- -
- 100%
- +
She took another sip of the whisky at his reminder of earlier. ‘That woman!’ she exclaimed with returning anger.
‘Margaret Fraser?’
‘Yes.’ Darcy looked up sharply. ‘Did you see her?’
Logan raised dark brows. ‘One could hardly miss the entrance of an actress of Margaret Fraser’s fame,’ he drawled dryly. ‘But, I have to admit, I have no idea where she fits into the scheme of things.’
Darcy wrapped both hands around her glass of whisky, wishing it were a hot drink now, so that it could warm her outside as well as in. ‘She doesn’t,’ she replied with feeling. ‘That’s my whole point!’
Logan shook his head, smiling slightly. ‘As clear as mud,’ he responded.
Darcy gave a deep sigh. ‘It’s quite simple, really, my—Daniel Simon, Chef Simon—’
‘I know who Daniel Simon is, Darcy,’ Logan assured her.
‘He’s going to marry her!’
There, she had said it, actually had acknowledged it out loud. And it was no more acceptable now than it had been yesterday when she had first been told of the engagement.
‘Going to marry whom?’ Logan prompted, sitting forward in his chair now.
‘Margaret Fraser, of course!’ Darcy answered disgustedly.
‘You can’t be serious?’ Logan said disbelievingly.
‘Exactly what I said when he told me,’ she agreed determinedly. ‘But it seems that he is.’
‘But I—She’s—’
‘Incredible, isn’t it?’ Darcy went on, standing up to pace the room. ‘He only met her three weeks ago, and yet he’s decided he wants to marry her!’
‘Three weeks ago…’ Logan echoed, looking thoughtful now.
‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’ Darcy continued. ‘How can anyone decide, after only three weeks’ acquaintance, that they want to spend the rest of their life with one particular person?’
‘I believe it does happen sometimes,’ Logan observed distractedly. ‘Although I’m a little surprised—Darcy, are you absolutely sure of your facts?’ He watched her with narrowed eyes.
‘Positive,’ she said with feeling. ‘Why else do you think she’s at the restaurant this evening?’
‘The same reason as everyone else—to eat?’
‘And that’s another thing.’ Darcy kept on going. ‘The woman barely eats enough to keep a bird alive; a fine advertisement for a chef’s wife!’
Logan’s mouth twisted. ‘I suppose she has to maintain that wonderful figure somehow.’
Darcy gave him another sharp look. ‘Don’t tell me you find her attractive too?’ she said accusingly.
‘No,’ Logan answered. ‘I can honestly say I am probably one of the few men impervious to her charms, phys-ical or otherwise!’
‘Good,’ Darcy bit out flatly.
Logan stood up to pour himself another shot of whisky, holding up the decanter to Darcy, putting it down again when she shook her head in refusal. ‘Tell me, Darcy,’ he began gingerly, after sipping at his replenished glass. ‘If—and, I have to admit, I still find it incredible to believe!—Daniel Simon is going to marry Margaret Fraser, where does that leave you?’
She shuddered. ‘Out of there!’ she told him with feeling, putting down her empty glass. ‘There is no way I’m going to sit back and just accept all this.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I shall have to move out of the house, of course—’
‘You live with him?’ Logan interrupted harshly.
‘Only for the last couple of months or so,’ she replied. ‘Since I finished uni. It was never intended as a permanent arrangement, just somewhere for me to stay until I take up a permanent post in September.”
Logan frowned. ‘But I thought you worked for Chef Simon Catering?’
‘Again, only temporarily. I’m actually a trained kindergarten teacher.’ And until yesterday she had been looking forward to starting her first real job, as such. At the moment, everything looked too black to be able to look forward to anything!
Logan paused, then admitted, ‘I’m having trouble keeping up with all this…’
Darcy gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘The job with Chef Simon is only a holiday job for me,’ she explained. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I trained as a chef first, before I realised I liked working with children rather than feeding adults! I went back to uni to get the suitable qualifications.’
Logan’s frown deepened. ‘How old are you…?’
‘Twenty-five,’ she answered, knowing Logan, like many others, had placed her as much younger than that. She was sure as she got older that this was going to be an advantage, but at the moment it was only a hindrance to people actually taking her seriously.
