Satisfaction Guaranteed Read online

  A Cerridwen Press Publication

  www.cerridwenpress.com

  Satisfaction Guaranteed

  ISBN 9781419913259

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Satisfaction Guaranteed Copyright © 2008 Isabelle Drake

  Edited by Helen Woodall.

  Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.

  Electronic book Publication January 2008

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

  SATISFACTION GUARANTEED

  Isabelle Drake

  Dedication

  For H. W. for being awesome.

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to S-S. C. for making things happen.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  BMW Motorcycle: Bayerische Motoren Werke

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

  Dairy Queen: American Dairy Queen Corporation

  Ford Escort: Ford Motor Company

  Moet: Moet Hennessy USA, Inc.

  Penthouse: General Media Communications, Inc.

  Playboy: Playboy Enterprises International, Inc. Satisfaction Guaranteed

  Chapter One

  “Hi, I’m Jack Harley. How can I be of service?”

  Elizabeth Sewell turned toward the man striding through the understated but well-appointed, high-rise office, her gaze admiring the way his hips thrust with each step. The word service took on a whole new meaning when applied to him. He looked like he could handle anything. Twice.

  He squared himself in front of her, confident and attentive, a slightly wicked smile slanting across his mouth.

  Correction, he could handle it more than twice. Probably some uncountable number.

  When she accepted his outstretched hand, his fingertips curved over the inside of her wrist and the heat of his touch shot up her arm, starting a warm fire in her chest. The kind that could burn for hours or days.

  He released her, his gaze falling to her sensible pumps, where it lingered around the professional length hem of her best navy skirt, before inching its way up to meet her eyes.

  His thorough perusal left her uncharacteristically tongue-tied and reconsidering. But she had a plan. “I-I need someone who’s available right away.”

  In one fluid motion he pulled over a guest chair and she gladly followed his gesture to sit. After she settled into the thick beige padding, he dropped into the sturdy wood chair behind the reception desk and set his elbows on its gleaming surface.

  Fixing his bottle green gaze on her face, he asked, “So. What can I do for you?”

  No doubt he could do everything she could think of—and then some. But for what she had in mind she needed a more basic sort, someone more manageable. Not a man who made a white button-down and business slacks whisper, “How fast can you get out of those panties”. Maybe he had a book of headshots she could flip through. “I need to hire someone. Immediately.”

  “That someone would be me.” He lifted his hands and grinned. “I’m all there is.”

  Only one man? Male escorts must be in higher demand than she realized. Despite his reassuring tone, she hesitated. Was there some saying about needing a man to get a man? Or was that spend money to make money? Elizabeth was painfully clueless.

  The image of her mother’s most recent male offering flashed in her mind. Hale Crompton. A forty-something grocery store owner who drove an ancient, Caribbean blue Escort station wagon. Go out with Hale? Or move forward with her plan?

  No choice.

  She squared her shoulders with fake bravado. “I’d like to hire you for two weeks.”

  His all-American features remained motionless but his eyes glittered. With speculation, no doubt.

  Cowardice nipped at her heels, so Elizabeth hurried through the strategy she’d come up with. “I need someone to take me out a couple of times a week. But not the same way each time. What I want is a man who’ll take me to different places, dress different ways. You know, offer me a variety of experiences. That way I’ll be able to evaluate what type of man I want for a long-term relationship.”

  With the clear-cut deal on the table, Elizabeth leaned back and concentrated on not thinking about how desperate she sounded. His probing gaze didn’t help. How could one man make her feel so looked at? So…touched.

  Tension rubbed against her skin and her throat went dry. But she was the one calling the shots, so she refused to let her nervousness show. A woman who managed million dollar accounts should have no problem handling this one small deal.

  For several long heartbeats, an unbearable silence pulsed between them and Elizabeth started to think she should have worn something different. A buttoned up silk shirt hardly said I’m looking for a hot time. His square jaw shifted in thought. She tried a smile. “I guess that’s a little different from what you’re usually asked to do.”

  His generous mouth tightened but he nodded.

  So far so good.

  Well, maybe not good but okay.

  Silence equaled acceptance. Right? “We need to discuss the financial arrangements,” she said valiantly ignoring the way the firm movement of his mouth made her nipples peak and strain against her boring blouse. “Is there a deposit? Or shall I pay for it all right now?”

  —

  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 shou
ld 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.

  “I’m interested.” He snatched a pencil from the cup on the desk and pulled over a long, yellow legal pad. Stifling a smile that surely would’ve come across as a leer, he tried to appear businesslike and professional. As if he dealt with this kind of situation on a daily basis, instead of tedious landlord-tenant complaints. “List the kind of men you might be attracted to.”

  She touched her cheek and blinked. “I never thought of doing that.”

  But she’d thought about being aroused. She’d made that plain enough. As the long-suffering brother of three sisters, he recognized an impatient female when he saw one. She wanted service.

  In spite of the commitment he’d made to himself to focus one hundred percent on what really mattered—taking on meaningful cases and getting his private practice off the ground—his suddenly sexually needy body had other ideas. His hands itched to skim over Elizabeth Sewell’s smooth skin. He had to know if she smelled as sweet as she looked. Hell, even his balls were aching for release. There was no going back. “Let’s try it and see where it takes us.”

