it, Darcy.’ Logan continued to hold the handkerchief out to her. ‘Your mascara has run,’ he observed.
Darcy took the handkerchief with muttered thanks, mopping self-consciously at her eyes—before she remembered that she wasn’t wearing mascara, that she hadn’t worn any make-up this evening; the heat in the kitchen tended to make it cake! ‘Very funny,’ she replied, her smile rueful.
‘That’s better.’ Logan nodded his approval of her half-smile. ‘I’m sure—whatever it is—that it can’t be that bad…?’ He bent his head to smile back at her teasingly.
Darcy’s own humour faded. ‘Worse!’ she said with feeling, giving an involuntary shiver. ‘You can have no idea.’ She shook her head, her expression bleak.
Logan tilted his head, dark brows raised questioningly. ‘Want to talk about it?’
Did she? In one way, definitely no! In another way…it might be quite nice to share this with someone. But was Logan McKenzie, a man she hardly knew, the right someone…?
Probably not, she acknowledged. But if she didn’t talk to someone about this soon, she was going to burst! Besides, she had no intention of returning to the restaurant this evening…
She gave a heavy sigh, coming to a decision. ‘Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?’
‘Darcy! This is so sudden.’ Logan pretended to reel from the suggestion.
‘I said coffee, Logan—er—Mr McKenzie—’ She broke off, blushing at her own familiarity with a man who was, after all, a customer of Chef Simon. Although, in the circumstances, the formality of ‘Mr McKenzie’ did seem slightly ridiculous!
‘Logan will do,’ he assured her, obviously of the same opinion.
She nodded, her cheeks still feeling hot. ‘And I was suggesting we go to a coffee bar, not my home!’ she explained defensively.
‘Aren’t I a little overdressed for a coffee bar?’ Logan looked down at his dinner clothes.
Of course he was, Darcy realised belatedly. But going to her home really was out of the question. After the heated accusations that had been made in the kitchen earlier, the last thing she needed was for Daniel Simon to return home and find her there with Logan McKenzie!
‘We could always go to my apartment,’ Logan suggested, his gaze narrowed, seeming to have read some of the indecision on her face. If not the reason for it!
Go to his apartment…! ‘I’m sure you can’t really be interested in hearing all this,’ she burst out. ‘I think it might be better if I just went home and—and slept on the whole thing. My mother always told me that things never look so black in the morning,’ she went on with forced brightness, knowing this particular situation was going to get worse, not better.
‘And my nanny always told me that a problem shared is a problem halved,’ Logan came back dryly.
His nanny, not his mother, Darcy noted. But, then, he obviously came from a wealthy background, the sort where the children were cared for by a nanny. Nevertheless, it was very sad if, as it seemed, Logan had had a closer relationship with his nanny than with his own mother. Darcy’s own childhood had been spent being cosseted and loved by a mother who had always been there for her. She had been dead just over a year now, and Darcy still missed her deeply.
‘Maybe,’ she conceded huskily. ‘But my mother also warned me about the danger of going to the home of a man I don’t really know.’
‘My nanny warned me of the same thing where women are concerned,’ Logan drawled, taking a firm hold of her arm, at the same time hailing a passing taxi. ‘But I’ll risk it if you will!’
For the second time in their acquaintance—despite the fact that she was deeply upset, and that she could see no solution to ending this particular misery—Darcy laughed.
Logan froze in the act of helping her into the back of the waiting taxi. ‘I thought I asked you not to do that,’ he ground out, his jaw clenched.
Darcy blinked up at him dazedly, shaking her head. ‘I don’t understand—’
‘Never mind,’ Logan replied tersely, climbing into the back of the taxi to sit beside her before leaning forward and giving the driver his address.
He really was a complete stranger to her, Darcy decided during the drive to his apartment, Logan gloweringly silent beside her, one glance at his grimly set features enough to stop any attempt at conversation on her part, either.
What if her mother’s warning turned out to be a correct one? What if—?
‘Do I look like a man who has to drag young innocents off to his apartment in order to seduce them?’ Logan suddenly rasped, turning to look at her with cold blue eyes.
Darcy’s own eyes instantly filled with tears. He had seemed so kind earlier, so gentle, and now—
‘I’m sorry, Darcy,’ he said, turning fully towards her. ‘One way or another, this evening has turned out a bit of a shambles for me too. But that’s no reason to take it out on you! Forgive me?’ he prompted, taking one of her hands in both of his.
To her embarrassment, Darcy found herself trembling at his touch. Of all the times in her life to find herself physically attracted to a man—!
She snatched her hand out of his grasp, instantly hiding it beneath the one that still lay on her lap. Although that did nothing to prevent that tingling sensation, just from Logan McKenzie’s touch, from spreading up her arm…!
‘Of course,’ she dismissed sharply. ‘But maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’m sure I’ve already taken up enough of your time for one night. After all, it’s still early enough for you to salvage something from your evening.’
‘Too late, Darcy,’ he told her teasingly as the taxi came to a halt outside an apartment building.
Apparently the one in which he lived, Darcy acknowledged slightly dizzily as, having paid the driver, Logan took a firm hold of her arm and steered her inside.
She wasn’t unused to luxury, her own home being fairly comfortable, and the homes she visited on business for Chef Simon were often opulent, to say the least. But this apartment building—where Logan lived!—was something else.
The man sitting at the desk leapt to his feet as soon as Logan swept through the double glass doors, rushing over to call the lift after greeting him. Darcy’s feet sank into the deep pile of the pale blue carpet as she walked at Logan’s side. Clamped to his side by his firm hold on her arm!
It didn’t surprise her that it was the penthouse apartment the lift whisked them up to—after seeing the reception downstairs, she didn’t think anything about Logan’s home would surprise her any more.
She was wrong!
Where she had been expecting chrome and leather furniture—ultra-modern decor—she found herself stepping into a sitting-room that, although it was expensively furnished, was clearly designed for Logan McKenzie’s comfort and relaxation: a thick brown carpet, deep gold-coloured armchairs, mahogany bookcases along one wall, several small mahogany tables placed about the room,
