Tall, Dark & Gorgeous: To Marry McKenzie

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The shock of seeing Logan in the restaurant this evening had quickly been superseded by a desire to tell him—again!—exactly what she thought of him, and what he had done to her family, such as it was.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!

And she had taken the easy option and turned her anger at herself round on Logan…

Okay, so he wasn’t exactly in favour of the marriage, either, but Darcy doubted very much that he was in a position to order his mother to break her engagement to Darcy’s father. No, Margaret Fraser had made that decision all on her own. Much as she hated to admit it, Darcy’s aversion to the marriage might just have had something to do with that decision…

‘Darcy—Oops!’ One of the waitresses stood awkwardly just inside the kitchen, grimacing slightly as she saw Darcy in Logan’s arms, and the way the kitchen staff studiously avoided looking at them. ‘I’m sorry for interrupting,’ the girl said uncomfortably. ‘Table number ten liked your creamed spinach so much they wondered if they could have some more,’ she explained.

Logan glared across the room at the poor girl. ‘Tell table number ten that—’

‘No, it’s all right, Logan,’ Darcy interrupted his angry reply, pulling out of his arms to turn and smile at the waitress. ‘Give me a couple of minutes, okay?’ she encouraged before turning back to Logan. ‘I really do have to get on with this now. I—’

‘I’ll go back and finish my meal,’ Logan told her. ‘Then I’ll wait and take you home afterwards,’ he stated determinedly.

She had to admit, she didn’t exactly relish returning to her father’s empty house, having moved back there earlier this evening, deciding it would be fairer to her grandmother, now that she was to take over at the restaurant, if she wasn’t arriving back at all hours of the day and night. But the alternative of having Logan accompany her home wasn’t exactly appealing either!

‘This isn’t a subject for negotiation, Darcy,’ he told her firmly as he obviously saw the doubt in her expression. ‘We still have things we need to talk about.’

She hadn’t intended negotiating; she had been going to say a very firm no thank you to his suggestion. But one look at his determinedly set features and she knew she would be wasting her time. And time wasn’t something she had to waste this evening!

She nodded. ‘I should be finished here by about twelve-thirty.’

‘Fine,’ he accepted briskly before turning on his heel and returning to the main restaurant.

Darcy drew in a deep breath before turning to smile at the four members of staff who helped out in the kitchen each evening. ‘The show’s over, folks,’ she told them. ‘And we have a restaurant to run,’ she added.

But she couldn’t exactly say her mind was on what she was doing for the rest of the evening, conscious of the fact that Logan was waiting to take her home. Her concentration wasn’t helped by the fact that, at eleven o’clock, Logan, his meal obviously over, came through to the kitchen, making himself comfortable on a stool at the back of the room.

Everyone else working in the kitchen had already gone home for the evening by this time, Darcy just dealing with late desserts, doing most of the clearing away herself too.

Logan didn’t say a word, but Darcy was conscious the whole time of his brooding presence at the back of the room.

‘I shouldn’t be much longer,’ she told him awkwardly, just after midnight, the last customers gone from the restaurant now, most of the staff too, just the night’s takings to deal with.

‘Take your time,’ he said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Except back to her home with her! To talk, he’d said. But what else did they have to say to each other? She was coming to accept they weren’t exactly on different sides in this situation—but they certainly weren’t on the same side, either!