He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you checking out my backside?”
If he was hoping to embarrass her, he’d be sorely disappointed. Donna was the only Sinclair sister who did embarrassment—much to her sisters’ disgust. “Seems only fair. You were checking out mine while we climbed the stairs.”
“True.” He flashed a cocky smile at her over his shoulder, proving he didn’t embarrass easily either. “Ogle away but talk while you’re doing it. Who’s got access to the closet?”
It wasn’t as much fun ogling him when she had permission, so she stepped up to his side and watched him examine the door instead. “Dougal, of course, me, head of housekeeping, and whichever cleaner is on duty.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that there are several copies of the key floating around. Are they all accounted for?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. And neither does Dougal. The locks haven’t been changed since he bought the place. And whenever a key goes missing, he has another cut. He keeps no record of how many are out there or who has them or what’s happened to them.”
He studied her for a moment. “If this was your hotel, you’d know where the keys were.”
“Well, duh.” Hadn’t she already made her point about liking control?
His lips twitching, Logan returned his attention to the door. “I don’t think the keys are the issue.” He pointed at the scratches around the handle. “The lock’s been jimmied.”
Agnes leaned over, aware it put her firmly in Logan’s space. His scent engulfed her. Spicy and fresh, it reminded her of a walk through a pine forest or…car air fresheners. Hmm, not so sexy when you looked at it like that.
“Why are you frowning?” His deep voice was close to her ear, making her tingle.
“You smell like those little green tree air fresheners you hang from your rearview mirror. Which kind of cancels out the effect of seeing you in those jeans.”
He threw back his head, laughing. It was a delicious sound.
“Time to change deodorant, I think,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to dull the power my jeans have over women.”
“Probably wise.” Her attention drifted back to the lock.
There were scratches all around it, and paint had flaked off the door at the point where the lock met the jamb.
“See? Someone’s picked the lock. And by the looks of it, tried to force the snib up with a credit card or something.”
“That is a seriously amateur job.” Agnes was disgusted. She could have done better blindfolded and armed with a ball point pen.
That made him arch an eyebrow at her. “You know how to pick a lock?”
Like she’d admit that to a cop. Even an ex-cop. “So, it could have been a guest, or just someone wandering into the hotel. Which means the suspect pool has opened right up.” She frowned. “Well, that’s annoying.”
“Looks like you might need me after all.” His cocky, and very sexy, grin was back. “This isn’t the open and shut case you thought it would be.”
Agnes rolled her eyes as she straightened. “Come on, Clouseau, maybe you can use your awesome detective skills on the woman who lost her diamond ring.”
Without waiting for him, she strode down the hallway, expecting him to follow. The thick, red tartan carpet softened her footfalls, and the cream walls made the corridor feel airy. Gorgeous pencil drawings of the town, framed subtly in matching cream, adorned the walls. The whole effect was one of wealth and comfort. It never failed to astonish her that a man like Dougal, whose taste in clothing could only be termed Scottish Disco, had managed to put together a hotel that was both cozy and classy.
Rapping on the door to room twelve, one of two suites in the building, she kept her eyes on Logan as he crouched down to examine the lock.
“This one hasn’t been jimmied,” he informed her as the door swung open.
“Oh.” Mrs. Edwards smiled widely at them. Today, the older American woman was dressed in a gray velvet jogging suit, sparkly sandals and diamante horn-rimmed spectacles, and there was a white Scottish terrier puppy under her arm. “Did you find my ring?”
“Not yet, but rest assured we’re taking its loss very seriously, and we’re looking into it.” She waved a hand at her sidekick. “This is Logan McBride. He’s from the local security company, and he’s going to help us get to the bottom of this.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Logan flashed his panty-melting smile, making Mrs. Edwards simper, and proving that his sex appeal worked across all ages. “What a cute wee pup.” As he petted the dog’s head, Mrs. Edwards looked like she might faint.
Honestly.
“He isn’t mine.” Mrs. Edwards sounded breathless. “He’s Dougal’s. I just borrow him now and then because he’s such good company. Aren’t you, Arnold?”
Oh yeah, Arnold was great company—until he chewed your shoes or peed on the carpet.
Logan caught Agnes’ eye and mouthed, “Arnold?”
“It’s Dougal,” she muttered, as though that explained it. Which, if you knew the pub owner, it probably did.
“Mrs. Edwards,” Logan said, all business and polite charm. “Would you mind answering a few questions about your missing ring?”
“Of course not.” She swung the door wide. “Come on in.”
Agnes motioned for him to go ahead of her—that way she could enjoy his reaction to seeing the suite for the first time. Two steps into the living room, he tripped over his own feet, righted himself with a suspicious cough that might have covered a laugh, and motioned for Agnes to join them.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Mrs. Edwards looked around the room with pride. “Not many hotels would let you decorate for your stay, but Dougal had no problem with me swapping out the drapes and bedding.”
Logan opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before settling on, “Um, that’s a lot of…Josh McInnes.”
He wasn’t wrong.
She’d replaced the curtains with ones printed with massive photos of Josh in his trademark black suit. Cushions with his smiling face were scattered over the sofa, the bedding showed a shirtless Josh lazing at the beach, and on the table were piles of signed photos of the star waiting to be mailed.
