The Sextet - Occupational Hazards [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

THE AD MEN AND THE COUGAR

Elizabeth Raines

DEDICATION

To Cindy—my first true fan. Thanks for always telling me I’m brilliant, even when I’m not.

Chapter 1

“C’mon, guys. We can do this! It’s not the first time we’ve had our backs against the wall!” A pep talk. She’d been reduced to an old-fashioned, clichéd pep talk.

Tracey Daniels raked her fingers through her spiked hair and tried to rein in her nerves. Being in advertising could be so damned frustrating sometimes. Most of the time, her team functioned like a well-oiled machine because that was what she’d created—the Dream Team, as everyone in the office called them.

When she’d been named project manager—after fifteen years of slaving away for Prince and Hart Advertising—her boss had given her leave to hire whoever she wanted. So she’d interviewed and interviewed. Candidate after candidate. Until she’d found the best graphic artist and the best copywriter in the business. At least the ones with the best potential.

Ben Clark and Corey Franklin were her diamonds in the rough, hired after only a few years experience at other agencies. She’d taught them to forget everything that every stupid, stodgy business professor or dumb-ass boss had said to them. She’d shaped the men, molded them into what she wanted them to be because she alone knew what they could someday achieve. Tracey had groomed them—from the way they dressed, to the way they talked to clients, to the way they fit in to her team. Now, the three of them worked so well together, they often appeared to be reading each other’s minds. Their ad campaigns always pleased clients and sold products. But every now and then, they ran into a stone wall.

Like now.

“We need some more caffeine, then we’ll beat this son of a bitch into submission,” Ben said as he swiveled around in his chair and jumped to his feet. Ever the cheerleader. “I’ll put a pot on. Then we can start over. Again.” He disappeared through the workroom door, muttering, “A candy bar. We can’t sell a damned candy bar…”

At least he said “we” and not “Tracey.” She was, after all, the “idea man” of the group. Seemed that the three of them were always like the Three Musketeers—
one for all, and all for one
. She’d never heard any of the trio cast blame or use the word “I” when discussing their success. That’s probably why they made such a great team.

“If I have any more caffeine, my hands will be trembling too hard to draw,” Corey said with a shake of his head that set his dark curls bouncing. Tracey couldn’t help but stare, wondering how many women paid good money to get hair like God had given that man. Natural curls in mahogany hair that almost reached his shoulders. Some days, when she leaned over his shoulder to look at something he was working on, she’d let her fingertips brush the soft tresses, fantasizing what it would feel like to lace her fingers through it as she so desperately wanted to. When he’d been a child, the poor guy had probably gotten his curls tousled by any adult he encountered. That look on a man of Corey’s size was downright sexy. Coupled with his smoldering brown eyes, it made a nice package. “You okay, Trace?”

She’d been staring again. “Yeah. Just…tired and discouraged. This shouldn’t be so damned hard. It’s just another campaign.”

“We all know better than that,” Corey replied, standing up and stretching, which only forced Tracey to gape at his broad chest straining the buttons on his blue Oxford shirt. A glimpse of dark chest hair made her mouth go dry. Thank the sweet Lord that he didn’t turn around so she would be forced to stare at his tight little ass, too. The best treat of her day was when he had to bend over to get something out of a file cabinet, although it took all her strength not to put her palms on those firm cheeks and squeeze.

Shit, she was exhausted. Nothing else would account for why she couldn’t even look at her graphic artist without going into spontaneous heat. She’d always been attracted to him—from the moment he’d arrived at her office, carrying his portfolio under his arm and begging to be a part of the new team she was putting together at Prince and Hart Advertising. His good looks hadn’t been why she hired him, but it sure wasn’t a strain to have a guy so easy on the eyes in her line of vision for the long hours they worked.

“Pot’s a-brewing,” Ben said as he came striding back into the workroom they jokingly called the Batcave. He plopped down in one of the big chairs at the conference table, leaned back, and stretched his heavily muscled legs out in front of him. Toeing off both his loafers, he wiggled his toes. “Now we can get down to business.”

Business.
Although that was what she was
supposed
to be thinking about, it was hard when Ben was around. Every bit as light as Corey was dark, he was as appealing as a warm spring day after a long, cold winter. Blond as a California surfer. Blue eyes as clear as a virgin sea. And a sleek swimmer’s body.
Ben in a Speedo? A six-pack of abs with a blond happy trail down to his thick, hard cock…
Her dry mouth started to salivate at the thought.

She really needed to stop thinking with her cunt and start thinking like an advertising project manager—one a good ten years older than her handsome graphic artist and gorgeous copywriter.
I’m nothing but a fuckin’ cliché of a cougar.

Tracey never did cliché.

Standing at the end of the table as Corey took a seat opposite Ben, she slapped both palms against the glass surface to wake them all up. “Okay, we’re trashing everything and starting over, right?”

“Right!” they both replied.

“Then let’s talk this out. How in the hell do we sell more Slugger Bars?”

“Doesn’t help that all they want is print.” Ben leaned forward, a thoughtful look on his face. Corey nodded. Not a surprise. Her guys were always in sync. “Won’t even look at television or radio. Forget Internet promo.”

“So old fashioned,” Corey added.

