
start.’

Ally looked past Sabine’s shoulder and out of the window and
dimly realised that they were in the air. She hadn’t even realised that they had
taken off.

‘It’s crazy—we haven’t known each other that long and he’s
talking about trying to keep this...this thing going.’

‘Good for him. How?’

Ally sat up, undid her seatbelt and sat cross-legged in the big
chair. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t let him get that far. I said that everything I
love is in Geneva and that I can’t sacrifice my career for him.’

‘L’imbecile...’
Sabine murmured,
but gently.

‘I know.’ Ally looked down at her hands. ‘I’m scared. I’ve been
scared for a long, long time.’

‘Of what?’

Could she say this? Did she dare?

‘Of being left alone. Of experiencing love and losing it. Of
not being wanted. But mostly of being left alone. It terrifies me, but—’

‘But?’

‘But I’m almost more afraid of not being with him than I am of
being alone’ Ally admitted. ‘And I’m so ashamed that I’ve left him thinking that
I don’t love him.’

‘You did that?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Then I repeat: you’re an idiot,’ Sabine said on a loving
smile. ‘Do you want me to get the plane turned around?’

Ally looked at her in shock. ‘What? Why?’

‘Oh, I don’t know...so that you can go back and tell him the
truth?’

She might be tired of being scared but she wasn’t that brave.
She needed to take some time to think this through...

‘It would be too easy, and I don’t know if he’d believe me,’
Ally said quietly. ‘I think I need a little time.’

‘To do what?’

Ally half smiled, although her heart still felt as if it was
breaking. ‘To learn how to be a better daughter, friend, lover. I need to be a
better listener, to gain control of my fear. I need time, Maman.’

It was the first time she’d called Sabine by that name and she
liked the sound of it on her lips. Judging by Sabine’s wobbly lower lip, she did
too.

‘You risk losing him if you take too much time,
ma petite
.’

Ally nodded. ‘I know. But I won’t go back to him as half a
person, living in fear. If I go back—
when
I go
back—it’ll be because I’m strong enough to be his lover. He doesn’t deserve
anything less.’

Sabine didn’t say anything for a long time. ‘I’m so proud of
you.’

‘Thanks.’ Ally slumped back in her chair. ‘Now can you take the
pain away?’

Sabine raised one shoulder in that very Gallic way. ‘The pain
is the proof that you can love. Own it—be proud of it.’

‘It sucks,’ she muttered inelegantly.

* * *

Ally stood behind her family in the media room on the
Bellechier estate and held her breath as Luc inserted a CD into the system so
that they could watch the final cuts for the four Bellechier commercials. Her
heart was firmly in her throat.

Ross jumped out of the screen, his eyes inviting the viewers to
step into his world.

The camera loved Ross and had captured his innate charisma and
his love of life. Norm had done a great job, incorporating the craziness and
funkiness of the open offices of RBM, and they’d all agreed to call the new
Bellechier line Win!. Whether he was standing on the top of Table Mountain at
sunset or flinging his Ducati around the tight corners of Chapman’s Peak Drive,
every frame made you want to live his life, be part of his life, wear his
clothes...be just like him.

Or, if you were female, be with him.

Mission accomplished, Ally thought, shoving her fist into that
space just beneath her ribs. Her heartburn was back—an ailment she hadn’t
experienced in Cape Town. Probably because after a hard day’s work she’d
destressed by having Ross’s hands on her body, his mouth on hers, him taking her
every which way to Sunday.

She’d been back in Geneva for a week and she felt as if she was
walking around with half of her brain and all of her heart in Cape Town. Ally
pulled her bottom lip with her thumb and forefinger as the still photographs of
Ross flashed up on the screen. There was the one of him sitting on the couch in
his office, half smiling up at her as he told her to trust the people around
her.

She’d taken that image, had it printed, and it was sitting on
her bedside table. She’d spent many, many hours not sleeping and looking at
him...

She didn’t want to look at his photograph for the rest of her
life when she could be looking at the real thing. She didn’t want to struggle to
remember what his hands felt like on her skin. She wanted to feel, experience,
live.

Dear God, she wanted to live...with
him
.

Ross’s face faded from the massive TV screen and Ally didn’t
hear the conversation around her—didn’t take in the effusive praise, barely felt
the kisses on her cheek, the arms around her shoulder squeezing her.

‘I’m resigning,’ she said quietly, and then with more force,
‘I’ve got to leave.’

Luc turned around as the conversation tapered off and folded
his arms across his broad chest. ‘What did you say?’

Ally threw up her hands. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...and after
all you’ve done for me! I’m so grateful for the job, and the responsibility of
being Brand and Image Director, but I can’t any more.’ She placed her hands on
her face. ‘I know it’s ungrateful, and it’s terrible timing, and that you’ll
hate me for it, but I need to go back to Cape Town. I need to be there.’

Ally felt Luc step forward, inhaled his cologne and allowed him
to peel her fingers off her face. As always, his expression was kind and
understanding.

Ally opened her mouth to talk again but Luc shook his head.
‘Shut up, kid.’

Ally blinked away tears as Luc looked at his father and Patric.
‘You two owe me a hundred each. She didn’t last two weeks.’

As Justin and Patric reached into their wallets and looked for
cash Luc’s words started to make sense. ‘You
bet
on
me?’

‘Sure.’ Patric ruffled her hair after he’d handed his cash to
Luc.

‘Shame on you!’ Sabine chastised them, sliding her hand around
Ally’s waist. ‘Peegs!’

Justin grinned. ‘Oh, you’re not innocent either, my angel. We
had a side bet going too.’

Ally narrowed her eyes at her mother.
‘Et
tu...?’

Sabine shrugged, and then grinned. ‘We all knew that you would
go back to Cape Town if you could just stop being so stubborn and admit that you
wanted more than just your career.’

Luc shoved the cash into his wallet as Ally rubbed the back of
her neck, conscious that she now had knots on her knots. ‘About my job...’

Luc shrugged. ‘There’s no reason why you can’t work from Cape
Town—maybe spending a week here every six weeks or so. Ally, you have some very
well-paid, well-educated and talented people in your team and it’s about time
that they earned the huge salaries we’re paying them. Create the vision, create
the direction and then let them get on with it. Pick the projects you want to
get involved in or not. Direct, delegate, advise.’ Luc grinned. ‘What do you
think I do all day?’

‘Mess about online and chat to your bimbos,’ Patric grumbled.
‘I would like to point out that I am the only one who, as the designer, actually
does any work in this place.’

Ally flashed him a smile. ‘But you are the heart of Bellechier,
Patric.’

‘I
so
am.’

Luc rolled his eyes at Ally. ‘So, are you staying or
going?’

It didn’t take Ally more than a millisecond to make up her
mind. She loved her job, and she’d need something to do in Cape Town or she’d
drive Ross to drink. ‘Staying at Bellechier. Going to Cape Town.’

‘And I presume you’d like the plane?’ Luc said.

Ally flashed her dimples at him. ‘Yes, please.’

Luc wrapped his arm around her neck and hauled her into his
chest. ‘Go get him, Pork Chop.’

‘He might not want me anymore,’ Ally muttered into his
collarbone.

‘Then he’d be an idiot, and I’ve very good reports that he is
anything but.’ Luc pulled back to look down into her face. ‘But if he hurts you
he’ll have your brothers rearranging his face.’