The future she’d have without him. Her stomach twisted.
“Friends don’t have sex.” The words erupted right out of her, something they seemed inclined to do these days.
“Some do.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.” But her body screamed in protest at her words.
His fingers stilled on her hair. “Because it was too good?”
She nodded, her cheek brushing against his fingertips, the effect of his touch rippling through her whole body.
His gaze captured hers. “Some would say that we should do it again because it was so good.”
Her resolve wavered as her hands inched toward him.
“Why shouldn’t we have sex again, Agnes, love?” His voice, a low, sweet seduction, made her mouth water to taste him.
He was so close she could smell his unique scent, and she drew it into her lungs, holding it tight against her. Slowly, Logan reached past her and pulled her door shut. The heat of his body warmed her skin, making her long to curl into him and absorb it right into the heart of her so she’d never feel cold again. She was light-headed, every nerve in her body alert and aware of the man beside her.
“Tell me, Agnes, why can’t we sleep together?” His hand clasped the side of her throat, his thumb stroking in a way that mesmerized her.
“You are so beautiful,” she whispered. And it was true.
His lips quirked. “So are you.”
“Your lips are amazing.” Her gaze rested on them, remembering the feel of them against hers, against her body, and she shivered.
“They’re better when they’re on yours,” he whispered, a hair’s breadth away from her.
All she could do was whimper as her hands came up to curl into his jumper. “Maybe, we could kiss. I think kissing would be okay.”
“Aye, kissing sounds good,” he said, and then his lips were on hers.
The world around them swirled and disappeared as Logan deepened the kiss. It was a million times better than she remembered. Her body melted against him, and his arm wrapped around her, lending her his strength, keeping her upright.
“Tell me why we can’t have sex,” he whispered against her mouth, teasing her lips with his tongue between words.
She had no defenses against him. “Because I’m scared I’ll fall in love with you.”
The arm around her tightened as the slow, deliberate kisses worked their seduction on her senses.
“Would that be so bad?” he breathed against her mouth.
At that moment, she couldn’t think of anything better, but she gave him the truth. “I’d have to give up everything to be with you.”
“And you’re worried I won’t be worth it.” There was no ego in his voice, only understanding.
How could it be that this man would be the one who understood her so well? It was the universe’s joke against her. If only she could take him with her when she left. But that wasn’t realistic. His life was in Invertary, with his kids.
“Don’t overthink it,” he said as he continued his sweet seduction. “The future will take care of itself. Live in the now, Agnes, love. With me.”
“Yes,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He tasted of promises whispered in the dark, just out of reach. So close, she could almost touch them.
At last, breathless and with the windows fogged, they reluctantly broke apart. Logan pressed kisses to her forehead. “So, we’re agreed,” he said. “We’re definitely having sex again.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said on a sigh.
With one last, gentle kiss, he moved away from her. “Better get out of the car—your meeting is in five minutes. I’ll help you take the sweatshirts inside.”
She blinked at him several times before her brain cleared enough for his words to register. And then she scowled. “Five minutes? I had things to do before the meeting. Stop. Being. Irresistible. It’s screwing with my brain.” And her life.
He chuckled, and Agnes grunted with annoyance as she climbed out of the car.
Bloody man was driving her insane.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Agnes said to Dougal as she rushed into the restaurant section of the pub. It was closed for a couple of hours while the chef prepared for evening service, leaving it available for a staff meeting. “About rushing off early like that.”
Dougal waved a dismissive hand. “No need for apologies. Bernadette explained everything.”
Agnes’ eyes shot to her receptionist. “She did?”
Bernadette’s expression was carefully blank. “Everyone gets headaches, and migraines are the worst.”
“Yes. Yes, they are.” As Dougal said something to Logan, Agnes mouthed, “Thank you,” to Bernadette, who blushed and smiled shyly back.
It was the first time she’d had a friendly interaction with the young woman, making Agnes realize she hadn’t had many friendly interactions with any of her staff. Logan was right, she honestly didn’t know how to make friends.
She cleared her throat as she looked around at everyone. “I just wanted to say to all of you that you’re doing a great job, and I appreciate how much extra work you’ve put into this market weekend. I’m sure Dougal appreciates it too.”
“Very much,” Dougal boomed, giving her a strange look as the rest of the staff smiled at her.
Agnes pulled out a chair at the huge table they’d made by shoving lots of smaller tables together. She looked around in surprise when Logan sat beside her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Dougal asked me to stay. He wants us to update everyone on the thefts.”
Great, something else she’d completely forgotten. One night away from the hotel and things were already slipping.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” he whispered.
“This is all your fault.”
“Aye, because I’m too sexy and irresistible, and it makes it hard for you to concentrate on anything else.” He grinned smugly.
“I’ll deal with you later,” she threatened.
“Promises, promises,” he teased, making her cheeks heat.
She glanced back around the table to see several staff members watching their interaction with smiles on their faces.
