Can't Stop the Feeling: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  The reply wasn’t as speedy as he would have liked. I’ll be home as soon as I’m finished in town.

  Duncan stared at the message for a moment, the word home jumping out at him. He hadn’t really thought about it until earlier that day, but the mansion was as much home to Donna as it was to him. She was the only staff member who lived on-site, and for the past two years, it had only been the two of them rattling around the vast house. He supposed people might have thought it a strange arrangement, but it had never occurred to him. There were days when he felt Donna belonged here more than he did.

  Come home now. He typed the order.

  Won’t be long, came the reply. I have a family emergency. Will be back right after it’s sorted.

  Family emergency? Yeah, right. That was Sinclair sisters’ code for ‘we’re up to something.’

  He growled at the phone before dialling her number to talk to her. His call went straight to voicemail. Annoyed, he stabbed out another text, but he knew there wouldn’t be a reply. Donna had mastered the art of avoidance. Obviously, it was easier for her than actually telling people no—a trait he’d played off the past couple of years. Something he wasn’t proud of, but he’d needed a buffer between him and the world and Donna was it. For some reason, he didn’t find her as annoying as he did almost everyone else on the planet.

  He flopped back into his desk chair. There was nothing he could do now but wait for her to return. Knowing Donna, if she didn’t want to deal with him, she’d sneak in after dark and use the back stairs to avoid him. It wouldn’t be the first time. But this time he was on to her, and he planned to be waiting.

  Whether or not she liked it, they were going to have a conversation about the unauthorised severance cheques she’d been writing on his behalf.

  ***

  “I’m in trouble,” Donna said as soon as she let herself into her sister’s flat, over the only garage in Arness.

  Mairi and Agnes had both lived in the flat for years while Donna had lived with her eldest sister, Isobel, and her kids because she was the sister least likely to lose patience with them and lock them all in the closet to get some peace. Now Isobel was married and living in London, and Mairi was back with Keir and had moved into his house in Campbeltown. That meant Agnes had the place to herself. Not that you would know it as Mairi was usually there, sitting at the tiny kitchen table with her laptop. She was setting up an online matchmaking business and had decided she liked working above the garage Keir owned instead of staying home alone. Knowing Mairi, it was best for everyone if she wasn’t left by herself too long, so this arrangement worked well all round.

  “What did you do this time?” Agnes asked. As second oldest, she considered herself their leader, now that Isobel was at the other end of the country.

  “Don’t you mean, what has she let someone talk her into this time?” Mairi said, as she tossed her wild, curly red hair over her shoulder.

  “I hate you both.” Donna flopped into the old sofa, with its springs sticking up and threadbare armrests. “And I need a cup of tea.” She batted her eyelashes at them. “Please.”

  “You are so pathetic.” But Agnes got up to put the kettle on. “What did you do? Spit it out.” She leaned back against the kitchen counter, folded her arms and did the toe-tapping thing that drove her three sisters mad.

  “The Women’s Institute are holding their bi-annual fundraising ball in the mansion.”

  Agnes’ eyebrows shot up into her pale blonde hair. All four sisters had different hair colour—Isobel’s was chestnut, Agnes’ was white blonde, Mairi’s was wild red, and Donna’s was mousy blonde/brown. Which just about summed up her whole personality. Her sisters call her hair strawberry blonde, but she had a mirror and could see for herself that they were only being nice. All sisters had the same short, curvy stature and green eyes. Although, Donna’s were more of a mould green than grass green. She was the only one who’d inherited their mother’s nose, which was a dot on her face. If she painted the end red, people would think it was a clown’s nose.

  Agnes stared at Donna with her emerald eyes, before looking down her lean nose. Now, why couldn’t she have inherited that nose? “Duncan’s letting the women hold a ball in the mansion?”

  Mairi snorted. “Don’t be daft. He doesn’t know anything about it, does he?” As usual, she was enjoying the chaos.

  “Not yet,” Donna admitted. “Possibly never—if I have my way.”

  “Those bloody women have been preying on your good nature again,” Agnes snapped. “I’m going to kill them.”

