Kitabı oku: «Tall, Dark & Gorgeous», sayfa 5

CHAPTER FIVE

‘SHE hates my guts!’ Logan informed Fergus, his cousin having arrived at his office a few minutes ago. Logan hadn’t returned from the restaurant very long ago himself.

Fergus stayed perfectly relaxed as he sat opposite Logan. ‘I see you handled the situation with your usual tact and diplomacy,’ he drawled mockingly.

Logan scowled as he remembered Darcy’s earlier fury. In truth, he hadn’t had a chance to be either tactful or diplomatic—how could he have been when Darcy had already been well aware of exactly who he was when she’d joined him for lunch?

He had thought he’d had time to tell her the truth himself, but it should have occurred to him that her father, or someone else, might just drop that little bit of information into a conversation before the two of them had met today! No wonder Darcy had seemed different when she’d arrived at the restaurant!

He glowered across at Fergus. ‘I didn’t get a chance to handle anything—her father must have already told her I was Margaret Fraser’s son!’

‘Poor Logan.’ Fergus grinned, shaking his head.

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ he retorted.

‘No—but I’m hoping you’ll tell me,’ his cousin returned expectantly.

Because Logan needed to talk to someone, because, for once, he wasn’t sure what to do next, where Darcy was concerned—or if, indeed, he should do anything!—he told Fergus exactly what had transpired at the restaurant earlier.

‘And then she kicked me!’ he concluded slightly incredulously several minutes later.

Incredulous—because he hadn’t really thought she would carry out her threat. One thing he had definitely learned from this third meeting with Darcy—never underestimate her!

Logan was so lost in thought that for a couple of minutes he didn’t even notice the twitching of Fergus’s mouth, his cousin’s Herculean effort not to actually laugh. A fight he finally lost, bursting into loud laughter. At Logan’s expense.

‘She really kicked you?’ Fergus sobered enough to choke out. ‘In the middle of the restaurant?’

‘Actually it was in the middle of my shin,’ Logan replied succinctly. ‘And, yes, she kicked me; I have the bruise to prove it!’ Once out of the restaurant, sitting alone in the back of the taxi, he had had a chance to look at his leg; a purple bruise was already forming there.

‘Can I have a lo—No, perhaps not,’ Fergus amended as he saw Logan’s mutinous look. ‘I think I like the sound of your Darcy,’ he murmured appreciatively.

‘She isn’t my Darcy,’ Logan rasped, not even sure she would ever talk to him ever again.

Which was a pity. He could still remember how good she had felt in his arms when he’d kissed her the evening before—

Forget it, Logan, he instructed himself sternly. There were too many complications attached to being attracted to Darcy Simon. Complications he intended dealing with at the earliest opportunity.

‘So what happens now?’ Fergus seemed to guess at least some of his thoughts.

Logan pondered awhile. ‘A meeting with my mother,’ he bit out with obvious reluctance.

His cousin looked surprised. ‘Will that do any good?’

‘Probably not,’ Logan conceded. ‘But it might make me feel better. These are good people she’s playing around with.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Daniel Simon was recently widowed; he doesn’t need someone like my mother messing up his life.’

‘Hmm.’ Fergus looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder—’ He broke off as the door opened after the briefest of knocks.

Talk of the devil—!

Logan’s gaze narrowed as his mother walked unannounced into the room, as beautiful as ever in a fitted black suit and vibrant red blouse.

‘Karen told me you were closeted in here with Fergus,’ she said, closing the door behind her.

Fergus had stood up at his aunt’s entrance, glancing across frowningly at Logan’s set expression as he made no effort to do likewise. ‘I was just on my way to see Brice.’ He moved to kiss Logan’s mother lightly on the cheek. ‘Bye, Aunt Meg. Logan,’ he added evenly.

Logan ignored the warning note in his cousin’s voice; he had no intention of pulling any verbal punches where his mother was concerned.

‘Do stop scowling, Logan,’ his mother snapped impatiently once they were alone, a frown marring the creaminess of her brow. ‘I know I don’t usually call on you here, but I’ve come to ask you for advice—’

‘Ask me for advice?’ he said incredulously; this wasn’t what he had been expecting at all.