He looked grave. ‘Old enough to know better, then. Darcy, I realise this can’t be easy for you, but what are you doing still staying around the man if he’s told you he’s going to marry someone else?’
She blinked her confusion. ‘But he isn’t married to her yet…’
‘And you intend hanging around until he is?’ Logan accused angrily, putting down his whisky glass to stride over to where she stood, and grasping her shoulders.
‘Of course,’ she assured him determinedly. ‘The wedding isn’t going to be immediately; I may still be able to persuade him to see sense.’
Logan gave a groan. ‘Darcy, you’re an attractive young lady yourself—’
‘I’m not in Margaret Fraser’s league,’ she countered.
‘Oh, damn Margaret Fraser!’ Logan snapped.
Her eyes flashed deeply grey. ‘My sentiments exactly!’
‘Oh, Darcy…!’ Logan muttered before his head lowered and his mouth claimed hers.
It was the last thing, the very last thing, Darcy had been expecting, standing acquiescent in his arms, her head starting to spin as the kiss deepened, became more intimate. Her body moulded against the hardness of his as his hands moved restlessly up and down her spine.
Emotions were high, Darcy’s earlier anger turning to a passion she hadn’t known she possessed, her lips opening beneath his, her hands beneath the material of his jacket, able to feel the warmth of his body through the silk of his shirt.
Her hair was loose about her shoulders now, Logan having removed that hated band that secured it at her nape, his fingers threaded in the silky softness as his lips sipped and tasted hers, hot breaths intermingled.
She had kissed men before, of course she had, but it had never been like this, feeling as if she were melding into Logan, their bodies a perfect match, her soft curves fitting into the hard hollows of his body.
But it came to a sudden end, Logan wrenching his mouth from hers, looking down at her, almost as if he were confused. ‘What am I doing—? I’m sorry, Darcy.’ His arms dropped from her as he ran the fingers of one hand restlessly through his own hair, his shoulders hunched beneath his jacket. ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’ He turned away. ‘I brought you here to try and help you, and instead I almost ended up making love to you. I just—The man is old enough to be your father, for goodness’ sake!’ he burst out as he turned back to face her.
Darcy took in a deep breath, barely able to think, her lips and body still tingling from Logan’s kisses. ‘What man?’ She frowned her puzzlement.
‘Daniel Simon,’ he said aggressively.
She swallowed hard. ‘I—’ She tried to think, to remember what had already been said. But after Logan’s kisses, she couldn’t think straight at all! ‘Logan,’ she finally managed. ‘I don’t know—I don’t seem to have explained—Logan, Daniel Simon is my father.’
Until just over a year ago, when her mother had died after a brief illness, Darcy’s father had been happily married to her mother, their relationship a very loving one.
Which was the reason Darcy was so upset at his announcement he intended marrying again, to the flamboyant actress Margaret Fraser of all people, her off-screen affairs seeming to attract more attention than her actual acting career.
Darcy swallowed hard again as she saw Logan was staring at her, unmoving, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw, seeming to be lost for words himself now. It wasn’t too difficult to guess the reason why: he probably believed her attitude was an extremely selfish one. It probably was, Darcy accepted dully. But she couldn’t help the way she felt…
CHAPTER FOUR
HER father…!
Daniel Simon was Darcy’s father, and not the lover Logan had assumed him to be.
Apparently he had announced his intention to Darcy of marrying Margaret Fraser…
This was news to Logan, although he had an idea this could have been what Fergus had been intending to talk to him about earlier.
‘I realise you must find my attitude—selfish.’ Darcy began talking self-consciously. ‘I just—My mother only died just over a year ago,’ she explained in a sad voice. ‘They were married for twenty-eight years. Twenty-eight years! We were such a happy family, too. I just don’t see how my father can possibly believe himself in love with someone else after so short a time.’ She looked across at Logan pleadingly.
Her father.
Every time Darcy said that, Logan gave an inward wince about what he had believed to be her relationship with the chef. It was his own fault for making such an assumption, of course, although, to be fair to himself, Darcy had never told him her surname—and he hadn’t asked her for it, either—or addressed Daniel Simon as her father, or called him ‘Dad’!
Although, looking back, Logan could see she had never really stated they had any other sort of relationship, either; he had drawn his own conclusions about that. Completely erroneously, as it turned out!
The problem was, how did he now tell Darcy—?
