Satisfaction Guaranteed (2 page)

"Oh, my God." Sabrina rolled her eyes. "You have officially been working too hard for too long. It's a dating agency. Computerized matching. Very accurate, very expensive, and very . . . unusual."

Unusual. Rachel opened the glossy brochure and started reading. She blinked a few times. Then she checked to make sure her jaw wasn't resting on her elegant cherry desk, straightened up, and looked at Sabrina. "This can't be for real."

"Oh, but it is. I picked up the brochure when Richard proved such a disappointment. The thing is, capture and bondage fantasies are very, very popular, but how do you
find a partner who's into acting them out? I mean, you can't just bring it up at an office party. And casual dating, you don't want to risk bringing up something like that with someone you don't know well."

Sabrina tapped the brochure with one long polished nail, painted to match her lips. "The Capture Agency is the answer. All clients have to go through rigorous background checks, pass a complete physical, psychological profiling. The computerized matching is top-notch. They have a very high success rate for compatibility."

"You've really checked this out," said Rachel.

"Yep." Sabrina picked up the glossy brochure and used it like a fan, batting her eyelashes at Rachel over it. "I decided I want to experience the fantasy, and I'm not likely to just stumble over a man who wants to play pirate and prisoner with me. I've already paid the agency fee, and I'm going in for my final round of compatibility questionnaires. I'm specifying that I want a man with a boat, too. Might as well go all the way."

Go all the way
. Rachel had a sudden, vivid image of going all the way with a fierce pirate. One who would use his dagger to cut her long, flowing dress all the way down the front and then order her to spread her legs. . . . She blinked and wondered when the office temperature had started to climb. It was winter. It shouldn't feel like a sauna inside.

"You want to do it, don't you?" Sabrina stopped playing with the brochure and sat forward, excitement making her brown eyes sparkle. "You don't want to take a cruise. You want to sign up for a trip to Sexual Fantasy Island."

"Maybe." Rachel squeezed her thighs together in an effort to alleviate the aching place between them that had
started to throb in a way that told her just how much the capture fantasy interested her. "How do I know I wouldn't get set up with some kind of nut if I did this?"

"The screening," Sabrina answered promptly. "Capture fantasies are about seduction, not violence. Men with criminal records, histories of violence, or showing psychological warning signs of anger problems are screened out. You don't get that in the random dating pool."

"True." Rachel had to admit there were advantages to the agency approach. "Still, if I wanted a man to fulfill my fantasies, he'd have to be able to surprise me. That means he'd have to be smarter than me, or at least as smart. And I'm not average. That's hard to find."

"Yeah, we can't all be Mensa candidates." Sabrina rolled her eyes at Rachel. "Okay, so you want a man who's a few steps above conversations about microbrewed beer and football. A man who could think of ways to surprise you. Makes sense to me; seduction begins between the ears. In the mind. If a man can't engage your mind, it stands to reason he doesn't have much chance of engaging the rest of you."

"Which explains my social life lately," Rachel muttered.

"No, working all hours to get that promotion explains your social life lately," Sabrina countered. "There are plenty of men who are up to your speed. You just haven't been talking to them. Or if you were, you were trying to get their company to give their employees Opal Life Insurance."

"I'm sure it would have looked very professional to break off my presentation to ask if my prospect wanted to date me instead of becoming my new corporate account."

Sabrina gave her an exasperated look. "My point is, you haven't been paying attention to your social life. Until now.
Now you're showing an interest. That's good. You have to start somewhere. Start with a date who will fulfill your fantasies."

Rachel was showing a lot more than interest. She was pretty sure her panty hose was showing a telltale damp patch, and it was a good thing her lined skirt would hide the evidence.

A date who would fulfill her fantasies. Was it really possible? If it was, Rachel admitted to herself, an agency that specialized in matching compatible partners for fantasy fulfillment was her best bet, because Sabrina was right: It wasn't the kind of thing she could bring up at an office party or with somebody she didn't know well. Even if she met a man who wanted to capture her and make her his slave to passion, as the agency brochure worded it, neither of them could admit it in any normal social encounter.

Sabrina must have seen the look on Rachel's face that said she was ready to buy because the brunette leaned in to close the sale. "Come on, Rachel. You want this. You deserve this. What do you have to lose?"

"Five thousand dollars," Rachel answered promptly, quoting the agency fee.

"You can afford it," Sabrina said, dismissing that objection. "But do you know what I think you can't afford? To keep going on the way you have been. Work is wonderful, Rachel, but it won't keep you warm at night. And living out this fantasy would create enough heat to set your bed on fire. I can see how much you want to do it. So, do it. If the agency can't match you with a compatible man, they'll give you a full refund. It's right here in their policy statement."

Rachel read the statement Sabrina pointed to. "Satisfaction guaranteed?" She felt her lips twitch with barely suppressed humor.

"Well, they don't guarantee that you'll have great sex. Besides the fact that it's outside their control, there are legal implications to that. But they do guarantee that they'll provide you with a compatible match."

"Or a full refund?" The question from Rachel's doorway made both women turn. Emma Michaels, their office manager, stood there looking as if the file folders in her hands were the last thing on her mind. The first thing was apparently the brochure Sabrina and Rachel were focused on.

"Um, Emma, I'm not sure—" Rachel broke off and wondered how to avoid telling the woman who'd never slept with any man but her husband and had probably never owned anything battery-powered that wasn't a household appliance that they were talking about a dating agency for people who wanted to have kinky sex. "Thing is, it's a dating agency, Emma."

"For people who want to act out captor and captive fantasies. I heard."

Rachel blinked. "I don't think your husband would approve of you signing up."

