Satisfaction Guaranteed

An Excerpt From: SATISFACTION GUARANTEED

Jack was not a deceptive man. As an attorney, his professional code of ethics required him to be completely honest and up until that moment it never crossed his mind to be anything but up-front. But this cool brunette who’d walked into his life and recited something like one of those made-up stories in “Penthouse Forum”, she’d changed everything.

He’d have thought the whole thing was a setup, a personalized welcome wagon joke delivered courtesy of his cousin, Denton but the determined set of this woman’s kissable mouth assured him she was serious. Unbelievably serious.

Admittedly, her proposal came across a bit stiff and lacking in detail but his imagination had already filled in the blanks. Him thrusting into her until she begged for release and her squirming beneath him weak, willing and ready to go all night. To hide his rapidly swelling erection, he rolled his chair forward and tucked his knees underneath his desk.

Not even Theresa Hill, the high-maintenance girlfriend he’d left behind in Dallas, ever made him this shameless. Self-control? Good judgment? His two best personality traits had gone AWOL.

He looked down, almost hoping he’d find them within easy reach, sitting on his desk. No luck. Truth be told, there probably wasn’t anything that would douse the liquid spell this dark-haired ice princess had poured over him.

He swallowed hard and forced his face into what might pass for objective professionalism. She didn’t miss a single movement. If she applied that thorough approach to her lovemaking, she’d eat a man alive. But what a way to go.

Maybe he should’ve been insulted for being examined like a piece of meat. Maybe he should at least try to remember all the things his mother had taught him about being truthful and tell the woman that she’d made a simple mistake. The ever-popular escort service had moved to a bigger office down the hall. Remembering that he was an attorney would’ve been a good first step on the path to socially acceptable behavior.

But he’d suddenly stopped caring what was socially acceptable. He wanted to keep this woman right where she was, doing exactly what she was doing. Making him feel more alive than he had in months.

Years.

Hell, maybe ever.

“The arrangements, Mr. Harley?”

Her tongue brushing across her full red lips caught his attention and the challenging arch of her eyebrows hauled him all the way in.

She glanced down at the open datebook resting on her trim thigh. “How would you like to be paid?”

He could imagine her soft lips pressed against his neck, moving across his collarbone, her mouth softening and dropping lower…

If she moved that tiny leather notebook over two inches, he’d be able to see up her skirt. A very unprofessional thought. Give up it, Jack. This is not a professional moment. He cast the last shreds of his self-respect aside, asked her name and made a request, “Tell me more about what you’d like me to do.”

She spoke her name softly, without any hint of seduction. Her expression read business—nothing more. Apparently she wasn’t fighting the same battle of lust. Unfair didn’t begin to describe the situation.

He, on the other hand, ached to get at the woman beneath that carefully composed exterior, to the woman who was meant to be touched.

“Like I said, Mr. Harley, I haven’t dated much. I’ve been occupied with work and…things and…college before that. Now I want to pursue a long-term relationship but I have no idea what kind of man—” A flush crept up her slender neck but she lifted her chin and finished resolutely, “I don’t know what kind of man turns me on.”

Unbelievable.

“That’s where I come in?” he asked, shifting, helplessly trying to adjust to the confines of his pants but wincing instead when the tip of his stiff penis brushed against his zipper.

Her nails flashed as she folded her hands together. “That’s right. If you’re willing.”

He caught himself before he choked. “Willing?”

She sighed, pushing a lose strand of her glossy hair off her cheek.

Frustration.

The good kind, the kind he could help her with by pinning her to his bed and spreading her legs? Or the bad kind, the sort that would make her scoot her sexy self right out of his office?

That second scenario wasn’t going to happen, not if he could stop it. He’d already stepped way over the line of— What word was he searching for?

“Mr. Harley?” Her fingers drummed on her leg, measuring the length of his silence. Accept the challenge? Be the man who uncovered her fantasies?

Hell, yes.

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