“Tempting, but no.” Agnes was beginning to think Logan McBride might be her catnip. Being around him was slightly addicting and definitely put her in a better mood. And it wasn’t only because he’d thought to feed her—a rare occurrence in her life, as she was usually the one who looked out for the people around her. Well, her sisters, at least. But Logan also made her have fun. He kind of cajoled her into it. And Agnes couldn’t remember the last time she’d had fun.
“Well, if you don’t want to check out the interior of the enormous stone penis, we’d better head over to Betty’s gravestone. Come on.”
He led her through the park to the graveyard, where Betty’s monument stood in all its glory. He’d been right—it was hard to miss. Not only because it had yellow uplighting, but also because it was ten feet tall. It depicted a suspiciously familiar man with long hair and a kilt, carrying a woman in his arms. No, carrying Betty in his arms.
“Mel Gibson could sue over this,” Agnes said. “Or the producers of Braveheart.”
“Would you sue Betty?”
He had a point. There was a reason the townsfolk called her Satan. Agnes had only met the ancient woman a couple of times, but she’d heard stories that would curl straight hair in a second.
“You want a photo with it?” Logan asked.
“Uh, no. Thanks.”
“You sure? I don’t mind taking it.”
“You’re enjoying this just a little too much, aren’t you?”
His smile made her stomach do flips. “Just a little.”
“Explain something to me,” she said, mesmerized by that smile of his. “Why does Betty wear a hairnet when she’s practically bald?”
“I think a more important question is why, when Betty took to dying her hair blue, didn’t she dye the hairnet to match?”
Agnes covered her mouth with her hand. “She dyed her hair blue?”
“Well, technically, she dyed her head blue. As you pointed out, she doesn’t have much hair.”
The girly giggle that escaped from behind her hand didn’t sound like her at all. Yet it was strangely freeing. “Why did she dye her head?”
“To show Jodie at the spa she had skills. She wanted a job doing hair.”
That was just too much. Agnes doubled over laughing, clutching on to Logan’s arm to keep herself upright. As she wiped her eyes, she looked up at Logan, who was staring at her as though fascinated.
“We need to keep you well fed,” he said. “Not that I don’t like bah-humbug Agnes, but this one…she’s something else.”
Her cheeks burning, Agnes dropped her hand from Logan’s arm, still feeling him against her fingers even when she’d let go.
“Okay.” He rocked back on his heels. “Guess that concludes this evening’s tour of Invertary’s highlights. Next time you have a day off, I’ll take you to the mine. That way, you won’t have missed anything.”
“You don’t need to take me anywhere else, Logan. Dougal hired you to investigate the thefts, not to keep me entertained.”
“This is what people do when they’re being friendly. I figure the whole concept of someone being nice just because they enjoy spending time with you is foreign to you, but this is what normal people do when they like each other. They hang out.”
They turned toward the area where he’d parked the car, their breaths like puffs of smoke in the air in front of them. Agnes shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat to stop from reaching for his arm. To stop herself from holding him. Touching him. The temptation was almost too much to bear.
“I’m worried you think this is a date,” she said, but really, she was more worried about her own thoughts.
“Don’t be. I know this isn’t a date.” His eyes darkened. “Because if it was, I’d be kissing you by now.”
She tripped over her own feet, and his hand shot out to steady her, grasping her arm, making her skin burn through all of the layers between them.
“Logan,” she whispered.
For a second, time was suspended as the two of them stood looking at each other.
At last, Logan cleared his throat and took a step back, releasing her. “Let’s get those cameras up.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling strangely disappointed. “Yes. Good idea.”
“And, Agnes, for the record, when we do go out on a date, there won’t be any confusion.”
As they climbed into the car, she realized he’d said when. Not if. But she honestly couldn’t bring herself to correct him, even though she knew dating anyone in Invertary was pointless. She didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to see if a relationship could work out.
