Chase knew he was going to regret it, but he flipped over the page and looked at the photocopied image of her face.
It was her eyes that caught him: hazel, gold-flecked, and direct, with a hint of humor as well as the intelligence he'd expected. Her eyes were set off by a very nice face, with what his mother would call good bone structure. Blond hair worn in a sleek bob, not old-fashioned but not riding the edge of any fashion trends. Which Chase supposed made sense in her line of work.
She looked polished and professional, but not unapproachable. Direct, not the type to waste time or words. She'd probably be impatient with the games most people played in the dating scene.
Judging by her personality profile and her appearance, she'd appreciate being told the straight truth about her lack
of a match, and the sooner the better. She really was a lot like him, Chase noted, abandoning the photo to read her results again. If he'd decided to sign up for a fantasy date, the sooner he knew he was following a dead end, the sooner he could begin to plan an alternative to reach his objective.
He leaned back in his chair and thought about Rachel Law planning an alternative course. Might she experiment with one of those BDSM lifestyle clubs? Those attracted some pretty fringe characters. A woman who was new to playing around could find herself in a bad situation with a stranger who might not be trustworthy.
The idea bothered Chase. A lot. So, Mark would win. He'd deliver the news to her personally that the Capture Agency couldn't match her, warn her about taking risks outside of the agency's safety measures, hope she met some nice man with a high IQ who could surprise her as she'd requested.
Chase had an IQ of 140. He could surprise her.
The thought was unwelcome, and Chase squelched it. He was a match, no question. And he could surprise her, but that didn't mean he should break his policy of not mixing business and his personal life. There were lots of good reasons for that policy. Reasons that included ethical considerations and a priority list that didn't allow time for a relationship.
Ms. Rachel Law had gotten along fine without the services of the Capture Agency until now, and she'd manage without them in the future. Unless she elected to stay in the system until another match came up. That was an option, and he'd be sure to point it out to her. Then he could tell Mark he'd done his best to save the sale.
Although Chase knew Mark's real goal wasn't to keep
the client. Evidently Mark was worried about his personal life. That worried Chase, because Mark was nothing if not persistent.
As if to confirm that realization, his intercom beeped and Mark's voice came over it. "She's waiting in Conference Room B."
Chase blew out a breath but otherwise didn't answer. He might have known Mark would keep her there, using her presence to push him into talking to her.
The office suite included several small conference rooms that could be used for first client meetings. The agency recommended that each matched pair of clients meet for the first time in a neutral public setting to preserve their privacy and give them a chance to decide whether they wanted to pursue a real date. Conference rooms could be scheduled for that purpose, or they could choose to meet for coffee if they preferred to size each other up away from the business atmosphere of the Capture Agency.
There was nothing suspicious about Mark showing a new client to a conference room to meet with a match. It might seem like amazing luck or too-good-to-be-true timing to Ms. Law that her candidate happened to be on hand. Knowing Mark, Chase was sure he'd answered any questions she had about that and left her waiting with the honest expectation that she was about to meet her agency date.
Chase wasn't looking forward to being the one to disappoint her.
Rachel shifted in her chair, toyed with the cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of her, and let her eyes wander around the small room again. Soft beige walls, fluorescent
lighting, framed photographs of Mount Rainier capped with snow and the Space Needle lit up at night. The Berber carpet was thick, well padded, and a mix of earth tones that went well with the room's neutral furnishings. She could have been in any office in any business in the Seattle area.
Well, what had she expected, red curtains and velvet wallpaper? Rachel suppressed a grin at the idea of mixing a bordello's decor with an office suite.
The Capture Agency didn't scream "sex" in any way. It looked like any typical office suite, with employees dressed in business casual and computers at every desk. A professional, high-tech environment.
Rachel hadn't felt at all uncomfortable coming in to fulfill all the requirements to become a client. She'd been treated politely and respectfully. The man who'd ushered her into this conference room to await her prospective date had practically bent over backward to make sure she had everything she needed to make the experience positive. And not because he was flirting. She was clearly the wrong gender to appeal to him.
The policy of having clients meet for the first time in one of the agency's conference rooms made perfect sense to Rachel. If she didn't like the look of the man she'd been matched up with, she didn't have to date him. He'd never have any way to contact her outside of the agency, since no personal information like an address or phone number was given out. She'd never have to worry about unwanted pursuit from a rejected candidate.
The closed door gave them privacy, the office setting gave them anonymity, and the office staff on the other side of the
door ensured that if the meeting didn't go well, it could be ended quickly, with assistance if need be.
The lengths the agency had gone to to create a safe environment for what could be a risky kind of fantasy to act out impressed Rachel. Whoever had created this business cared about people, or at least cared about avoiding lawsuits and creating positive word of mouth.
This was a good idea, she thought, settling back in her chair. She'd had a few doubts about it, but two things had prodded her to go through with the process. One was that nagging sense of something missing. The other was the realization that the type of man she'd always wanted to meet might remain forever out of reach unless she used some method to look for him other than trusting to random chance and hoping they'd wind up in the same place at the same time.
It struck her as funny that they had, in fact, ended up in the same place at the same time. But then, if a man was looking for the same things she was, this was a logical place for him to try.
The door opened, and she didn't have time to wonder if it had been a mistake to wear the navy blue skirt and sweater set, styles that might have been called classic but could also be called boring, because the man who entered the room made it impossible to think about anything but him.
