Can't Buy Me Love (Sinclair Sisters 3)

“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?”