From the Inside Flap
"We heard shots, and Mr. McGinnis shouted for us to do what we were told. A man rode up to the window on each side, demanding our money and jewels." A dainty shoulder lifted in a shrug. "That's when Miss Fairchild screamed her virtue was about to be stolen and swooned, landing in my lap." Green eyes danced, and a high-pitched giggle escaped. "Frankly, I doubt the robbers planned on lifting anyone's skirts." Eyes widening, she clapped a hand over her mouth and shook her head.
Damn. Quinn had seen witnesses suddenly realize the danger they'd been in and that's when hysterics set in. Lord, he could not abide a crying woman. "Did you notice any detail about their saddles or markings on their faces that stood out?"
Her brows scrunched low, and she squared her shoulders, pulling her jacket snug across her breasts. "I feared for my very life, sir, and you think I should have noticed their saddles?" She inhaled deeply, and then her whole body stilled. "Yes, I do remember something about the saddles."
He watched the movement of her chest--in particular, how the buttons strained their closures. The rhythm of his heartbeat kicked up and a bead of sweat trickled on his forehead. Lifting his gaze to her face, he leaned forward, forcing himself to concentrate on what she might share. "What's that?"
"Each man sat in one." Her body rigid, she raised the mug to her lips and waited, an eyebrow arched high.