Rosie put her iPad on the table. She picked up the folder andflipped it open. “A new tool company?” Of course she’d be perfect for this: everything about her from her flawlessly manicured nails to her three-inch Manolo Blahnik slingback pumps screamed DIY and screw-y fix-y things. Pairing his marketing execs with items they’d likely never touched in their lives was a funny way to go about revolutionizing advertising. She’d have to spend a week researching which tools did what before she even began to think about how to sell them.
“Not just any tool company,” Franklin said. “This one wants to focus on women and the LGBTQ community.”
More interested now, she flicked through the glossy pages of shiny tools, sets, boxes, and bags that were available in every color of the rainbow, and then there were the exclusive hand-torched range where no two tools had the exact same finish. They were pretty, sure, but beyond the obvious, she still didn’t see Franklin’s logic in wanting her to lead the project. He insisted on his execs using every product he gave them to market for at least two weeks. She could think of some uses for the ones with the smooth long handles, but that would be a very different campaign to the one the tool company would be expecting.
Still, their budget was huge for a new account, and it might be just the challenge she needed to really kickstart a love for her new career.
“You can see why I thought of you, right?” He bounced up from his chair and offered his iPad.
Because a femme lesbian woman who’s only interested in the kind of nails she has on the end of her fingers and toes would be perfect to convince other women just like her to buy the hammery things used for a totally different kind of nail. It was obvious why she’d gotten the account, yes.
But when she looked down at the screen, it did indeed become obvious why Franklin wanted her to handle this company, and her excitement stirred at the prospect. Staring up at her was a picture of herself, Lori, Shay, and the rest of her team standing in front ofthe vintage car Elodie Fontaine had just bought at auction for an eye-watering $1.5 million. How he’d gotten the photo, she couldn’t imagine and didn’t really want to know, but Shay’s garage could be at the center of her campaign. Shay could be her poster girl because she was the kind of femme lesbian woman whodiduse all these tools and more, and she’d mentioned they were already getting a high proportion of gay male clients in there who were tired of their treatment at old-fashioned, toxic masculinity garages. Rosie’s mind fast-forwarded to the photoshoot, and she sighed deeply. Happy times to come.
“I love it,” she said and handed his iPad back to him. “What’s the deadline for the proposal?”
“Yes! I knew you would! Fist bump!” he yelled.
She flashed her nails. “If I make a fist, I’ll slice my palm open.”
He opened his hand out. “High five then!”
She did that with a smile. Just a few minutes ago, she’d thought she was about to be canned. Now she was going to be paid to spend more time with Shay,andshe’d get to dress her up for some sexy photo shoots. Rosie wasn’t going anywhere.Suck on that, Mindy Fletcher.
CHAPTER 9
Shay foldedthe silk scarf carefully and put it on Rosie’s bedside table. “That has to be a record.”
Rosie licked her lips and stretched luxuriously. The way her body went taut made Shay want to start all over again. Rosie had a way of making every time they got together just as sexy as the first.
“I can’t get enough of the way you taste, and you come even harder after you’ve been tied up and teased?—”
“For anhour,” Shay said. “What did you expect?”
Rosie laughed. “I didn’t expect to choke.”
“You’re complaining?”
Rosie shook her head. “Never. Like I said, you taste amazing… And you look amazing, by the way, which is one of the reasons I want you to help me sell wrenches and whatnot.”
Shay sat up, not quite grasping what Rosie had just said or how she’d made the switch from sex to tools. “You want me to do what?”
“Make you the face of Unity Tools and build a whole marketing campaign based around your garage.”
Shay propped herself up after fluffing her pillows, deciding to stay a while to see where this conversation led. “It’s not my garage. There are five of us.”
Rosie smiled. “I know that. And you all appeal to different markets?—”
“You want to sell us?”
“No!” Rosie shifted to sit sideways and ran her fingers along Shay’s arm. “I want to sell the tools, which your beautiful face will help me do. And you’ll get as many sets of the tools as you need for the garage, plus image-rights fees. It’s free advertising for you too;you’ll get a whole new customer group to boost your turnover.”
Shay blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Isn’t this just another company trading on our fears around inequality and profiting from it?”
“They’re not like that,” Rosie said, “although I had the exact same thought after I’d come down from the initial excitement of the idea of dressing you up in greasy overalls and shooting you with dark, moody lighting.”
Shay grinned. That did sound like fun. “It’s like you think I’m your walking, talking lesbian fantasy.”
“I do, and you are. You can fuck me in your garage on the hood of your muscle car anytime you want.” Rosie trailed her fingers over Shay’s breast and circled her nipple with her nail. “But these photos would be for public consumption,” she glanced at her phone and wiggled her eyebrows, “unlike the ones I’ve just taken.”