Agnes Sinclair was driving him nuts. It took all of his self-control to keep his hands off her. Everything about the woman appealed to him. From her prickly nature and quick wit to her golden hair and curvy figure. Plump. He’d always loved that word, and that’s what she was, voluptuously plump. His fingers itched to trace her curves, to fill his hands with her breasts and backside. He broke out in a sweat just thinking about it. Sitting facing her through dinner had been the sweetest agony, but he was going to go crazy if he didn’t get hold of her soon.
The desperation to touch, taste and seduce was a warning bell he couldn’t afford to ignore. The last time he’d felt this out of control, he’d married the woman who’d caused it and, in doing so, had ruined his life. No, not completely ruined it. Danielle had given him his kids, and he wouldn’t change a second of his life if it meant that he didn’t have them. So, no, she hadn’t ruined his life. She’d just made it bloody unbearable for years.
Although, if he were honest, the fault had been his as much as hers. Going in, he’d known she didn’t want the same things as he did, but he’d thought she’d change her mind. The bloody arrogance of youth—it bit you on the backside every time.
It didn’t take them long to pick up the cameras from the office then head on over to the hotel. Once they’d both rid themselves of their jackets, Logan picked up the box and gestured for Agnes to lead the way. “I’m sure you’ve already thought of the best places to put these,” he said.
Astonishment flitted across her face. “You aren’t going to question me?”
“Why would I do that? You know the hotel better than I do, and I’ll tell you if I think there’s a better spot for them. Plus, I’m just the muscle.” Holding the box under one arm, he flexed the other.
“Are you trying to impress me with your muscles?”
“Is it working?” He would bet from the way her cheeks flushed that it was.
“Let’s get this done,” she grumped. “Follow me.”
“With pleasure. I meant to tell you over dinner, but I was worried you’d bite my head off, that’s a pretty jumper you’re wearing, Agnes.” Pretty was an understatement. The coral color made her skin glow, and the shape flowed over her curves like cream off the back of a spoon. But the jumper was the least of it. His eyes dropped to her rear. “I like the jeans too. They make it hard for a man to think.”
“Will you behave?” If that was supposed to be a reprimand, she’d failed miserably, because it sounded more like a sexy purr.
“This is me behaving,” Logan said.
With a shake of her head, she turned to climb the stairs. “I thought we’d aim one of the cameras at the storeroom.”
“Uh-huh.” Damn, she knew how to swing those hips.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she frowned. “Are you listening to me?”
“Aye. But I’m enjoying the show too. I’m that rare mythical beast women search for—a man who can multitask.”
Agnes burst out laughing, and Logan felt a strange pride that he’d been the cause of it.
They walked along the corridor to the storeroom in silence, aware that guests were sleeping or watching late-night TV behind closed doors. She pointed up at the corner facing the closet and the bulk of the corridor. “How about there?”
Yep, that would do fine. “You got a ladder?”
“No. I was go
ing to levitate to install the camera.” And there it was again—that snarky little bite that made him want to kiss her.
She opened the storeroom door and pulled out a ladder. Logan set it up quietly while Agnes unboxed the cameras. They were just wee things, able to be fixed to the walls with heavy-duty double-sided sticky tape, which is why they’d chosen them—it meant no drilling into the walls of Dougal’s precious hotel. Unfortunately, it also meant the range they could transmit was shorter, and their lenses weren’t great. There wouldn’t be a whole lot of detail in the images they got, but hopefully, they’d be enough to identify the culprit.
Logan pointed down the corridor. “One at the head of the stairs, covering the guest rooms. Another facing your office. And a third in the kitchen.”
“What happened to you know the hotel better than I do?”
“Just proving I have a brain under all this.” He waved a hand down his body. “Wouldn’t want you to think I’m all looks and nothing else.”
“How about you use that brawn of yours to hold the ladder for me?”
That wasn’t happening. His mother had brought him up better than that. “As much as I’d like that view, manners dictate I do the grunt work.”