Not that he had expected to see his mother here in the first place; if the two of them ever did meet, it was usually by accident and not design. As in the restaurant yesterday evening…

She gave him an irritated look as she sat down in the chair Fergus had so recently vacated, crossing one shapely knee over the other. ‘You seem to be on friendly terms with Darcy—’

‘Correction, Mother, I was on friendly terms with Darcy,’ Logan cut in coldly, having physical evidence to prove that friendship was a thing of the past! ‘Before she realised I was your son. Or do I mean before she realised you were my mother? Same thing, I suppose,’ he ruminated. ‘The end result is that Darcy no longer sees me as a friend.’ Or anything else. And it was amazing how much more that pained him than the bruise on his leg!

‘I see,’ his mother said. ‘What am I going to do, Logan?’ She gave a confused sigh.

Logan couldn’t hide his surprise. This was something new; his mother had never asked for his opinion—on anything!—before…

‘About what?’ he prompted harshly.

‘Darcy, of course,’ she returned. ‘Do try not to be obtuse, Logan,’ she admonished. ‘I’m sure you are well aware by now of my engagement to Daniel Simon. Darcy’s father.’

‘I believe someone did mention it to me, yes,’ he drawled.

His mother’s eyes flashed deeply blue, two wings of angry colour in her cheeks. ‘If you ever showed an interest in me or my life, Logan, then I would have told you myself! But as you don’t…’ She drew in a ragged breath.

‘Last night you gave the impression you had no idea who Darcy was,’ Logan said questioningly.

‘Well, of course the two of us have never met, but I guessed who she was last night,’ his mother retorted. ‘I was merely trying to avoid a scene in the restaurant. You see, Darcy doesn’t like the idea of her father marrying me—’

‘I wonder why.’ He couldn’t resist his taunting reply.

His mother gave him a considering look. ‘You know, Logan, you were a lovely little boy, so loving and caring. What happened to change that?’

Logan could see, by the genuine puzzlement on her face, that she really wanted to know. Incredible!

‘Life, Mother,’ he bit out economically. ‘Yours,’ he added hardly as she would have spoken.

She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe that after all these years—Logan, I know I’ve made mistakes in the past—’

‘Mistakes!’ Now he did stand up, moving impatiently to the coffee machine that stood on a sidetable, pouring himself a cup of the dark steaming brew. ‘Your life has had all the stability of a helter-skelter! And during the early years, after my father died, when I wasn’t old enough to have a say in things, you took me along for the ride!’ he concluded disgustedly.

His mother’s eyes, as she looked up at him, flooded with sudden tears, and she suddenly looked very tiny, and slightly vulnerable. Strange, he had never seen her in quite that light before…

No! His mother was a consummate actress—she had made a living the last thirty years, both on and off screen, with that acting! He must not be taken in and manipulated by the role she apparently saw herself in now.

‘I know I was far from the perfect mother to you, Logan, after your father died,’ she began huskily. ‘But I just missed him so much—’

‘I missed him too,’ Logan told her coldly.

‘I know,’ she acknowledged shakily. ‘I do know, Logan,’ she insisted as he would have protested. ‘But it isn’t the same. I had lost the man I loved. I was lost, seemed to lose all direction in my life. I—I made a mistake when I married again, I know that,’ she admitted. ‘But I was lonely, and—There’s nothing I can do or say now that will take away the past. It’s the future we have to look to now.’

Logan looked down at her. This really was a different role for her. His mother had never spoken to him in this way before, never confided in him in this way. And he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

‘Whose future are we talking about, Mother?’ he queried. ‘Yours or mine?’

She looked back up at him, her gaze unwavering. ‘I love Daniel Simon,’ she told him quietly. ‘He’s the first and only man I have loved since I lost your father. And I would like to marry him.’

Logan shrugged. ‘The last I heard, that’s exactly what you intend doing!’

She shook her head. ‘Not without Darcy’s approval.’

His mouth quirked. ‘Again, the last I heard—and she didn’t exactly use these words, you understand?—there was about as much chance of Darcy giving her blessing to her father marrying you as there is of hell freezing over!’

‘I know,’ his mother agreed dully.

Logan gave her a probing look, still unsure of her in this mood. Usually his mother gave the impression she was totally in control of her world, and the people in it. Perhaps that was the trouble this time…?

‘Dear, dear, Mother, don’t tell me that you aren’t more than capable of talking Daniel Simon round to your way of thinking?’ he taunted. Goodness knew there were very few men who could resist his mother’s brand of charm!

‘You just don’t understand, do you, Logan?’ His mother shook her head sadly as she returned his gaze unblinkingly. ‘Daniel is all for going ahead with the marriage, and dealing with Darcy’s feelings later; I’m the one who won’t go ahead with the wedding without his daughter’s approval. It’s no way to begin our married life together, and I will not come between father and daughter.’

