AllFreeNovel
Share Us
have to be so friendly with the staff?'
Hurt flared in her eyes at the unwarranted rebuke, making them appear
almost silver. 'Good manners cost you nothing, Logan,' she returned
briskly. 'Besides, why should I ruin his day, just because mine isn't turning
out to be so brilliant?'
'Thanks,' Logan said sarcastically.
Darcy sighed. Why was she even bothering to go through with this?
Because she was still angry? Or because she wanted to see just how far
Logan was willing to go in this charade? The latter, probably, she
acknowledged heavily. But this whole situation was grating on her already
frayed emotions.
'Logan, exactly what is it you want from me?' she demanded suddenly,
giving up all pretence now of this being a pleasant lunch together. Not that
it had ever been that in the first place—on either side!
Logan looked startled by the question, eyeing her warily. 'What do you
mean?'
She pursed her lips, her expression scathing. 'Stop treating me like an idiot,
Logan,' she bit out disgustedly. 'I mean, what do you, Margaret Fraser's
son, want from me?' she challenged, her eyes gleaming silver once again.
She hadn't been able to believe it this morning when, in the heat of their
argument, her father had told her exactly who and what Logan McKenzie
was, demanding to know what the two of them were plotting together.
At th€ time, she had even been too numbed by her father's revelation to
defend herself properly against those accusations...
Logan McKenzie was the son of that—that woman?
Incredible as it seemed to her, it appeared that was exactly what he was.
The actress looked barely in her thirties herself, and yet she had a son aged
in his mid-thirties. And her son was Logan McKenzie...
Darcy had thought him so understanding yesterday evening. Hey, she had
even thanked him for being so kind to her!
He had kissed her too. Worse, she had kissed him back...!
But she now realised Logan had had his own reasons for being so nice to
her, and those reasons involved his mother!
She felt so stupid now when she thought of all she had said to him, all the
things she had confided in him.
But most of all, she was angry. Furiously so. Which was the reason she had
decided to continue with the arrangement of meeting Logan for lunch today;
she wanted the pleasure of telling him to his face exactly what she thought
of him!
'Well?' she challenged again at his continued silence, her expression
mutinous.
He drew in a ragged breath. 'I'm not sure I know what to say...' he finally
admitted.
Darcy bridled. 'An apology might not be amiss! What on earth you hoped to
achieve by not telling me the truth from the beginning, I have no idea, but I
can assure you that whatever it was you have failed miserably; nothing you
could do or say would ever convince me to accept your mother marrying my
father!'
She was breathing hard in her agitation, more angry with Logan McKenzie
now than she was with her father. At least her father had been honest with
her.
Logan frowned darkly. 'Let me assure you, Darcy,' he began, 'I am no more
enamoured by the idea of the two of them marrying than you are. Until you
told me about their plans, I had no idea it was even a possibility!'
She didn't believe him. He had to be fighting his mother's corner. Besides,
if what he claimed were really the case, once he'd become aware of the
engagement, aware of her own aversion to the relationship, he had had
plenty of opportunity to tell her the truth about his own relationship to
Margaret Fraser. If he had wanted to. Which he obviously hadn't.
Although, she did remember he had assured her that he didn't believe any
marriage between the older couple would ever take place...
'My father, a mere restaurant owner, isn't good enough for your mother, is
that it?' she retorted as the idea suddenly occurred to her, remembering
that painting on the wall in Logan's apartment of the castle that was the
Scottish family home. The home where Margaret Fraser had probably
been brought up.
Logan waved the waiter away impatiently as the young man would have
brought their meals to the table. 'Darcy—'
'That is it, isn't it?' she accused incredulously as the idea began to take
hold. 'Exactly who do you think you are? More to the point, who do you
think your mother is? Because from where I'm standing, she's nothing
more than a—'
'Darcy!' Logan's voice was icily cold now, his expression glacial. 'There's
nothing you could say about my mother that I haven't already said or
thought of her myself. But that doesn't mean I'm willing to sit quietly by
while someone else is rude and insulting about her!'
Darcy glared at him. 'In that case, you must spend most of your life
getting into fights or arguing with people; I haven't met a single person
