- -
- 100%
- +
In comparison, his mother had played down the dark sensuality of her own beauty, wearing a demure grey skirt suit with a black blouse, even her make-up was less pronounced today; she wore only a light blusher on her cheeks, and a pale peach lip-gloss.
Logan had no doubts that both women had made these changes to their appearance in expectation of meeting the other. His mother he didn’t give a care about; she played a role so often it was difficult to know with her what was real and what wasn’t. But the effect on Logan of this totally different-looking Darcy was one of stunned silence.
Making him fully aware that it wasn’t only her smiles that could render him speechless!
Maybe he could just introduce the two women and make his excuses? Because he wasn’t sure he could actually sit here, with his mother on one side of him, and Darcy on the other, looking the way that she did, and behave normally!
But, the introductions over, instead of making his excuses and leaving, he found himself sitting down with the two women, even agreeing to take tea with them when the waiter came over to take their order!
Willpower, Logan, he told himself disgustedly. Quite—wherever was it?
But he very quickly realised as the two women looked warily at each other that it was going to be up to him to break this initial awkward silence.
‘Were you busy at lunch-time today?’ he asked Darcy conversationally.
She seemed relieved to speak to him, hardly seeming to be able to even look at Margaret. ‘Not too bad.’
Logan wasn’t altogether sure he believed her; she still looked very tired to him. ‘Have you heard from your father?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she answered flatly, shooting his mother a brief look beneath lowered lashes.
Obviously she was wondering if Margaret had heard from Daniel Simon, Logan realised disgustedly. Well, if Darcy wasn’t going to ask her, he was!
He looked at his mother with narrowed eyes. ‘What about you?’ he pressed.
Margaret Fraser took her time answering, crossing one slender leg over the other, before looking up at him with unemotional blue eyes. ‘Logan, I— Ah, tea.’ She smiled up at the waiter as he began to place tea things on the table in front of them.
The young waiter—predictably!—couldn’t take his eyes off Margaret as he went about his duties, obviously wondering if this really could be the beautiful actress Margaret Fraser, but he was too polite to actually ask.
Logan viewed the young man’s reaction with a totally jaundiced eye. He had been seeing this reaction to his mother’s looks all his life, had found it to be the height of embarrassment when introducing her to schoolfriends, followed by university friends—the fact that she was old enough to be their mother making no difference! Old or young, men were always bowled over by the way his mother looked.
Darcy, he could see, looked slightly green as she also noted the young man’s response to Margaret Fraser.
‘Shall I pour the tea?’ his mother offered lightly once they were alone again.
She could damn well answer his question, was what she could do!
‘Go ahead,’ he told his mother dryly. ‘And while you’re at it, tell us whether or not you’ve heard from Daniel.’
Was it his imagination, or did his mother’s grasp of the teapot tremble slightly as he repeated the question…?
If it did, she quickly brought it back under control, graciously leaning forward to hand Darcy her cup of tea. But Logan wasn’t fooled for a minute; his mother might be a wonderful actress, but he had known her too long to be taken in!
‘Well?’ he pressed again once she had given him his own cup of tea.
His mother gave Darcy a small smile. ‘He was like this as a child, you know,’ she remarked. ‘Dogged!’ She shook her head. ‘He had learnt to walk by the time he was nine months old, could talk by the time—’
‘Mother!’ Logan interrupted her, heated colour on the hardness of his cheeks. ‘I’m sure Darcy has absolutely no interest in hearing when I walked, talked, or, indeed, any of those other normal childhood achievements!’
His mother raised dark brows. ‘Is it my imagination or are you a trifle tetchy today, Logan?’
A trifle—! One day he really was going to wring her neck for her! ‘No, it isn’t your imagination, Mother,’ he bit out through gritted teeth. ‘As I have already explained to you, I do not appreciate being dragged into this mess!’
‘Then, my dear Logan,’ his mother returned calmly, putting one slender hand on his arm, ‘why don’t you just leave Darcy and I to it? I’m sure we both appreciate the fact that you’re a busy man. I can easily get a taxi back later. I’m sure we can manage without you—can’t we, my dear?’ She turned to Darcy.
Logan also turned to Darcy. He was only here because of her, and he didn’t appreciate being dismissed by his mother as if he were some errand boy who had completed his job! If Darcy now did the same thing—!
