Carole Mortimer - Tall, Dark & Gorgeous

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!

Why didn’t Logan say something? Anything!

The shock of seeing Logan in the restaurant this evening had quickly been superseded by a desire to tell him—again!—exactly what she thought of him, and what he had done to her family, such as it was. Well, she had done that. Only to have Logan simply stare across at her with those enigmatic blue eyes.

This had been the most awful day. That earlier telephone conversation with Logan. Going to see her father. Only to have him tell her that he just had to get away for a few days, and would she take over the cooking at the restaurant while he was away. In the circumstances, what else could she have said to the latter but yes?

Although she had tried to talk to her father about the situation, sure that going away at this time would solve nothing. But he’d remained adamant that was what he was going to do, and nothing Darcy could say would persuade him otherwise.

And so she had agreed, in his absence, to take over the restaurant. But that didn’t mean she was at all happy about this situation.

Or the part Logan McKenzie had played in it!

‘Well, why don’t you say something?’ she finally snapped, the tension becoming unbearable.

Logan grimaced. ‘I’m not sure I know what to say.’

‘That must be a first!’ she scorned.

He looked at her reprovingly. ‘Insulting me isn’t going to help this situation, Darcy,’ he admonished.

‘Perhaps not—but it makes me feel better!’ she told him forcefully.

‘I don’t doubt that. But it isn’t going to bring your father back. From wherever it is he’s gone to lick his wounds.’

‘Wounds that your mother inflicted on him!’ Darcy accused defensively, her cheeks flushed fiery-red now. ‘She’s the first woman he’s really looked at since my mother died, and she’s just thrown his love back in his face as if it meant nothing to her!’

Logan gave her a considering look. ‘Shouldn’t you have thought of that before you threw your ultimatum at him?’

‘I didn’t—’

‘Giving up your job with him here, moving out of the family home, isn’t issuing him with an ultimatum: her or me?’ Logan reasoned softly.

The flush in her cheeks faded until they were deathly white, her eyes, a dark smoky grey, the only colour left in her face. ‘I merely—merely—’ She broke off, her bottom lip trembling so badly she couldn’t speak any more. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she muttered, before getting up and making her way blindly back to the kitchen, relieved when she heard the door swing shut behind her, tears falling hotly down her cheeks now, waving away the concerned gestures of the other staff working in the kitchen.

But she didn’t feel quite so relieved when she felt strong arms move about her, pulling her in to the hardness of what she easily recognised as Logan’s chest. He had followed her!

‘This is becoming too much of a habit,’ he said ruefully a few seconds later as a white handkerchief appeared in front of her face.

Darcy took the handkerchief, her sobs subsiding as she mopped up the tears.

She had tried all evening not to think about her father, and the reason he had gone away, but when Logan had spoken of it just now she had known he was right. Her father hadn’t just gone away to escape from his heartbreak at his broken engagement, he had gone away to get away from her too!