“Boy, am I glad that’s over.” Becky Jean sank into the same chair Scott had vacated a half hour earlier. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Interviews?” He shrugged. “I can’t stand them, but the director of marketing and public relations keeps insisting I do them.” He smiled, driving home the barb.
“Okay, okay. I get the message, but you’re swimming with the big fish now. People want to know who you are, where you came from. It’s good for business.”
She had a point, but he didn’t like speaking about his personal life to strangers any more than she did. “Speaking of business….” Ford pushed a rectangular box toward her. “What do you think of this?”
“Another one of your designs?” Becky reached for the generic container. His groin tightened as a blush crept up her neck to her cheeks—a response he could have predicted. After all this time in the adult toy business, the products they sold still flustered her.
He reined in his libido. “Nope. Scott created it. He’s willing to enter into a partnership agreement with us to produce and market it.” He leaned forward. “Go ahead. Pick it up. See what you think.”
Becky lifted the lifelike toy from its resting place. Seeing her hands on the replica male appendage caused his real one to ache. God, what he wouldn’t do to feel her fingers wrapped around his cock. It had been a hell of a long time since a woman had touched him.
“Silicone?”
He forced his attention to the spec sheets Scott had emailed him. “According to the specs, the inner core is a simple rubber compound. The outer layer, or skin, if you will, can be either latex or silicone. The prototype is latex.”
“Some people are allergic to latex.” Holding the base in one hand, she wrapped her other hand around the shaft and tugged. The outer layer slid over the core, rising up to cover the head then retreating. He swallowed hard, imagining her fingers wrapped around his flesh, moving up and down his shaft. “Feels very lifelike.”
Fuck. He did not want to think about how she came to have that knowledge.
“True.” He almost wept with relief as she placed the prototype back in the box. “I’m thinking silicone is the way to go.”
“How much does he want?”
Her color had returned to normal since they’d moved on to discussing money. Everything would be great if his dick would do the same. “I told him we would discuss it this afternoon. I invited him to go warehouse shopping with us.”
She stood and turned. His gaze landed on her perfect ass. It seemed like forever since he’d helped her remove the prototype of the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System, yet the images of her sweetly rounded globes remained fixed in his brain, popping up at inappropriate times—like right then. He remained seated as she moved to the door.
“Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go.”
He was ready to go right then, but not in the way she meant. He needed a minute to wrestle his body under control enough to be seen in public. “Take your time.”
~~~
Becky locked the bathroom stall door. Wrapping her arms around her middle, her fists clenched tight, she dropped her forehead to the cool metal. Holy smoke, what the hell?
It’s business. It’s not personal. It’s a product. Something to sell. It’s what marketing people do.
No matter how she spun it in her head, she couldn’t shake the images her mind created when she’d held the remarkably lifelike dildo in her hands. Granted, her experience with the real thing amounted to one, but if memory served her, Scott’s creation was a near-perfect replica of a generously sized penis. Right down to the satin-smooth skin and ridged muscle underneath. It just lacked the ability to ejaculate.
“No. No. NO! Don’t go there.”
“Ms. Parker? Are you okay?”
Stifling a groan, Becky lifted her head. “I’m fine, Carolyn, but thanks for asking.” Straightening the jacket on her red suit-dress, she stepped out and approached the wash basins. “Can you tell Mr. Adams I’ll be right out?”
“Sure thing.” The young receptionist turned to go then stuck her head back in. “Mr. Ramsey is back.”
She pumped soap onto her palm and stuck her hands under the automatic faucet. “So I heard.” The crush Carolyn had for the handsome Yankee apparently hadn’t abated in the months since she’d last seen him.
“He sure dresses up the place, don’t you think?” Before she could answer, the door swung shut behind the infatuated girl.
“If you say so,” Becky mumbled, waving her hand in front of the sensor on the paper towel dispenser. Poor Carolyn didn’t stand a chance, she feared. She couldn’t thank Ford’s college friend enough for bringing them the revolutionary new product, but he could have sent the item by courier instead of hand delivering it. She suspected the man had his reasons for coming back to Butte Plains, and they had everything to do with her friend Roseanne. The owner of The Yellow Rose B&B refused to talk about the Yankee, which said a lot about the two of them. She’d seen the way they looked at each other when they thought no one would notice. There was something going on between them—she just didn’t have a clue what.
