Lianne's heart jumped, and she flinched away reflexively, her back pressing almost flat against the car door.
Seth Sinclair rested one hand on the back of her seat and leaned forward. An oppressive presence washed over her, wild and brimming with masculine energy.
"How long do you plan on keeping my jacket?"
The light traced the man's silhouette, highlighting his strong brow and dark, deep-set eyes. He watched her, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his eyes.
'What does he mean, I'm keeping his jacket?'
Lianne found the accusation incredible but had no desire to get drawn into an argument. She cut straight to the source of the problem, handing him the jacket that was folded on her lap.
"Folding a suit jacket prevents wrinkles."
Seth Sinclair reached out, hooked the suit jacket with a long finger, and tossed it into the back seat. "So experienced," he remarked, as if in passing. "Do you fold Ethan's clothes for him often?"