‘I think I had better go,’ she said suddenly, her gaze not meeting his as he looked across at her. ‘I really have taken up enough of your time.’
‘Darcy!’ He moved to grasp her arm as she would have turned away, turning her slowly back to face him.
‘I know I’m being selfish!’ Those deep grey eyes were swimming with tears. ‘I just—I can’t even begin to think of that woman as my stepmother!’ she cried emotionally.
Logan pulled her gently into his arms, cradling her against his chest as the tears fell hotly down her cheeks.
He seemed to be making a habit of this! Not that he was complaining, exactly, he just didn’t like to see Darcy upset like this. Although, as far as his equilibrium went, it was probably preferable to her smiling at him.
Once again, in the taxi earlier, her smile had almost been his undoing. There was just something about Darcy’s smile that took his breath away…
Which was incredible in itself. She was right when she said she wasn’t in Margaret Fraser’s league when it came to looks. It was like comparing an exotic bird to a garden robin: the actress was flamboyant, completely unmissable, whereas Darcy—unless she smiled!—would be all too easy to overlook in a crowd. Although Logan had no doubts which woman he—and apparently his inner senses too!—preferred.
‘I know it’s not much consolation at the moment, Darcy—’ Logan stroked her back as the tears began to cease ‘—but I very much doubt that Margaret Fraser will ever be your stepmother!’
Darcy straightened, wiping away the tears. ‘My father is adamant that she will.’
Logan shook his head with distaste. ‘And I’m just as sure that she won’t.’
Grey eyes widened, eyes that were slightly red from crying. ‘But how can you be?’ Darcy swallowed hard.
He looked serious. ‘Believe me, Darcy, I—’ He broke off as the intercom buzzed beside the lift.
After the way the evening had been cut short at the restaurant earlier, his visitor was likely to be Fergus—and his cousin was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Well…probably not the last person, he conceded; Margaret Fraser had to take that honour!
‘Shouldn’t you answer that?’ Darcy prompted as the buzzer sounded a second time, self-consciously wiping away all trace of her recent tears.
‘I should,’ he acknowledged reluctantly—because it was the last thing he wanted to do.
He needed time, and space, to talk to Darcy, to explain. But with Fergus waiting downstairs, now certainly wasn’t that time. Except Fergus, if allowed up here while Darcy was still here, was sure to say something he shouldn’t…!
‘Darcy, will you have lunch with me tomorrow?’ he found himself asking quickly.
She gave him a considering look. ‘What for?’
His brows rose impatiently. ‘Because I want to have lunch with you!’
‘Why?’
‘Good grief, woman, just say yes or no!’ he barked, annoyed at her delay.
‘If you’re only inviting me because you feel sorry for me—’ she began slowly.
‘I don’t feel sorry for you,’ he bit out tersely. At least…not yet. If Margaret Fraser ever did become her stepmother, then he might have reason to change his mind! ‘I just need to talk to you, okay?’ he stated firmly, knowing Fergus would be becoming fed up as he waited downstairs, having no doubt that Parker would already have told his cousin that he was at home!
She gave a half-smile. ‘Okay.’
‘Good,’ he said with relief. ‘Now I’m going to take you downstairs, put you into a taxi, and I would advise you to go to bed when you get home and have a good night’s sleep. As your mother told you, this won’t look so black tomorrow.’ Especially as Logan intended finding out exactly what was going on and doing something about this situation himself!
Darcy accompanied him into the lift. ‘It certainly couldn’t look any worse,’ she surmised.
Oh, it could, as Logan knew only too well, but not if it was handled correctly. And he intended to see that it was!
Fergus levelled a look of cold criticism at Logan, for keeping him waiting, as Logan stepped out of the lift with Darcy at his side.
‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ Logan told him as Fergus would have spoken, vaguely noting that Fergus did have the parcel from the restaurant with him. He could sort that out with Darcy tomorrow. ‘I’m just going to put Darcy into a taxi.’ He strode out of the building, Darcy held firmly at his side, before his cousin had a chance to make any sort of reply.
Darcy turned to him before getting into the back of the taxi. ‘You really have been very kind,’ she said almost shyly.
It wasn’t a characteristic too many people would apply to him, Logan thought wryly, but if that was how Darcy saw him, he wasn’t about to argue with her!
