Daniel Simon raised blond brows. ‘Obviously,’ he drawled.
‘And not before time,’ Logan responded harshly. ‘Darcy has been run off her feet in your sudden absence,’ he added critically.
Daniel Simon’s mouth tightened. ‘I believe that is between my daughter and myself.’
‘I disagree. You—’
‘Logan, exactly what is it you want?’ the other man interrupted curtly.
He drew in a sharp breath. The last thing he had expected had been to be confronted by Darcy’s father. But, nevertheless, he wasn’t about to be put off doing what he had come here to do.
‘To speak to Darcy,’ he told the older man abruptly.
Daniel Simon nodded, opening the door wider so that Logan could enter the strangely quiet restaurant. ‘She’s in the kitchen,’ he supplied shortly. ‘Oh, and Logan…?’ he said as Logan strode past him on his way to the kitchen.
Logan stopped, turning slowly. ‘Yes?’ he replied arrogantly.
The chef’s expression had softened. ‘Don’t do or say anything to upset her, hmm?’ he suggested, his tone implying Logan would have him to deal with if he did so.
‘Me upset her—!’ Logan exploded. ‘I like that! I don’t believe I’m the one who only days ago calmly dropped the bombshell of his remarriage on her over the breakfast table. Neither am I the one—’
‘Logan, again, that is between Darcy and myself,’ Daniel Simon said sharply. ‘But while we’re on the subject of your mother—’
‘We weren’t,’ Logan told him flatly, his hands clenched at his sides. He was beginning to wish he had never met any of the Simon family!
The other man wasn’t about to be put off. ‘Yes, we were,’ he insisted firmly. ‘And isn’t it time you gave her a break? Or do you intend to hold it against her for ever that she made a mistake in her second marriage?’
Logan’s mouth thinned angrily; how dared his mother discuss him—and his feelings!—with this man? ‘What was it you said to me a few moments ago?’ he returned icily. ‘I believe that is between my mother and myself!’ With one last glaring look at the older man Logan continued on his way to the kitchen.
Darcy was standing with her back towards the door when he entered the kitchen, working at one of the tables in the centre of the room. The door closed with a swishing noise behind him alerting her to the presence of another person.
‘Could you bring me some eggs from the fridge?’ she asked without turning.
There was a large refrigerator against the wall a short distance from the door and, after a brief look inside, Logan was able to locate a box of a dozen eggs, moving to place them down on the table beside Darcy.
‘Thanks. I—’ She came to an abrupt halt, having looked up and seen Logan standing beside her. ‘I’m sorry, I though you were my father…’ She gasped, colour instantly brightening her cheeks.
Logan’s expression tightened at the mention of her father. ‘Hardly,’ he said sardonically. ‘When did he get back?’
‘Last night,’ she answered awkwardly. ‘I—do you mind if I carry on preparing this?’ She indicated some concoction she was constructing in a saucepan. ‘Only we need it for lunch, you see, and—’
‘Darcy, you’re waffling,’ he interrupted, glad to see someone else being disconcerted for a change; he had been taken by surprise so many times the last few days, and it wasn’t an emotion he was comfortable with.
‘Actually…’ she smiled slightly ‘…it’s a lemon meringue pie. Not a waffle,’ she explained.
‘Very funny,’ he returned dryly, leaning back against the table. ‘You seem happy today?’
After all, the fact that Daniel Simon was back in his restaurant did not mean that everything was back to normal…
‘You’ve seen my father?’ She was busy separating eggs now.
Very efficiently, too, Logan noted. ‘He was the one who let me in,’ he explained. ‘Is he back for good, or just until you can get someone else in to help you?’
Which didn’t fool Darcy for a moment, he could see, as she gave him a knowing sideways glance. But when was someone going to tell him exactly what was going on?
Darcy picked up a saucepan and placed it on the hotplate, deftly adding the ingredients she needed. ‘Why don’t you just ask what you really want to know?’ she mused.
Because, after arriving here and finding Daniel Simon back at the restaurant, Logan wasn’t a hundred per cent sure he knew what that was any more!
He gave Darcy a considering look. ‘And just what might that be?’ A wonderful tangy smell of lemons came from inside the saucepan now as the ingredients heated.
Her mouth quirked. ‘Did your mother and I manage to get through tea together yesterday without scratching each other’s eyes out!’
‘Well—did you?’ He leant back against one of the kitchen units, arms folded across his chest as he waited for her answer.
Again Darcy gave him a sideways glance. ‘I’m happy to report there are no physical injuries,’ she finally answered.
Except to his pride, it seemed; his feelings of being a dismissed servant yesterday, when assured by both women that they could manage without him, had not abated!
He nodded abruptly, that same pride precluding him asking for more information on how that meeting between Darcy and his mother had gone. ‘And your father?’ he pressed. ‘Exactly where did he come from?’
‘I didn’t ask,’ Darcy answered quietly, still busily stirring the contents of the saucepan.
‘You didn’t—! Whyever not?’ Logan exclaimed.
Given the same circumstances, it would have been the first thing he would have wanted to know!
She shrugged. ‘Because it’s none of my business.’ Satisfied with the consistency, she put the hot saucepan on a rack to let the contents cool.
Logan didn’t agree with her. But one look at her determinedly set features told him it would be useless to pursue the point; Darcy could be as stubborn as him if the occasion merited it.
He drew in a deep breath. ‘Okay,’ he said tautly. ‘Let’s try this from another angle. What—?’ He broke off as a buzzer sounded behind him.
‘Excuse me for a moment, Logan.’ Darcy moved deftly around him to open an oven door and take out a dozen or so individual pastry cases. ‘Perfect,’ she said with satisfaction after checking the pastry.
Logan frowned as he watched her. ‘Are all the desserts made on the premises too?’
‘Of course.’ Darcy gave him a scandalised look. ‘Any chef
