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me. But I'm back in London now, so—'
'What sort of things?' Logan questioned warily; his grandfather had a habit
of changing his will every month or so, depending on who was in favour at
the time. Not that this bothered Logan on a personal level; he was wealthy
enough not to be concerned with the McDonald millions. But his mother, as
one of old Hugh's three daughters, was likely to be furious if she was cut out
of the will yet again. Which meant Logan was sure to get dragged into the
situation!
'That's what I rang to talk to you about,' Fergus answered evenly.
'I'm just on my way out, Fergus,' Logan told his cousin after a glance at his
wrist-watch. 'Can't it wait until tomorrow?'
'It can,' Fergus answered slowly.
'But...?' Logan heard that hesitation in the other man's voice. It was that will
again!
'But, I really would rather talk to you tonight.' His cousin confirmed there
had been a hesitation.
'Okay, Fergus,' Logan sighed wearily, sure this had to be about his
grandfather's will. 'I have a table booked at the Chef Simon restaurant for
eight o'clock. Meet me there.' He was sure there would be no problem
setting the table for two instead of one.
'The Chef Simon?' Fergus echoed sharply. 'But—'
'Do you have a problem with that?' Logan prompted, unsure whether or not
his cousin was involved with anyone at the moment.
The three cousins, Fergus, Brice, and Logan, had been know n as the Three
Horrors by their family during their growing-up years in Scotland; the
Three Macs when they had all gone off to Oxford University together at
eighteen; now in their mid-thirties, all of them having remained unmarried,
they had become known in social circles as the Elusive Three.
But the fact that none of them had married did not preclude female
involvement in Fergus's life...
'No, no problem,' Fergus answered thoughtfully. 'In fact, it's probably a
good idea. A very good idea.' He was obviously warming to the suggestion.
'I have to change first, but I'll be with you as soon as I can.'
Logan slowly replaced his own receiver, frowning deeply. It would be good
to see Fergus on a social level; it happened all too infrequently nowadays.
Although in the circumstances, it was also a little inconvenient, he realised
belatedly...
Never mind, with any luck he would have a few minutes before Fergus
arrived to deal with the situation concerning Darcy and the silk shirt.
His mouth tightened grimly as he thought of the meeting ahead. Time for
Darcy's surprise!
'The man on table eleven would like to have a word with you, Darcy,' a
slightly breathless Katy informed her as she brought some dirty starter
plates into the kitchen for washing.
Darcy looked up from what she was doing. 'Me?' She frowned. 'Are you sure
he meant me?'
'Darcy. That's what he said.' Katy shrugged, picking up two plates of prawns
nestling in an avocado nest before bustling back out into the main restaurant
with them.
Darcy felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. A customer asking
to speak to Darcy. She didn't like the sound of that. Not one little bit!
'Better go and see what he wants,' Daniel Simon advised dryly, busy making
a sauce for a steak he also had cooking.
Darcy gave him a scathing glance even as she took off her apron and
smoothed the black skirt down over her hips, her cream blouse tucked in
neatly at her slender waist.
'Keep the customers happy at all costs, is that it?' she returned with barely
veiled sarcasm.
He shrugged. 'Well... I draw the line at you selling your body for profit, but
other than that...yes!' he answered teasingly.
Darcy's scowl deepened. 'Very funny!' she retorted. 'Can you manage
without me for a few minutes?'
He smiled across at her, blue eyes crinkling with humour. 'I think I can
cope,' he drawled. 'And, Darcy...' he called softly as she turned abruptly on
her heel and flounced over to the doors that led into the restaurant.
She turned at the door. 'Yes?' she replied tautly, chin raised defiantly.
Things had been very strained between them since his announcement
yesterday morning, mainly on Darcy's side, she had to admit. But she didn't
intend letting him off the hook with a few teasing remarks. Not this time.
'Smile,' Daniel Simon advised ruefully. 'The customers prefer it!'
She only just managed to hold back her biting retort to that particular
remark, instead shooting him another scathing glance before going out the
swing doors that led directly into the restaurant.
Her footsteps became halting as she instantly recognised the man seated at
table eleven. Logan McKenzie!
She had half guessed, because of the parcel she had sent him earlier today,
and from the request to speak to 'Darcy', that it might be him—after all, he
didn't know her surname. But actually to see him sitting there, looking