Now Logan was really puzzled. Could it be, could it really be, that his mother really did love Daniel Simon, that she was putting someone else’s happiness above her own…? It would be the first time!

His mother gave a shy smile at his obviously stunned expression. ‘Not exactly the way you see me, is it, Logan?’ she ventured ruefully. ‘Maybe if we had been closer the last twenty years or so—’

‘As you are well aware, Mother, I despised Malcolm Slater, the man you chose to marry after my father died, preferred to live with Grandfather rather than with you and him,’ he revealed with distaste.

‘I despised Malcolm myself by the time we were divorced,’ she admitted.

Logan was surprised. ‘You did?’

His mother gave a wistful smile. ‘I did. Mainly because I lost my son during the five years we were married. Logan, why do you think I feel so strongly about having Darcy’s approval to her father marrying me? It’s because I know how it feels to lose your child in those circumstances,’ she continued firmly. ‘I lost you for that very reason, because of the way you felt about Malcolm,’ she said emotionally. ‘And although it may be too late to do anything to salvage our own relationship, I won’t do that to Daniel and Darcy!’

Logan stared at his mother, wondering, just wondering, if he could have been wrong about her all these years…

She looked at him with unwavering blue eyes. ‘I need your help, Logan. I need you to help me persuade Darcy that I really do love her father, that I intend making him happy. Will you help me?’

Would he?

Wasn’t his mother, a woman he had kept at an emotional distance for more years than he cared to think about, asking him to take on the role Darcy had already cast him in at lunch-time—that of championing his mother?

Did he really want to champion his mother? Could he believe the things she was saying to him?

More to the point, didn’t Darcy already hate him enough…?

‘Call for you, Darcy,’ her grandmother called up the stairs.

A call for her…?

Who from? Apart from her father, no one else knew she had been staying with her maternal grandmother the last couple of days; and her father only knew because her grandmother had thought she ought to tell him.

Again, it was only a temporary arrangement, Darcy having found an apartment to rent that very afternoon. Unfortunately the current tenant wasn’t moving out until next week.

She ran down the stairs to pick up the receiver in the hallway. ‘Yes?’ she prompted warily.

‘Darcy,’ Logan McKenzie greeted with satisfaction. ‘You’re a very difficult young lady to track down.’

Darcy had stiffened as soon as she’d recognised his voice, her hand tightly gripping the receiver. ‘Why did you bother?’ she returned coldly.

‘I thought you might be interested to know that I’m in hospital with a broken shin-bone,’ he came back mildly.

‘You’re what?’ she gasped, remembering all too vividly the way she had kicked him on the leg at the restaurant two days ago.

‘That got your attention anyway.’ He chuckled. ‘Actually…’ he sobered ‘…I exaggerated slightly.’

‘How slightly?’ Darcy ventured warily.

‘I’m not in hospital. And my shin-bone isn’t broken.’

‘In other words, it was a total lie!’ Darcy came back disgustedly.

‘Fabrication,’ he corrected smoothly. ‘It isn’t nice to call someone a liar, Darcy.’

‘Logan,’ she sighed wearily, ‘what do you want?’

‘To have dinner with you this evening,’ he returned lightly.

She was taken aback at the unexpected invitation. ‘Why?’

‘You really are the most suspicious young lady!’ he opined dryly. ‘Why not?’

The reasons for that were too numerous to go into. And some of them were reasons she couldn’t possibly tell Logan! As in, she found him too disturbingly attractive. As in, she dared not run the risk of having him kiss her again. As in—

‘Oh, come on, Darcy,’ he cajoled at her continued silence. ‘It’s only dinner.’

Only dinner…

But what were the implications behind the invitation? What was it supposed to achieve? Because she had no doubts that under ordinary circumstances—such as his mother not being about to marry her father!—Logan would never have thought of asking her out to dinner! He must already be aware, she had no influence with her father whatsoever!

‘Logan, my father is a grown man, an adult, perfectly capable of making his own choices and decisions without any help from me,’ she told him decisively.

‘Yes?’

‘Yes!’

Was he being deliberately difficult? Didn’t he realise how much it hurt her to be at odds with her father like this?

Apart from picking up her things from the house, telling her father where she was staying for the moment, the two of them hadn’t spoken to each other for two days. And this man’s mother was responsible for the estrangement between the two of them.

‘I don’t see what your problem is, Darcy,’ Logan told her. ‘You’ve got what you wanted, by fair means or foul, so why—?’

