Tall, Dark & Gorgeous: To Marry McKenzie

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?’