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would be more at home on a farm, than in an office wearing tailored suits
and silk shirts.
Silk shirts...she remembered with an inward groan, the marks of her crying
earlier clearly showing on the now- dried material. She really doubted that
the traces of blood on the white silk would come off during dry-cleaning,
either.
Darcy was relieved when the lift reached the ground floor, having found the
silence between them uncomfortable, to say the least. 'Thanks.' She reached
to take the basket from him, making no effort to follow him out of the lift.
Logan McKenzie stood in the doorway to stop the doors closing behind him,
frowning again. 'Where are you going?'
'To the basement,' she told him lightly. 'I have the van parked down there.'
'In that case...' He stepped back into the lift, the doors instantly -'closing
behind him as he pressed the button marked 'basement'.
'There's really no need,' she told him once again, completely flustered at
having the owner of this world- renowned company helping her in this way.
'There's every need,' he rasped grimly. 'A little thing like you shouldn't be
carrying these heavy baskets. And correct me if I'm mistaken, but was there
only you dealing with the preparation and serving of lunch today?' Logan
continued firmly, completely ignoring the fact that she had been about to
protest at being called a 'little thing', blue eyes narrowed questioningly.
'Yes.' Darcy shifted the heavy basket to her other hand. 'We're short-staffed
today, you see and—'
'No, I don't see,' Logan interrupted shortly, stepping out into the darkened
basement that acted as a car park for the office staff of McKenzie Industries.
'Short-staffed or not, you shouldn't have been expected to deal with it all
alone. A fact I will be passing on to Daniel Simon at the earliest
opportunity,' he added grimly.
'Oh, don't do that!' Darcy turned from loading the van to protest, two wings
of embarrassed colour in her cheeks. I managed just fine. You had no
complaints about lunch, did you?' she pressed determinedly as Logan
McKenzie still looked grim.
'No...' he answered slowly.
'Then there's no problem, is there?' she assured him brightly.
He looked at her consideringly. 'You know, Darcy,' he began slowly, 'you
might find Daniel Simon less of a— bully, if you weren't so eager to please.'
Darcy looked up at him, but the subdued lighting in the car park made it
impossible to read his expression clearly. Which was a pity—because she
had no idea what he was talking about!
'It was only a lunch,' she responded, ready to leave now, the van loaded, the
keys in her hand.
'I wasn't particularly alluding to lunch,' he rasped.
Then what was he talking about? Admittedly, she could have handled the
latter part of this booking with a bit more detachment—in fact, a lot
more!—but there really had been nothing wrong with the lunch this man and
his guests had been served before her tearful outburst.
Logan McKenzie scowled at her slightly bewildered expression. 'I'm merely
offering you some advice from a male point of view, Darcy,' he replied. 'It's
up to you whether or not you choose to take it,' he ended abruptly, obviously
impatient to be gone now.
'I—: Thank you,' Darcy mumbled, having no idea what advice she had just
been given!
It wasn't a question of being eager to please where Daniel Simon was
concerned; she hadn't really been given too much of an opportunity to do
anything else where this lunch today was concerned. She was upset, yes, in
fact she was more than upset, but it would have been churlish to refuse to
help out when they were short-staffed. Business was business, after all, she
acknowledged slightly bitterly.
Logan McKenzie nodded tersely before turning quickly on his heel and
striding back to the still-waiting lift, stepping inside, his expression still
grim as the doors closed.
What a strange man, Darcy decided as she got into the van and drove out of
the car park. Kind one minute, impatient the next, then offering fatherly
advice—although anyone less like a father-figure, she couldn't imagine!
Oh, well, she decided lightly as she drove confidently through the
early-afternoon London traffic. Logan McKenzie was the least of her
problems at the moment. A frown marred the creaminess of her brow as she
thought of what was her biggest problem.
Daniel Simon. Chef Simon.
And the fact that this morning he had calmly informed her that he intended
marrying a woman he had only met for the first time three weeks ago!
CHAPTER TWO
'THIS has just been delivered for you,' Logan's secretary informed him,
before placing a large square parcel on top of his desk, his name and the
office address clearly printed in black ink on the brown wrapping paper.
Logan looked up with a frown, his thoughts still on the contract he had been