Carolyn’s misplaced infatuation gave Becky something else to think about besides her growing interest in her business partner.
“Good luck,” she said to her reflection. “You’re going to need it.”
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
~~~
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Scott said, scooting into the backseat of the SUV Ford insisted the company purchase so he could turn in his rental. “I had a few issues to discuss with the innkeeper.”
“I’m sure Roseanne will bend over backwards to make your stay as pleasant as possible,” Becky said.
“I’m sure she will.” He smirked.
Becky turned in her seat to glare at him. “You know, she asked if you were coming back. I got the impression she might be looking forward to your return, but I’m rethinking that.”
Scott smiled. “It’s good to know she missed me.” When Becky opened her mouth to let him have it, he held a hand up to stop her. “Simmer down. Ms. Meadows and I understand each other perfectly. I’m demanding as hell, but I also pay very well. No doubt my fat pocketbook is the reason she wanted me to return.”
“You wouldn’t be her first demanding customer.” She faced forward. “If you’re going to be difficult, it’s only fair you pay accordingly.”
“Believe me, she earns every penny.”
Ford stopped at an intersection and looked over his shoulder at his friend. Was that disapproval or something else? Before she could question the two of them, Ford accelerated through the intersection. “Where to first?” he asked.
“The first stop is over on Muleshoe. The Realtor said he’d meet us there.”
“Wasn’t that place a leather goods factory at one time?” Ford asked.
Focusing on their mission, Becky nodded. “I believe so. Mr. Ferguson said he thinks most of the old machinery is still inside, which could be a problem for us.”
“Sounds like a great opportunity,” Scott said from the backseat.
“To do what?” Becky scanned the printout of the listing. “What on earth would we need for a leather factory?”
“You’re already making sex toys. Why not create a line of leather goods for the people using your toys?”
“He has a point, Becky Jean. We could also make our own line of whips, floggers, restraints—you name it.” He glanced over his shoulder again with a smile for his friend. “Nice thinkin’, buddy.”
Becky groaned. “Great. That’s just what we need, to take on another project when we can barely handle the ones we’re juggling now.”
“I didn’t say we were going to buy the place. We’ve got to see it first. If the equipment is there, we’d have to see if we could find some of the former employees, see what would be involved in getting the place up and running again. It would mean more jobs for more people.”
Damn. He knew she couldn’t resist an opportunity to add more jobs to the local economy. They passed a diner that had reopened last month. From the looks of the vehicles parked outside, business couldn’t be better. “McCrae’s is open again.”
Ford hummed his agreement. “I heard Mrs. Hanson decided to hire a manager so she could retire.” A few months ago, they’d instituted lunch time staff meetings on Wednesday’s. Ordering stuffed croissants from the local bakery insured attendance more often than not. Knowing the bakery would remain open meant he wouldn’t have to come up with something else to lure their employees to the meeting.
“She told me she wanted to spend more time with Bobby’s kids since he and Chrissy moved back home.”
“He’s a top-notch electrician. Did a good job on the wiring for the remodel of the old building.”
“He said his father-in-law is so grateful to have his daughter and grandkids back, he’s letting Bobby run his new business out of the old Matthew’s Electric building free of charge.”
“I’m happy for Bobby, but I kind of hoped we could rent or buy his building ourselves. It would be perfect for our new production facility.”
“This place sure has changed since the last time I saw it,” Scott said as they passed a truck loaded with building supplies unloading in front of another eatery that had closed years ago. “Have you seen all the stuff opening up along the freeway? Amazing.”
“Business is booming in Butte Plains.” Becky couldn’t keep the smile off her face.
“It’s good to see,” Scott said.
“Did you notice the new hotel going in? Should be done in a few more weeks. Next time you come down, you won’t have to stay at the B&B if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah, I saw their sign. As long as The Yellow Rose has a room for me, I think I’d prefer to stay there. The level of service is excellent. Can’t get that at a chain.”
