Just in Time by Rosalind James Page A

much that way, but he could definitely feature it. With the right woman. With this woman.
    “Such a good idea, darling,” he said, taking the box from the clerk. “I know you were after something a bit more extreme, but for your first time…”
    She was still blushing, but she had a glint in her eye, and she’d grabbed the box from him, was looking it over critically. She opened one end and pulled out a tangle of black straps, testing the hook-and-loop fastening on one circular restraint. “You said you’d always wanted to wear real handcuffs, though. Now you’re chickening out? How am I going to be a cop using this thing? Pretty tame. And I want you to have a really good birthday.”
    She closed the box again and handed it back to the clerk. “Actually,” she told the woman in her usual businesslike tones while Will was still grappling for an answer, “I want something more scarf-like, like I said. Or maybe some really soft ropes. Pink, red. Those sorts of colors.”
    “I understand.” The woman led the way down the aisle. “Here you are.” She picked up a plastic bag. “Scarves, feather tickler, and blindfold. Very popular starter set. All pink.”
    “Fine,” Faith said. “Can you just leave us here? We can manage now.”
    “Of course. I’ll be up front, if you need anything else. Take your time, and please feel free to browse.”
    Faith put back the plastic bag and didn’t look at Will. He waited until the saleswoman had moved away, and then said, “A cop, eh.”
    “Serves you right.” Her hand was going out to touch various bits of tackle, testing, stroking, then moving on. She was still going for severe, but she wasn’t quite managing it. “You are wretched .”
    “I am, am I? You could have just done this online, you know. Not that I’m not enjoying it heaps,” he hastened to add. “And I’d like to point out, as a comparison shopper, that this is a seriously well-equipped place, and I’m putting my hand up here and now to explore it with you. But if you’re embarrassed, that’s why they invented plain brown packaging and mail order, eh.”
    “I need to see the fabric,” she explained, her cheeks still tinged with pink. “I need to feel it. It needs to look silky, and sensual, and not cheap. We’re after some shots that are mostly black and white, just the one splash of color on her wrists. And maybe a blindfold, too. Just in case. But it’s got to look pretty, not nasty or tacky, and I have to see it to make sure.”
    “Tasteful,” he remembered, watching her caress a length of wide, heavy red silk ribbon. She pulled it off its hook, ran it between her fingers, held it up and tested its length.
    “Like I said.” She sounded distracted. “What do you think?”
    “Mmm…” He took the ribbon from her, put a hand on her shoulder, and turned her around. “This the idea? Hands behind the back?”
    “Yes.” Her voice came out a little husky, because he was wrapping the ribbon around her wrists and tying it in a bow.
    “I’d say,” he said, stepping back and admiring the effect, “that it’s brilliant.”
    “On Hope?” She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, with her wrists side by side behind her back. Her hands tied with that red ribbon, against the swell of her rounded bum.
    “Who?” He wasn’t paying attention. He was busy.
    “Gretchen. Hope. Your co-star. How is she going to look in it, in her bra and underwear?”
    Who cared? He’d lost the plot, because he had an entirely different scenario in mind.
    “Well?” she demanded. “Good? Not good?” She wandered over to the mirror on the wall and turned so she could see herself. “Oh, yeah,” she sighed. “Good on her. Don’t you think?”
    “Yeh.” Will cleared his throat, which had gone dry. She was coming back over to him now, and her hair had fallen down from its bun a little more from the exertions of the day—and from his hand in it earlier. A few unruly strands framed her oval face,