“So, um, you’re a fan?” Logan said.
Mrs. Edwards giggled like a schoolgirl. “No, dear, I’m the fan. I just got voted in as head of Josh’s American fan club. That’s why I’m here. Part of the job is to collect signed memorabilia and do special interviews with him, just for the fan club. I only intended to stay a week to get it all done, but I fell in love with Invertary, so I’ve been here a month so far. I can totally understand why Josh moved here. This town is so quaint.”
“I don’t think it was Invertary you fell in love with,” Agnes said. “I think it’s the fact that Josh wanders around town and eats in the pub downstairs.”
“There is that,” the older woman said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I would never bother the man. Unlike some fans, I understand a celebrity needs their space. I only enjoy admiring him from a distance.”
Logan cleared his throat. “Can you tell us where you lost the ring?”
Agnes bit her lip to stop herself from reminding him that there was no ‘us.’ She already knew about the ring. He was the one playing catch-up.
“It was right over here.” Mrs. Edwards wandered over to the dining table, which was covered in bags, merchandise and envelopes. “I was making up packages to send to fan club members. Not all of them, of course. That would take a factory working around the clock. These are only for the fans who won a pack. Even then, it would still have taken forever to bag everything, but Caroline McInnes, Josh’s wife, rounded up a group of teenagers to help me. Caroline’s amazing and very efficient, isn’t she?”
The question was aimed at Agnes, who’d never met the famous Caroline McInnes. But the customer was always right, so she answered, “Oh yes, so efficient.”
“I gather you took off the ring while you were making up the bags,” Logan prodde
d.
“It kept snagging on the gossamer bags, so I put it in my purse at my feet.”
“Who was in the room at the time?”
“Like I said, several teenagers. They kept coming and going, in shifts.” She waved a hand toward the door. “I propped the door open. The hotel sent up snacks too, which the teens loved. You don’t think it was one of the kids, do you? They were such a great bunch.”
“I wish I knew, but we’ll do everything we can to find out.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said as the dog wriggled in her arms.
She bent down and released it, and it ran from the room. No doubt to find another corner to pee in. How long did it take to train one dog?
“I suspect he’s off to find his daddy,” Mrs. Edwards said. “Are we finished here? Because I wouldn’t mind a nap. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Of course.” Agnes imagined her pulling her Josh curtains, climbing in between her Josh sheets, and putting on her Josh sleep mask before placing her head on her Josh pillow and falling asleep to one of Josh’s CDs. She supposed there were weirder things to be obsessed with, but none came to mind.
As the door closed behind them, Logan shot her a look. “I feel like I should rush back to the office and open a file on that woman, just in case she snaps and goes full Misery on Josh.”
“She’s harmless.” Agnes headed back down the corridor, expecting him to follow. “Josh knows all about her, and he isn’t worried.”
“Josh doesn’t play with a full deck.”
Logan wasn’t wrong. “Back to the thefts. If half of the kids in town were traipsing through the hotel to help stuff bags for Josh’s fan club, it looks like everyone in Invertary is on the suspect list.”
“Not so clear-cut, eh? Maybe I’ll be of some use after all.”
It took a second to realize he was teasing her, because it wasn’t something many people did. “Maybe. The jury’s out on that for now.”
“Well, while the jury’s debating my worth, I’d better make sure the evidence is on my side. I’ll get a proper description of the ring and see if she has any photos, that way I can circulate it around the Glasgow pawnshops. Or see if it’s turned up online. If you have details on the other jewelry that’s been stolen, send it through to me, and I’ll add it to the search.”
“There’s no point in hunting down the other pieces. They weren’t worth anything. The ring is the most expensive thing that’s gone missing.”
They stopped outside her office on the building’s ground floor. “I’ll also run some background checks on the staff, make sure no one has a record for theft.”
“That’s a good idea.” Agnes fought the urge to place her hand on her roiling stomach. “Will you run a search on me too?” Had that sounded casual enough? She hoped so.
“No, because I’m pretty sure Lake will have already done it. He has a habit of checking out the love interests of the people close to him, which means Isobel would have got the treatment when she met Callum. I expect he covered you and your sisters as well. And, seeing as he was the person to talk to Dougal about giving you this job, I’d say I can strike you off my list.”
Relief made her knees go weak, but she locked them in place. “Good to know.” Although, Lake couldn’t have delved that far into her history. Otherwise, he would never have helped her get the job.
“I think the best course of action in the short term,” Logan said, “is to put up cameras and try to catch the culprit in action. Or at least prevent them from taking anything more.”
Like she wouldn’t have already done just that if she’d been able. “Dougal doesn’t want cameras. He says it interferes with the guests’ experience while they’re here, makes them feel like they’re under surveillance.”
“Which they would be.” Logan leaned against the doorjamb, the image of a man at ease. But the look he gave her was anything but casual—he was assessing everything she did and said. “How do you feel about cameras?”
“If this was my hotel, I’d put them up, but I’d make sure they were unobtrusive, then I’d post notices saying they were there—in places that weren’t easy to spot.”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. “In other words, you’d skirt the law.”
