Uninhibited. Candace Schuler

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      “The formula,” Moira said.

      “The what?” he murmured, wondering how all that glorious hair would look cascading down Zoe Moon’s naked back…wondering how it would feel if he reached out and grasped a handful…wondering if the curls between her slender thighs were the same flame-hot color as the ones on her head.

      “The formula I want you to look at, dear,” Moira said. “I found it.”

      Reed managed to tear his eyes away from Zoe long enough to glance at his great-grandmother. “What formula is that, Gran?”

      “For Zoe’s wonderful hand lotion. Haven’t you been paying attention? Reed?” Her voice rose slightly in reprimand. “Reed, are you listening to me, young man?”

      “I’m sorry.” He turned his head toward his great-grandmother, refocusing his attention with superhuman effort. “You have my full attention.” Or she would when Zoe sat down beside her again so he didn’t have to strain to keep her in his peripheral vision. “What do you want me to look at, sweetheart?”

      “This formula, for starters.” Moira tapped the side of the shoe box with the tip of one finger. “And the rest of the papers, too, of course.”

      “The rest of the papers?” His glance darted sideways as Zoe reseated herself in the corner of the settee.

      She brushed a long, springy tendril of hair back with one hand, casually sweeping it behind her shoulder, and crossed her legs—her long, slender, velvet-sheathed legs—balancing her teacup and saucer on her knee.

      “What, ah…” Reed swallowed and forced himself to look back at his great-grandmother. “What kind of papers?”

      “Oh…” Light glittered off the sapphire on Moira’s right hand as it fluttered through the air. “Receipts and bills and things,” she said vaguely, finally claiming her great-grandson’s attention completely.

      Moira Sullivan was never vague about anything. Ever.

      “Zoe brought all her files as well as her formulas.” She smiled approvingly at the younger woman. “You did bring everything with you, didn’t you, dear?”

      “Everything I thought might be useful to the discussion.” Zoe gestured at the tapestry bag on the floor. “What’s not in shoe boxes is in there.”

      “Useful to what discussion?” Reed leaned forward and carefully set his teacup and saucer on the little piecrust table so he could give his full attention to the conversation. He had the uneasy feeling that he’d missed something vitally important in his libidinous preoccupation with the luscious Miss Moon. “Just what are we talking about here?”

      “Well, my goodness, Reed,” Moira admonished him, “haven’t you been listening? I want you to look at Zoe’s papers for me.”

      “Yes, I got that part. Why?”

      “Because I’m going to give her the money to expand her company, that’s why. And I want you to tell me the best way to do it.”

      2

      “YOU STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU are, Gran.” Reed rose to his feet as he spoke. “Miss Moon and I can see ourselves to the door.”

      Moira relaxed back onto the settee without even a token murmur of protest. “Thank you, dear. I’d appreciate that. These old bones of mine are a bit creaky and uncooperative these days.” She held her hand out to Zoe. “I’m looking forward to getting started on our project,” she said when Zoe reached out and clasped her fingers. “It’s going to be so exciting. As soon as Reed gets all the paperwork done we’ll have a little party to celebrate.” Her eyes twinkled at the thought. “A sit-down dinner, I think, with the men in black tie so we ladies can get all gussied up. And lots of champagne. Do you like champagne, Zoe?”

      “I love champagne.” Impulsively, obeying her instincts as she always did, Zoe bent and kissed her hostess’s cheek. It was soft and papery beneath her lips, and smelled sweetly of expensive face powder and Chanel No. 5. “Thank you,” she whispered, and gently squeezed the fragile hand in hers.

      “No, thank you.” Moira returned the squeeze with surprising strength from someone with creaky old bones. “I haven’t looked forward to anything half so much in a long time. It’s going to be such fun.” She smiled up into her great-grandson’s face, her own alight with an almost childlike joy. “Isn’t it going to be fun, dear?”

      Zoe didn’t think fun was exactly the word Mr. Reed Sullivan IV would have used to describe the situation. Unless she was very much mistaken, he hadn’t been the least bit amused when he finally realized what his great-grandmother was planning to do. He’d been…well, appalled was the only word for the look that had flashed, ever so briefly, in his cool blue eyes.

      “We’ll see,” he said stoically, confirming Zoe’s supposition. “It’s a little too early in the game to be making predictions.”

      He reached out as he spoke, touching his fingers to the small of Zoe’s back as if to hurry her along, then drew back sharply. Zoe felt a small jolt and her skin rippled, chill bumps racing up her spine. She took a half step to the side, glancing uneasily over her shoulder. “Lots of static electricity in the air this time of year,” she said with a tight little smile.

      “Yes,” Reed agreed as he took a step back from her. “That must be it. Static electricity. You should have Eddie check the setting on your humidifier, Gran. It might need to be turned up a notch or two. Miss Moon?” He extended his hand in a gesture that indicated she should precede him toward the double doors.

      Though he was excruciatingly polite about it, the man obviously couldn’t wait to get her out of his great-grandmother’s parlor…away from his great-grandmother’s wallet. Oh, he hid his impatience behind a patrician air and the same sort of bland, noncommittal smile she’d seen on the faces of half a dozen bankers over the last couple of months, but she knew exactly what he was thinking. If it were up to him, she wouldn’t get the money. Thank goodness it wasn’t up to him.

      “I hope,” she muttered.

      “I beg your pardon?”

      Zoe shook her head at him. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

      “Then.” He extended his hand again, polite, implacable, expecting to be obeyed. “After you.”

      Zoe abruptly decided it would do him good to be forced to hold his horses for a minute or two. She got the impression that he wasn’t often required to wait for much of anything, and patience was a virtue, after all. She dropped her heavy tapestry bag to the floor and unhooked one of the handles of the Betsey Johnson shopping bag from the crook of her arm, letting it swing open.

      “Why don’t I leave a sample of my hand cream with you,” she said to Moira as she dug through the bag. “That way you can compare the two—the lotion versus the cream.” She extracted a small, squat, green glass container from the bag and presented it to Moira on the flat of her hand. “Use one on each hand for a week or so and see which you like better. Sort of our own form of, ah…” she glanced over her shoulder at Reed with a wide, guileless smile “…market research?” she said, all but batting her lashes at him. “Is that the right term?”

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