To Marry McKenzie

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 cream- iness 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?'