  “No! Don’t. I can take care of myself.”

  Mairi burst out laughing. “Oh, honey, no you can’t. We love you, but you fall for every sob story that crosses your path. You’re a conman’s wet dream.”

  “Ew!” Donna scrunched up her nose.

  Agnes frowned at them. Obviously, they weren’t being serious enough for her. “When’s this ball supposed to be happening?”

  “Flora sent me a text, it’s two weeks on Friday.” She ducked her head as she admitted the rest of it. “They’ve already sent out the invitations.”

  “I don’t know whether to be outraged that they played my sister,” Mairi said. “Or impressed by their technique.”

  Agnes reached over and smacked Mairi on the back of her head. “We’re outraged. And you”—she pointed at Donna, in case there was any doubt whom she was ordering around—“need to tell them to cancel. Duncan will lose his mind if a bunch of strangers rock up to his house.”

  “I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t be there to see them.” She looked up at Agnes through her lashes.

  “Please tell me you aren’t planning to go ahead with the ball?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice. The invitations have gone out, and people have already said they’re attending. Plus, it’s for a good cause. They’re raising money for a programme that helps young cancer patients and their families who are struggling financially.” She batted her eyelashes at them. “There are babies in the programme, Aggie. Sick babies.”

  Mairi grinned. “They used babies? That is so dark. I’m seriously impressed.”

  Agnes glared at Mairi, who was unrepentant in her admiration of the three witches of the Women’s Institute. “You need to stand firm and tell them no.”

  “Or…I could try something else. I’ve been thinking about it on the way over.” Which was five whole miles from Campbeltown. “My first instinct was to hop a flight to Spain, but Esther in the travel agency couldn’t find me one within my budget. So, I’ve moved on to plan B—hold the ball in secret. If we can get Duncan out of Kintyre for the weekend, then there’s no reason he’d know there had been a ball at the mansion in his absence. I mean, who’s going to tell him? I’m the only person he talks to, and there’s no way I’d say a word.”

  “You can’t be serious. You aren’t really thinking about holding the ball behind his back. Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? He’ll kill you. And then he’ll bury your body under Fiona’s precious roses.”

  Mairi burst out laughing. “I was thinking exactly the same thing!”

  “I’m glad you think this is funny. Because it isn’t.” Agnes pointed at Donna again. “Our sister is going to die a slow and painful death.”

  “Drama queen,” Mairi muttered, but they all heard her.

  “No biscuits for you,” Agnes declared.

  “Mean drama queen,” Mairi amended.

  They were getting off track. “Aggie, you know Duncan wouldn’t hurt me, right? He’d just shout a lot. And maybe fire me. Or lock me in my tower so he could shout at me until he gets it out of his system.”

  Agnes shook her head slowly. “You have a deeply disturbing relationship with your boss.”

  “You have no idea. But that’s not the issue. The issue is that I can’t say no to the Women’s Institute, even if it means suffering Duncan’s wrath. The ball’s raising money for sick babies and children. They’re even calling it the Fiona Stewart Memorial B
all. How can I stand in the way of that?”

  Her sister rolled her eyes. “Mairi’s right, those women played you like they were virtuosos and you were a violin.” She scooped the teabag out of the mug, added milk and brought it over to Donna.

  “Maybe,” Donna conceded. “But it’s too late to change things now.”

  “I’ll talk to them for you,” Agnes said with a sigh.

  “I’ll be her muscle,” Mairi said cheerfully. “She’s going to need it to deal with the three witches.”

  Great, just what she needed. Her sisters rescuing her—again. She straightened her shoulders. “No. I’ll sort it.” She was twenty-eight years old, and it was time to stand up for herself. Past time.

  Her sisters shared a look before Agnes raised a sceptical eyebrow. “You’ll sort it?”

  “Yes.” She nodded firmly as her stomach lurched.

  “How?”

  “Give me a minute. I’m still working on that part. First, I need to find a way to get Duncan out of the mansion for the weekend. In fact, out of Kintyre would be even better.”