‘What do you mean?’ she cut in.

‘My mother has broken off her engagement to your father,’ Logan revealed.

‘She’s done what?’ she gasped, suddenly feeling lightheaded, so much so that she sat down abruptly on the chair beside the telephone.

‘Yes, it’s all off,’ Logan told her happily. ‘My mother broke the engagement last night.’

‘Why?’ Darcy breathed dazedly.

‘Does it matter?’ Logan replied. ‘It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’

She hadn’t wanted her father to marry Margaret Fraser, no, but until she knew the reasons for the broken engagement she could feel no satisfaction in its ending. If the couple had simply decided they had made a mistake after all, that was okay, but if it were for any other reason—such as her own objections to it!—then it wasn’t okay at all. If Margaret Fraser had been the one to break the engagement, how must her father feel now?

‘I must say,’ Logan continued at her silence, ‘I expected you to be happier about it than this.’

But how could she be—when she knew her father must be totally miserable?

This was awful. A mess. It was a mess she had helped create…!

‘Then you thought wrong, Logan,’ she responded. ‘And if you think I’m going out with you this evening to celebrate—’

‘I think celebration is far too strong a description of my invitation,’ he returned mildly. ‘Admittedly, we can no longer drink a toast to the happy couple, but—’

‘How can you be so unfeeling?’ she interrupted accusingly. ‘I have no idea how your mother feels, but my father is probably devastated, and all you can do is—’

‘Now just a minute, Darcy,’ he put in impatiently. ‘You’re the one that wanted an end to this engagement, and now that you have it, you—’

‘You wanted it as much as I did,’ she defended heatedly. ‘You were the one who thought my father wasn’t good enough for your mother!’

‘I don’t think I ever said that—’

‘But you thought it!’ Darcy persisted. ‘And now it seems, no doubt with more than a little help from you, that your mother is of the same opinion. How dare you presume—?’

‘Stop right there, Darcy,’ Logan told her firmly.

‘I most certainly will not,’ she retorted angrily. ‘You made it perfectly obvious that you were not happy about my father marrying your mother—’

‘As obvious as you did that you weren’t happy about my mother marrying your father. Now we’ve both got our wish, so what are you complaining about? You’ve won, Darcy,’ he taunted. ‘Defeated the dragon. In fact, she’s turned tail and run!’

Except Darcy didn’t feel as if she had won anything—she felt terrible! Not that she had changed her opinion about the older woman’s unsuitability for her father, she had just realised—with blinding clarity!—that she didn’t have the right to decide those things for another person, least of all her father.

‘I think you’re an unfeeling brute,’ she told Logan indignantly.

‘Because I won’t pretend to be upset about all this?’ he scorned.

‘Because you’re a selfish swine!’ she returned forcefully.

‘Does that mean you won’t be having dinner with me this evening?’ he queried wryly.

‘Not this evening, or ever!’ she cried. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go out.’

‘To see your father?’

‘Mind your own damned business!’ she shouted, before slamming down the telephone receiver.

He was a brute. An unfeeling swine. Didn’t he care that his mother was probably as unhappy at the broken engagement as her father no doubt was? Obviously not. He was just glad his mother’s engagement to—in his eyes!—a totally unsuitable man was at an end.

Well, they would see about that!

CHAPTER SIX

LOGAN felt like a murderer returning to the scene of the crime!

Not that Chef Simon, with its warm decor, wonderful smells of cooking food, and efficiently friendly staff, was anything like a scene of carnage and destruction. Logan just felt, as he walked through the restaurant doorway, as if he were entering an arena!

Although, admittedly, it was an arena of his own making!

He had no doubt that Darcy really did hate his guts after their telephone conversation earlier. But he had been the way that he had for a reason.

Except he hadn’t been able to resist coming here this evening, if only to see if Darcy had been reunited with her father. Which had, after all—although she would never see it that way—been the purpose of his telephone call to her earlier…

‘Good evening, Mr McKenzie,’ the maître d’ greeted him warmly. ‘How nice to see you again.’

Coming here to eat twice in one week probably did seem a little excessive, Logan accepted, but his curiosity, he inwardly admitted, had got the better of him.

‘James,’ he said with a nod, after reading the name on the man’s lapel. ‘My secretary telephoned earlier and booked a table for me. For one,’ he added dryly; this eating alone was becoming a habit!

‘She certainly did,’ the maître d’ assured him. ‘The same table as before, if that’s okay with you?’

