by Roz Lee
At the gatehouse, he set his prototype on the dresser in the bedroom while he undressed and showered. As he passed by later on his way to bed, he picked it up. He’d made it a good size. Not small, but far from being the biggest on the market. Silicone would make it light and pliable, adding to the comfort while allowing the stretch needed for the locking arms to work properly. It would be easy enough to make it in a variety of sizes, even one small enough for a beginner.
An image popped into his head of Becky Jean wearing his invention. He didn’t have anyone else in Butte Plains he could trust to test the prototype, so she’d be the first to try it out. He imagined turning the key, locking the plug in place then examining the device to make sure it seated properly. God, he wanted to help Becky Jean with the plug, and more, but he couldn’t. Maintaining a professional relationship had to be a priority. He’d get Adams Manufacturing back on its feet, then they could sell it. He’d go back to his life, and Becky Jean would move on. If they made something of this new product, perhaps her 25 percent would amount to enough to set her up in a new life away from Butte Plains.
Thinking about Becky Jean dating—getting naked—with some guy made Ford grind his teeth. For Christ’s sake, she’d never used a butt plug! What did she know of the world and the perverts inhabiting it? She needed someone to lead the way, show her the delights to be experienced without destroying her moral compass. It couldn’t be him, though, so he’d best put those thoughts out of his head.
He admired her loyalty to the employees and to the town as a whole. The success of his recovery plan depended on her sense of responsibility and her desire to help the people she cared about. She would do her best to market his invention, but in order to do so, she had to understand how revolutionary it was.
When he’d stopped by to see his mother earlier, she’d given him his dad’s phone, and he’d transferred the contacts he’d deemed essential over to his own. He’d made sure to transfer Becky Jean’s first. Picking up his phone from the nightstand, he searched out her number and made the call. It rang several times before she answered, sounding breathless.
“I hope nothing slipped out when you ran to catch the phone,” he said, easing into his favorite tease-Becky-Jean mode.
“What do you want?” she asked, her tone indicating she hadn’t forgiven him for taking her to the sex-toy shop.
“I wanted to see if you needed any help with your market research.”
“I’m doing just fine without your help.”
He smiled at the admission she let slip.
“I told you I wouldn’t try the… products, and I’m not.”
He swallowed the laugh bubbling up. He’d let her have her little deception. “You’re not, huh? Do you think it’s too difficult to insert them on your own? Because, if you do, I stand ready to assist. All you have to do is ask.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Becky slid gingerly into the passenger seat of Ford’s fancy car, acknowledging his chipper greeting with a grunt. Their shopping adventure the previous evening, plus her embarrassing experience with a few of the items they’d purchased made him the last person she wanted to see.
“I need my car back.” Somehow, knowing she had the means to put distance between them whenever the mood struck mattered a lot this morning.
“You can pick it up this evening.”
She didn’t expect him to be so agreeable. After he’d called last night while she’d been trying out the smallest of the items he’d purchased, and having little success keeping it in place, she figured he’d be hammering her with questions this morning. The fact was, he hadn’t made her uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Something is. I thought you’d want to know the results of my market research, but you haven’t even asked.”
“Nothing is wrong. You hung up on me last night, so I thought it best to drop the subject.”
“You don’t want to know if I tried one of them or not?”
“I know you tried at least one. You know as well as I do, in order to judge our product against the competition, you are going to have to try all of them. You could ask someone else for their opinion, but I don’t see you running around town asking people to fill out a survey in regards to their experiences with butt plugs.”
That he knew her so well didn’t make her any happier. “You know darn well I’m not going to survey anybody. For your information, I tried some of the competitors’ products, and you were right, they don’t function as well as one would expect them to.”
“How are you going to sell butt plugs when you refuse to say it?”
“You still have to prove to me you have a superior product. Until then, there’s nothing to sell.”
“Point taken.” He parked then walked around to open her door. “I printed two more last night.” He held up a plastic grocery bag. “As soon as I get the shipment of locking mechanisms, I can show you how this is going to work.”
Unlocking the front door, she entered with Ford on her heels. She disengaged the alarm and followed him down the hallway to their offices. He paused before entering his. “The locking mechanisms will be here today. In the meantime, I’m going to get Owens in the machine shop working on a mold. The sooner we turn out a complete unit, the better.”
“I suppose so.” She still wasn’t sold on the idea of a new product, especially given the nature of the item Ford had come up with. “I’m going to see how Angela is doing with the receivables then go over our outstanding bills with Carla to see if we can prioritize the bills. Maybe we can delay paying some of them. If need-be, I can call some of the creditors, explain about Mr. Adam’s death. It could buy us a little time. We’ve paid well in the past, so we have that going for us.”
“You could check out wholesalers, too. I’d like to see a list of places we can approach to carry our new product. The sooner we get it in their online catalogs, the better.”
She might just get through this crazy partnership if they kept things on a professional level. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Sometime later, Ford popped his head in her office door. “Come on! There’s someone I want you to meet.”