Darcy pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry, Logan, I really didn’t think…Of course you must go. I’m sure you have other things you need to do.’
‘Fine.’ He slammed his teacup down on the table before standing up. ‘I’ll leave, then.’ Without waiting for further comment from either of them he turned and strode out of the hotel.
To blazes with the pair of them! He had done as Darcy had asked him, his mother had accepted him accompanying her to the hotel, and now he had been dismissed by both of them!
He was so angry he almost forgot he had driven here, that his car was still parked in the basement of the hotel. Which only served to increase his anger; between the two of them, his mother and Darcy were making a complete mess of his ordered life—and him!
Darcy watched Logan leave with a certain amount of dismay, concerned that he had left in a temper, and not exactly relishing the idea of being alone with his mother, either. But, by the same token, she didn’t think the two of them would talk frankly with Logan present, which was something they needed to do.
‘I shouldn’t worry too much about Logan,’ his mother cut gently into her thoughts. ‘He has a hot temper—which he hates. Logan likes to be in control, you see,’ she explained affectionately. ‘But a temper is often something beyond our control. However, as I said, don’t worry, his temper is hot, but it quickly goes cold again.’
It seemed quite strange to be sitting here discussing Logan with someone who knew him so intimately; not only did Margaret know when he had walked and talked, she had also been the one to care for his every need as a baby. It was hard to envisage a totally helpless Logan…!
‘I’m not worried,’ she assured Margaret. ‘I’m just a bit sad that he seems to be angry with both of us.’
His mother laughed. ‘I’m used to it; Logan has been angry with me most of his life, for one reason or another. But I can see how it would be upsetting for you,’ she said almost questioningly.
Because she wondered just how close Darcy and Logan were…?
Darcy wished she knew the answer to that herself. Last night—Better to forget last night, she instantly berated herself. But even today, Logan had telephoned his mother and set up this meeting, as Darcy had asked him to, had driven his mother here. That didn’t seem like the actions of a man who was completely indifferent to her.
She had even dressed up today, was wearing more make-up than she usually did, in the hope of showing herself in a different light to Logan. Too often he had seen her as a weeping mess, or hot and tired from working in the kitchen; she had wanted to show him that she wasn’t always like that. For all the notice he had taken of her chic appearance today she might as well not have bothered!
Darcy gave a dismissive shrug. ‘He’s been very kind,’ she answered Margaret Fraser noncommittally.
‘Hmm, most unLoganlike,’ his mother offered thoughtfully. ‘Oh, don’t misunderstand me, Darcy,’ she continued. ‘I think my son is a pretty wonderful man: kind, caring, considerate, very much the gentleman. It’s just that, usually, he tends to hide it very well.’
Darcy couldn’t help it; she smiled. It was such an accurate description of the man she had come to know this last week that she couldn’t do anything else. Logan was all of the things his mother said he was, and he really didn’t like people to realise that.
‘That’s better.’ Margaret smiled back warmly, leaning forward to pick up the plate of delicacies that had arrived with their tea. ‘Have a cake, Darcy,’ she invited. ‘We can both think about our waistlines tomorrow!’
Margaret Fraser didn’t look as if she needed to think about hers at all, slender but shapely. But then, neither did Darcy normally—so she took one of the offered cakes, a nice gooey, chocolatey one.
‘We couldn’t do this in front of Logan,’ Margaret continued before biting into the chocolate e´clair she had chosen. ‘There’s simply no way of eating a fresh-cream cake with any degree of ladylike delicacy!’ she said, before dabbing with a napkin to remove some of the excess cream from her mouth. ‘I love your father very much, you know, Darcy.’
The remark was so unexpected Darcy almost choked over her second bite of chocolate cake!
They had been talking about waistlines and cakes, for goodness’ sake; where had that last remark come from?
She looked across at the older woman, finding Margaret looking straight back at her, her gaze steady and direct, all pretence totally gone as that gaze revealed the full extent of her emotions.
This woman really did love her father…
Darcy swallowed hard before moistening her lips. ‘Logan asked you a question before he—left,’ she began slowly. ‘Do you know where my father is?’
Margaret’s gaze didn’t waver. ‘Yes.’
Darcy’s breath left her in a relieved sigh. ‘Is he okay?’