  —

  His suggestion made sense. Elizabeth had to give him some idea of what she wanted. But how was she supposed to think straight with her blood pounding through her veins? How could she have lived twenty-seven years without discovering how electrifying a sexy, red-blooded man could be?

  Lately, her sex life was nonexistent but she wasn’t innocent. How could it be that she’d missed out on this kind of man? One who had cornered the market on sexual magnetism?

  Even angled back in the chair with one leg tossed over the other, Jack Harley commanded attention. One of his hands held the top of the pad, the other gripped a pencil. Even his strong fingers had masculine promise.

  How would those hands feel on her bare skin? Warm and rough? Smooth and tender? And that tan. Was it all over? Or were the well rounded muscles of his hips as fair as the day he was born? Elizabeth cleared her throat, forced those unruly questions out of her mind and pulled her mouth into a neutral smile.

  He tapped the pencil on the side of the blank pad. “Your ideas, Ms. Sewell?”

  The list. Grasping for certainty where there was none, she accepted that if she wanted to achieve her goal, she had to move ahead. What kind of man might turn her on? “A businessman.”

  “Okay, tell me more. What about that type of man might…arouse you?” Tipping his head, Jack continued, “Power? Money?”

  “Not that so much as,” she closed her eyes, pulling a picture into her mind, “the ability to make things happen, to push hard for success.” Unfortunately, the only thing the imaginary man, who looked exactly like the one seated across from her, was succeeding at was pushing her down onto his desk and climbing on top of her. She snapped her eyes open.

  Unaware of her erotic daydream, Jack nodded and made a note. “A businessman, that’s a start. Let’s have another.”

  Plenty of appealing men filled the pages of the books she’d been reading lately. Sexy hunks who made her want some hot passion for herself. Of course, she smiled. “A cowboy.”

  His pencil wavered. Didn’t he know all women loved cowboys? “You know, the rough and rugged loner on a horse.”

  He lifted both dark brows. “You want a loner?”

  “No…that’s not what I meant. Someone who’s strong, rides hard all day but is still gentle at night.”

  She must have gotten through because he moved the pencil across the page with sharp, slicing movements. What else had she read lately? “I don’t suppose you could be a pirate?”

  Eyes crinkling with amusement, he asked, “You want a scruffy outlaw to drag you below deck and ravage you?”

  A nervous chuckle rumbled out of her throat. “It’s a thought.”

  “Give me another,” he replied, his voice lower and rougher than before.

  Heat filled her belly and spread lower, taking with it her good sense. “A bad boy.”

  He leaned forward. “With a motorcycle?”

  She let out a breath that strangely resembled a sigh of excitement. “And a black leather jacket.”

  He cleared his throat and tossed the pencil down. “I think I’ve got the idea.” When he uncrossed his legs, she thought he’d stand up but he pulled his chair closer instead.

  “There’s a question I need to ask before we complete the deal,” he said.

  If he kept looking at her that way, she’d answer anything.

  “Do you find me attractive enough to suit your needs?”

  He has to ask?

  Besides a face that would’ve been too perfect for a typical man to carry off, he had football player shoulders and track star legs. Her gaze zeroed in on his mouth. Those soft lips, that wicked grin, a woman couldn’t help but start wondering about oral sex.

  But she wasn’t going to be admitting any of that. To him or to herself. “I’m not sure,” she replied with a light shrug.

  “Will I be able to do for you what you want?”

  Her control was definitely starting to slip. “I-I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

&n
bsp; He reached for her, wrapping his fingers lightly around her neck and pulling her casually toward him. The warmth of his hand seeped through the tendrils of hair that had fallen during her busy morning.

  Focusing on her lips, drawing her closer, he murmured, “Will I be able to turn you on?”

  His mouth brushed hers and Elizabeth grabbed the edge of the desk. The masculine scent of his skin, his rough early-afternoon stubble and the velvety caress of his lips fueled the heat inside her that spread like smooth fire through her limbs and pooled in the center of her getting-slicker-by-the-second sex.

  “Are you ready to take chances, Elizabeth? Are you willing to lose control?” He brushed one nipple with the back of his hand, lightly pressing against its pointed tip. “Because that’s what you’re asking for.”

  When a soft moan escaped her and she tried to ease back, he took her with both hands and pressed his mouth to hers again. A bolt of pleasure ripped through her and she leaned into him, giving him the full access he demanded.

  In a slow, warm caress he ran his tongue across her bottom lip, making a wild tremor shoot down her back. She pulled in a sharp breath, he angled his lips firmly to hers and copied the sweeping movement deep inside.

  Still pressing his mouth to hers, he stood, breaking their contact long enough to swing across the desk, scattering files to the floor. He guided her up, she rose with him but stumbled on her wobbly feet, falling against his wide chest.

  All hard planes and muscle, his body felt even better than it looked. Even the curve of his thighs caught her attention.

  Spiraling through some nameless place where reason and objectives didn’t exist, Elizabeth let her hands roam across his back, around his waist, everywhere. Until she caught the sight of her hand flattened against his pressed white shirt. This was a man designed to make women hot, a man who made a living at it. But she had plans. This wasn’t the right time to let go. This rented man was her means to an end.