To Marry McKenzie

would be more at home on a farm, than in an office wearing tailored suits

and silk shirts.

Silk shirts...she remembered with an inward groan, the marks of her crying

earlier clearly showing on the now- dried material. She really doubted that

the traces of blood on the white silk would come off during dry-cleaning,

either.

Darcy was relieved when the lift reached the ground floor, having found the

silence between them uncomfortable, to say the least. 'Thanks.' She reached

to take the basket from him, making no effort to follow him out of the lift.

Logan McKenzie stood in the doorway to stop the doors closing behind him,

frowning again. 'Where are you going?'

'To the basement,' she told him lightly. 'I have the van parked down there.'

'In that case...' He stepped back into the lift, the doors instantly -'closing

behind him as he pressed the button marked 'basement'.

'There's really no need,' she told him once again, completely flustered at

having the owner of this world- renowned company helping her in this way.

'There's every need,' he rasped grimly. 'A little thing like you shouldn't be

carrying these heavy baskets. And correct me if I'm mistaken, but was there

only you dealing with the preparation and serving of lunch today?' Logan

continued firmly, completely ignoring the fact that she had been about to

protest at being called a 'little thing', blue eyes narrowed questioningly.

'Yes.' Darcy shifted the heavy basket to her other hand. 'We're short-staffed

today, you see and—'

'No, I don't see,' Logan interrupted shortly, stepping out into the darkened

basement that acted as a car park for the office staff of McKenzie Industries.

'Short-staffed or not, you shouldn't have been expected to deal with it all

alone. A fact I will be passing on to Daniel Simon at the earliest

opportunity,' he added grimly.

'Oh, don't do that!' Darcy turned from loading the van to protest, two wings

of embarrassed colour in her cheeks. I managed just fine. You had no

complaints about lunch, did you?' she pressed determinedly as Logan

McKenzie still looked grim.

'No...' he answered slowly.

'Then there's no problem, is there?' she assured him brightly.

He looked at her consideringly. 'You know, Darcy,' he began slowly, 'you

might find Daniel Simon less of a— bully, if you weren't so eager to please.'

Darcy looked up at him, but the subdued lighting in the car park made it

impossible to read his expression clearly. Which was a pity—because she

had no idea what he was talking about!

'It was only a lunch,' she responded, ready to leave now, the van loaded, the

keys in her hand.

'I wasn't particularly alluding to lunch,' he rasped.

Then what was he talking about? Admittedly, she could have handled the

latter part of this booking with a bit more detachment—in fact, a lot

more!—but there really had been nothing wrong with the lunch this man and

his guests had been served before her tearful outburst.

Logan McKenzie scowled at her slightly bewildered expression. 'I'm merely

offering you some advice from a male point of view, Darcy,' he replied. 'It's

up to you whether or not you choose to take it,' he ended abruptly, obviously

impatient to be gone now.

'I—: Thank you,' Darcy mumbled, having no idea what advice she had just

been given!

It wasn't a question of being eager to please where Daniel Simon was

concerned; she hadn't really been given too much of an opportunity to do

anything else where this lunch today was concerned. She was upset, yes, in

fact she was more than upset, but it would have been churlish to refuse to

help out when they were short-staffed. Business was business, after all, she

acknowledged slightly bitterly.

Logan McKenzie nodded tersely before turning quickly on his heel and

striding back to the still-waiting lift, stepping inside, his expression still

grim as the doors closed.

What a strange man, Darcy decided as she got into the van and drove out of

the car park. Kind one minute, impatient the next, then offering fatherly

advice—although anyone less like a father-figure, she couldn't imagine!

Oh, well, she decided lightly as she drove confidently through the

early-afternoon London traffic. Logan McKenzie was the least of her

problems at the moment. A frown marred the creaminess of her brow as she

thought of what was her biggest problem.

Daniel Simon. Chef Simon.

And the fact that this morning he had calmly informed her that he intended

marrying a woman he had only met for the first time three weeks ago!

CHAPTER TWO

'THIS has just been delivered for you,' Logan's secretary informed him,

before placing a large square parcel on top of his desk, his name and the

office address clearly printed in black ink on the brown wrapping paper.

Logan looked up with a frown, his thoughts still on the contract he had been