To Marry McKenzie

By: Carole Mortimer

obvious anger.

She blinked. She hadn't thought about the buying of the shirt in that context

at all—and now that she did, it still made no difference to the fact that she

had ruined this man'^ shirt, and, as such, had to replace it. Even if it had cost

what amounted to a waitress's weekly wages!

Logan sighed heavily. 'What I'm trying to say, and obviously failing to do

so, is that I had no intention of telling Daniel Simon what happened between

us yesterday—'

'Nothing happened between the two of us yesterday!' Darcy gasped

incredulously, eyes wide. That cuddle had been purely platonic, and she

dared him to claim otherwise.

'I meant the fact that your behaviour was a little less than professional—'

'It most certainly was not!' she protested, sitting bolt upright in her chair

now, her expression indignant.

'Darcy, will you stop being so obtuse?' Logan came back. 'I'm trying to

reassure you that I have no intention of telling your boss that you were upset

and crying yesterday. In which case, you had no reason to buy me the shirt.

Am I making myself clear now?' he asked her frustratedly.

'As a bell,' Darcy answered. 'You think I bought you the shirt in an effort to

persuade you not to tell my boss that I was crying all over one of his private

clients yesterday. Is that right?' she mused softly—dangerously...!

"Exactly." Logan looked relieved that he had finally got through to her.

The arrogance. The damned arrogance—

'Sorry I'm late, Logan.' The man's voice was slightly breathless as he

approached the table. 'I had trouble finding a taxi,' he explained as he

reached them.

Darcy had glanced up as soon as she'd heard the newcomer speak. She had

thought Logan was waiting for a woman to join him, but she had obviously

been mistaken. The man who now stood beside their table was most

definitely male, tall and dark, physically muscular in his black evening suit

and snowy white shirt. Apart from the fact that his eyes were dark

coffee-brown, and his dark hair was much longer than Logan's, the two men

were enough alike to almost be twins.

Those dark coffee-brown eyes narrowed now as he realised Logan wasn't

alone, that speculative gaze moving over her assessingly—and clearly

coming to the conclusion that, in the black skirt and cream blouse, her hair

tied back primly, with no make-up, she wasn't Logan's usual type at all!

That was because she wasn't with Logan!

'I suppose it should have occurred to me that you weren't here alone, Logan,'

the newcomer drawled derisively.

'Oh, but he is.' Darcy stood up quickly. 'At least, he was until you arrived,'

she informed the coffee-coloured- eyed man smoothly. 'Now if you two

gentlemen will excuse me,' she said politely, 'I'll get back to the kitchen.'

Where I obviously belong, she could have added, but didn't.

'Darcy!' Logan had stood up too, his hand moving with rapier speed to grasp

her arm. 'We haven't finished our conversation,' he told her as she glanced

back at him.

'Oh, I think we have.' Her voice was slightly tinged with bitterness, her gaze

cold as she looked pointedly at his hold on her arm. 'You're attracting

attention,' she warned him evenly, glancing over to where several of the

other diners were staring across at them curiously now, as well as Katy and

another of the waitresses serving this evening.

'I don't give a monkey's what I'm doing,' he rasped harshly, not sparing those

people so much as a return glance. 'I have not finished talking to you—'

'Would you like me to leave, Logan?' the other man put in carefully. 'We can

do this some other time.'

'Shut up, Fergus,' Logan snapped, his eyes locked with Darcy's. 'I—'

'Darcy?' the man, Fergus, suddenly echoed sharply. 'Did you say Darcy?' A

sharp look in Darcy's direction accompanied his words.

The look Logan shot him was enough to wither a flower in full bloom, Darcy

decided; the effect on the other man was barely negligible, just a slight

raising of dark brows.

'I asked you to stay out of this, Fergus,' Logan grated between gritted teeth.

'Would you just sit down at the table and I'll be back in a moment?' Without

waiting to see if the other man complied with his instructions he pulled

Darcy off to one side of the room, placing them behind a tall potted plant.

She glanced at the patchy green camouflage before looking up at Logan.

'Why don't you just take the shirt? Then we can both forget about the

incident,' she pressed as he would have protested once again.

Logan drew in a hissing breath. 'Maybe because I don't want to for—'

'Everything okay, Darcy?' Chef Simon himself was suddenly standing

beside them, his glance moving quizzically over them both. 'Katy seemed to

think there was some sort of problem?' he elaborated with light enquiry, his

eyes mild as they rested on the other man.

Great. Just great. After two days of feeling absolutely furious with this man,

Logan McKenzie came along and put her in a position where she was the

one put on the defensive! Which was the last place where she wanted to be

at the moment!

'No problem,' Darcy was the one to answer tightly. 'Mr McKenzie was just

about to sit down and enjoy his meal. Weren't you?' she added pointedly,

giving him a glaring look.

'McKenzie?' Chef Simon echoed abruptly, his gaze sharp on the younger