had had enough of this. The situation had been ridiculous enough before, now it was becoming farcical, with the two men eyeing each other like contestants in a boxing match, apparently deliberating on who would be the one to strike the first blow!
She sighed heavily. ‘Logan, will you just go back to your table and get on with your meal?’ Her expression pleaded with him to comply with her request. ‘We can talk about…that other situation, some other time,’ she concluded soothingly as his eyes narrowed. ‘If you really think we must.’
‘Come and look at the menu, Logan!’ The man Fergus had strolled over to join them too now. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!’ he added with persuasive cheerfulness.
Logan looked ready to argue the point, but a glance at Darcy’s rigidly set features seemed to be enough to make him relent slightly, although he still eyed Chef Simon belligerently, even as he answered Fergus. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he agreed slowly. ‘After all, this is a restaurant,’ he couldn’t resist saying sardonically.
‘One of the best,’ Chef Simon answered almost as coolly. ‘If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen; Darcy and I have some food to prepare.’ He took a firm grasp of Darcy’s arm and almost frogmarched her back into the kitchen, barely waiting for the doors to swing shut behind them before grasping her other arm just as tightly and turning her to face him, effectively holding her immobile in front of him. ‘Now perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me what you think you’re doing, getting into cosy little corners with a man like Logan McKenzie?’ he demanded forcefully, his teasing mood of earlier having completely disappeared.
Darcy stared up at him, not altogether sure how she should answer that particular question…
CHAPTER THREE
‘HERE, have a look at a menu,’ Fergus advised his cousin as he thrust one pointedly into Logan’s hands. ‘And for heaven’s sake, sit down,’ he instructed, already seated at the table himself. ‘Then you can tell me exactly what is going on!’
Logan resumed his own seat, aware that several of the waitresses were still watching him curiously. Well, let them; he was more interested in knowing what sort of conversation was taking place in the kitchen between Darcy and her aged lover!
Because he was sure now that was what the other couple were; there was a familiarity between the two that was unmistakable, and a protectiveness emanating from Daniel Simon that Logan couldn’t mistake as being anything other than a proprietorial claim.
He had to admit, he had been temporarily stunned by the realisation a few minutes ago, which was the reason Fergus had had to actually instruct him to sit down! He had thought Darcy’s infatuation to be a one-sided thing, a crush on an older man, but now he realised there was much more to it than that.
And he didn’t like it!
Which also shook him. He’d only met Darcy yesterday but even so, he felt a certain protectiveness towards her himself. The reasons for which he did not want to probe too deeply!
‘I mistakenly believed you were on top of this situation when you told me you were coming to Chef Simon this evening—’
Logan became aware that Fergus was talking to him. ‘What did you say?’ he asked tersely, his thoughts, if nothing else, still across the room in the kitchen.
Fergus sighed impatiently, putting down the menu. ‘Let’s have some drinks,’ he advised as the wine waiter hovered near their table, obviously waiting to take some sort of order from them. ‘I feel in need of one!’ he added before turning to the young man and ordering a bottle of Chablis.
Logan pulled his divided thoughts back together, aware that he had no idea what Fergus had been saying to him a few minutes ago. Fergus’s rapier-sharp brain was such that inattentiveness around him was not a good idea. During his earlier years as a practising lawyer, the prosecution had lost a lot of cases when coming up against Fergus’s defence, for that very reason!
Besides, there didn’t seem to be any shouting coming from the kitchen, and Darcy hadn’t stormed out, so he could only assume the lovers were kissing and making up. Distasteful as that idea might be to him!
‘You were saying…?’ he prompted Fergus smoothly, once their wine had been poured and their food order taken; Logan thought he had ordered a fish starter and a steak main course, but he couldn’t be sure!
Dark brown eyes studied him over the top of the glass as Fergus slowly sipped his wine. ‘Exactly what are you doing here, Logan?’ he finally asked thoughtfully.
‘At the moment I’m drinking wine.’ He held up his glass. ‘And shortly, I hope, I shall be eating a meal. Isn’t that what one usually does when one comes to a restaurant?’ he parried dryly.
‘Very funny.’ Fergus smiled without humour. ‘Might I ask exactly what is your interest in Darcy?’ Brown eyes narrowed speculatively.
‘You might ask,’ Logan gave an abrupt inclination of his head.
‘Well?’ Fergus pushed further.
Logan took his time answering, sipping his wine appreciatively, all the time his gaze remaining locked with his cousin’s. ‘What makes you think there is one?’ he finally answered evasively.
Fergus’s mouth twisted. ‘She was sitting at the table with you when I arrived, the two of you were obviously deep in conversation about something.’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘I don’t think that is the behaviour of complete strangers.’
‘Or even perfect ones,’ Logan returned dryly, lifting up a dismissive hand as Fergus seemed about to snap a reply at what he perceived as Logan’s facetiousness.
Maybe it was, but the remark had reminded him too much of his conversations with Darcy for him not to have made that connection…
‘She works for the outside catering company of Chef Simon,’ he answered his cousin economically. ‘We met yesterday when she catered for a luncheon at my office.’
‘That’s all there is to it?’ Fergus pressed.
‘Yes, that’s all there is to it!’ Logan echoed impatiently. ‘But even if it weren’t—since when have you been my keeper, Fergus?’ he charged.
Fergus seemed about to bite out a reply himself, but then thought better of it, drawing in a controlling breath instead. ‘When did you last see Aunt Meg? Your mother,’ he added softly.
Logan’s mouth quirked. ‘I know who she is, Fergus,’ he replied caustically.
‘Well?’
He sighed. ‘Fergus, I am not someone standing in the witness box suffering your own particular brand of cross-questioning!’
‘I don’t do that for a living any more, Logan, and you know it,’ his cousin dismissed.
‘Then you’re giving a good impression of it,’ Logan barked.
‘I can assure you, I have my reasons for asking,’ Fergus returned calmly. ‘Have you seen anything of Aunt Meg during the last three weeks or so?’
Logan shifted impatiently. ‘My mother is in her midfifties, and I am in my mid-thirties;