“Fine. If it makes you feel all manly to climb the ladder, who am I to get in the way?”
“Exactly.” Once he was at the top, she handed him the bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cloth. “I’ll wipe the area where the sticky tape will be before you hand it up to me.” A couple of minutes later, he’d stuck the first camera high on the wall. “Open the app we set up and check if the angle’s right, will you?”
She dug out her phone and compared the image from the camera with the corridor. “A little to the left and down a bit.” Logan did as instructed. “That’s it. Perfect. You really are a mythical beast—you can multitask and you follow instructions.”
“Oh, I’m very good at following instructions,” he purred as he climbed down the ladder to stand beside her. “Especially if I can see the value in doing it.” He reached out to tuck a lock of her white-blonde hair behind her ear, but he took his time, lingering, feeling the silk between his finger and thumb. “Isobel has dark hair,” he murmured, and most would say it was pretty in itself, but he preferred the color Agnes sported.
“And my sister Mairi has curly red hair, and my other sister, Donna, has honey-colored hair. My family covers all the options.”
Her voice sounded raspy, and he wondered if it was an effect of him standing so close to her. He hoped so.
“You’ve changed your deodorant,” she said, making him realize she was breathing him in just as deeply as he was her.
“Is it better?” His fingers toyed with her hair.
“Yeah. It smells like the ocean.” She cleared her throat and stepped back out of his reach. “Next camera. Get the ladder. Chop chop.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After attaching two more cameras to cover the main guest floor, Logan turned to Agnes. “What about upstairs?”
“There isn’t any storage up there, and that’s where my room is, so I should be a deterrent to a thief. I think one camera at the top of the stairs is probably enough.”
“Sound reasoning,” he agreed.
“And that doesn’t come across as patronizing at all.”
That delighted him. “You honestly don’t believe in letting shit slide, do you?”
“No.” She stared him straight in the eye. “Still think my backside is sexy?”
“Oh, yeah.” Even more so than before. Call him a masochist, but Agnes’ take-no-prisoners attitude did it for him.
“Let’s do upstairs first, and then there’s just the kitchen to cover.” She picked up the box of cameras.
And that’s when they heard it. A little doggy yip followed by a deep rumble.
Dougal was back.
“I thought you said he’d gone home,” Logan hissed as he grabbed the ladder and ran for the storage cupboard.
“He had,” Agnes snapped behind him.
Heavy footfalls on the stairs signaled that Dougal was very much there and heading their way.
Logan thrust the ladder into the closet as silently as he could, then stepped inside. Agnes came barreling in after him and pulled the door tight behind them. Her phone light came on, and she slowly inserted her key in the lock and turned it, securing them inside, just as Dougal’s footsteps arrived on the first floor.
Chapter 5
It was a good thing Logan didn’t suffer from claustrophobia, or he’d have been going out of his mind. Much like a pantry, the closet was narrow but deep, with shelving on three sides filled with bedding, soaps, coffee sachets, and assorted other things the housekeepers needed to stock their carts. It would have been plenty big enough for one person to move around, but with two people and a large metal ladder, it was a tight fit.
Agnes lifted her phone, typed a message and held it up to him. I think we should just come clean. Hiding in here is ridiculous.
But fun. Logan grinned before whispering against her ear, “I thought you didn’t want to have this conversation with him? There’s a good chance we can get this whole case solved without him having to know anything.”
They stood pressed against each other, her back to his front. He could feel the tension in her body as she weighed up the different options before typing again. If he catches us in here, I’ll get fired.
Logan didn’t think so—Dougal might be loud, but he was all bluster. He wouldn’t fire her for this. “We’ll just tell him we’re on a stakeout,” he whispered.
They heard a scraping at the door, and Agnes pressed back against him. He wrapped an arm around her, turning her to face him as he slowly angled her away from the door, wanting to put his body between her and Dougal. His behavior was more instinct than any worry her boss would strike out if he found them.
