200 Harley Street: The Shameless Maverick. Louisa George

an objective observation. Obviously.

      An eyebrow peaked. ‘Ah, come on—never, ever compromise fashion for practicality. Oh …’ Her eyes toured his body again and landed on his jacket. ‘You just did.’

      But he could tell from the hunger in those startling green pupils that she liked what she saw. ‘Steady, now. This jacket saved me from a skin-to-tarmac pebble-dashing after a collision with a drunk driver. It’s my favourite.’