‘Lunch tomorrow,’ he reminded her economically. ‘Twelve-thirty. At Romaine’s. It’s—’
‘I know where it is,’ she assured him, reaching out to touch his arm. ‘And thank you once again.’
Logan stood and watched the taxi until it disappeared around the corner at the end of the road, his thoughtful expression turning to one of hard determination as he turned to walk back into his apartment building.
‘Nice-looking girl,’ Fergus remarked as he followed the glowering Logan into the lift.
Logan gave him a cold look. ‘She’s Daniel Simon’s daughter,’ he rasped. ‘But then you already knew that, didn’t you?’ he added accusingly as the two men stepped into his apartment, Logan striding straight over to the drinks tray to replenish his glass, taking a grateful sip before pouring another glassful for Fergus.
‘Thanks.’ Fergus took the glass. ‘Yes,’ he sighed, bending his long length into one of the armchairs. ‘I already knew that. This, apparently, is yours.’ He held up the parcel.
‘Thanks.’ Logan took it and put it on the side without further comment. Fergus didn’t have to know everything!
His cousin sipped the whisky. ‘I know we were practically brought up on this stuff, but I’m not sure we should be drinking it at the moment; neither of us has eaten much this evening!’
‘Come on.’ Logan came to a decision. ‘I’ll cook us both an omelette—and then you can bring me up to date with exactly what is going on!’
It only took a few minutes to prepare the omelettes and a salad to go with them, the two men shortly seated at the breakfast bar; Logan had lived on his own a long time now, was more than capable of feeding himself. And anyone else who happened to be here. On this occasion, it happened to be Fergus.
Except it didn’t really just happen to be Fergus…
He gave his cousin a sideways glance. ‘Am I right in supposing that your recent visit to Grandfather was because my mother is about to announce her engagement to restaurateur and chef, Daniel Simon?’
His mother.
Margaret Fraser.
Although it was hard to believe—he chose not to believe it himself most of the time!—the actress Margaret Fraser was his mother. She was also Fergus’s Aunt Meg.
With that cascade of dark hair, beautiful unlined face, youthfully slender body, Logan knew his mother didn’t look much older than himself. But she was, undeniably, his mother. He knew—because he had lived with the unpalatable fact long enough!
He had been dumbstruck earlier when Darcy had announced her father’s intention of marrying the beautiful actress. He and his mother had never been particularly close, but in the past his mother had at least told him—warned him?—when she’d intended either marrying or becoming engaged to someone. This time Logan had been taken completely unawares. Although he knew Darcy, innocent of the true facts, had misunderstood his silence. He intended explaining everything tomorrow when they met for lunch.
‘It was,’ Fergus confirmed with another sigh. ‘Apparently she told him of her plans when she visited him at the weekend.’
‘And, because the two of us have always been close, you were chosen to break the news to me,’ Logan guessed.
His cousin shrugged. ‘Ordinarily Aunt Meg would have told you herself. But in this case there seems to be a—complication.’
‘Darcy,’ Logan confirmed knowingly.
‘Darcy,’ Fergus confirmed flatly. ‘Apparently she isn’t too keen on Aunt Meg marrying into the family.’
‘I wouldn’t be too keen on having her marry into my family, either!’ Logan exclaimed.
Fergus turned to give him a considering look. ‘You know I’ve never tried to interfere in your relationship with Aunt Meg—’
‘Then don’t start now,’ Logan warned him softly.
‘I have no intention of doing so,’ his cousin assured him calmly.
Logan gave him a sceptical glance. ‘No?’
‘No,’ Fergus confirmed lightly, sipping the white wine Logan had opened to accompany their snack meal. ‘Firstly, because there’s no point; your feelings on that issue are your own business. Secondly,’ he continued as Logan would have spoken, ‘because I believe there is something of much more urgency for us to discuss.’
Logan raised dark brows. ‘Such as?’
‘Such as how you’re going to break it to Darcy that you’re Margaret Fraser’s son? Without her hating your guts when you’ve finished, I mean,’ Fergus added.
He had been wondering the same thing himself!
‘I am right in surmising Darcy doesn’t have a clue about that, aren’t I?’ Fergus mused.
‘Maybe if you hadn’t arrived here so precipitously—’
‘Don’t try and blame this situation on me.’ Fergus held up defensive hands.
