Uninhibited. Candace Schuler

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СКАЧАТЬ did have lovely manners and truly impressive self-control. He stood there in his understated silk tie and his expensive navy blue suit—custom-made, no doubt—looking all cool and unconcerned, as debonair as James Bond at the baccarat table, while underneath she knew he wanted nothing more than to grab her by the scruff of the neck and toss her into the street. She’d been aware of his gaze on her all during their oh-so-civilized tea, sensing the disapproval lurking just beneath the surface of his cool, unruffled calm even before he realized what his great-grandmother meant to do.

      Which didn’t make any sense.

      Zoe was well aware of her effect on most men. Just the sight of her was often enough to turn the weak-minded among them into slobbering, adoring idiots. Not that she thought Reed Sullivan was weak-minded but…well, even strong-minded men were usually inclined to look favorably on her, at least at first sight. It wasn’t something she exploited—not often, anyway, not unless she really had to—but it was something she counted on to be there, kind of like the sun rising in the east every morning. Fair or not, her looks gave her an edge she had come to depend on in her dealings with men.

      Instead of looking favorably on her, though, Reed Sullivan had been suspicious and disapproving from the minute he walked into the cheery, sunlit parlor and saw her sitting on the settee beside his great-grandmother. Her initial offer of friendliness— “Call me Zoe, please”—had been rebuffed in no uncertain terms. Very politely, of course, and oh-so-charmingly, but rebuffed nonetheless.

      His attitude had puzzled her at first, even beyond his lack of a favorable response to her physical self. What could she, a stranger, have done in those first few moments that he could possibly disapprove of? Maybe he was having a bad day and the disapproving air didn’t have anything to do with her, she’d thought charitably. Or maybe she’d intimidated him; it wasn’t unknown for a certain type of man to get shy and tongue-tied in her presence. Although, admittedly, Reed Sullivan didn’t strike her as either shy or inarticulate, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. So she’d tried teasing him, gently, smiling to let him know she was harmless. Most men, strong-minded or not, went a little slack-jawed when she gave them her slanting, sideways glance, that whisper of a smile that tacitly invited them to share the joke. Reed Sullivan had narrowed his brilliant blue eyes and looked down his aristocratic nose at her, as if she were an impertinent employee who’d overstepped her bounds.

      Zoe had distinctly felt her hackles rise. How dare he disapprove of her! Just because he was wealthy and pedigreed, and belonged to what she was sure were all the right clubs, and she was…well, okay, she was there with her hand out, more or less, hoping for a loan from his great-grandmother. But that was no reason for him to look at her as if she were some kind of panhandler who’d accosted him in the street. Moira Sullivan had invited her to tea specifically to discuss the possibility of investing in New Moon.

      Zoe began to needle him subtly, mocking his pretensions with a provocative little smile, using her expressive eyes and her centerfold body in an effort to make him squirm, trying to find some way to pierce that polished facade of urbane civility. A couple of times there, she’d thought she’d succeeded. Almost. He’d looked distinctly guilty at one point, as if whatever he was thinking at that particular moment probably wouldn’t have borne the light of day. And then, a minute or two later, there’d been a certain betraying light in his eyes as he’d looked at her—not disapproving just then at all, oh no, but speculative, absorbed…fascinated, almost. She’d handed him his tea, wondering exactly what was going on behind that distant, glazed look, feeling the tiniest bit triumphant at having rattled him at last.

      And then their fingers had touched.

      And their eyes had met.

      And she’d felt as if every nerve ending in her body had been scorched.

      She’d had to turn away, trying not to fumble as she poured her own tea, taking several slow, calming breaths while she tried to compose herself. And as she regained her composure, the budding feeling of triumph returned along with it. He’d shaken her, yes, but she’d shaken him, too. She was sure of it. He wasn’t as cool as he pretended. As unaffected. Not if that hot, glittering look that had flickered in his eyes when his gaze met hers was anything to go by.

      Telling herself to be satisfied with that small victory, she’d reseated herself on the settee with what she felt was a convincing nonchalance, managing, finally, after a long, fidgety moment, to glance casually toward Reed to see how he was reacting to whatever it was that had flashed between them.

      Mr. Nose-in-the-air Stuffed Shirt Reed Sullivan IV was leaning forward in his chair, his teacup on the gleaming piecrust table, his eyes focused intently on his great-grandmother, calmly talking business! New Moon business, true, but still…

      Zoe wondered if anything had ever ruffled that insufferable, infuriating poise of his for more than a second. Wondered, too, what that anything might be. It certainly couldn’t have been a woman! Money, maybe. No, probably, she decided peevishly. He was obviously the bloodless, cold-fish type who couldn’t get worked up about anything except money.

      Well, she could oblige him there.

      “Why don’t you just take all my samples,” she said to Moira, as if the idea had just occurred to her. Which it had. “Use them yourself. Give them to all your friends and female relations.” She continued to dig through her shopping bag as she spoke, putting small jars and bottles and plump satin sachets back on the piecrust table from where she had picked them all up a few minutes ago. “That way we can expand our research and make it a real survey. After all, it’s women like you and your wealthy friends who have the money to spend that will make New Moon profitable.”

      She glanced at Reed out of the corner of her eye to see how he was taking it. His countenance hadn’t changed except for a slight narrowing of his eyes and a too-tight something about his jaw, as if he were clenching his teeth. Encouraged, Zoe rattled on.

      “Maybe we could hold a sort of informal market focus group,” she said recklessly, tossing ideas out off the top of her head. “You know, invite your friends over some evening and let them sample the products and tell us what they think about each of them. I could even give minifacials or—oh, I know!” She snapped her fingers as inspiration struck. “How about massages with my scented body oils? My friend Gina is a massage therapist and she’d lend me her table. We could set it up right here in the parlor. Gina might even come along to give the massages herself, if she’s free. She’s very good. Very much in demand. In fact, she has scads of clients right here on Beacon Hill. Probably some of your friends, even. Maybe you’ve heard of her? Gina Molinari? No? Well, anyway, I’m sure she wouldn’t charge too much, as a favor to me. Although, with your money, I don’t guess you’d worry about that.”

      Zoe tossed another quick look over her shoulder. Reed Sullivan was still standing there, a bland look on his face, seemingly at ease as he patiently waited for his great-grandmother’s guest to be ready to leave…but a tiny, telltale muscle in his chiseled jaw had begun to twitch, ever so slightly. Zoe smiled brightly and plunged ahead.

      “If that goes well, we could do something more formal. Well, not exactly formal, but more, um…” she tapped a forefinger against her chin, parodying someone deep in thought “…businesslike,” she decided, the word forming on her lips as if she wasn’t quite sure of its pronunciation, or exact meaning. “We could widen the survey. You know, pay different people to come in off the street to try the products, with questionnaires afterward to see what they like and don’t like. I’ve participated in dozens of focus groups like that when I’ve been between jobs, and they’re all pretty much run the same way,” she said confidingly. “I even worked as a researcher myself once, on one of my temp jobs, so I know how it’s done. So. How does that sound to you? Just to start, I mean?”

      “Well, СКАЧАТЬ