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“Damn,” he groaned, before pressing his mouth back over hers.
The beeping grew louder, forcing them to separate once again, gasping for breath, hearts racing.
“What is it?” Agnes found the words difficult to form. She wanted to be kissing, not talking.
Logan pressed his forehead to hers. “The sensors on the doors, someone’s just triggered one of them.”
“Doors?” His weight was delicious, pressing her into the bed. Solid, strong, secure. Sexy. Oh so sexy. Her fingers massaged his shoulders of their own volition. She wanted skin, not cotton, under her touch.
“The trap you set, remember?” His smile was amused, but his eyes held only heat. “The thief,” he added.
“The thief?” The angles of his face were fascinating in the cool blue light that filled the room. The light from the monitors. With the security feeds…
“The thief!” The memory was a bucket of cold water over her head.
Agnes shoved his shoulders, and he rolled off her. She scrambled to her knees and crawled to the end of the bed, adrenaline coursing through her. The door to the store cupboard stood open.
“What time is it?” she demanded, feeling far more awake now.
“Almost seven.”
“Someone’s in the cupboard.” She glanced beside her to see Logan sitting on the side of the bed, pulling on his boots.
“Could be the cleaning staff.”
“They aren’t due for another hour. The only staff in this early are the ones who work in the kitchen.”
Logan rounded the bed and came to stand beside her. “Do any of them have keys to that cupboard?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
He ran a hand over her hair and smiled wryly. “Get sorted, and we’ll go see who it is. It’s either that or I tumble you back onto the bed, and we forget about the thief.”
Damn, but that was tempting. She must have spent too long considering her options because Logan chuckled as he took her hand and tugged her from the bed.
“Shoes, and whatever else you think you need. You’ve got one minute. I’ll watch the monitors to make sure we don
’t miss them.”
Agnes threw a sweater on over her camisole, slid into a pair of flip-flops, and tied her hair back in a messy bun. “Done. And in well under one minute.”
“Come on then,” Logan said as he opened the door. “Let’s surprise your thief.”
After one last glance back at the rumpled bed, they jogged out of the room and down the stairs.
He was going to kill the thief, purely on the basis that their timing sucked. Logan’s jeans were uncomfortably tight and, with every step he took, he had to fight the urge to take Agnes back to bed. Aye, the thief had to die.
Logan signaled to Agnes to keep behind him. She signaled back in her own unique way—by scowling, then pointing at her nose, then the heel of her hand, then at him. Guess she didn’t want to be protected. With a resigned shake of his head, he stepped in front of the open door. And groaned.
“Who the hell are you?” Agnes demanded as she elbowed him out of the way.
Logan looked toward heaven, muttering a desperate prayer for patience before he answered Agnes. “That’s Jean. She’s a friend of my mother’s. They’re in the same knitting group, and she shouldn’t be in the hotel store cupboard.”
“Logan.” Jean beamed at him. “What are you doing here? And so early in the morning.” Her eyes went from him to Agnes, and her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, are you two a thing? Does your mother know? That was awfully fast—she’s only been here a couple of weeks.” She smiled at Agnes. “But from what I hear, you sound like an interesting hotel manager. Very…dedicated…” Her smile froze as she searched for something else to say. “You have nice skin,” she added at last.
“Get out of the cupboard.” Agnes grabbed Jean’s arm and dragged her into the hallway.
Jean held up a canvas tote with the words ‘Knit or Die’ emblazoned on it. “But I haven’t finished collecting my order.”
