Satisfaction Guaranteed (4 page)

Think of it this way
, she told herself.
If he doesn't catch you, you'll know within the first fifteen minutes of meeting him that the sex isn't going to work
. As a way to screen potential dates, this technique could be a real time-saver.

The fall seemed to last forever, and she had a panicked moment when she thought she'd fall all the way to the floor, but in reality only a split second passed between the time she went beyond the point of no return and landed in Chase's sure embrace.

The relief made her sag into him. Her pulse was pounding, and she felt very aware of his size and strength behind her, supporting her. His arms held her securely. He didn't let her go immediately as he had the first time, but he also didn't make any attempt to turn his hold into something more. He just held her, waiting for her to signal him that she was fine on her own two feet again.

Her balance was restored on one level. On another it was rocky, so Rachel delayed for a minute and stayed where she was. She liked the feel of his arms around her, his chest supporting her back. There was a level of tension in the air, and all her senses were alert to the man behind her. It was all too easy to imagine his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. She could feel them swelling in anticipation of his touch.

The test was a success. So was the agency's matching, thought Rachel. This man had her attention and her interest, and she didn't know what he would say or do next.

Chase breathed in the mixed scent of light floral perfume
and woman and knew he was going to regret this. But he'd regret it even more if he let her walk away to find satisfaction from some other source.

If she had her fantasy date with him, he wouldn't have to worry about whether or not her curiosity led her to take foolish risks or that some other man simply wouldn't appreciate what she was trusting him with.

His arms tightened around her briefly. "I'm going to capture you," he stated. "I'll contact you through the agency with the time and place. You'll go there, but you won't know what to expect. I'll take you by surprise. Be ready."

She nodded. "It's a date." Her voice was a little less than steady.

Chase let her go and left the room, still wondering what had gotten into him but committed to following through. As far as Rachel knew, he was just another client. He could fulfill her fantasy and she'd never know anything different.

He'd opened the door with every intention of telling her the truth, then sending her on her way. Instead, he'd taken one look at her and hadn't wanted to end the conversation before it even began.

That was where he'd gone wrong, Chase decided. He'd talked to her. The competent, intelligent blonde with the Madonna face sitting there in navy business casual blithely telling him she wanted a man with whipped cream and handcuffs in his soul had flipped some atavistic switch inside him.

He'd had a sudden, overwhelming desire to see her wearing both items and nothing else. Then he'd decided to conduct a little test to see whether or not she meant it, if she
trusted him to be the one to play captor and captive games with.

Well, she'd meant it, and now the game was on. He'd caught her, and he wasn't ready to let her go.

"So how'd it go?"

Rachel cradled the cordless phone between her head and shoulder while she searched the freezer for the squat container of Häagen-Dazs chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream. It was in there somewhere . . .
aha
. She spotted it half-covered by a bag of frozen peas and retrieved it.

"Fine," she told Sabrina. Spoon in hand, she peeled the lid off the container and dug in. "Better than fine, actually. They found my match right away. I've already met him. He looks like one of those quiet types you have to watch out for."

"She shoots, she scores!" Sabrina cheered.

"Not yet, but I can hope." Rachel smiled at the idea of scoring on her fantasy date and then slid the spoonful of fat and calories into her mouth to melt on her taste buds. Häagen-Dazs ice cream was her favorite source of oral gratification, but she was pretty sure Chase could come up with more interesting things for her to try.

Like licking whipped cream off of him.

The thought rocked her, and it was followed by another. Did she have whipped cream? He'd told her to be ready. Maybe she should pick up a few things. If she had one shot at having the kind of sex she'd always dreamed of but never expected to happen, she'd hate to be caught unprepared when the time came.

"Rachel? You there?" Sabrina's voice interrupted her thoughts. The tone told Rachel she'd missed something.

"Yes, sorry. My mind wandered."

"It wandered off to find your fantasy man, I bet."

"It did." Rachel admitted it cheerfully and spooned up another bite of frozen heaven. "I was also thinking maybe I should do some shopping to get ready for the big date."

"Oh, hey, good idea. Some sexy lingerie, maybe?"

That hadn't even crossed her mind. Rachel paused, spoon suspended in midair, as she mentally rifled through her underwear drawer. She had a black lace bra somewhere, didn't she?

No. She'd tossed the black lace after last year's office holiday party because the elastic was shot, and she'd never replaced it.

"Oh, my God," Rachel said, horrified by the realization. "I have a drawer full of plain white and beige, so nothing shows through my clothes. I have granny underwear, Sabrina. I can't be dragged off for fantasy sex wearing granny panties."

"Don't panic," Sabrina said. "
Veni, vidi
, Visa."

"Right. We'll go, we'll see, we'll shop." And with any luck, she'd be conquered wearing something worth ripping off.

She pictured Chase sending buttons flying as he tore
open her shirt to reveal something naughty underneath. "Maybe I should get one of those push-it-up kind of bras."

"You should get whatever you like," Sabrina said. "Whatever makes you feel sexy. It's all about you, remember?"

All about her
. Rachel was riveted by the thought of sex that was all about her and her satisfaction. Being selfish and greedy, letting Chase do the work.

The spoon in her hand stayed forgotten until a melting drip caught her attention. Rachel shook her head to clear it. She put the spoon in her mouth, pushed the lid back on the tub of ice cream, and returned the container to the freezer. Obviously she was too distracted to appreciate Häagen-Dazs.

"Shopping. Tomorrow. This is going to be fun," she told Sabrina.

