thoughts. He stopped mid-step, his gaze traveling slowly up and down my body. His voice was both husky and outraged when he finally said, “That’s what you are wearing?” I held my arms out and looked down. “What’s wrong with my dress?” He looked genuinely confused for a moment. “Dress? That is not a dress. You look as though you plan to bed him immediately after dinner.” My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? I am not bedding anyone, you ancient jerk!” I gestured toward the dress I wore, the hem riding high on my thighs. “You can’t even see anything.” “You see enough. It’s practically an insult.” I
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