Free More Than a Fling? by Joss Wood Page B

promenade—at
the moment he’s entertaining, or maybe terrifying, the reception staff
downstairs. We can have a couple of drinks and some food, listen to good jazz.
We won’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. Just take a break from the
small screen for a while, okay?’
    How was she supposed to resist that low, sexy voice and that
tempting, charming look? Ally felt herself wavering. It was Saturday night and she’d had a hell of a week. She could
probably do with some sunshine—and when last had she breathed fresh air?
    Her brain capitulated but her entire body whimpered in protest.
It wanted to stay in and play with the big girl’s toy in front of her...
    ‘Okay, maybe for a little while.’ Ally grabbed her bag off the
couch and moved towards the door, needing to leave the room before she did
something really stupid—like stripping naked and throwing herself at him.
    ‘Jones?’
    Ally, her hand on the door handle, turned to look back at him.
‘Yeah?’
    Ross pointed at her bare feet. ‘Shoes would be a good
idea.’
    * * *
    Ally and Ross walked down to the promenade that ran from
Sea Point past Bantry Bay and all the way up to Mouille Point. As Ross had
pointed out, everybody was outside: pensioners,
teenagers, cyclists, joggers, lovers and dog-lovers walking their fur
people.
    Pic ambled along next to Ross, and Ally wondered who was
walking who as Pic explored the exciting smells on the boardwalk and they
followed his zig-zag path.
    Ross bought them ice cream and she licked and sighed, happy to
feel the still warm dipping sun on her bare shoulders and face. ‘Where are the
jazz players?’ she asked.
    ‘At a pub a little further down. What sort of music do you
like?’
    Okay, that wasn’t too personal. Music....what did she like? She
had to think for a minute. ‘Modern country,’ she said eventually on a huge sigh,
knowing that she was about to be mocked.
    She wasn’t wrong. Ross looked as if he’d just found a dairy
worm in his cone. ‘Dear God, why ?’ he asked, utterly
pained.
    ‘The songs normally have a story; I like stories,’ Ally
replied.
    ‘Frig, you need help. Hard rock, indie, even house—but country ?’
    Ally was about to tell him exactly what he could do with his
help when her mobile rang. She pulled it out of the back pocket of her Capri
pants and squinted at the display. ‘Tante Sabine.’ She sighed.
    ‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’ Ross demanded.
    ‘Maybe later.’ Ally said, tucking the phone away again. She and
Sabine both had the latest smartphones and all the Bellechiers liked the video
calling facility. Ally hated it, because they could tell when she was where she
shouldn’t be—mostly in her office, but on this occasion with Ross. She was in
the company of a good-looking guy on a Saturday afternoon and that would raise a
lot of pesky questions from her nosy foster mum.
    Ross ate the rest of his ice cream and didn’t refuse when Ally
offered him her half-eaten cone to finish. ‘How long have you known your foster
mother? How old were you when you were fostered?’ he asked between bites.
    Ally licked the top of her lip. ‘I was fifteen when they
fostered me, but I’ve known them my entire life. Their second oldest son and I
are the same age and we were in the same class. I spent most afternoons in their
house with them.’
    ‘And you call her Tante? That’s aunt, right?’
    Ally wished the world would open her up and swallow her. While
she’d kept lecturing herself about not probing into Ross’s life, she hadn’t
considered that he might probe into hers.
    ‘Why hasn’t she been upgraded to Mum, Ally?’
    She had asked her to, about six months after her dad had died,
but she hadn’t been ready to make that step. She hadn’t ever asked her again,
and Ally had been too scared to raise the subject in case they were happy to
keep the status quo.
    Her mobile rang again, and of course it was Sabine...
    ‘Where are you?’ she demanded in