Fergus was right; Logan knew that he was. He should have told Darcy the truth the moment she’d mentioned Margaret Fraser. But, if he had, he also knew that Darcy would have looked at him with the same dislike she had looked at his mother. And that wasn’t something he wanted from Darcy. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from her, but it certainly wasn’t for her to lump him in with the same antipathy she felt towards his mother.
He had less than twenty-four hours to think of a way of telling Darcy the truth—without the end result being, as Fergus had pointed out only too graphically, her hating his guts!
She was late.
She knew she was late. Almost fifteen minutes, to be exact. With any luck Logan would have tired of waiting for her to arrive and already have left! After the morning she had had, she didn’t feel up to this meeting, too!
She had taken Logan’s advice the evening before, going to bed shortly after getting in, amazingly falling asleep too, not even waking when her father had returned home at his usual one o’clock in the morning. She had been exhausted, of course, from all the emotional trauma of the last few days.
Not that she’d felt any better when she’d woken at nine o’clock this morning, knowing by the sound of the radio downstairs that her father had already been up. Margaret Fraser was sure to have told him of her own parting shot as she’d left the restaurant the evening before.
She had been right about that; her father was absolutely furious that Darcy had caused a scene in the restaurant of all places. Her reply, that scenes were what Margaret Fraser enjoyed the most, had not gone down too well, and the argument that had followed had been far from pretty. With the end result that Darcy had told her father exactly what he could do with his holiday job, and that she would be looking for a flat of her own later today.
Darcy still cringed when she thought of that argument; until the last couple of days she could never remember being at odds with her father about anything. As far as she was concerned, it was all Margaret Fraser’s fault!
But it was partly because of that argument with her father that she had been late changing into her figurefitting navy-blue dress in readiness for joining Logan for lunch. Partly…
Logan hadn’t left the restaurant!
She could easily see him as she entered the room, sitting at a window table. Very much as he had done last night. Except a lot had happened since she’d spoken to him at Chef Simon yesterday evening!
Logan was looking as arrogantly handsome as ever in a grey suit, and—unless she was mistaken—the white silk shirt she had sent to him yesterday…
He stood up as she was shown to the table, Darcy noting several female heads turning in their direction as he did so. No doubt those women had been wondering—as she had last night—who would be joining this attractive man for lunch; she doubted any of them had expected him to be interested in a mousy little thing like her!
Ordinarily they would be right…
‘Darcy!’ Logan greeted warmly now, indicating for the wine waiter to pour her some of the white wine he had obviously ordered while he’d waited for her to arrive. ‘Unless you have to work this afternoon?’ He quirked dark brows across the table at Darcy.
‘I am, at the moment, what I believe is known in acting circles as “resting”,’ Darcy answered brittlely.
Logan gave her a sharp look. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said dismissively.
‘Neither does my father,’ she scorned. ‘But I have a feeling, when he marries Margaret Fraser, that he will very quickly find out!’
‘Shouldn’t that be if he marries her?’ Logan replied hardly.
‘Not according to my father,’ Darcy muttered with remembered bitterness.
‘Presumably, by your earlier remark, you’re no longer working for him?’ Logan queried.
‘We’ve decided that a parting of the ways—in all areas of our lives—is probably for the best. Nice shirt,’ she added dryly, looking at the snowy white garment.
‘Damn the shirt,’ Logan came back. ‘No, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,’ he continued a little less fiercely. ‘It’s a beautiful shirt. And I don’t think I ever thanked you for it,’ he admitted awkwardly.
Perhaps he wasn’t a man who was used to accepting presents. Probably more used to giving them, Darcy decided.
‘You’re welcome.’ She nodded. ‘What made you change your mind about keeping it?’ she enquired as she picked up the menu and began looking down the food on offer.
‘The fact that you had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to get it for me,’ he said quietly.
‘I see.’
‘Darcy—’
‘Have you tried the lasagne here?’ She looked over the top of the menu at him. ‘I believe it’s supposed to be delicious.’
‘Darcy, I’m trying to talk to you,’ Logan said wearily.
She raised auburn brows. ‘I thought you invited me out to lunch?’
‘I did,’ he returned sharply. ‘Because we need to talk.’
‘And not eat,’ she replied understandingly, closing her menu and putting it down on the table-top. ‘Talk away,’ she invited.