The Backdoor Billionaire's Bride

by Roz Lee

  “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 t
est 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.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  In an effort to burn off nervous energy, Ford jogged to the base of the butte then back up again—twice—before continuing along the path running behind Becky Jean’s house. If running in the late-summer heat didn’t kill him, the wait to get his hands on her would. Walking out on her the night she’d kissed him had been the right thing to do, or so he’d believed then, but as time wore on, he’d come to view the move as one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

  He didn’t know exactly when he’d stopped thinking about Ronnie, but it had happened. In the time he’d been away from her, the distance between them had become more than just miles. Whoever had said absence makes the heart grow fonder clearly didn’t know what they were talking about. They rarely spoke these days, and when they did talk, the conversation lacked dimension. She hadn’t been sitting at home alone, pining for his return. Her social calendar was as busy, if not busier than ever, and her interest in his day-to-day life had shrunk to zero.

  With every passing day, Ford became more certain he wanted to stay in Butte Plains.

  Ever since the night of their second live show, he’d wanted another chance with Becky Jean. He’d gone too far on set, driven her home, and made the monumental mistake of kissing her then walking out when she responded with more ardor than he’d expected. Maybe if he’d apologized the next day…. But he’d never found the words. What could he have said, anyway? I wanted to fuck you six ways to Sunday but was afraid you’d want to marry me?”

  Just what every woman wanted to hear.

  He’d known then she had feelings for him. Becky Jean didn’t invite a man to her bed if she didn’t feel something for him.

  He’d thought at the time it was nothing more than lust on his part, but time had shown him the error of his ways. He’d never met a more amazing woman. She could do anything she set her mind to, and do it well. If he ever made it to her bed, he’d be the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

  His lungs heaved as he came to a stop on Becky Jean’s back porch. He took a moment to remind himself to play it cool, no matter how hot his blood ran for her. Sure, she’d responded to him like crazy on set, but as soon as the on-air light dimmed, so did she. He’d never taken advantage of a woman before, and he wouldn’t start with Becky Jean. But… if she gave any indication tonight was about anything other than business, then all bets were off. He’d learned his lesson about pushing her away, and he wouldn’t make the mistake again.

  She answered the door wearing the shortest shorts he’d ever seen and a sleeveless blouse with buttons down the front. Her auburn hair fell in a waterfall of curls from a band on the crown of her head. She looked fresh and sweet and sexy as hell in a girl-next-door way that made his lips dry and his legs weak.

  Shit. I’m in so much trouble.
/>
  “Get in here.” She grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. “Did anyone see you?”

  “What?” He could hardly breathe much less comprehend her meaning. Being this close to her, knowing she’d invited him there to get closer, messed with both his brains. Seeing her in her innocently sexy outfit awakened every male cell in his body, but it was her touch that destroyed him.

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while he puzzled out what she’d said. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if anyone saw me.”

  “Well, I do. You know how people in this town talk.”

  “Let them talk,” he said, advancing on her. It seemed like he’d been waiting forever for this opportunity, and somewhere between reasoning with himself on her back porch and feeling her hand on his arm, he’d come to a conclusion. He’d waited long enough. He had to find out if the chemistry between them was as strong as he thought. Memories of the kiss they’d shared all back at the beginning of summer haunted his dreams.

  He’d take full responsibility for the lost time, but he couldn’t clamp her nipples and not touch her in other ways. Fuck, if he didn’t prepare her properly, she’d never be able to take the pain anyway. Scott had always been more into that sort of thing than Ford, but he knew his way around the toys. Knew there could be nothing pleasurable or erotic about them if the person wearing them wasn’t aroused.

  For the first time since their fateful night, he let his desire for her show in his eyes.

  Becky Jean took a step back. He took a step forward. His blood pounded past his ears on its way south as the expression on his prey’s face changed from worried outrage to something infinitely more enticing—lust. She could play it cool all she wanted, but her body betrayed her. Her gorgeous blue eyes darkened to pools of desire, inviting him to swim in their depths.

  “Ford.”

  “You knew what would happen when you asked me to come here tonight.” He’d had his moments of doubt, but no longer. She’d thrown the pass with every intention of him catching it.