Even the touch of a woman's hand on her chest made Claire Sinclair recoil. She pushed the hand away. "I'm fine. Just don't touch me."
"Uh, I'm sorry!" the waitress apologized again, her head bowed.
Claire Sinclair was about to say something more when Ethan Kingsley suddenly spoke up. "What's wrong with you? Get lost. Stop being an eyesore."
"Yes, my apologies," the waitress said, scurrying away.
Claire Sinclair looked down at the wet patch on her clothes. As luck would have it, she was wearing a white undershirt beneath a beige wool coat, and both were now soaked.
Winter had already set in. It wasn't a problem indoors, but it would definitely be cold outside.
Just as she was worrying about what to do, a black, cologne-scented suit jacket was draped over her shoulders. A gentle male voice sounded by her ear. "Put this on for now. I can take you home to change, or we can go buy you something new nearby. Which would you prefer?"
