Four months later….
“It’s a good idea, Ford.” Becky paced in front of her partner’s desk and refused to back down. “The Home Shopping Network is huge. They’ve proven the marketing strategy works.”
“So, why not let them sell our products? I don’t see why we need to stick our necks out.”
“I thought you were all about innovation. This should be a no-brainer, partner of mine. Thanks to your creative mind, we have several products on the market, and more on the drawing board. Our Internet sales are through the roof on our site, and on the sites we distribute to.”
“If sales are so good, then I don’t see any point in expanding into something we know nothing about.”
“Sales are good, but they could be better.” Becky planted her feet and glared at her stoic partner. “Ever since the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System hit the market four months ago, we’ve become known for our innovation in the adult toy market. Internet stores are a dime a dozen. Everyone with a computer and a garage to stock inventory has one. Yes, those are profitable for us, but think about it. We would have our own cable network where we sell our own brand directly to the public. We could sell advertising to all those Internet stores, as well as to the brick-and-mortar stores. I don’t see a downside to it.”
Ford rocked back in his chair, a sure sign he was softening. Since becoming business partners, she’d learned to read him well. Becky tamped down her enthusiasm. The biggest hurdle would be getting Ford to agree to establish the first-ever adult cable shopping network and, in her estimation, by far the easiest task ahead of her, given her plans.
Elbow braced on the arm of his chair, he brushed the knuckle of his index finger over his bottom lip. She would not allow the unconsciously sexy habit to distract her as it always did. This was too important.
“You’re talking about a huge monetary investment. We’d have to hire studio space, professionals to produce the show, spokespersons to sell the products, plus we’d have to set up a fulfillment center separate from our current wholesale distribution center. None of which would be cheap. Can we afford it?”
She had answers to all his concerns, but with Ford, she had to take it one step at a time or he’d dig in his heels. She shifted the focus back on him. “Don’t you even read the reports I put on your desk?”
“I’m supposed to read them?”
Shaking her head, she plopped into one of the twin leather guest chairs facing his desk. Lord, he could be exasperating sometimes. “I read the ones you put on my desk.”
“I don’t write reports.” The samples of various plastics, notebooks, and drafting supplies strewn across the top of his desk testified to the truth of his statement. The crumpled grease-stained sandwich wrapper occupying one corner could have been today’s lunch or from last week. She made a mental note to sneak the cleaning staff in as soon as possible.
“Yes, I know. However, when you come up with a new product, I at least take the time to look at it.” She’d also personally tried every one of his inventions, but she’d keep the information to herself.
“I don’t have time to read every report that comes across my desk, Becky Jean. I trust you to inform me if something needs my attention, but otherwise, I don’t want to be bothered. I’m happy with my role as head of product development.” He lifted a sketchpad then dropped it. Becky blanched at the particles of dust dancing under the glow of his desk lamp.
Ever since Ford’s former college roommate turned business partner had returned to New York two months ago, Ford had focused his attention on designing new, innovative products. “Is Scott coming back?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“Just wondering. He stayed longer than necessary the first time, which made me think he had other reasons for hanging around.” Reasons like Roseanne Meadows. The town grapevine had buzzed with rumors about those two the entire time Scott had stayed at the B&B. Becky had asked her friend more than once about her guest, but Roseanne always shifted the conversation to Ford and Becky, and since she had no intention of discussing her obsession with her new business partner, what little she knew about the Yankee and the owner of The Yellow Rose was stained with grape juice.
“He needed to get back. We have clients, plus he wanted to hire someone to take my place for a while.”
The reminder of Ford’s temporary residence status plunged an ice pick straight into her heart, but she masked the hurt with a smile. “You mean you’re replaceable?”
“Apparently. Or so Scott believes.” He waved the insult away. “We’ve been thinking about hiring an apprentice, somebody straight out of college. This is as good a time as any.”
“Well, we all appreciate you stepping in here, and your dedication to the company, but it’s important to stay abreast of our financial status, don’t you think?”
“Like I said, if we have cash flow problems, I’m sure you’ll let me know.”
She added hardheaded to her list of Ford’s personality traits. “To answer your earlier question—yes, we can afford to undertake this new project. In fact, I don’t think we can afford not to. Someone is going to do it. It’s only a matter of time, Ford. It’s a natural move for the most innovative company in the adult toy market.”
