Can't Buy Me Love (Sinclair Sisters 3)

“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.

Breathing deep, he took her scent into him. Wildflowers. Of course, wild, just like her. Slowly, softly, he ran his lips down her neck to her shoulder, pausing where he felt her pulse thunder. Time seemed to stop as they balanced on the edge of a precipice. Should they step into the unknown or retreat to safety? Fingers moved on his chest, stroking. Once. Twice. The decision had been made—they were taking the leap together.

Cotton sheets brushed his knuckles as he pressed her back against the shelves, the cool material a stark contrast to the warmth under his palms. She emitted a sexy little sigh, her hands sliding up and around his neck as Logan gently kissed the curve of her throat. Their breathing became heavier, the sound of blood rushing through his veins so much louder. Slowly, deliberately, he kissed his way along her jaw to her mouth. Her skin was as smooth as he’d imagined it to be, exactly like satin-soft rose petals.

There was a second, a pause, where he hovered over her lips, barely a hair’s breadth between them as they inhaled each other’s air.

“Agnes?” he whispered the request against her lips.

Her answer was immediate, but it wasn’t expressed in words. Instead, her tongue nipped out to taste him. And with a groan, he was gone. Clasping the back of her head, he angled his mouth over hers, threading his fingers through all that glorious, silken hair. They seduced each other with lips, and teeth, and tongue. Slow, languorous, drugged kisses that made his heart beat faster and the world fade to nothing.

Her fingers clasped the hair at his nape, tugging him to her as her leg slid up the outside of his thigh. Logan hooked a hand under it, pressing his hard length against her, swallowing her moan. He was a teen again, lost in a long, stolen kiss. Hoping it’d never end. Praying that she’d let him go further, but not yet, not while the kissing was so damn good.

A brutally sharp rap at the door jerked them back to reality.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Mrs. Edwards’ voice invaded the closet. “But the soundproofing in the store cupboard isn’t the best, and I figured you’d want to move somewhere more comfortable soon anyway. Oh, and the camera wasn’t stuck up properly. It fell off the wall. I’ll just leave it on the floor beside the door. Night, night, you two. Have fun!”

Logan leaned his forehead against Agnes’, smiling at their ludicrous situation. “How did she know it was us?” Damn, but he wanted to keep on kissing her. It didn’t matter that they were in a closet and one of the hotel guests was eavesdropping just outside. He just wanted more of the woman in his arms.

“Ears like a bat.” Agnes sounded breathless, and he couldn’t help but preen. “She misses nothing,” she said. “Unless she’s talking about Josh at the time. She also makes good use of the spy hole in her door.”

It sounded like it wasn’t the first time Agnes had been caught out by Mrs. Edwards. “You don’t make a habit of seducing men in storage cupboards, do you?”

Agnes growled at him. A sexy sound in the darkness of the tiny space.

“I’m joking. Come on, we’d better fix the camera. Then I need to get home to my kids.”

Every muscle in her body went taut. And then she squeezed past him to fumble with the door, throwing it wide as soon as she’d unlocked it. Light spilled into the closet, almost blinding him. When his eyes had adjusted, he discovered Agnes standing on the other side of the corridor, her arms folded.

“Kids?” She sounded far too polite, considering they’d been making out not two seconds earlier.

“A fourteen-year-old son and a twelve-year-old daughter.” Her eyes drifted to his left hand, and he felt like kicking his own backside. So that’s what was bothering her. He waggled his ring finger. “Divorced. Going on seven years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, as though offering her condolences.

“I’m not. What’s going on, Agnes?” He took a step toward her, but she hurriedly retreated.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You need to get back to your kids, and I need to get to bed.” She blinked up at him with a perfectly bland, professional expression. “If you need to hurry home, I can finish up on my own. In fact, why don’t I just do that? It’s getting really late. Let me get your jacket for you.” And she jogged down the stairs to her office.