“Well,” Tracey replied, “Decadent Confections has been making Slugger Bars since World War II. They’re old-fashioned candy bars.” Then she froze as the idea hit her. It was akin to having an orgasm when a really good idea hit. Perhaps that was why she found her guys so exciting. Working with them was like foreplay. She wanted to wrap her legs around Ben while he thrust deep inside her pussy just as Corey put his lips on her tits—

“Tracey?” Ben asked. “You still with us?”

A chuckle slipped out. Hell, yes, she was with them, especially in her stupid fantasies. “I think I know what’s wrong.”

“Wrong with what?” Corey asked.

“Our approach,” she replied. “We tried to tackle this ad campaign like it was just another client.”

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked, arching a blond eyebrow.

“Slugger Bars. They’re not just another candy bar. They’re old fashioned, and
that’s
what we need to emphasize. Instead of trying to make the product look like it’s hip and new—”

“Which would be impossible,” Ben said with a rueful chuckle.

“—we need to sell it for what it truly is,” Tracey finished, running with the inspiration. “A nostalgic product. Retro.”

“Traditional.” Corey jumped into her thought process.

Ben’s nod didn’t come as a surprise.
“Take a trip to the past.”

“The perfect slogan!” Tracey hugged herself. “That’s why I love you guys. You can read my mind.”

Both men jumped up, moving to Corey’s table as Tracey followed. Grabbing a pencil and a fresh piece of paper, Corey started to sketch. Before long, the image took shape, and Tracey grinned. “You boys make me
so
happy.”

When Ben leaned over to kiss her cheek, she felt her face flame and her womb contract in response. “Not as much as we could, if you ever gave us the chance,” he said with a wink. “And you
know
we want a chance.”

“Quit it,” she said, wishing she didn’t physically react to them every time they were close. A forty-one-year-old woman shouldn’t get wet between the thighs whenever either of her handsome employees said anything remotely sexual. They were just teasing. And they couldn’t possibly know how often she thought about them, especially when she crawled into her lonely bed each night. “You shouldn’t kiss me. That’s sexual harassment.”

“No, it’s not,” Corey replied, glancing up and paralyzing her with that toothpaste-commercial smile. “You’re our boss. If you came on to us,
that
would be sexual harassment.
Us
coming on to
you
, that’s just…natural. You’re the best-looking woman in the whole firm.”

“In the whole city,” Ben added, his smile every bit as stunning.

“Come off it.” She playfully slapped Corey’s shoulder and shook her head at Ben. “I’m old enough to be your—”

“Girlfriend?” Ben said with a smirk. “I’m twenty-seven, Tracey. Corey’s the same. You couldn’t be my mother unless you had me in kindergarten.”

“Me, either,” Corey added. “What are you, thirty? Thirty-one?”

“Damn, but you’re both good for my ego. Quit teasing and let’s get to work.”

* * * *

Four a.m. Not unusual to still be at the office, but this had been one of their most productive late-night sessions. Corey and Ben were their usual brilliant, and with Tracey’s guidance, they’d pulled together a series of three print ads that she could present to Decadent Confections in—

Shit!
The client was going to be there in four hours. She resigned herself to a “truck-stop bath” and quickly took inventory of what clothes she had hanging in the closet of her tiny office. Maybe she could catch a quick nap on her desk. “You guys saved my ass,” she said as she watched Corey toss his pencil at a dozing Ben.

Ben snorted and jerked before opening his eyes and grinning. “Breakfast, anyone? Steak ’n Shake should have our usual table reserved.”

“I need to try to sleep a little first,” Tracey replied before a big yawn shook her entire body. “Client will be here at eight. He’s gonna love your work.”

Picking up Corey’s final drawing, she smiled. A gray-haired man held a Slugger Bar as he stared into a mirror. His reflection was a freckled-face, redheaded boy who grinned in delight. The words “Let a Slugger Bar remind you of who you really are…” were stenciled in an arc around the top of the mirror and “Take a trip to the past…” around the bottom. Decadent Confections would love it as much as she did. The Dream Team had triumphed yet again. “I’m so proud of you guys,” she said as she set the drawing down on top of the rest they’d prepared for the presentation. “You never let me down.”

Corey came up behind her, wrapped his strong arms around her waist, and pulled her back against him. His height made her feel almost dainty being as she barely reached his shoulders. “You never let us down, either, Trace.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Ben planted himself in front of them, framing her face in his hands. “You’re the best boss ever, Tracey.” He brushed a quick kiss on her lips.

Heat exploded inside her, settling between her thighs and making her heart pound a furious beat. Their masculine scent and warmth seemed to wrap like tendrils around her senses, making her forget for a moment that they were her employees and that she was too old for them. She wanted them. Both. Naked. In her king-sized bed. And what the fuck was wrong with her?

“I…I need to go,” she said, awkwardly extracting herself from their threesome of an embrace. She hurried out of the workroom before she embarrassed herself.

* * * *

“Damn it.” Ben ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I pushed too hard.”

“No, we both did,” Corey added as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought we might’ve finally had her there. She dropped her guard for once. I’m sure of it.”

“If she did, it was only for a moment.” Ben shook his head. “Not here. She’ll never let her guard completely down here.”

“You’re right. But she practically
lives
here. How are we gonna lure her away? And to where?”

Figuring this was going to be a long conversation, Ben slipped his shoes back on his feet. “Let’s grab some breakfast and make some plans.”

“Steak ’n Shake?”

“Where else?”