To Marry McKenzie

He shifted uncomfortably. 'Er—Darcy...?'

Her only answer to his tentative query was to bury her face even further into

his shirt-front, the dampness of the material clinging to his chest now.

Logan felt totally out of his depth, beginning to wish that someone would

come in and interrupt them—whatever construction was put on his actions!

'Here,' he prompted gruffly, handing her the snowy white handkerchief from

his breast pocket, relieved when she moved away from him slightly to give

her nose a good blow.

No wonder not too many women cried in his presence, he decided ruefully,

if Darcy's unattractive appearance was anything to go by—she looked like a

startled fawn: all eyes and blotchy cheeks!

'I really am so sorry,' she said miserably. 'It's just that I had some—rather

disturbing news, earlier, before coming out. I don't usually cry all over

perfect strangers, I can assure you.' She gave a watery smile.

Logan gave the ghost of a smile in return. 'That's okay—I'm far from

perfect!' he attempted to tease, wondering exactly what sort of news this

young woman could have received to reduce her to this state. 'Is it anything

I can help you with?' he heard himself offer—and then frowned at this

uncharacteristic

interest

in

a

stranger's—

perfect

or

otherwise!—predicament.

Having originated from a large, Scottish-based family— consisting of his

aged grandfather, his mother, a couple of aunts and numerous

cousins—Logan usually found it all too easy to distance himself from the

upsets that seemed to constantly plague his family. If he didn't he would

spend most of his time caught up in one intrigue or another, and he preferred

a much quieter life than that. Which was why he spent the majority of his

time at his London apartment!

Why he should be showing this interest in the problems of a complete

stranger he had no idea—especially one who had cried all over him and left

bloodstains on his shirt!

Darcy's smile was slightly bitter. 'I doubt it.' She shook her head. 'But thank

you for asking.'

He felt irritated because she wouldn't tell him what was bothering her! What

on earth was wrong with him?

'A problem shared is a problem halved, so they say,' he encouraged

cajolingly.

'I doubt you would be interested.' She shook her head again, beginning to

look decidedly embarrassed now .

'Try me,' Logan prompted huskily.

Darcy shrugged again. 'It's just that— No, I really can't,' she decided firmly.

'Da—Chef Simon,' she corrected awkwardly, 'wouldn't appreciate it if he

knew I had been discussing his personal life with one of his customers,' she

admitted.

Chef Simon? Daniel Simon...? For surely this young woman had been going

to call the renowned chef by his first name? And if her tears were anything

to go by, it was a liberty that implied a much more intimate relationship

between them than just that of employer and employee.

Daniel Simon and this girl, Darcy?

Logan couldn't hide his surprise. This girl looked no older than her early

twenties at most, whereas from what Logan knew of Daniel Simon he was a

man in his early fifties. Spring and Autumn. Not that it was an unusual

arrangement, Logan acknowledged, he had just never thought of the other

man in that particular light. In fact, he couldn't say he had given a single

thought to Daniel Simon's private life!

As he didn't want to think about it now, either! 'You're probably right.'

Logan nodded tersely. 'I'll send Karen through with the plaster,' he added

dismissively before turning to leave.

'Mr McKenzie...?'

He turned reluctantly. 'Yes, Darcy?' he replied warily.

'Thank you,' she told him huskily, smiling at him for the second time today.

Once again causing that numbing jolt in his chest!

The quicker he got out of here, Logan decided grimly, the better! 'You're

welcome,' he bit out harshly, making good his escape to the adjoining office

this time.

Escape? he questioned himself once he was seated back behind his desk.

From the woman Darcy? Ridiculous. He had just had enough of a woman's

tears for one day— especially as she had probably completely ruined his

silk shirt with those tears and the blood from her cut finger!

What must Logan McKenzie think of her? Darcy groaned inwardly.

She had tried so hard to keep her worrying thoughts at bay this morning,

concentrating on serving lunch to the client and his guests. But she just

hadn't been able to control her chaotic thoughts once she'd started to clear

away, and dropping the two glasses had seemed like the final straw on a day

when she'd already felt as if the bottom were dropping out of her world.

But even so, she really shouldn't have cried all over Logan McKenzie's

pristine white silk shirt. She very much doubted he would be able to remove