“No, you can’t,” Ford agreed.
Their agent, Sam Ferguson, waited for them when they pulled into the overgrown parking lot of what once had been Butte Leather Goods. Becky sighed. If the parking area reflected the interior, this place needed more than a cosmetic facelift.
An hour later, she climbed back in the passenger seat. As soon as Ford started the engine, she cranked the air conditioner to full blast and adjusted every vent she could reach to blow on her.
“Hey, greedy much?” Ford claimed the center vent closest to his side for himself.
“How do you people stand this heat all summer long?” Scott complained from the backseat.
“You get used to it,” Becky said.
“Fuck,” he said before he bent his face over the vent blowing air from the center console into the backseat.
“What did you think?” Ford pulled out of the lot right behind the Realtor’s land yacht.
As soon as Sam had opened the big bay doors, letting the bright summer light shine where it hadn’t in nearly a decade, the two grown men flanking her had become little boys on Christmas morning. She’d seen the awe etched on their faces and known the only discussion would be over how soon they could sign the papers. Nevertheless, she had to try. “It’s a disaster, Ford. The place has more rodents in it than machinery, and it has a ton of machinery.”
“More like ten tons.”
Becky shot Scott a death look then turned to Ford. “I get it, I really do. It’s a challenge, but it will still be here in a year or two.”
Ford shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror. “Maybe if we had a partner. Someone to share the start-up expense and do most of the work? Say… in return for a bigger share of the profits on the new toy?”
“What? Are you insane?” Becky punched Ford’s arm.
“Ouch! Why’d you hit me?”
“How much of an investment are you thinking?” Scott asked.
“We put up 70 percent. You put up 30 percent, and we kick you another 2 percent of the profits on the toy in exchange for you running the place. We split the profits the same way, 70/30.
Becky’s head spun as the numbers they were talking grew to staggering proportions. They’d gone from zero credit at the bank to an almost-open-ended credit line, but adding a leather factory to their expansion list would test their limit.
“Make it 5 percent on the new toy and you have a deal.”
“Five it is.” Ford smacked the steering wheel with the heel of his hand in celebration.
“Oh. My. God. You are beyond insane.” She glared at Ford’s smugly elated face.
“Maybe,” Ford said, “but you love me anyway.”
Becky turned to gaze out the side window—anything to keep Ford from seeing the truth in her eyes. He’d been joking, but love was no joke. If she allowed herself to think about it, she knew she’d find herself well on her way to being hopelessly in love with the man—so she refused to think about it.
A few minutes later, they parked next to Mr. Ferguson in front of what had once been a vegetable-packing plant. Becky took one last breath of chilled air before sliding her feet to the sweltering, cracked asphalt and followed the men inside. At least someone had kept the place clean and critter-free.
Ford and their new partner in the leather business couldn’t have cared less about the warehouse, but it was exactly what Adams Manufacturing needed in regards to size and location. “The price is above market value,” she said. “We’ll take it for 20 percent less than the asking price if the seller covers closing costs.” She cocked an eyebrow at the Realtor who moonlighted as the Mayor of Butte Plains. “And I assume all applicable permits and zoning issues will be forthcoming from the city?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see to it.” She shook hands with the older man. “The Buford family has been sitting on this for at least ten years. I think they’ll jump at the offer.”
She dug a business card out of her purse. “Call me as soon as you hear back from them. We’d like to expedite the closing. We’ve already ordered machinery. We’ll need to get our people in here as soon as possible to get started on the infrastructure.”
“Not a problem, B.J.— I mean, Ms. Parker.”
Ignoring his embarrassing slip, Becky led the way out, waiting by the car door while the men secured the warehouse door. It had been a hell of a day, and it wasn’t over yet. She still had to test the toy she and Ford would be endorsing on the show they planned to tape the next day.
