Can't Buy Me Love (Sinclair Sisters 3)

“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.”