Again Margaret met her gaze head on. ‘Yes.’
Darcy nodded. ‘That’s all I need to know.’
Margaret smiled slightly. ‘Can you imagine Logan accepting my answers as easily?’
‘No,’ Darcy answered honestly. ‘But then, he doesn’t have the same interest in my father’s welfare that I do.’
‘No.’ Logan’s mother sighed. ‘Logan’s interest, unfortunately, is much closer to home. I made a bad second marriage,’ Margaret enlarged at Darcy’s questioning look.
She frowned. ‘I don’t think—’
‘It’s relevant, Darcy,’ the older woman told her quietly. ‘Logan was eleven when his father died, twelve at the time I remarried—not a good age for any boy to be presented with a stepfather!’ She looked sad. ‘More to the point, he disliked Malcolm intensely. What I wasn’t aware of, for some time, was that the dislike worked both ways. My husband Malcolm, without my knowledge, was an absolute brute to Logan. So much so that when he was fourteen, Logan informed me that he hated my husband, and me, and moved to Scotland to live with his grandfather. It took me several more years of being married to Malcolm before I realised exactly why Logan had gone. By which time our own relationship had been irrevocably damaged. He’s never forgiven me,’ she concluded sadly.
Darcy really didn’t think they should be discussing Logan in this way, and yet a part of her wanted to know, wanted to try and fathom what made Logan the man that he was. The things Margaret had told her already answered some of the questions she had about him. His willingness to help her, for one thing; he obviously knew exactly what she was going through at the thought of her father’s second marriage.
Except, because of the little time she had spent talking to her, Darcy didn’t think she was going to hate Margaret Fraser…
‘He was a child still,’ Darcy excused Logan’s behaviour.
Margaret shook her head in disagreement. ‘Adulthood, unfortunately, hasn’t changed our relationship. As far as Logan is concerned, I let him down when he needed his mother the most.’ She stared Darcy right in the eye. ‘Which is precisely why I won’t come between you and your father.’
Darcy had already realised that. But she wasn’t the child Logan had been at his mother’s remarriage; she was twenty-five years old, far too old to have any say in her father’s life any more. Besides, now that her initial shock at the idea had dissipated, maturity meant she simply couldn’t be that selfish.
‘Daniel told me that, if the two of us ever met in the right circumstances, I would like you,’ Margaret said hesitantly. ‘He was right.’
Darcy drew in a shaky breath. ‘He told me the same thing about you,’ she admitted gruffly. ‘And, again, he was right. When you next speak to him, would you please tell him—?’
‘Why don’t you tell him yourself?’ Margaret suggested warmly. ‘After he telephoned me yesterday I— It was very difficult when Logan called for me earlier. You see—your father is at my apartment, Darcy,’ she admitted awkwardly. ‘I couldn’t bear it when I knew how deeply upset he was, and so I—’
‘It’s all right, Margaret,’ Darcy cut in happily. And it was—she was just relieved to know where her father was. ‘Does he know the two of us are meeting this afternoon?’
‘I didn’t tell him,’ Margaret confirmed. ‘He would probably have insisted on coming with me if I had, and—Can you imagine Logan’s reaction to that?’ she said knowingly.
After witnessing the way he behaved towards his mother, and hearing his anger directed towards her father—yes, she could imagine only too well!
‘Do you think my father is likely to suffer a heart attack if I arrive back with you now?’ she prompted lightly.
‘Probably.’ Margaret laughed softly. ‘But he’ll quickly get over that when—’ She broke off.
‘When…?’ Darcy prompted.
Margaret gave a small smile. ‘I was being presumptuous, jumping two steps ahead.’
‘Because you believed I would give my blessing on your marriage to my father?’ Darcy easily guessed. ‘That isn’t being presumptuous, Margaret; I should never have objected in the first place. Even if you were absolutely awful—which you aren’t,’ she added hastily.
‘I wish you could convince Logan of that,’ Margaret told her almost wistfully.
Logan!
It wasn’t just a possibility now that he might be her stepbrother—it was a fact!
How on earth was he going to react to knowing that…?
CHAPTER NINE
LOGAN had no idea what he was doing standing outside the entrance of Chef Simon at eleven-thirty in the morning!