He sighed again and rocked forward to cross his forearms on the desktop. Becky hid her victory smile and waited for confirmation of what she already knew. She had him.
“What do you need from me?”
Yes! She did a mental fist pump. “I’ll have the documents on your desk tomorrow at the latest. Sign them and get them back to me. That’s all I need.” For the time being. She’d spring the rest of it on him once she’d sealed the deal and he couldn’t say no.
“Okay.” He reached for his drafting pencil. “Can I get back to work?”
“Sure.” As she stood, their gazes met and held for a breathless moment before she remembered he was her partner and the spark of interest she thought she saw in his eyes had to be her overactive imagination. Forcing her mind back to business, she straightened before heading toward the door. Recalling the reason she’d come to see him in the first place, she gripped the doorframe and faced him. “Thanks, Ford. This is the right thing to do. I know it.” He waved her on her way with a grunt indicating he’d already shifted his focus back to his drawing—further proof her eyes and her mind had been playing tricks on her. The only thing Ford was interested in was whatever deviously naughty toy he was designing.
She hadn’t lied. His innovative designs had catapulted Adams Manufacturing into the adult toy market with the force of an all-out assault. Their competitors had scrambled to come up with products to gain back market share and failed miserably. They could no longer sit on their well-padded asses. If they did, the competition would catch up and eventually overtake them. She had no intention of letting that happen.
When Home Shopping Network had come to her with an offer to feature their products in an exclusive late-night showcase, she’d been flattered, but she’d also seen the possibility in the idea. If the popular home shopping network thought they could sell their products, then there was money to be made. Why not make it themselves?
She’d done her research before presenting the idea to Ford. It would be less expensive to rent studio space, but they already had an entire building not being used. The red-brick structure she had in mind had been the original home of Adams Manufacturing and had been deemed structurally sound by the people from the state historical society who had come out to see if it qualified for listing on their registry. Renovating the space would cost them up front but, in the long run, would be an investment in the future and a feather in the cap for Butte Plains. Once completed, the building could be home to a new state-of-the-art studio with plenty of room for offices and the distribution center Ford had correctly listed as an expense. Removing the cost of land and constructing a new building out of the equation made the start-up bottom line a nice shade of pink instead of bright red.
Until the new studio could be completed, she planned to begin production in the conference room in the present building. Some soundproofing would be necessary to prevent rumblings from the factory bleeding into the sound feed, but the renovation wouldn’t cost much. Besides, she fully intended to start small. No sense dumping a lot of cash into what she had to admit could be a bit of a risky venture. No one had ever attempted to sell adult toys on television. The concept might be a complete flop, but she didn’t think so. She knew marketing, and the success of various niche home shopping networks told her this one would be well received by the buying public.
Especially if you had a sexy-as-sin person hawking the wares. And Ford Adams was sexier than sin.
~~~
Ford had to admit the conference room turned studio looked pretty good. Not fancy, but thanks to the magic of television, the viewing public would never know. The part of it they would see had clean lines, and above all, looked classy.
“Is it worth all the noise you had to endure the last few weeks?”
Ford hadn’t gone along with the idea of launching their own adult toy shopping show easily, but he’d seen the miracles Becky Jean could achieve when she set her mind to something. If she said it would work, then it would work. He turned to his business partner. “It looks good.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?”
God, he loved to push her buttons. When riled, she turned a becoming shade of red, and Lord, if the sight didn’t set his blood on fire.
He had no business toying with her, though. He’d long since decided their professional relationship wasn’t enough to keep him from taking what he wanted, but every time he thought about acting on his desires, something happened to remind him his stint here would end soon. The last time he’d spoken to Ronnie—over a week ago—she’d pumped him for information about when he would find a buyer for the company and get the hell out of Dodge. He’d reminded her Dodge was in Kansas, not Texas. She hadn’t been amused.
Truthfully, he’d begun to like it here. He was having more fun than the law allowed, as his dad used to say, designing sex toys and watching his company grow. His company. Not his dad’s, not his family’s. His. Yes, he’d built on the bones of the ones who’d gone before, but in all fairness, there hadn’t been much left. He’d take partial blame for the condition he’d found the company in. If he’d returned to Butte Plains after college, he might have helped his father turn the company around before things became desperate. If his father had asked, he would have come. But Ken Adams knew his son, and, in keeping his difficulties to himself, he allowed Ford to seek his own happiness.
