Lachlain didn’t care what it was; she’d never wear that damned unfinished shirt in public again. The bow that swayed low across her slim back as she glided along was like a magnet for the gazes of every male in this place. Lachlain knew they were imagining untying it. Because he himself was. More than one man elbowed a friend and murmured that she was “hot,” earning a killing look from Lachlain.