  “That isn’t sorting it,” Agnes snapped. “That’s carrying on with your crazy plan to have the ball behind Duncan’s back.”

  “When was the last time he left Kintyre, anyway?” Mairi said. “And where’s my tea?”

  “You can make your own tea as punishment for admiring the three witches’ technique.”

  Mairi stuck her tongue out at Agnes and headed for the kettle. “That kind of attitude is exactly why I moved out.”

  “You moved out to get it on with Keir,” Agnes said.

  “That too.” Mairi grinned before turning to Donna. “So, when was the last time Duncan spent a night away from the mansion?”

  “I’m thinking.” Donna wracked her memory. “It was before I started working there. It might have been for Fiona’s funeral in Glasgow.”

  “Great,” Agnes said. “I’m glad that’s sorted. All you need to do to get him out of town is wait for someone else to die.”

  “Aggie! That isn’t funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny. He has no friends, and he doesn’t go anywhere. All he does is lurk in the mansion, brooding. Getting him out of there might take a stick of dynamite.”

  “Have you thought about having the cook lace his food with sleeping pills?” Mairi said. “He’ll sleep through the ball and your problems will be solved.”

  Donna glared at them. “I seriously worry about the moral standards of this family. You especially.”

  The glare had no effect.

  “So, you don’t want to drug him.” Mairi drummed her fingernails on her chin. “What about propositioning him? You could tell him you want to have a sex-filled weekend away.”

  Donna almost choked on her tea. “You want me to have sex with my boss to keep him busy?”

  “She’s not having sex with Duncan,” Agnes said.

  “Not right now, but she could do it.” Mairi was undeterred. “Really, would it be so bad? He’s hot, if you can get past the whole mountain-man thing he’s got going on. And she obviously has a thing for him.”

  “I do not!” Donna blustered, but she could feel her face turn red.

  “Do too,” Mairi said.

  “Kids!” Agnes shouted, and her sisters turned their frowns on her. “She can’t solve her problem with sex.”

  “I don’t see why not. I solve most of mine with sex. Keir doesn’t want me to overspend doing up the house—we have sex—I get to spend what I like. Keir doesn’t want to visit Hong Kong on our trip—we have sex—we’re going to Hong Kong. You shouldn’t mess with something that has a proven track record.”

  “Your attitude sets women’s rights back about a hundred years,” Agnes lobbed the packet of milk chocolate Hobnobs at her. “Have a biscuit and stop talking. You aren’t helping.”

  “I’m not sleeping with my boss,” Donna said when she could get a word in. “The Women’s Institute might be raising money for a good cause, but I’m not willing to offer my body up for it.” Especially not when she knew it would be rejected. Apart from the fact Duncan was still in love with his wife, she’d seen photos of Fiona, and there was no way she could compete with that. Fiona had been tall and slender, with long black hair and violet eyes. She was Arwen the elf and Donna was a hobbit.

  “I think it would solve your problem,” Mairi said.

  “And I think you are both deeply disturbed,” Donna told them. “Do either of you have any ideas that don’t involve something illegal, immoral or just plain pimping out your sister for the cause?”

  There was silence.

  “Thanks!” She threw up her hands in disgust. “Give me the biscuits. I need chocolate to think. And once I’ve eaten my way through the packet, I’m calling Isobel to see what she can come up with.”

  Mairi threw the biscuits at her. “That’s not a bad idea. Maybe she can get Callum’s business to kidnap Duncan for the weekend. They do stuff like that, right?”

  “Wrong.” Agnes gave her a look that said she worried about her sanity. “He runs a security company. They hire out bodyguards, run background checks on people, install security systems. They don’t kidnap people.”

  “Oh, well, that’s disappointing.” Mairi slumped back into her chair.

  “Can’t you get a gallery to call him up and ask him to show his work that weekend? Wouldn’t he leave town for that?” Agnes said.

  Donna sat up straight. “Aggie, I think you might be a genius.”

  “I’ve been telling you idiots that for years.”

