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Rafe turned and allowed his gaze to sweep over the people in the room. “Let’s get this over with. Tell me about the women anxious to become Mrs. Sterling. Enough so that they’re interested in discussing whether or not they will let me punish their misbehavior. Perhaps with my hand or even a leather flogger.” He looked at her pointedly. “Speaking of that, I trust you’re still following my orders?” He leaned toward her. “If you’ve orgasmed without permission, we’ll have to excuse ourselves. I have use of the club’s private rooms.”
His behavior was calculated to be outrageous. She just wished she had better control over her reactions—that her face hadn’t reddened, that her pussy hadn’t tingled. “Business, Mr. Sterling.”
“I don’t see Miss Texas in the room.”
That he’d followed her lead left her reeling. It took a minute before she could respond, “She’s not here.”
“Was she the one terrorized by the thought of being with a sadist?”
“That was Hannah.”
“Ah.” He scanned the room. “The woman who just arrived? The one with the voice that carries?”
Hope nodded. “Yes. She’s an attorney. Well respected, with a good reputation.”
“No doubt plenty of courtroom presence.” He cleared his throat. “We didn’t scare her off?”
“About that…she’s, ah, open to a discussion.”
“Did you share any of your personal experiences with her?”
Hopefully, her grip wouldn’t shatter her glass stem. “No.”
“You did have all the women fill in my questionnaire?”
“I opted to stick to generalities and allow you to proceed how you see fit.” She had no interest in knowing which of the women would hump his mattress.
He grinned, the motion so quick she might have imagined it. “Back to Hannah.”
“She’s thirty-one, open to the possibility of having children.”
He gave a sharp nod, as if filing away the information. “Who else do we have?”
“Over near the champagne, my associate, Tony, is talking to Charlotte. Also blonde, twenty-nine, an accomplished pianist, plays with the symphony. Enjoys kayaking.”
“You were listening. Impressive. And the other one? By herself, near the window?”
“That’s Destiny Faulks. She’s a graphic designer. Very well regarded.” Hope had met her at a fashion event and had been captivated by her enthusiasm. At the moment, Destiny was sketching a picture on her cellphone screen. She hadn’t been among Hope’s first choices for Rafe. But when they moved on to the second tier of candidates, Hope had reconsidered. With her adventurous nature and potential interest in a BDSM relationship, Destiny had warranted an invite.
“Who does she work for?”
“Herself. She owns the company and has a couple of employees. Entrepreneurial spirit. Tireless, enthusiastic. She rides every Sunday morning on Buffalo Bayou—a road bike. She’s open to trying a mountain bike. Also willing to learn to kayak.”
“Excellent.”
“And the last one?”
“Norah is a financial manager.”
“You’ve done well. They are all accomplished. Bright. Attractive. Willing to consider, if not embrace, a kinky lifestyle. How many did you ask?”
“Seventeen.”
“More than twenty percent were intrigued enough to show up.” With his points made, he placed his unfinished champagne on the tray of a passing waiter. “If you’ll excuse me?” With confidence bordering on arrogance, he crossed the room to introduce himself to Destiny.
It wasn’t until he was on the other side of the room that Hope allowed herself to exhale. God, her heart was thundering.
Tony joined her. “How’s it going so far?”
She watched Destiny. The woman’s head was tipped back, and she was staring at Rafe with something resembling unfettered adoration. He was smiling, basking in her attention.
Emotions in freefall, Hope pretended to be consumed with the bubbles in her glass.
“It appears we may not need another mixer if the way he’s talking to Destiny is any indication.”