Why not? He was no more in the mood for company this evening than he had been three days ago!

‘Fine.’ He smiled. ‘And I’ll endeavour to get through the whole evening this time, too,’ he quipped.

The other man waved away his words of apology. ‘Your cousin explained that you had been called away unexpectedly.’

Thank you, Fergus, Logan thought to himself.

‘Is Darcy—Miss Simon in this evening?’ he casually asked the maître d’ once he was seated, a menu placed in front of him.

For a brief moment, the other man’s cheerful efficiency deserted him, but it was quickly brought under control, although his smile, when it came, still seemed to Logan to be slightly strained. ‘She certainly is, Mr McKenzie,’ he confirmed. ‘Would you like me to tell her—?’

‘No! Er—no,’ Logan repeated less harshly. ‘I merely wondered if she was here tonight, that’s all. Thank you,’ he added dismissively.

Darcy was here! Hopefully, everything was all right with her world again.

‘Can I get you something to drink, Mr McKenzie?’ the maître d’ offered politely.

‘Whisky,’ he accepted tersely.

‘Water and ice?’

Why didn’t the man just go away and leave him alone? Logan complained inwardly.

Because now that he was here, seated at this table, he had realised his tactical error!

He could have telephoned and ascertained whether or not Darcy was here this evening; he hadn’t had to subject himself to eating here alone…! To eating here at all!

Not that the food wasn’t excellent; he just had to get through the whole evening now, with Darcy only feet away in the kitchen, knowing that she wouldn’t even give him the time of day if she knew he was in the restaurant. It was not a feeling Logan was familiar with. In the past, he had always been the one to sever any relationship with a woman he had been involved with.

Except he hadn’t been involved with Darcy. Not in that sense, anyway…

So what was he doing here? Damned if he knew!

‘No water or ice,’ he answered the maître d’.

This time Logan made sure he knew exactly what he was ordering: a fish starter, and a steak main course!

He had no doubts, when it arrived, that it was delicious too; he just didn’t taste a mouthful of it! So conscious was he of Darcy working in the kitchen only a short distance away, that every time the kitchen door swung open he couldn’t stop himself casting a furtive glance in that direction.

This was ridiculous!

Why should he feel so uncomfortable? He hadn’t done anything other than tell Darcy what was, after all, the truth. Besides, if she was back working here, she had obviously made amends with her father. She should be thanking him!

Except Logan knew that she wasn’t, that she thought him an unfeeling, selfish brute. Or words to that effect. Why was it, he wondered ruefully, that the person in the middle of a situation, once things had calmed down slightly, always ended up as the target for both sides? Because his mother was no more enamoured of him at the moment than Darcy obviously was. She—

‘What are you doing here?’

So intent had he been on his own thoughts—the penalty for eating alone?—that Logan hadn’t even noticed that Darcy had actually come out of the kitchen, that she had been moving from table to table chatting politely with the diners.

Until, that is, she had obviously spotted him sitting alone at the window table!

Logan placed his knife and fork down on his plate before looking up at her. ‘It isn’t quite what I had in mind when I invited you out to dinner, but it will have to do,’ he admitted.

She was wearing the restaurant uniform of a cream blouse, teamed with a black skirt, her hair once more secured at her nape, her face flushed from her exertions in the kitchen.

Or was it anger at seeing him here?

Probably, he acknowledged self-derisively. Well, if she was surprised to see him here, he had been thrown a little himself by having her suddenly appearing beside his table in this way!

‘I hope you aren’t about to make another scene in your father’s restaurant, Darcy,’ he taunted mockingly at her continued silence. ‘Two in one week just isn’t on, you know,’ he went on. ‘People will start coming here for the “cabaret” rather than the food if that’s the case!’ He looked up at her with assessing blue eyes.

She drew in a sharp breath, seeming to be having difficulty keeping her temper in check.

But obviously also knowing Logan was right about her not making a scene…!

‘No, I’m not about to make a scene,’ she finally replied. ‘I merely asked what you’re doing here,’ she repeated in measured tones—although her eyes told a different story, flashing that dangerous silver colour.

‘I would imagine the same as everyone else,’ he said casually, looking about them pointedly to the tables full of chattering diners. ‘Eating!’

Her hands clenched at her sides. ‘But why here?’ she demanded. ‘Or did you simply come to gloat?’

‘Smile, Darcy,’ he advised softly. ‘People are beginning to stare.’