  Donna ignored her. “A gallery wouldn’t work, but his old art school might. The dean of Fine Arts has been hassling him for almost a year to take a turn as a guest lecturer. All I need to do is get her to ask again, then convince him to take her up on it.” Okay, that didn’t sound so easy when she said it out loud.

  “So, you’re going to call this art school woman up and say, ‘can you invite Duncan to come in two weeks’ time and don’t take no for an answer’?” Agnes arched an eyebrow that said eloquently what she thought of that plan.

  “Or”—Mairi pulled her laptop towards her with a grin—“we could hack the art college system and have someone impersonate this art school dean. That way, she’d say exactly what we want her to say.”

  Agnes wasn’t impressed. “And what happens when Duncan turns up, and the dean had no idea he was coming?”

  Mairi shrugged. “We hack the other direction too. Send an email to the art school from Duncan offering to lecture that weekend. Get it? We pretend to be the dean for Duncan and pretend to be Duncan for the dean.”

  “We don’t need to hack Duncan,” Donna said. “I have access to his email accounts. We only need to hack the dean.”

  “He lets you answer his personal email?” Agnes said.

  “He doesn’t get personal email. The man is an island, and it isn’t Ibiza.”

  Agnes pinched the bridge of her nose. “I see a problem with this plan. None of us knows how to hack anything.”

  “Ah, but we know someone who does.” Mairi reached for her phone. “And he owes me big time.”

  “Oh,” Donna said. “Keir’s brother.”

  “Keir’s brother.” Mairi nodded as she dialled him. “He hacked my life without being asked, now he can do some hacking for us that we actually want.” She held up a finger to tell them he’d answered. “Sean, it’s Mairi. I have a job for you. Come over to the flat above the garage. Bring your laptop and don’t tell your brother why you’re here.” There was a pause. “Of course it’s legal.” She snapped the phone shut and then looked at Agnes. “It is legal, right? Sort of. I mean, we’re hacking an art school. It isn’t like we’re hacking the government.”

  “Hacking is hacking. It’s all illegal. There aren’t shades of it.”

  “Yeah, but nobody’s going to send us to jail for hacking an art college. Right?” Mairi looked at her sisters. “I mean it. I can’t wear orange. It clashes with my hair.”

 
“No,” Donna said with a certainty she didn’t quite feel. “We won’t go to jail. The worst that will happen is that I’ll get fired.” Maybe. Or he might keep her around to make her suffer.

  “Good.” Mairi sounded relieved. “I mean, not good you’ll get fired, but good I won’t have to wear orange. Okay then, I’m running over to the shop. We need more chocolate if we’re going to hack people.” She headed for the door.

  “That sounds so wrong,” Agnes said as she watched her go.

  Chapter 4

  Duncan sat in the kitchen’s breakfast nook, in the dark, waiting for his housekeeper to sneak back home. Why he didn’t put on the light and leave a politely worded request that she meet him in his office in the morning, he didn’t know. Sure he was annoyed, but even he could see this wasn’t the way a man treated his employee. But then Donna didn’t quite feel like an employee. She felt…more. And he couldn’t quite figure out what that meant. Nor did he have the time to spend on it because his prey had just sneaked in the back door and was currently tiptoeing across the kitchen to the fridge, muttering to herself as she did so.

  “Stop calling him master,” she said. “He isn’t my master.”

  Duncan cocked his head while he watched her. Maybe she wasn’t talking to herself after all. Maybe she had an earpiece for her phone. It was hard to tell under that thick mass of hair sitting around her shoulders. And who the hell was this master?

  She took a carrier bag over to the fridge and opened it. The light surrounded her like a halo, and the contrast of the dark kitchen and the stark light from the refrigerator, made him think of Caravaggio’s paintings. He could see this scene on a canvas, only she wouldn’t be dressed in slacks and a shirt, she would be wearing a white cotton men’s shirt—his shirt—and the light from the fridge would shine through it, showing her curves in shadows through the cloth…What was he thinking? With a shake of his head, he refocused his attention on Donna and the issue he needed to resolve with her.