“Uh…yeah.” Reed tore his gaze away from Zoe’s averted face, gathering himself together with a Herculean effort. The rugby field was no place to indulge in ridiculous sexual fantasies. “Yes, I’m Reed.” Belatedly, remembering his manners, he extended his hand to her. “Reed Sullivan,” he said politely, somehow managing to sound as calm and unaffected as if they were standing in his penthouse office. As if his blood wasn’t roaring through his veins like an out of control locomotive on a downhill grade. As if he weren’t still fighting the insane urge to toss the luscious Miss Moon over his shoulder and keep right on walking—preferably straight to the king-size bed in the master bedroom of his Back Bay town house. “And you’re Gina…” he did a quick scan of his memory banks “…Molinari, isn’t it?”
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