“I see you brought the jumpers,” Dougal said. “Everybody grab one on your way out. We want to look the part this weekend and give everyone an amazing experience. It’s in all of our best interests to go the extra mile because, if this year’s market goes well, the council plans to extend it to two weekends again next year.”
There were nods of enthusiasm from around the table.
“Attendance fell off for a few years,” Logan whispered, his breath hot on her ear. “It ended up costing more to put on than it brought in, so they shortened its run time.”
Agnes could well understand why people had stopped coming to the event. As far as she could see, the problem wasn’t so much the market, but the fact it was a Christmas market, and those were a dime a dozen. Invertary needed something to make it stand out. Once upon a time, that had been the lingerie fashion show, but now, even that was old hat. The town needed a new approach to attracting people. The one they had just wasn’t working.
As Dougal ran through the list in front of him and Agnes added input as needed, she was very aware of Logan lounging beside her, his thigh brushing against hers. She found it hard to concentrate when all she wanted to do was run her hand down his leg, feel the strength of his thigh beneath her palm.
“And Agnes and Logan have an update on that,” Dougal said, turning to them expectantly.
Bloody Logan had derailed her again. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why don’t you start?”
“Happy to,” he said with a knowing smile. “So far, the thefts have been a series of misunderstandings.” Logan had morphed into business mode, and she found it sexy as hell. “Guests accessing the kitchen after hours, friends buying sundries but forgetting to have it noted in the books, that sort of thing. However, we still
have concerns regarding the missing jewelry and the bar stock.”
He cocked an eyebrow at Agnes, who took up where he’d left off. “As far as we can tell, there’s no rhyme or reason to the jewelry thefts. It seems the thief is simply taking whatever attracts his or her attention. We’ve had reports of missing diamond rings as well as cheap plastic hair combs. All I can say is that we need to keep an eye open for any suspicious behavior in and around the guestrooms.”
“Do you think one of us is doing the stealing?” one of the maids asked.
Agnes shook her head. “I’d be really shocked if any of you risked your job over a plastic hair comb. Plus, Benson Security ran background searches on all of us. And I’m pleased to say that we all came up squeaky clean. Except for you, Dougal,” she joked. “You’re as shady as hell.”
Everyone, including Dougal, looked surprised by her teasing, and then they started to laugh. Had she really been that uptight around everyone? Had her fear of losing her job taken away her personality? Probably. But equally, it could be the fact she mainly lived on sugar and caffeine. She was as jittery as a hamster most days, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full night’s sleep.
“And then there’s the bar,” Dougal said, his voice reverberating around the room, bouncing off the dark wooden furnishings. “We did a stocktake, and it seems we’ve lost a couple of bottles of whisky every month for the past few of years.”
Shock rippled around the table.
“Is it the same whisky every time?” Logan asked.
“Aye, Glenfiddich.”
“I’ll need a list of everyone, outside of the current staff, with access to the bar,” Logan said.
“You’ll get it.” Dougal was mad, which made Agnes wonder if that was how Santa looked when he read the naughty list. “This petty pilfering has gone on long enough. I want it stopped.”
“Okay,” Agnes said. “On that note, this meeting is over. Don’t forget your jumpers, hats and headbands. Remember, everyone wears them starting from now right through until Monday morning. No exceptions.”
“No exceptions.” Logan’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Makes me wonder which one of our fantastic slogans you chose to wear.”
“There’s more to those sweatshirts than the stuff you and Drew wrote all over them.”
“Aye, but you have to admit, the jokes are the best bit. Which one did you pick?”
“You’ll need to come by later if you want to know.”
“I can’t tonight. I’m taking Darcy to a dance recital in Fort William. Will you wear it for me tomorrow night?”
“Weren’t you listening? We’re living in these things until Monday.”
“I don’t mean in the pub—I meant for me.”
“Oh.” Now that sent tingles up her spine. “What’s in it for me?”
“Well, if you wear the sweatshirt and nothing else, there could be a lot in it for you.”
She would have said something about him being awfully sure of himself, but he’d already proven he could put his money where his mouth was. “Throw in some chocolate, and it’s a deal.”
His eyes darkened. “You’ve got it. See you tomorrow, Agnes, love.” And then he turned and sauntered off.
“Agnes,” Dougal called. “Can I have a word?”
She tore her gaze from Logan’s backside and went over to the bar where Dougal was holding court. “What can I do for you?”
“We had a council meeting the other night, where Betty held us hostage with a list of demands she says we need to meet before she’ll consider selling any of her properties to us. The upshot of it is that I need to go to Spain for a couple of days and talk the old reverend into coming back here for a visit.”
Agnes blinked at him. This was obviously another example of the ways in which they did things differently here in Invertary. “Can’t you just call him?”
“I tried, but he told me he’d come back to Invertary in a casket, and not before.”
So that was a firm no. “Why do you need him here?”
“Betty says she won’t consider any offers on her properties unless Reverend Morrison stands in front of everyone and admits to having an affair with her.”