She’d managed to effectively test the other toys they’d featured in the last few months. As a single woman, she’d had a passing acquaintance with dildos and vibrators, so similar toys were simple enough for her to test. After the second week when Ford had broken her down on television with a simple, tiny vibrator, she’d learned her lesson and wouldn’t admit to testing. If she hadn’t tried it, they didn’t hawk it on the show. Having her own opinion of the merits of the devices they sold gave her a measure of control since Ford refused to work with a script.
Despite her promise to herself to never ask for Ford’s help again, she found herself in a predicament of her own making. She’d thought she had plenty of time to work up the courage to test one of their newer products, but they were scheduled to tape the segment tomorrow, and she’d yet to get up the nerve to test the product. She tensed just thinking about attaching the tiny clamps to her nipples. She’d done her research, even tested them on her pinky finger. She simply couldn’t see herself being able to attach them to a more sensitive area. She needed help, and besides Roseanne, who’d claimed to be unavailable tonight, the only person she trusted to help her was the one person she had no business asking.
He’d been the perfect gentleman about the incident with the butt-plug prototype, and she’d appreciated his restraint at the time. Then he’d rejected her after she practically threw herself at him after their second live broadcast. Message received. He didn’t want her. Whether his rejection had to do with her or the mysterious and conspicuously absent Ronnie, she didn’t know.
Still, she needed his help, so she’d set her feelings for the man aside, suck up her courage, and ask for his assistance with the clamps. She wouldn’t throw herself at him again, but if one thing led to another, she wouldn’t say no. If that made her a bad person, then so be it.
They dropped Scott off at The Yellow Rose with a promise to discuss their new joint venture the following day. They were nearly back to the office before Becky got up the nerve to say what she’d been rehearsing in her head for the past few days.
“I need you to come to my place tonight. Use the trail from the top of the butte down to my street. I’ll let you in the back door.”
He’d parked in his reserved spot right next to her car but kept the engine running as he turned to her. “You want me to sneak to your house tonight?”
“Yes.” She nodded once. “We’ve given the town enough to talk about. They don’t need to see you on my doorstep after hours.”
“And, why, exactly am I going to be on your back doorstep this evening?”
“I need… help. With one of the products we’re showcasing tomorrow.”
He frowned, and she could practically see him mentally going through tomorrow’s taping list. A wide smile split his face. “The nipple clamps.”
She nodded again. “I’ve never…. I don’t know…. Hell, Ford, I’m afraid if I get them on, I won’t be able to get them off. When I think about it, I imagine myself rolling on the floor in agony and my hands shaking so hard I can’t remove the damn things.” Nothing but the truth there. The idea of testing the clamps by herself scared her spitless.
“You want me to help?”
“Don’t look so damn happy about it. You’re the reason I have to test them in the first place, so it’s only fair you have to give up your evening to help me.” More truth. If he hadn’t insisted she endorse every product, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
“Why not ask one of your girlfriends? I bet Roseanne would help.”
Roseanne had claimed she had other plans for the evening—and she’d made the claim before the nipple clamps were even mentioned. “She’s busy tonight.”
“Lucky for you, I’m available to assist you.” He cut the engine and opened his door. “I’ll be there with bells on. Oh, wait! You’ll be the one wearing the bells.”
The heat flooding her system had nothing to do with the summer sun beating down on her body as she followed Ford to the front door. Images swam through her brain like mirages—enticing yet untouchable. Tonight, they’d be real. Her breasts grew heavy as she imagined Ford’s hands on them, his fingers flicking the tiny bells dangling from her nipples. The pain would be bearable because the expression on her partner’s face would mirror the pure lust inside her. At least she hoped so.
Ford opened the front door for her. The new chime they’d had installed to announce visitors sounded like a gong to Becky’s ears.
“Bells on,” Ford said, with a smile.
Becky made an indecent hand gesture only he could see. His laughter followed her down the hall to her office. It was going to be a long afternoon.
His casual comment earlier in the day echoed in her brain. You love me anyway.
Yeah, she did. With every passing day, she fell a little bit more in love with her business partner. Intellectually, she knew better, but her heart refused to listen to her brain, and she’d given up trying to make it. Tonight, she’d follow her heart, and if it led her down a road of broken dreams, then she’d patch together what she could and move on. Life was too short to live with regrets.