Claire Sinclair whirled around. Her eyes met a perfectly handsome face, and her heart soared.
"Mr. Quincy, what are you doing here?"
"To use the restroom."
"Are you in a hurry?"
"What is it?"
Claire Sinclair gestured toward Phoebe Lockwood with her chin. "My colleague wants me to give her your jacket so she can return it to you. But I think that's way too much trouble. Why don't I just give it back to you now?"
Adrian Quincy's icy gaze swept slowly over Phoebe Lockwood. Expressionless, he said, "I gave the jacket to Claire. What does that have to do with you?"
"M-Mr. Quincy, it's not what you think..." Phoebe Lockwood desperately wanted to explain, but she couldn't get a single word out.
She had imagined returning his jacket to him countless times. Now, that dream was shattered. Despair and mortification washed over her, and she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