“I can see why he’d rather die first.”
“Aye,” Dougal said in disgust. “Anyway, the only flight available at short notice was this Monday, so I’ll need you to look after everything while I’m gone.”
“Dougal, that’s why you hired me—to look after things when you aren’t here. I can take care of the hotel and restaurant, and your bar manager can take care of the pub. You could disappear for weeks, and we’d be fine.”
“Disappear? Leave the pub?” His voice was so loud it made the glasses shake.
Yeah, she shouldn’t have brought that topic up. “I will definitely take care of things while you’re gone. Don’t worry about it.”
But there was no distracting him. “What would I do if I wasn’t here?”
“Play golf? Fish? Take up knitting? Whatever other people do when they retire.”
“Retire?” The whole building shook this time, and Dougal looked like he might be having a heart attack. His face had turned a deep shade of red, and the vein in his neck throbbed. If she didn’t put a stop to this soon, Agnes could see herself doing mouth-to-mouth on Santa.
“I’m joking.” She forced a grin. “I don’t believe in retirement. You enjoy being here, so why would you want to change that? And the community would miss you if you were gone.”
“Aye, aye, you’re right.” The color faded from his face, but he still seemed uncertain. “I can see you’re trying to be less intimidating and a bit more informal, but you might want to check your jokes are actually funny before you try them on people.”
“Thanks.” Agnes nodded solemnly. “I’ll take that advice on board. Was that all?”
“There’s one more thing—I need you to look after Arnold while I’m gone.”
Oh, hell no. “I’m not really a dog person,” she told her boss. “I’ve never had one, and I don’t know how to look after them.”
“Don’t be daft.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You’ll be fine, and you can always ask Mrs. Edwards for help if you get stuck.”
There was obviously no getting out of it. “Fine,” she said with all the graciousness of a teenager.
Dougal gave her a royal nod as though she’d done nothing more than her duty. “Thanks, Agnes. Now, if only getting the Reverend Morrison here was as easy as dealing with you.”
And Agnes tried very hard not to imagine her boss’s head exploding all over his precious pub.
Chapter 20
Officially, Agnes finished work around five, like most people. Unofficially, she was never off the clock. Living in the hotel until she found other accommodation didn’t help—it only made her feel like she always had to be working. The fact that Dougal had his eye on her every minute of the day only added to the stress.
And that was why, instead of taking her time off on Friday night, she found herself in the bar, helping supervise the evening’s entertainment. Her feet hurt, her eyes felt like they’d been rolled in sand, and Dougal didn’t find her sweatshirt funny. She looked down at it. The man had no sense of humor at all.
The place was packed with people, some of whom she recognized. The women of Knit or Die were there, giving Dougal the evil eye and trying to get her to sit with them. The town’s evil overlord, Betty, was there, enjoying the trouble she’d stirred up at the last council meeting. Lake and Kirsty Benson, Josh and Caroline McInnes, and Mitch and Jodie Harris all shared a booth at the back of the room. When Agnes went over to say hello, she found out Jodie owned the spa that housed the restaurant she’d enjoyed so much. And Mitch was Josh’s manager but also ran a talent agency with Caroline. It seemed everyone she spoke to was somehow connected to everyone else. It was the way of small-town life.
As she circled the room, making sure everything was being taken care of, Dougal waved her over. Relu
ctantly, she went to see what he wanted now.
“Can you check with the sound person again and make sure this is the right volume?” It was the third time he’d asked her. Dougal didn’t like it when something was louder than him, and he was too busy with the bar to check the sound for himself.
“I checked. It’s fine. I don’t want to bother them by asking again.”
“It’s awful loud.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, so are you. Instead, she waited. Dougal’s particular brand of micromanagement meant his questions and instructions tended to come in clusters.
“The kitchen’s taking too long to get the platters of finger food out to the tables,” he said.
“I’ll have a word with them.”
“Mrs. Docherty in room eight came up to the bar to tell me that there’s a strange noise coming from her closet and the thermostat in her room isn’t working properly.”
“I’ll deal with it.” Because in a hotel that size, there weren’t any housekeeping staff around overnight. Normally, a guest complaint would have to wait until the morning, when the reception desk was staffed, but everyone knew to speak to Dougal at the bar if they had a problem. And he knew to call on her—because she was so conveniently located in the building.
She really needed to find a place to live outside of the hotel.
“Also”—he frowned—“I have to question some of the jokes on the sweatshirts you bought.” He glanced down at hers and his face turned red.
Agnes pulled it out to look at it. “What’s wrong with it? It says ‘Santa’s little elf ho, ho, ho’. What’s offensive about that?” She gave him an innocent look. But she knew exactly what he meant. The elf part wasn’t written in words. Instead, it was a small appliqué image in the middle of lots of huge text. From a distance, it read ‘Santa’s little ho, ho, ho’. She found it funny.
Can't Buy Me Love: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 3) Page 16