When he’d left his mother and Darcy at the hotel yesterday he had been absolutely furious at what he deemed to be their dismissal of him, had had no intention of talking to either of them again in the near future. But as the hours had passed, and he hadn’t heard a word from either of them, that anger had changed to a burning curiosity.
Had the two women ended up hating each other, or had they actually come to some sort of truce? He could perfectly well understand if Darcy disliked his mother, but he would find it most unlikely that his mother could have disliked Darcy; apart from the fact she had kicked him in the shin, and threatened to throw wine over him, she was far too nice for anyone to actually dislike!
Apart from the fact—!
Logan stopped that thought. Knowing Darcy had certainly never been dull.
But if the two women hadn’t ended up hating each other, they must have reached some sort of agreement over the situation. And Logan wanted to know exactly what that agreement was.
But he wasn’t curious enough to put himself through another meeting with his mother. So he had come to the restaurant at a time when he knew it wasn’t actually open, but Darcy would be busy in the kitchen preparing for the lunch-time trade.
He could see someone moving about inside the closed restaurant now, although, with the room still unlit, he couldn’t actually see who it was.
Oh, well, faint heart, and all that—
No, that wasn’t right, he thought darkly. He wasn’t here to win Darcy; he just wanted to know what was going on.
His initial knock on the door heralded no response, and so he knocked louder the second time. This time there was the sound of movement inside, the key turning in the lock seconds later, the bolt shifted back, before the door slowly opened.
‘I’m sorry, but we don’t open until—You!’ Daniel Simon’s polite smile faded rapidly as he incredulously recognised Logan.
No more incredulously than Logan recognised the other man. He had been expecting to see Darcy, or maybe one of the waitresses; he certainly hadn’t expected to see the owner of the restaurant, Darcy’s own father, opening the door!
Logan’s mouth twisted mockingly. ‘You’re back, then,’ he said derisively.
Daniel Simon raised blond brows. ‘Obviously,’ he drawled.
‘And not before time,’ Logan responded harshly. ‘Darcy has been run off her feet in your sudden absence,’ he added critically.
Daniel Simon’s mouth tightened. ‘I believe that is between my daughter and myself.’
‘I disagree. You—’
‘Logan, exactly what is it you want?’ the other man interrupted curtly.
He drew in a sharp breath. The last thing he had expected had been to be confronted by Darcy’s father. But, nevertheless, he wasn’t about to be put off doing what he had come here to do.
‘To speak to Darcy,’ he told the older man abruptly.
Daniel Simon nodded, opening the door wider so that Logan could enter the strangely quiet restaurant. ‘She’s in the kitchen,’ he supplied shortly. ‘Oh, and Logan…?’ he said as Logan strode past him on his way to the kitchen.
Logan stopped, turning slowly. ‘Yes?’ he replied arrogantly.
The chef’s expression had softened. ‘Don’t do or say anything to upset her, hmm?’ he suggested, his tone implying Logan would have him to deal with if he did so.
‘Me upset her—!’ Logan exploded. ‘I like that! I don’t believe I’m the one who only days ago calmly dropped the bombshell of his remarriage on her over the breakfast table. Neither am I the one—’
‘Logan, again, that is between Darcy and myself,’ Daniel Simon said sharply. ‘But while we’re on the subject of your mother—’
‘We weren’t,’ Logan told him flatly, his hands clenched at his sides. He was beginning to wish he had never met any of the Simon family!
The other man wasn’t about to be put off. ‘Yes, we were,’ he insisted firmly. ‘And isn’t it time you gave her a break? Or do you intend to hold it against her for ever that she made a mistake in her second marriage?’
Logan’s mouth thinned angrily; how dared his mother discuss him—and his feelings!—with this man? ‘What was it you said to me a few moments ago?’ he returned icily. ‘I believe that is between my mother and myself!’ With one last glaring look at the older man Logan continued on his way to the kitchen.
Darcy was standing with her back towards the door when he entered the kitchen, working at one of the tables in the centre of the room. The door closed with a swishing noise behind him alerting her to the presence of another person.
‘Could you bring me some eggs from the fridge?’ she asked without turning.
There was a large refrigerator against the wall a short distance from the door and, after a brief look inside, Logan was able to locate a box of a dozen eggs, moving to place them down on the table beside Darcy.
