To Marry McKenzie

By: Carole Mortimer

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


'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


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

those bloodstains!

She still had his sodden handkerchief, she realised as she looked down with

dismay at the screwed-up item in her hand. Not that she could have given it

back to him in this condition; she would have to launder it first and send it

back to him. Not that she thought Logan McKenzie would miss one white

handkerchief; it was just a matter of principle.


'Here we are,' announced a bright female voice as Karen Hill, Logan

McKenzie's private secretary, came into the room, laden down with

disinfectant cream and plasters. 'Logan says you've had an accident.' She

looked at Darcy enquiringly.

Logan—Darcy was sure—thought she was one big accident! She cringed

with embarrassment now as she remembered the way she had sobbed all

over the poor man.

'It's nothing,' she dismissed. 'Just a plaster will be fine,' she accepted lightly,

the cut no longer bleeding, although it stung slightly.

But not as much as remembering her complete breakdown in front of Logan

McKenzie a few minutes ago! The sooner she got away from here, the


'Thanks.' She accepted the offered plaster. 'Er—do you have any idea of

Logan's—Mr McKenzie's,' she corrected awkwardly, 'shirt size?'

Karen's blonde brows shot up in obvious surprise. 'Logan's shirt size...?' she

repeated speculatively.

Mistake, Darcy, she admonished herself. If she intended replacing Logan

McKenzie's ruined silk shirt she would just have to find another way of

finding out what size to purchase.

'It doesn't matter,' she told the other woman brightly, avoiding Karen's

questioning gaze as she put the plaster on her finger. 'I'll just finish clearing

away here and be on my way,' she added.

'Fine,' the other woman answered distractedly, obviously still puzzled by

Darcy's earlier question.

Well, she would have to remain puzzled, Darcy decided irritably; she had

already embarrassed herself enough for one day!

Once on her own she cleared away in double-quick fashion, stacking