She gave her head a slight shake. “Should hold up,” she replied quietly, her lips barely moving. She kept her gaze nonchalant as she looked unseeingly through the windshield. “I paid enough for it. Besides, cars are behind us now. No way to go but forward.”

The guard printed something out, then returned to the window. “Here you are.” He handed her ID and visitor pass to Mick. “She should peel that off and stick it on her jacket. Have a good day, you two.” He gestured to the next car as the boom barrier lifted and Mick drove through. Sarah peeled the visitor pass with Rachel Jones scribbled on it in blue ink. She noticed her hands were trembling slightly as she stuck the pass on Mick’s jacket, which she was wearing. She shoved them deep into its pockets, hoping Mick hadn’t noticed as well.

He pulled into a parking spot, where his name was printed in large dark lettering on a white sign. Sarah unstrapped and was reaching for the door handle when she felt Mick’s hand alight on her arm. It was unsettling how the mere touch of his hand would cause such heat to course through her. “Yes?” She turned to face him. “Oh. That’s right, I’m wearing your jacket. Yeah.” She laughed. “That might make things a little awkward at the office. Sorry.” She peeled her visitor’s pass off his jacket, then reached for the zipper.

“No. Keep the jacket. You’re shivering.”

“People will assume—”

Mick cut her off with an abrupt wave of his hand. “I was thinking you might want to wait in the car.”

The guy was nuts. “I can’t really handle your office work in the car.” She unzipped, shrugged out of his jacket, and handed it to him. He seemed angry. Had jerked his head away, his jaw clenched, crossed his arms, refusing to take his jacket. Which was crazy, because seriously, she was not going to waltz into his office wearing the boss’s clothes. That would look bad, and she’d lose all credibility with anyone who worked there. “Take the damned thing.” She dropped it in his lap.

*   *   *

Mick braced himself and turned toward her. “Sarah. First. Put my jacket on. The rain made your blouse . . .” He waved his hand in the vicinity of her chest while keeping his gaze firmly fixed on her face. “I mean, it’s way better than it was, but you can still . . .”

Sarah glanced down and then her eyebrows shot upward. “Oh God.” She snatched his jacket and had it back on and zipped in record time. “Right.” Her face had gotten quite rosy. “You could have told me.”

“I just did.”

“What am I going to do? I can’t saunter in there wearing this.”

“Not only that.” He grinned. “Your nose is red—eyes, too. People will think I’m the heartless brute who made you cry.”