She shrugged. It was what she did best. “I wouldn’t break it though.” She wanted to make that clear. Her reputation and her future depended on it. As he considered her, she calmly stared him straight in the eye. She refused to shift uncomfortably, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to look away. “Why are you asking about this anyway?”
His eyes turned from hazel to dark brown. And just like that, she was back to being aware of him as a man instead of as an obstacle in her way. “I thought we could meet up at the Benson Security office and pick out some cameras.”
Oh, that was such a tempting offer. But she was trying to be good. Which meant doing as her boss told her, no matter how wrong that boss might be. “Not without Dougal’s permission.”
“Strange, I didn’t have you pegged as a woman who liked to follow the rules.” When she didn’t rise to the bait, he carried on. “How about I take responsibility for the cameras? We can tell Dougal it was a strong recommendation from your security consultant.”
That wicked panty-melting smile of his was back, and she definitely wasn’t immune to it. Not even a little.
“Well, he did say we should work together to get this done.”
“He wouldn’t call in a security specialist and not expect them to do their job.”
Honestly, the man was the embodiment of temptation. A sensual devil coaxing her into sin.
“There’s no need for him to know about the cameras,” Logan said. “As soon as we find the thief, we’ll remove them. What do you say, Agnes, do you want to live a little dangerously?”
Oh, he had no idea how much. “Okay, I’ll meet you when I’m finished for the day. It won’t be until late. I have guests coming in mid-evening and no receptionist to greet them, so I’m covering.”
“I’ll be in the office behind the shop, come when you’re ready.” Logan pushed away from the doorjamb and headed down the corridor toward the main entrance. But before he disappeared, he glanced over his shoulder and called to her, “Wear something pretty.”
Arrogant sod. “This is not a date,” she shouted after him.
All she heard was a deep chuckle that vibrated right through her. With a huff and a strange dancing sensation in her stomach, she turned to her office, only to find Dougal’s dog peeing on the leg of her desk.
Chapter 3
Against her better judgment, Agnes found herself walking up the high street to the security shop as soon as she’d settled her last two guests for the night. She was tired. Her feet hurt. And she’d had to deal with another complaint of missing jewelry, this time from a very whiny woman who wanted instant compensation for the item. Agnes had forced a smile, replying in a polite and professional manner—exactly as she’d been trained. Each word had stuck in her throat, reminding her that there were days when she just hated people in general.
The sky loomed black overhead, heavy with dark clouds that threatened snow. A chill wind rushed up the high street from the loch, and even though she wore several layers under her padded coat, Agnes still imagined she felt the wind go right through her. Tugging her woolen hat down over her ears, she wondered again why she was making this trip. It wasn’t like Dougal was going to thank her for the initiative anyway. And she was self-aware enough to know she should probably have kept her current mood away from the public. She wasn’t exactly a bundle of seasonal cheer. But still, she carried on, dragging her feet toward the Benson Security shop.
Despite her morose mood, she had to admit the town had done a half-decent job of decorating for Christmas. Large red tartan bows adorned lampposts, while twinkling lights zigzagged between them, back and forth over the cobblestoned street. Their colored lights bounced off the facing rows of whitewashed buildings, old houses renovated to turn them int
o shops.
Windows were decorated with trees and gifts. In the lingerie shop, mannequins in red tartan underwear wore Santa hats. And the newsagent’s window had been sprayed with fake snow. Even the big Presbyterian church at the top of the street had bright wreaths hanging from its doors.
A banner strung across the street proudly proclaimed that the Christmas market was the following weekend and included the town’s annual lingerie runway show. She cocked an eyebrow. It was an interesting choice for a Christmas celebration, that was for sure. Of course, Agnes already knew about the market. It was an Invertary tradition and attracted much-needed business to the town. The hotel was booked out for that weekend, and Dougal had been over the details of what the pub was doing during the event. Apparently, they were having Christmas karaoke. She needed to remember to buy earplugs.
Someone with a sense of humor had decorated the Benson Security shop window. It was filled with elves waging war on each other, armed with various stun guns, radios and assorted weapons. There were even casualties. One elf lay sprawled in the fake snow, a pocketknife sticking out of his chest and what looked like tomato sauce blood spilling out from under him. In her current mood, it was definitely a scene Agnes could relate to.
After banging on the door, she turned to watch the street as she waited for Logan. There were only a couple of other people out, and they were heading into the pub. This place was a ghost town, and yet, sadly, it was positively buzzing compared to the town she’d grown up in. The best thing you could say about Arness was…
She drew a blank. There really was nothing good to say about it. Located at the bottom of the Kintyre Peninsular, the dot of a town suffered from flat landscape, constant wind, and long car trips to anywhere interesting.
Man, she hated Scotland.
What was she doing still living here? What cruel fate was this to work ten years and end up in a worse position than when she started? She was the butt of some cosmic joke that just wasn’t funny. When the door swung open behind her, she turned to find Logan looking annoyingly hot in a royal blue crewneck sweater, faded jeans and tan suede boots.
Can't Buy Me Love: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 3) Page 2