There was whining, followed by a yip and more scratching. The dog knew they were in there. Logan tried to swallow a chuckle, but it forced its way out. Quick as lightning, Agnes slapped a hand over his mouth and held on tight. Her disapproval was so loud he could almost hear her frown.
“What is it, boy?” Dougal whispered. Well, it was a whisper for him. For normal people, it was their usual voice. The man had volume-control issues and a deep need to hear himself talk. “Is something in there?”
The door handle rattled, and Logan tightened his arm around Agnes’ waist, pressing their chests together, making him painfully aware of all her soft curves against his firm muscle. His mouth watered, and his fingers itched to explore. If this temptation was some sort of test, he was worried he’d fail.
“It’s locked, boy,” Dougal said. “There’s nothing in there but soap and sheets. Now, come away. Let’s get this over with, so I can get some sleep.”
The dog kept scratching and whining.
“Arnold,” Dougal snapped. “Come here.”
There was another yip and then silence, making Logan hope the dog had done as it was told. They heard a knock and a door opening.
“I’m sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, Mrs. Edwards, but Arnold left his favorite toy here, and he won’t go to sleep without it.”
“I totally understand,” the woman said. “I can’t get to sleep without my favorite Josh pillow.”
That set Logan off again. Covering his mouth tight with her hand, Agnes kicked him in the shin to stop him. Unfortunately, the kick must have attracted the dog’s attention, and it started scratching at the door all over again.
“Arnold,” Dougal called. “Get over here. I have your toy. Look, here it is.”
“That’s an interesting toy,” Mrs. Edwards said. “It’s an eggplant, isn’t it?”
“Aye, although we call it an aubergine here in Scotland. It’s one of them emoji things the kids like. One of the teens gave it to me, and Arnold fair enjoys chewing on it. They also gave him one of those poop emojis, but I don’t let him have that one in public. Kids today, there’s no accounting for what goes
on in their heads.”
It was too much. Logan tore his mouth from Agnes’ hand and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He would bet she wanted to hit him again but didn’t want to lure the dog back to the door.
“There you go, Arnold,” Dougal said. “Who’s a good boy? Thank you, Mrs. Edwards. I’d better get this tired pup home now. We’ll see you at breakfast.”
“You know,” Mrs. Edwards said, sounding far from sleepy, “you and Arnold are welcome to spend the night here. Save yourselves the trip back home.”
She was hitting on Dougal?
This was priceless. Logan almost choked from trying to stay quiet when all he wanted to do was roar with laughter. Agnes pinched him in the ribs. Hard. But it made no difference. He was having the most fun he’d had in years.
“Uh, eh, thank you. But no. Delightful offer, but I have to decline,” Dougal blustered. “Arnold can’t sleep without his dog bed either. Can you, Arnold? We’d best be getting back.” Dougal’s voice became fainter as he retreated.
“Oh, well, maybe another time,” Mrs. Edwards called after him before her door shut quietly.
Ears straining, they waited until they heard the dull thud of the pub door close behind Dougal.
“You numpty,” Agnes hissed as she thumped his arm. “You almost gave us away.”
His hands on her hips, Logan grinned against the curve of her throat. He felt like a kid again, sneaking around after hours, hoping his parents didn’t catch him. Before he could open his mouth to tell Agnes to chill, he heard a thud in the corridor. They stilled. It probably came from Mrs. Edwards’ room, but better safe than sorry.
“We should give it another five minutes, just to be sure,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
A shiver passed through her, and her breathing hitched, before she nodded. His hands flexed on her hips at the realization she was just as aware of him as he was of her. Suddenly, it wasn’t the humor of the situation that was foremost in his mind, but the feeling of Agnes’ hands spread wide on his chest. Relying on instinct, he nuzzled her throat and elation surged when she angled her head to give him better access. The darkness covered them like an intimate blanket, and the need to be silent heightened their senses, making each touch, each breath, so much more electric.
Can't Buy Me Love: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 3) Page 4