He hurried off before she could question him. Shaking her head, she glanced at the clock on the corner of her desk. She’d been working steady for over three hours.
“Break time,” she mumbled, pushing away from the desk. Raised masculine voices floated down the hall, drawing her out of her office.
Ford and another man she didn’t recognize stood in reception, beaming at one another like loons. She hung back, watching the obvious reunion. Who was this man? She knew everyone in town, and if he’d attended Butte Plains High School, she would recognize him. He appeared to be Ford’s exact opposite. He was blond where Ford had dark hair. His skin had the flawless quality of a Norse god where Ford’s skin leaned more toward golden sunset. Her partner dressed to the nines—suit and tie every day—where the newcomer wore aged denim and a NY Giants T-shirt. Equal in height to Ford, the man was undeniably handsome, but she had no trouble tearing her gaze away from him.
In the week since Ford’s return to his hometown, he’d had little to smile about. Seeing his face transformed in genuine pleasure damn near took her breath away. His eyes sparkled with life, and the laugh lines bracketing his mouth made her knees weak.
“Ah, man, it’s good to see you.”
“You, too,” the god replied. “Ronnie said to tell you to get your ass back, ASAP.”
Ford’s smile dimmed. “I’ll be back when I can, you both know that.”
“Yeah, we know.”
“I miss my life there.” As if he willed the sad thoughts away, his smile returned. He clapped the newcomer on the shoulder. “I’m damn glad to see you, though.”
Stepping forward, Becky cleared her throat.
“Becky Jean!” Arm around his friend’s shoulders, her partner turned to her. “Look who I found!”
The Giants
fan punched Ford’s midsection. “Who found who? I’m the one who flew halfway across the country to see what the hell is taking you so long.”
Becky squirmed under his appreciative gaze.
“And now I know.”
He separated himself from Ford and approached, hand outstretched. “I’m Scott Ramsey, and you must be Becky Jean.”
Ford’s business partner. Not what she expected, though she couldn’t say exactly what she’d thought the man would be like. He was too pretty and in too good a mood to hold his scrutiny of her body against him. She took his hand. “Nice to meet you. You’re the partner I’ve heard so much about?”
“He’s been talking about me?”
“Truthfully?” She raised one eyebrow.
“By all means. Tell me what this reprobate has been saying.” He glanced over his shoulder.
Leaning against the reception desk, arms crossed, Ford smirked.
“Well, he’s hardly mentioned you.”
The newcomer laughed. “I knew it! Out of sight, out of mind.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on Becky’s cheek. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Becky. We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“We?”
“Me and my sister, Veronica—Ronnie. Ford told us all about you, but I see he left out the part about you being gorgeous.” He glanced over his shoulder at her new partner, who shrugged off the criticism.
Ronnie. Not Ronny. A woman.
“Enough.” Ford straightened. “Did you bring the locks?”
So much for giving the newcomer the third degree. She had no business prying into Ford’s personal life anyway. She’d learned all she needed to know—Ford was taken. Did it make any difference his significant other turned out to be a woman instead of a man as she’d incorrectly assumed? It shouldn’t, but it did. Whatever fledgling thoughts she’d had about her sexy new partner were inappropriate in more ways than one.
“I did.” Scott motioned to a box on the corner of the reception desk. “Decided to bring them myself instead of trusting them to an overnight carrier.”
Ford scooped the box into his arms. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble, but I’m glad you did. Come on. Let me show you what I’m working on.” He led Scott toward the factory floor. “I’m dying to see if this works.”
The roar of machinery filled the air as the two men disappeared through the door like two little boys with a new toy, leaving Becky behind shaking her head.
“Are there more like him in New York?”
Becky startled at the other woman’s voice. She’d all but forgotten about the girl seated behind the high desk. “You mean, Mr. Ramsey?”
Carolyn had been manning the front desk at Adams Manufacturing during the day and taking night classes at the county community college since she graduated from high school three years ago. Lord knew what she would do if she lost her job. Becky Jean’s gaze lingered on the door the two men had disappeared through and sent up a silent prayer Ford’s idea would work.
“Holy cow, Ms. Parker. He’s gorgeous.”
Becky wasn’t at all surprised by the receptionist’s remark. Other than Ford coming home, this Ramsey fellow had to be the first fresh bait to swim in the Butte Plains pool in forever. The sharks would be circling him in no time. Innocent little Carolyn didn’t stand a chance.
Becky resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Yeah, the man was good-looking, but his Scandinavian genes had nothing on Ford’s Texan ancestry. “Wipe the drool off your chin and finish up the time-sheet logs, will you?” Becky turned back toward her office.
“Sure thing.”
She did roll her eyes at the exaggerated sigh the girl let out. Geez.
When Ford appeared in her doorway, she glanced at the clock, surprised to see she’d worked through lunch and most of the afternoon. “Did you need something?”
He stepped inside and shut the door. “I have something for you.” He set a butt plug on her desk then stepped back. “Ta da! The first-ever, lock-in-place butt plug!”
