“Stark looked strong and healthy and totally gorgeous. I was distracting myself by wondering what exactly Scottish guys did, or didn't, wear under those kilts when he turned to face me.His smile lit up his eyes. "I can practically hear you thinking.”

“So do you have a kilt?" Megan asked him. When I glared at her, she said, "What? He only said you couldn't ask." She looked at him. "So do you?"Straightening up, Zachary rubbed the back of his neck and smirked. "I might, I might."God, he was gorgeous. And Scottish. But maybe kind of an ass.”

“I’d never seen a guy in a kilt before but I had to admit I really liked it. My gaze traveled up his bare calves and over his back. His muscles flexed as he bent to arrange the twigs and limbs for the fire. The kilt covered his legs at one moment, then revealed them anew as he stood up…I suddenly remembered the saying that Scots don’t wear anything under their kilts and pushed back a crazy impulse to see for myself.”

“He was the most gorgeous hunk of male it had ever been my privilege to stare at, and darn his hide, he knew exactly what I was thinking. His smile turned to a smug grin to so full of satisfaction, that I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.”

“He was smiling and motioned for me to turn around, and as I did, he stopped me. "What size shorts did you get?""A four. Why?""Maybe you should have gotten a six, those are awfully snug." He didn't take his eyes off the shorts.”

“What's under the kilt?"His smile teased. "Need.”