‘Thanks. I—’ She came to an abrupt halt, having looked up and seen Logan standing beside her. ‘I’m sorry, I though you were my father…’ She gasped, colour instantly brightening her cheeks.
Logan’s expression tightened at the mention of her father. ‘Hardly,’ he said sardonically. ‘When did he get back?’
‘Last night,’ she answered awkwardly. ‘I—do you mind if I carry on preparing this?’ She indicated some concoction she was constructing in a saucepan. ‘Only we need it for lunch, you see, and—’
‘Darcy, you’re waffling,’ he interrupted, glad to see someone else being disconcerted for a change; he had been taken by surprise so many times the last few days, and it wasn’t an emotion he was comfortable with.
‘Actually…’ she smiled slightly ‘…it’s a lemon meringue pie. Not a waffle,’ she explained.
‘Very funny,’ he returned dryly, leaning back against the table. ‘You seem happy today?’
After all, the fact that Daniel Simon was back in his restaurant did not mean that everything was back to normal…
‘You’ve seen my father?’ She was busy separating eggs now.
Very efficiently, too, Logan noted. ‘He was the one who let me in,’ he explained. ‘Is he back for good, or just until you can get someone else in to help you?’
Which didn’t fool Darcy for a moment, he could see, as she gave him a knowing sideways glance. But when was someone going to tell him exactly what was going on?
Darcy picked up a saucepan and placed it on the hotplate, deftly adding the ingredients she needed. ‘Why don’t you just ask what you really want to know?’ she mused.
Because, after arriving here and finding Daniel Simon back at the restaurant, Logan wasn’t a hundred per cent sure he knew what that was any more!
He gave Darcy a considering look. ‘And just what might that be?’ A wonderful tangy smell of lemons came from inside the saucepan now as the ingredients heated.
Her mouth quirked. ‘Did your mother and I manage to get through tea together yesterday without scratching each other’s eyes out!’
‘Well—did you?’ He leant back against one of the kitchen units, arms folded across his chest as he waited for her answer.
Again Darcy gave him a sideways glance. ‘I’m happy to report there are no physical injuries,’ she finally answered.
Except to his pride, it seemed; his feelings of being a dismissed servant yesterday, when assured by both women that they could manage without him, had not abated!
He nodded abruptly, that same pride precluding him asking for more information on how that meeting between Darcy and his mother had gone. ‘And your father?’ he pressed. ‘Exactly where did he come from?’
‘I didn’t ask,’ Darcy answered quietly, still busily stirring the contents of the saucepan.
‘You didn’t—! Whyever not?’ Logan exclaimed.
Given the same circumstances, it would have been the first thing he would have wanted to know!
She shrugged. ‘Because it’s none of my business.’ Satisfied with the consistency, she put the hot saucepan on a rack to let the contents cool.
Logan didn’t agree with her. But one look at her determinedly set features told him it would be useless to pursue the point; Darcy could be as stubborn as him if the occasion merited it.
He drew in a deep breath. ‘Okay,’ he said tautly. ‘Let’s try this from another angle. What—?’ He broke off as a buzzer sounded behind him.
‘Excuse me for a moment, Logan.’ Darcy moved deftly around him to open an oven door and take out a dozen or so individual pastry cases. ‘Perfect,’ she said with satisfaction after checking the pastry.
Logan frowned as he watched her. ‘Are all the desserts made on the premises too?’
‘Of course.’ Darcy gave him a scandalised look. ‘Any chef who has pride in his—or her—work wouldn’t dream of serving bought desserts.’
Despite the fact that Darcy had chosen to move to a different career, it was rapidly becoming obvious to Logan that she was actually an excellent cook. Coupled with her immense loyalty and warmth of personality, that meant she was going to make some lucky man a wonderful wife one day—
Where on earth had that come from? What did it matter to him what sort of wife Darcy was or was not going to be?
‘Could you just excuse me for a few minutes while I put on the electric beater to whisk up these egg-whites?’ Darcy didn’t even wait for his answer, pushing the switch, the noisy drone of the beater making it impossible to make further conversation.
Not that Logan particularly minded—he was still stunned by the strange direction his thoughts had just taken!
He had come here today simply to put his mind at rest concerning Darcy’s meeting yesterday with his mother. Well, he could see that Darcy looked, and sounded, just fine, so he had no further reason to stay.
Except, she hadn’t really told him anything…