Up until the moment he set the lump of molded plastic on her desk, she’d been in a state of denial about the new direction he wanted to take the company, but with the evidence front and center, those days were over. She pasted a smile on her face. “Wow! You work fast.”
“Not me. Owens is a genius. The man can make anything, I tell you. I gave him the prototype first thing this morning, and voila! Here’s the finished product.” Pete Owens kept the machinery running, sometimes by miraculous methods. He either deserved a raise, or to be drawn and quartered. She didn’t know which.
Becky stared at the obelisk. She hadn’t given its size much thought when she’d seen his prototype, but she’d never worn one, either. With the experience behind her, she viewed Ford’s new invention with trepidation. “I didn’t remember it being so large.”
“It isn’t as big as some of the ones we bought last night.”
True enough, but she hadn’t tried any of the larger ones. She’d been uncomfortable enough with the ones she had tried, and since they all appeared to be constructed in much the same way, she saw no point in trying the others. “I’m not putting that thing inside my body.”
“Yes, you are.” He picked it up, turning it so she could see the protruding end of the device. “Let me show you how it works.”
“No need. I’m not going to test it for you.”
He’d produced a small key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock embedded in the base. “Once it’s fully seated, just turn the key.” He continued to talk, completely ignoring her protests. “This lock Scott designed is genius, and this is the perfect application for it. See the way the arms on the lock expand outward creating a shelf-like effect?” He made a ring with his thumb and index finger, encircling the smallest part. Becky shuddered, imagining the thing inside her.
“Once the lock is engaged, the only way to remove the device is with the key.” He inserted the key again and turned it. The locking arms retreated and the plug returned to its original size. “Come on. Let’s go home. I can’t wait for you to try it.”
“I’m not trying it.”
“You are trying it.” He picked her purse up from where she’d left it on the corner of the desk, stuffed the sinister-looking device inside, and headed toward the door. He acted like an overgrown child sometimes—there was no reasoning with him.
Becky closed the file she’d been working on and rose. “I want my car back.”
“Sure thing. We’ll go to my place, you can put the plug in there. I’m can’t wait to hear what you think of it.”
She knew where she wanted to put the plug, and it wasn’t where Ford thought. Besides, she didn’t really need to try it, did she? The difference appeared obvious, and in theory should work. She hoped it would be enough to convince people to buy it.
“What did you do with your friend?”
“Scott? Said he was tired. He’s chillin’ at the bed & breakfast over on Maple Street.”
“Roseanne Meadow’s place?”
He shot her a look she couldn’t decipher then went back to watching the road. “The Yellow Rose? I thought Roseanne and her parents moved to Florida when we were in high school.”
“They did, but her grandmother left her the old Victorian, so she came back, fixed it up, and turned it into a B&B. She’s been having a tough time of it, like everyone else in town. If things don’t pick up, she’ll probably have to close the doors soon.”
“I remember. You two were friends back in the day, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. We stayed in touch, sort of, after she moved. It’s been nice having her back in town.”
“I’m sorry her business isn’t doing well. I dropped Scott off earlier. It looks like a nice place.”
“It is. She used to serve high tea there on Sunday afternoons, but she stopped about two years ago, I guess. Times have been hard on the town.”
Ford grunted a response. What did he care if the town folded in on itself like an armadillo? In a year’s time, maybe
less if they got the plant turning a profit, he’d go back to New York where his biggest problem would be deciding which restaurant to eat at before he and his girlfriend took in a Broadway show.
They pulled into his driveway, and Becky made a beeline for her car. “See you in the morning,” she called out, fishing the keys out of her purse.
“Wait! Aren’t you going to come in, give the new product a trial?”
“No. I’m not. I told you I wouldn’t, and nothing has changed my mind.” She climbed in her car, tossed her purse into the passenger seat, and cranked the engine. As she pulled away, she caught sight of Ford standing next to his car, watching her drive away. She absolutely would not do what he’d asked her to. No. Way. In. Hell.
CHAPTER NINE
Determined not to dwell on thoughts of Becky Jean trying out his new invention, and all the process entailed, Ford walked up the long drive to his mother’s house. She’d called earlier and invited him to dinner. He’d explained about his friend being in town, and requested a rain check, but when he’d called to see what time to pick Scott up, he’d said the owner of the B&B had offered to fix him something so he could call it an early night. If Roseanne was anything like Ford remembered her from a decade ago, he figured his buddy had more going on than a quiet dinner and early bedtime. The guy definitely had a way with women.
Even though Ford had begged off earlier, his mother wouldn’t turn him away. Helen Adams always prepared for company.
He had a few things he needed to ask her in regards to the estate, and he wanted to hear her reaction to finding out her husband had left a significant portion of the company to a young, female employee. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt nothing had been going on between his father and Becky Jean, but no matter what assurances he’d given his new partner, he wanted to make sure his mother agreed. He had yet to come up with a tactful way to broach the subject when his mother solved the problem for him.