One week later, Rachel parked her car in a public garage near the bar designated for her capture. The agency encouraged clients to plan and prearrange low-key capture scenarios that wouldn't alarm bystanders and result in embarrassing 911 calls. This struck Rachel as sensible and also relieved the concern that she wouldn't know Chase from a mugger. She'd received instructions to come to this address at 5:30
P.M.
Friday, and now the fantasy was about to begin. She took a deep breath to calm the butterflies dancing in her belly as she went over her mental checklist for fun.

She'd gone with navy blue lingerie instead of black, because the lace-trimmed satin bra and matching panties were so pretty, she'd had to have them. She thought the dark color looked good against her winter-pale skin. She had two cans of whipped cream. Condoms in a rainbow of colors and flavors, because they appealed to her more than the
plain type. They'd looked like the right thing to have for fantasy sex.

"Fun," Rachel said out loud to her reflection in the rearview mirror as she did a final check of her makeup. Her lips curved in a smile, and her eyes were sparkling. She had fun underwear, fun condoms, and best of all, she didn't have to worry about whether her date would think she was a slut for being prepared to do the wild thing. He was there for fantasy sex, too. And Rachel was pretty sure he had some ideas about how to make it wild.

Since she was as ready as she was ever going to be, Rachel grabbed her oversize purse with whipped cream and flavored condoms safely inside and got out of her car. She locked it and kept her keys in her hand, an ingrained habit of city safety. The purse's straps went over her shoulder, and one arm secured it against her body. They were meeting at an upscale sushi bar, not a back-alley dive, but it never hurt to be cautious.

Once inside, Rachel stood blinking at the crowd and felt a twinge of nerves. What if he stood her up?
Don't be dumb
, she scolded herself. What man would stand up a Friday night date for sex? Besides, even if he did, she could still have sushi.

Rachel picked a seat that made her clearly visible from the door and studied the menu in case she had time to order. Chase might already be there waiting for her, or he might make her wait. If he made her wait, she wanted something to do with her hands and her mouth besides biting her nails.

She didn't have to wait. Before she'd even read through the menu options, a man's arms closed around her, his body
pressing against her back as he engulfed her. "Stand up, nice and slow, and come with me."

Chase. She recognized his voice and the way he fit against her from behind. The capture was on. Her heart stumbled sideways in her chest, and she forgot to breathe.

"Rachel." His voice was low, reassuring. "It's me. It's time."

"I knew it was you." She sounded almost normal to her own ears and felt relieved that she wasn't stuttering.

"Then stand up. Unless you've changed your mind?"

"No!" Rachel blurted out the word and shot up off her bar stool, banging the top of her head into his chin in the process. She winced.
Way to go, smooth operator
. "Sorry."

His arms tightened around her, trapping her in his embrace. "I was just giving you a chance to be sure, not ditching you."

"Oh. Good."

Chase rubbed his chin lightly against the top of her hair. "I'm glad you're sure, Rachel. I have plans for you."

That sounded promising.

"Oh," she said again, her voice and her legs distinctly unsteady.

"I'm going to ask a lot more of you than a theater exercise this time." His voice was both warning and promise. "Are you ready to leave with me?"

Rachel licked her lips. "Yes."

"Tell me why you want this."

She relaxed into him, enjoying the feel of his arms around her, learning the way his body fit against hers. "I just wanted to do something fun. Before it was too late and
completely hopeless." And because something was missing and she suspected it had to do with the opposite sex, although she left that unsaid.

"Hopeless?"

She shrugged. "I'm thirty-two. My fun years are slipping by. I know what I am. I'm serious, I'm responsible. Even when I was twenty-two, I wasn't the kind of person men associated with a good time. So if I wanted fun, if I wanted wild and crazy, where was I going to find it unless I went someplace like the Capture Agency?"

"Maybe you weren't looking for it very hard."

"Maybe not," Rachel agreed. "But it hasn't found me, either."

Chase gave a low laugh. "It's found you now. That's some purse you're holding, by the way. Anything interesting in it?"

For an answer, Rachel pulled it open, exposing the contents to his angle of view as he looked down.

"Whipped cream. That's very interesting." His voice sounded warm, approving, and a little rough. "I have just the thing to go with that."

"Oh? What would that be?" Her voice came out so breathy, she was almost afraid he wouldn't hear her.

"Handcuffs."

Rachel felt her knees go weak and her body go hot and tight.

"Walk with me. We're leaving now."

She obeyed, secretly amazed that she didn't stumble. Chase guided her through the bar and out the door.

An hour and a half later, Chase parked his car, turned off the key, and turned to look at the elegant blonde ensconced in
his passenger seat. Her lips were curved in a smile and slightly parted, showing her excitement. Her eyes were bright, her hair slightly mussed from driving the last leg with the sunroof open.

She looked like Grace Kelly, and she was toting whipped cream and a rainbow of condoms. She'd chosen him for experimenting with submissive sex. And she didn't think she was a good time? Chase didn't believe for a minute that this woman didn't know how to have fun. That she hadn't made time for it, he could believe. Which put him in the same class. What did he do for fun? Write new programs. Exchange e-mails with friends at MIT about quantum computers.

No wonder Mark was interfering with his personal life.

"Where are we?" Rachel asked.

He'd told her only that they were taking a short trip to a private place. They'd kept the conversation light and nonspecific as they took the ferry to Bainbridge Island, drove over the bridge onto the Kitsap Peninsula and from there to the Hood Canal Bridge and their destination just on the other side of it. His weekend getaway, a small cabin on the Olympic Peninsula overlooking the Hood Canal.

It had seemed too risky to take Rachel to his house. Chase didn't want her to accidentally discover he was the owner of the Capture Agency and not an anonymous client. His home was bound to contain some betraying clue, no matter how careful he was. The intrusion of reality would shatter the fantasy he'd set out to fulfill for her.