"I don't think it's any of his business if I want to date. He lost the right to disapprove when he slept with his assistant," Emma said.

Rachel looked at Sabrina and mouthed,
Did you know about this?

Sabrina gave an almost invisible negative shake of her head in response.

So Emma's bombshell was a surprise to both of them. It did explain why Emma had become so uncharacteristically tense and silent. Rachel had suspected some trouble at home, but not on that scale.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, her voice softened with sympathy. "But Em, you don't need to be hasty. You've never been with anybody else, and this might not be the best time for you to jump in at the deep end of the dating pool. You could start smaller, take a baby step."

Emma flinched visibly at the word
baby
. "No, thank you. I'm done waiting. I'm done asking for permission instead of asking for what I want. I may have failed in bed and in my marriage, but I don't have to fail myself. I don't have to repeat my mistakes." She took a deep breath, composing herself. "The fantasy date would be like a practice partner. I can explore what I really want, find out where I went wrong. Then maybe the next time around, if there is a next time, I can get it right."

Sabrina nodded, understanding clear in her expression. "That's not bad thinking. Have a fling under very clear and very safe circumstances. No misunderstandings, no complications."

Emma set her chin in a determined line. "Exactly."

Sabrina had a good point, Rachel decided. If Emma was going to walk on the wild side, at least she'd be doing it in a way that was least likely to get her hurt. And wasn't that what had pushed her own decision over the edge? The opportunity to have an adventure in safe circumstances? Gauging risk was her occupation, and as far as she could see, the risks posed by the Capture Agency were minimal.

"Well, I guess it's unanimous," Rachel said. "Here's to our fantasies, and the men who will fulfill them." She raised an imaginary glass in a toast, and the other two women followed suit.

"You work too hard. You should take more time to play."

Chase Hunter glanced from his monitor's flat-screen panel to the open doorway of his office, currently decorated by Mark Lewis. Mark's flair for men's fashion was accentuated by a pose any male model would envy.

"Don't tell me, let me guess. You want to take me shopping again."

Mark rolled his eyes. "You make it sound like such a bad thing. I'm just trying to save you from your stuck-in-the-nineties look. But I didn't come in here to debate the merits of the latest winter fashions. I came to show you this."

Mark straightened up to wave a computer printout he'd had tucked behind his back. He sashayed across the office and placed it on Chase's desk with a flourish.

Chase knew what it was before he picked it up. He should. He'd designed the client information sheet printouts for the Capture Agency, along with the state-of-the-art compatibility matching software. He just didn't expect to see his name on it.

"Mark." The tone of his voice said it all.

"I know, I know. You don't mix business and pleasure. You run the business, you don't date the clients. But this is a hard match, Chase. We had nobody in our database that came close for compatibility. We were going to lose the sale."

"So we lose a sale. We have plenty of other clients." Chase kept his voice level with an effort.

"Yes, but when in the five years you've owned this place have you ever had a match?" Mark persisted.

"I don't know. I don't check. I don't date clients."

"Well, I check for you. Once a month. Once a week if you're moodier than usual."

"I am not moody." Chase balled up the printout and tossed it into his wastebasket. He'd made a mistake in leaving his information from the software's early development stages in the test database if this was what Mark was doing with it. Chase made a mental note to delete the file. "Leave. Go search the Internet for the perfect sweater. I'll be here doing something radical called working."

"You know what they say." Mark placed his lips closer to Chase's ear and whispered, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"So go worry about Jack." Chase focused on his monitor again, ignoring his assistant and right-hand man.

"I'll take care of Jack later, don't you worry. For now, let's talk about you. It's not just your wardrobe that's stuck in the nineties. You need a new interest. A new woman. This woman, for instance. She's a perfect match." Mark produced a second, pristine and uncreased copy of the printout. "The computer says so, and you should know it's never wrong."

In fact, Chase did know the computer was never wrong. His fuzzy logic software was revolutionary and incredibly accurate. Which still didn't mean he was going to date a client.

"Thank you, Mark." Chase took the second copy and folded it into a complex paper airplane before sending it after the first. It landed nose first in the trash. The sight gave him a brief sense of satisfaction. The plane's design was aerodynamically sound, and his aim had been accurate.

"You're just being stubborn." Mark retrieved the paper airplane and smoothed it out. "I signed her up. I took her money. I promised her a compatible date. You're compatible. So if you don't want to date her, you're going to have to tell her yourself."

He dropped the paper onto Chase's keyboard and headed for the door.

"I'm not going to call her," Chase said.

Mark held up a hand behind him. "Talk to the hand."

"That's very mature. I mean it. I don't date clients. I don't care how perfect she is."

Mark's silencing palm answered for him. Then he shut the door, leaving Chase alone with the printout.

He scowled first at the closed door, then at the sheet of paper covering his keyboard. In order to go back to work, he'd have to move it. Mark had left it that way to force him to look at the client sheet. Chase grudgingly admitted the strategy was sound. Annoying, but sound.

Behind the annoyance he felt a vague curiosity. Who was this perfect woman? Since he had to pick it up anyway, Chase took the printout and leaned back in his chair to read it.

Rachel Law. Hotshot sales professional, career woman, single. Smart. Chase looked over the section that showed her IQ and the special notes section that detailed any requirements a client had that didn't come up in standard compatibility testing. It told Chase at least part of why Mark hadn't come up with any other matches in the system. Ms. Law had an IQ of 130, which meant that only 2 percent of the population could meet her special request.

He read the note a second time and entertained himself briefly by calculating the odds that she'd find a compatible man anywhere outside this agency. A man who fit her other personality profile requirements for basic compatibility, shared interests and tastes, and equal or greater intelligence, who had a desire to experiment with dominating sex. The odds were astronomical.