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 realised 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 maitre 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 tospeak. 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