‘Let them,’ she dismissed hardly. ‘Contrary to what you and my father both seem to think, I am not a Cheshire cat who smiles on demand!’

Logan looked at her consideringly. ‘I would have said, with that copper-coloured hair, that you resemble a fox rather than a cat—Cheshire, or any other kind!’

‘Logan—’

‘Well, that’s promising, at least,’ he drawled. ‘I was expecting you to call me something much worse than my first name,’ he explained as she frowned questioningly.

And it was promising. After the way their telephone conversation had ended earlier, he had winced at some of the things she might say to him when—or if—they ever met again. Logan was pretty okay in those circumstances!

‘Do you have a few minutes?’ he requested mildly. ‘I thought you might like to join me for a glass of wine,’ he explained as her sceptical expression deepened.

‘Join you—!’ She looked ready to explode, bringing her temper back under control with effort. ‘Logan,’ she finally said evenly, ‘if I pick up a glass of wine I am more likely to tip the contents over your head than I am to drink it!’

This was more like the Darcy he knew and—And what? Logan had no idea what. But he did know his evening had suddenly taken on a sparkle, the very air about them seeming to zing with life. One thing he had found about Darcy: she had never bored him.

Which was extraordinary in itself, because in all of his relationships with women so far, intimate or otherwise, he had invariably found himself bored within a few meetings…

‘That would be a waste of a good Borolo.’ He picked up his glass and toasted her with it before taking a sip of wine. ‘This really is an excellent wine—are you sure you wouldn’t like to join me for a glass?’ He quirked dark brows.

‘Absolutely positive,’ Darcy assured him between clenched teeth. ‘I have to get back to the kitchen. Thanks to you, and your mother, I am absolutely rushed off my feet this evening!’ she muttered grimly.

‘Well, I can see that the restaurant is busy,’ he murmured with a glance round at the full tables. ‘But surely that’s what you want, isn’t it? I don’t see how my mother or I are involved?’

‘Really?’ The sarcasm unmistakable in her tone, Darcy pulled out a chair to sit opposite him at the table. ‘Then I’ll explain shall I?’ She leaned forward, silver gaze steady on his face. ‘You obviously advised your mother that she was making a mistake in marrying my father—’

‘I—’

‘If you will kindly let me finish?’ Darcy carefully enunciated each word.

Perhaps he had better; she looked ready to explode. Teasing apart, he really didn’t advise another scene in the restaurant so soon after the last one!

‘Thank you,’ she accepted scathingly at his nod of agreement. ‘On your advice, your mother broke her engagement to my father. My father, in the meantime, has decided that he needs a complete break away from everything. Your mother. Me. The restaurant. Everything,’ she repeated emotionally. ‘And so—’

‘Are you telling me that your father isn’t in the kitchen?’ Logan cut in softly.

‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you.’ Darcy nodded firmly.

‘Then who—?’ Logan shook his head, his gaze narrowed. ‘Are you also saying you’re the one that has been producing all the meals this evening?’

She seemed to bristle at his tone, sitting up straighter in her chair. ‘Was there something wrong with your meal?’

‘No, not in the least,’ he assured her a little amazedly.

In fact, the food had been excellent. He just hadn’t real-ised that Darcy could cook like that, thought when she’d said she helped her father out in the kitchen that she probably peeled the vegetables or something. Although perhaps—he dared a glance at Darcy’s set features!—he hadn’t better actually say that…

The fact that Daniel Simon wasn’t actually in the kitchen this evening also explained the maître d’s behaviour earlier. Clearly, although James and the rest of the staff were doing their best to make it appear otherwise—and succeeding too, Logan allowed—all was not right in the Chef Simon kitchen this evening!

‘I did tell you I had trained as a cook,’ Darcy reminded him stiltedly.

Yes, she had, but he had still thought—‘You’re very good,’ he complimented. ‘I had no idea it wasn’t your father in the kitchen producing this mouth-watering food.’ His scallops had been wonderful, his steak succulent enough to melt in his mouth.

‘That’s probably because he helped train me,’ she explained tersely.

‘He did a good job,’ Logan said distractedly. ‘But where is he now?’

Darcy sat back, eyes having suddenly darkened to smoky grey, her mouth trembling slightly as she spoke. ‘I have no idea,’ she told him shakily. ‘He didn’t tell me. And I didn’t like to ask.’

Logan stared at her. Twice he opened his mouth to speak. And twice he closed it again, without having uttered a word.

Another thing that was unusual about Darcy—she had the power to render him speechless!