He’d be eternally grateful for the opportunity. His dad had been one in a million.
So, coming to the realization he wasn’t exactly bored with his life in Butte Plains came as a bit of a shock. He’d yet to decide if he wanted to stay permanently. He still had eight months before he could sell out, so he didn’t need to make a decision until then. And, if he did decide to keep the place, Becky Jean had proved more than capable of running the entire shebang without him being present. He could design products anywhere in the world. If they needed him in the initial stages of product development, he could pop back in for a while.
Looking around the room once again, he admired Becky Jean’s ingenuity. She’d made something out of nothing, and done it in record time. “How deep are we into this project?”
“I put the expense report on your desk this morning.” She had, and he’d glanced at the bottom line, but telling her so would make her suspicious. She thought he didn’t read the constant stream of financial reports she sent his way, but that wasn’t entirely true. He read the bottom line on all of them, if not the details. He’d never told anyone about the second mortgage he’d taken on his house in New York. Those first couple of months had all but drained his personal reserves. Thanks to their success with the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System, he’d paid off both mortgages on his home, and he once again had financial reserves. Becky Jean Parker had as much to do with it as anyone. Adams Manufacturing had gained solid financial ground, thanks to her marketing skills and her ability to be everything to everybody. The earning potential of the company was through the roof, the cash flow robust, and their debt low. Now would be the perfect time to look for a potential buyer.
So, why are you still here?
He’d asked himself the question a million times, and the only answer remained—he was having fun. He was designing for himself for the first time in his professional career, and he had the means to watch those designs leap from the page, become reality then go out into the world for millions to enjoy. One day, he’d have to go back to the business he’d built with Scott right out of college, but for the time being, he owed it to himself to enjoy the life he’d dreamed of since he drew his first invention at the age of seven.
He glanced at the woman who made it possible for him to do nothing but draw all day. Becky Jean solved problems across the spectrum—from production snafus to missing paperwork. Everyone, including him, relied on her. “You did?”
“You know I did.” Her tone made it clear she’d lost all patience with him. He needed to come clean.
“Yes, I know. I read the report. You’ve kept the cost down on the project, and I appreciate it. I’m not entirely convinced this is going to be a success, but at least we won’t lose our shirts on the deal.”
“High praise from you,” she said.
“It looks like you’ve got everything under control.” He ran a hand over one of the boxes containing lighting equipment that had arrived earlier today. “Your report listed the technical people you hired, but I didn’t see a spokesperson. Haven’t been able to find anyone?”
It was one thing to stand in front of a camera and talk about cookware or jewelry, and quite another to talk about butt plugs. Not to mention, finding someone to fill the role in Butte Plains seemed an impossible task.
“Uh… no. I mean, yes.”
Her stammering made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Everything from the flush of her cheeks to the way she pretended interest in the papers on her clipboard told him she had something to hide—something he wasn’t going to like. “Which is it?”
“Which is what?” She wandered around the room until she’d maneuvered a stack of boxes between them.
He hadn’t seen her this nervous since the night she’d called him to her house to help her remove the prototype of the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System. “Becky Jean.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” she pleaded. “The demographic research suggests more than 75 percent of all adult toys sold are purchased by women.”
He’d read the same statistic somewhere. Probably on one of the reports she’d sent his way. “So? What does that have to do with our spokesperson?”
“Well, it needs to be a guy.”
He didn’t like the leading way she’d ended her statement. “I don’t care if the person is male or female, as long as they can sell our products.”
“Good!” She smiled the biggest smile he’d ever seen then made her way out from behind the wall of boxes. “It’s all settled, then.”
“Wait,” he said, putting himself in between her and the door. He could almost feel the weight of the boulder dropping out of the sky, aimed straight for him. “What’s settled?”
“Our spokesperson, of course. You’ll be perfect.”
Wham! Splat! She’d played him like a fiddle. He raised both hands, palms out. “Whoa. Back the wagon up, little lady. I am not going to go on TV to sell butt plugs.”
“Well, someone has to, and who knows the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System better than you?”
Logic wasn’t going to work on him. Not when it came to making a fool of himself. “That’s not the point, and you know it. I’m a product development engineer, not an actor.”
“Who said anything about acting? Remember when you were trying to sell me on the idea?”
He nodded, recalling how difficult she’d been to win over. In the end, it had been the product, not anything he’d said that had convinced her to jump on the bandwagon.
