her forehead with a crooked smile. ‘Wireless code. I’ll be a couple of
hours. If you want anything to eat or drink dial nine and ask Grace for whatever
you need. She’ll also take Pic out if he needs to go. Get me that offer,
Jones.’
* * *
Ross had always thought that he had a fairly impressive
concentration span and an ability to get things done, but he was a rank amateur
compared to Alyssa Jones. His conference call with Japan had taken ninety
minutes and when he’d returned to his office Ally had been on her mobile, pacing
his office and speaking in rapid and very expressive French. She and his damn
dog had barely noticed his return, both of them lost in their own little worlds.
Pic’s eyes had never left her face and Ally had been utterly absorbed in her own
conversation.
When she’d sat down in his large, comfortable leather chair
behind his desk and propped her sexy feet up on his desk, doodling on his desk
pad, he’d realised that he’d lost his office and decided to go and check what
was happening in the Pit. At least people would talk to him there.
In the Pit he’d got sucked into a heated discussion about the
post-apocalyptic world his designers were creating and had had to mediate a
vicious argument around zombies and ghouls. Then he’d brainstormed a storyboard
with Kate, ignored Hardy when he’d told them that what they wanted was
impossible, and then slipped out of the noisy quad and into the silence of the
quiet wing to catch up with Eli.
It was nearly three hours later now, as he sprinted up the
stairs back to his office, and the Pit was all but empty. He looked at his watch
and was surprised to see that it was just after six. While it wasn’t unusual for
his staff to work late, Friday night was party night and they moved their
‘craziness’, as Ally called it, to the local pub down the road.
Sometimes he joined them, sometimes not—but especially not when
he was negotiating a deal with a sexy, dainty shark in heels. Yesterday there
had not been a damn thing she could have said to convince him to be the new
Bellechier face and yet here he was, about to look over an offer to do exactly
that. She’d found his weak spot, exploited it, and was set to get exactly what
she wanted.
Determined, persistent and very, very smart. He’d have to watch
this one, he thought. And that wouldn’t be a hardship either. God, she was
lovely, Ross thought, standing in the doorway and watching as Ally’s hands flew
over the keyboard of her laptop. Her mobile was still surgically attached to her
ear.
Her hair had half fallen out of its knot at the back of her
head and her make-up had faded, allowing him to see more of those delightful
freckles and her lush, unpainted mouth. The top button of her shirt had come
undone, and if he tipped his head just so he could see the swell of her breast,
the edges of a pale pink bra. She looked tired, he thought as she massaged her
temple with her right hand, her left still tapping the keyboard. Tired,
determined, and sexy as hell.
He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. It was a
damn good thing that she was climbing onto a plane tonight, because if she
wasn’t then he’d make another stab at sleeping with her. She’d probably shoot
him down in flames but she was worth the risk...
He hadn’t felt this hot, this needful of a woman, in
months—possibly years.
She glanced up at him, gave him a little wave and made an
effort to get up from his desk. He waved her back down and grabbed his note
pad.
Food? he scrawled, and slapped the
note down in front of her.
Ally held up her finger, asking him for a minute, and he
perched on the edge of his desk, waiting for her to finish her conversation.
After she’d said au revoir she pulled her fingers
away from the keyboard, yanked her headset off her ear and tossed it onto the
desk.
‘Hi,’ she said, and he heard the weariness in her voice, saw it
in the slump of her shoulders.
‘Hi, back. Tough
hours. If you want anything to eat or drink dial nine and ask Grace for whatever
you need. She’ll also take Pic out if he needs to go. Get me that offer,
Jones.’
* * *
Ross had always thought that he had a fairly impressive
concentration span and an ability to get things done, but he was a rank amateur
compared to Alyssa Jones. His conference call with Japan had taken ninety
minutes and when he’d returned to his office Ally had been on her mobile, pacing
his office and speaking in rapid and very expressive French. She and his damn
dog had barely noticed his return, both of them lost in their own little worlds.
Pic’s eyes had never left her face and Ally had been utterly absorbed in her own
conversation.
When she’d sat down in his large, comfortable leather chair
behind his desk and propped her sexy feet up on his desk, doodling on his desk
pad, he’d realised that he’d lost his office and decided to go and check what
was happening in the Pit. At least people would talk to him there.
In the Pit he’d got sucked into a heated discussion about the
post-apocalyptic world his designers were creating and had had to mediate a
vicious argument around zombies and ghouls. Then he’d brainstormed a storyboard
with Kate, ignored Hardy when he’d told them that what they wanted was
impossible, and then slipped out of the noisy quad and into the silence of the
quiet wing to catch up with Eli.
It was nearly three hours later now, as he sprinted up the
stairs back to his office, and the Pit was all but empty. He looked at his watch
and was surprised to see that it was just after six. While it wasn’t unusual for
his staff to work late, Friday night was party night and they moved their
‘craziness’, as Ally called it, to the local pub down the road.
Sometimes he joined them, sometimes not—but especially not when
he was negotiating a deal with a sexy, dainty shark in heels. Yesterday there
had not been a damn thing she could have said to convince him to be the new
Bellechier face and yet here he was, about to look over an offer to do exactly
that. She’d found his weak spot, exploited it, and was set to get exactly what
she wanted.
Determined, persistent and very, very smart. He’d have to watch
this one, he thought. And that wouldn’t be a hardship either. God, she was
lovely, Ross thought, standing in the doorway and watching as Ally’s hands flew
over the keyboard of her laptop. Her mobile was still surgically attached to her
ear.
Her hair had half fallen out of its knot at the back of her
head and her make-up had faded, allowing him to see more of those delightful
freckles and her lush, unpainted mouth. The top button of her shirt had come
undone, and if he tipped his head just so he could see the swell of her breast,
the edges of a pale pink bra. She looked tired, he thought as she massaged her
temple with her right hand, her left still tapping the keyboard. Tired,
determined, and sexy as hell.
He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. It was a
damn good thing that she was climbing onto a plane tonight, because if she
wasn’t then he’d make another stab at sleeping with her. She’d probably shoot
him down in flames but she was worth the risk...
He hadn’t felt this hot, this needful of a woman, in
months—possibly years.
She glanced up at him, gave him a little wave and made an
effort to get up from his desk. He waved her back down and grabbed his note
pad.
Food? he scrawled, and slapped the
note down in front of her.
Ally held up her finger, asking him for a minute, and he
perched on the edge of his desk, waiting for her to finish her conversation.
After she’d said au revoir she pulled her fingers
away from the keyboard, yanked her headset off her ear and tossed it onto the
desk.
‘Hi,’ she said, and he heard the weariness in her voice, saw it
in the slump of her shoulders.
‘Hi, back. Tough
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