To Marry Mckenzie. Кэрол Мортимер
Daniel Simon what happened between us yesterday—’
‘Nothing happened between the two of us yesterday!’ Darcy gasped incredulously, eyes wide. That cuddle had been purely platonic, and she dared him to claim otherwise.
‘I meant the fact that your behaviour was a little less than professional—’
‘It most certainly was not!’ she protested, sitting bolt upright in her chair now, her expression indignant.
‘Darcy, will you stop being so obtuse?’ Logan came back. ‘I’m trying to reassure you that I have no intention of telling your boss that you were upset and crying yesterday. In which case, you had no reason to buy me the shirt. Am I making myself clear now?’ he asked her frustratedly.
‘As a bell,’ Darcy answered. ‘You think I bought you the shirt in an effort to persuade you not to tell my boss that I was crying all over one of his private clients yesterday. Is that right?’ she mused softly—dangerously…!
‘Exactly.’ Logan looked relieved that he had finally got through to her.
The arrogance. The damned arrogance—
‘Sorry I’m late, Logan.’ The man’s voice was slightly breathless as he approached the table. ‘I had trouble finding a taxi,’ he explained as he reached them.
Darcy had glanced up as soon as she’d heard the newcomer speak. She had thought Logan was waiting for a woman to join him, but she had obviously been mistaken. The man who now stood beside their table was most definitely male, tall and dark, physically muscular in his black evening suit and snowy white shirt. Apart from the fact that his eyes were dark coffee-brown, and his dark hair was much longer than Logan’s, the two men were enough alike to almost be twins.
Those dark coffee-brown eyes narrowed now as he realised Logan wasn’t alone, that speculative gaze moving over her assessingly—and clearly coming to the conclusion that, in the black skirt and cream blouse, her hair tied back primly, with no make-up, she wasn’t Logan’s usual type at all!
That was because she wasn’t with Logan!
‘I suppose it should have occurred to me that you weren’t here alone, Logan,’ the newcomer drawled derisively.
‘Oh, but he is.’ Darcy stood up quickly. ‘At least, he was until you arrived,’ she informed the coffee-coloured-eyed man smoothly. ‘Now if you two gentlemen will excuse me,’ she said politely, ‘I’ll get back to the kitchen.’ Where I obviously belong, she could have added, but didn’t.
‘Darcy!’ Logan had stood up too, his hand moving with rapier speed to grasp her arm. ‘We haven’t finished our conversation,’ he told her as she glanced back at him.
‘Oh, I think we have.’ Her voice was slightly tinged with bitterness, her gaze cold as she looked pointedly at his hold on her arm. ‘You’re attracting attention,’ she warned him evenly, glancing over to where several of the other diners were staring across at them curiously now, as well as Katy and another of the waitresses serving this evening.
‘I don’t give a monkey’s what I’m doing,’ he rasped harshly, not sparing those people so much as a return glance. ‘I have not finished talking to you—’
‘Would you like me to leave, Logan?’ the other man put in carefully. ‘We can do this some other time.’
‘Shut up, Fergus,’ Logan snapped, his eyes locked with Darcy’s. ‘I—’
‘Darcy?’ the man, Fergus, suddenly echoed sharply. ‘Did you say Darcy?’ A sharp look in Darcy’s direction accompanied his words.
The look Logan shot him was enough to wither a flower in full bloom, Darcy decided; the effect on the other man was barely negligible, just a slight raising of dark brows.
‘I asked you to stay out of this, Fergus,’ Logan grated between gritted teeth. ‘Would you just sit down at the table and I’ll be back in a moment?’ Without waiting to see if the other man complied with his instructions he pulled Darcy off to one side of the room, placing them behind a tall potted plant.
She glanced at the patchy green camouflage before looking up at Logan. ‘Why don’t you just take the shirt? Then we can both forget about the incident,’ she pressed as he would have protested once again.
Logan drew in a hissing breath. ‘Maybe because I don’t want to for—’
‘Everything okay, Darcy?’ Chef Simon himself was suddenly standing beside them, his glance moving quizzically over them both. ‘Katy seemed to think there was some sort of problem?’ he elaborated with light enquiry, his eyes mild as they rested on the other man.
Great. Just great. After two days of feeling absolutely furious with this man, Logan McKenzie came along and put her in a position where she was the one put on the defensive! Which was the last place where she wanted to be at the moment!
‘No problem,’ Darcy was the one to answer tightly. ‘Mr McKenzie was just about to sit down and enjoy his meal. Weren’t you?’ she added pointedly, giving him a glaring look.
‘McKenzie?’ Chef Simon echoed abruptly, his gaze sharp on the younger man now. ‘Logan McKenzie?’ he prompted softly.
‘And if I am?’ Logan challenged.
Darcy, for one, had had enough of this. The situation had been ridiculous enough before, now it was becoming farcical, with the two men eyeing each other like contestants in a boxing match, apparently deliberating on who would be the one to strike the first blow!
She sighed heavily. ‘Logan, will you just go back to your table and get on with your meal?’ Her expression pleaded with him to comply with her request. ‘We can talk about…that other situation, some other time,’ she concluded soothingly as his eyes narrowed. ‘If you really think we must.’
‘Come and look at the menu, Logan!’ The man Fergus had strolled over to join them too now. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!’ he added with persuasive cheerfulness.
Logan looked ready to argue the point, but a glance at Darcy’s rigidly set features seemed to be enough to make him relent slightly, although he still eyed Chef Simon belligerently, even as he answered Fergus. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he agreed slowly. ‘After all, this is a restaurant,’ he couldn’t resist saying sardonically.
‘One of the best,’ Chef Simon answered almost as coolly. ‘If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen; Darcy and I have some food to prepare.’ He took a firm grasp of Darcy’s arm and almost frogmarched her back into the kitchen, barely waiting for the doors to swing shut behind them before grasping her other arm just as tightly and turning her to face him, effectively holding her immobile in front of him. ‘Now perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me what you think you’re doing, getting into cosy little corners with a man like Logan McKenzie?’ he demanded forcefully, his teasing mood of earlier having completely disappeared.
Darcy stared up at him, not altogether sure how she should answer that particular question…
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