“You convinced me, and I’d wager the phones will be ringing off the hook with women wanting to buy anything you’re selling.”
“Don’t bet the company on it, Becks.” He used his most menacing, don’t-fuck-with-me voice. He trusted her judgment regarding their business, would do anything she said—within reason. This was not within reason. Not even close.
“I’m not, but even if I did, it’s a safe bet. No one is more passionate about your designs than you. Our sales took a noticeable jump after the article about you appeared in Texas Monthly. And, at the risk of inflating your already-considerable ego, you aren’t bad to look at. The female audience is going to eat you up.”
He stored away the fact she thought he was good-looking for another time and concentrated on the more pressing matter. “What about the male audience? Don’t they matter?”
“Truthfully? Not as much. Women do most of the purchasing in this country. They’re the ones we have to appeal to.”
“As a male of the species, I’m offended.” And screwed. As usual, she knew her facts.
“Get over it, Ford.” She glanced over her shoulder at the boxes. “The technicians will be in this afternoon to set everything up. We’ll have a dress rehearsal at six this evening. If everything goes well, we’ll go live next week.”
“Live?” Out of necessity, he’d long ago gotten over his aversion to public speaking, but live television? Not his idea of a fun time.
“For now. If sales warrant, we’ll invest in taping equipment, but until we see if this is going to work, our shows will be live broadcasts.”
He closed his eyes and counted to ten. He wished he’d put his foot down on this project when he’d had the chance. “What if I say no?”
She huffed out a breath. “Look. You wanted me to keep expenses down, so I have. I’ve compromised on everything, including the studio I really wanted. On-air talent is expensive.”
“How expensive?”
She named an hourly wage he could barely comprehend.
“You’re shittin’ me.”
“I wish I was. Plus, the agents I spoke to all insisted on lengthy contracts. I want this to work, but I’m realistic, too. We’re launching to a small, localized market. It could flop, and I don’t want to be on the hook for any more than we have to be.”
He couldn’t fault her for being practical. She was a hell of a businesswoman and a marketing genius. Adams Manufacturing was lucky to have her. He was lucky to have her. For better or worse, they were in this together. She’d left him little choice. “I’ll agree on one condition.”
“Anything you want.”
For the first time since she’d sprung her crazy-assed idea on him, Ford smiled.
~~~
I can’t do this. Standing on the mark the director indicated, Becky couldn’t ignore the testosterone tower next to her. Since Ford had taken to wearing jeans and worn-out MIT T-shirts to work—something she blamed on his friend Scott—she’d almost forgotten how breathtaking he looked in the tailored suits he’d worn when he first returned to Butte Plains. Between his distracting presence and the display of butt plugs on the table next to them, she was as nervous as an armadillo crossing a six-lane freeway during rush hour.
Anything you want, her conscience mocked. Whatever possessed you to say such a thing?
“I’m ready. How about you, Becky Jean?” Ford’s deep voice held a hint of mockery, too. And why wouldn’t it? She’d opened the door, and he’d walked right through, dragging her into the pit of humiliation she’d dug for herself.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She wiped her sweating palms on her skirt.
“This is a rehearsal. It doesn’t matter how you look,” Ford said.
Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect. “Still no reason to be a slouch.”
“Just relax,” Justin said. The kid just graduated college with a degree in filmmaking, and he was eager to put it to use. The idea of being on the ground floor of something as innovative as the Adult Shopping Show appealed to the young man. Even the pittance she’d offered him hadn’t discouraged him from accepting the job as producer/director/master-in-charge of getting them on the air. “Everything is on the teleprompter but feel free to improvise.”
“I think I’ll stick to the script,” Becky Jean said.
“Not a problem. It gets the message across.”
It should. She’d written it herself.
It took over an hour to get through the half-hour segment. Justin continually stopped to adjust the lighting and remind them to relax. Remind her, she amended. Despite his initial resistance, Ford proved to be the natural she’d predicted he would be. She was the mess.
“You should do this alone,” she said as they wrapped up the second run-through.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Ford said. “If I have to do this, you have to do this.”
“I’m worse than Lucy Ricardo trying to sell Vita-Meata-Vegimin.”
“You’ll be fine,” he stated with a finality that said he wasn’t going to let her off the hook.
“I’m going to remind you, you said that when social media starts lighting up with scathing reviews of our show.” As she stomped off the set, she wished she’d never had the idea in the first place.