He had brown hair and brown eyes, a square jaw and a cleft chin that Rachel found herself wanting to touch, broad shoulders, and a general sense of solid masculinity. Rachel thought he'd look equally at home behind an office desk, at the head of a conference table, or sailing a boat. She blamed
Sabrina for planting pirate images in her head, but she could see this man carrying out pretty much any role with capable ease.
He was dressed conservatively, like her, but he didn't seem like the type who considered casual wear to mean not wearing a tie. She could see him wearing jeans and a sweater and looking comfortably at home. In fact, she could picture him sitting outside on her patio drinking coffee and orange juice, reading the paper, having breakfast. The image was so unexpectedly ordinary that she blinked.
"Hello," he said, regarding her with steady eyes. "You must be Rachel Law."
She nodded.
"My name's Chase."
The name suited him, she thought. It was a solid kind of name, but not boring. "Hello, Chase."
He walked over to join her at the small round conference table, pulled out a chair, and sat across from her. "If you don't mind my saying so, you don't look like a woman who has any trouble getting a date."
"No," Rachel agreed. "The trouble is getting one worth the time and effort."
"Sex isn't worth your time and effort?"
The question was asked in a matter-of-fact tone. She didn't get the sense that he was trying to shock her or make her feel uncomfortable, just stating the obvious. Because people became clients of the Capture Agency for a very specific reason.
"It hasn't been," Rachel answered, matching him for directness. "Not bad or anything. It's just that sex was never very exciting. Not fun. No surprises."
She looked down at the tabletop as if the designers at IKEA could help her search for the right words. "The men I dated, the relationships I had, I knew what they were going to do before they did it. Everything was predictable, and it seemed so pointless."
Rachel gave a slight shrug and continued, "I know I could have made an effort. If I wanted something different in bed, I could have shown up with a can of whipped cream. But the problem was on the inside, and I didn't think adding props would change anything. I thought—" She broke off and then looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "I thought if I met somebody who was whipped cream and handcuffs on the inside, then whether we used any props or not, it wouldn't matter. It'd be exciting and different because he'd be different."
"Capable of surprises."
"Yes." She smiled at him. "Exactly."
He studied her as if she'd presented him with a puzzle. Something gave her the idea that he was very good at figuring out puzzles. Finally he said, "Stand up."
"Excuse me?"
"Stand up." He smiled at her, and it reached all the way to his eyes. His expression was warm, reassuring, with a hint of humor. "I want to see if you're really ready to do this."
"What, here?" Rachel felt competing surges of anxiety and anticipation. "Don't we talk first, get to know each other a little?"
"I'm not going to ravish you on the table," he said. The smile widened just a little. "Although that's certainly an interesting idea."
"Oh." She folded her hands primly in her lap and made no move to get up. "Then what?"
"An exercise. Ever been in theater?"
Which had what to do with her sex life? "No," Rachel answered cautiously.
"This is an exercise that casts often do together. Putting on a production means people will be working closely together for some time, playing roles. They have to trust each other to do their part well. It makes for the right environment for creativity and cooperation, for good performances."
She could see how having the right environment could foster the level of comfort needed for the best possible performance and how that could transfer to this kind of sexual role-playing. Rachel nodded her understanding. "I see. And you do this exercise standing up?"
"Yes." Chase stood and extended a hand to her. Rachel slid hers into his grip. His hand felt warm, strong. He helped her to her feet, then let go, not using the contact to try to prolong any kind of physical intimacy.
"How do we do this?" she asked.
"You stand here." He indicated a spot farther away from the table, with more empty space around. Rachel took her position and gave him a questioning look. "Okay, what next?"
"I stand here." He took up a position behind her. "Your job is to relax, let yourself fall backwards, and trust me to catch you."
She felt her whole body tense up at the very idea. "I don't think I can do that."
"You can if you relax. If you trust me. I'm right here behind you, Rachel. I won't let you fall. I won't let you hit your head or get hurt. I'll catch you."
His voice was deep, reassuring. Rachel took a deep breath and tried to relax. "I think you're too far back," she said. "I don't want to fall that far."
"We'll start smaller, then." She heard him move behind her, taking a step forward. "Now I'm just behind you. Only a few inches, less than a foot of distance. Enough that you have to actually let go to fall into my arms, but not too far. Think you can try it now?"
That was okay, Rachel thought. Even if he didn't catch her, at that distance she'd fall into him and then she could right herself. "Yes."
"Close your eyes."
She did and felt her heartbeat accelerate at the thought of falling blind to her surroundings. But she knew he had the right idea. They could talk for hours and it wouldn't help convince her that this would work. That he was the man who could surprise her. Although he was already surprising her with his insight and his practical approach.
If she could do this, if she could fall into him, then she could feel comfortable letting him capture her. She could trust him with her body and her physical safety. This test would prove it to both of them.
Rachel took another deep breath and leaned backward, letting herself go past the point where she could recover her balance, falling into Chase. Her shoulders hit his chest, breaking her fall. His arms closed around her, catching her easily. He held her for a second, then helped her return to her standing position.
"Good," he said. "Now do it again. I'll be farther back, but I'll be right here, Rachel. Just let go. You can do it."
It was both harder and easier the second time. Harder
because she knew he was farther back and if he didn't catch her this time, she really might hurt herself. Easier because they'd already done it once.