wonder not too many women cried in his presence, he decided ruefully, if Darcy’s unattractive appearance was anything to go by—she looked like a startled fawn: all eyes and blotchy cheeks!
‘I really am so sorry,’ she said miserably. ‘It’s just that I had some—rather disturbing news, earlier, before coming out. I don’t usually cry all over perfect strangers, I can assure you.’ She gave a watery smile.
Logan gave the ghost of a smile in return. ‘That’s okay—I’m far from perfect!’ he attempted to tease, wondering exactly what sort of news this young woman could have received to reduce her to this state. ‘Is it anything I can help you with?’ he heard himself offer—and then frowned at this uncharacteristic interest in a stranger’s—perfect or otherwise!—predicament.
Having originated from a large, Scottish-based family—consisting of his aged grandfather, his mother, a couple of aunts and numerous cousins—Logan usually found it all too easy to distance himself from the upsets that seemed to constantly plague his family. If he didn’t he would spend most of his time caught up in one intrigue or another, and he preferred a much quieter life than that. Which was why he spent the majority of his time at his London apartment!
Why he should be showing this interest in the problems of a complete stranger he had no idea—especially one who had cried all over him and left bloodstains on his shirt!
Darcy’s smile was slightly bitter. ‘I doubt it.’ She shook her head. ‘But thank you for asking.’
He felt irritated because she wouldn’t tell him what was bothering her! What on earth was wrong with him?
‘A problem shared is a problem halved, so they say,’ he encouraged cajolingly.
‘I doubt you would be interested.’ She shook her head again, beginning to look decidedly embarrassed now.
‘Try me,’ Logan prompted huskily.
Darcy shrugged again. ‘It’s just that— No, I really can’t,’ she decided firmly. ‘Da—Chef Simon,’ she corrected awkwardly, ‘wouldn’t appreciate it if he knew I had been discussing his personal life with one of his customers,’ she admitted.
Chef Simon? Daniel Simon…? For surely this young woman had been going to call the renowned chef by his first name? And if her tears were anything to go by, it was a liberty that implied a much more intimate relationship between them than just that of employer and employee.
Daniel Simon and this girl, Darcy?
Logan couldn’t hide his surprise. This girl looked no older than her early twenties at most, whereas from what Logan knew of Daniel Simon he was a man in his early fifties. Spring and Autumn. Not that it was an unusual arrangement, Logan acknowledged, he had just never thought of the other man in that particular light. In fact, he couldn’t say he had given a single thought to Daniel Simon’s private life!
As he didn’t want to think about it now, either! ‘You’re probably right.’ Logan nodded tersely. ‘I’ll send Karen through with the plaster,’ he added dismissively before turning to leave.
‘Mr McKenzie…?’
He turned reluctantly. ‘Yes, Darcy?’ he replied warily.
‘Thank you,’ she told him huskily, smiling at him for the second time today.
Once again causing that numbing jolt in his chest!
The quicker he got out of here, Logan decided grimly, the better! ‘You’re welcome,’ he bit out harshly, making good his escape to the adjoining office this time.
Escape? he questioned himself once he was seated back behind his desk. From the woman Darcy? Ridiculous. He had just had enough of a woman’s tears for one day—especially as she had probably completely ruined his silk shirt with those tears and the blood from her cut finger!
What must Logan McKenzie think of her? Darcy groaned inwardly.
She had tried so hard to keep her worrying thoughts at bay this morning, concentrating on serving lunch to the client and his guests. But she just hadn’t been able to control her chaotic thoughts once she’d started to clear away, and dropping the two glasses had seemed like the final straw on a day when she’d already felt as if the bottom were dropping out of her world.
But even so, she really shouldn’t have cried all over Logan McKenzie’s pristine white silk shirt. She very much doubted he would be able to remove those bloodstains!
She still had his sodden handkerchief, she realised as she looked down with dismay at the screwed-up item in her hand. Not that she could have given it back to him in this condition; she would have to launder it first and send it back to him. Not that she thought Logan McKenzie would miss one white handkerchief; it was just a matter of principle.
She—
‘Here we are,’ announced a bright female voice as Karen Hill, Logan McKenzie’s private secretary, came into the room, laden down with disinfectant cream and plasters. ‘Logan says you’ve had an accident.’ She looked at Darcy enquiringly.
Logan—Darcy was sure—thought she was one big accident! She cringed with embarrassment now as she remembered the way she had sobbed all over the poor man.
‘It’s nothing,’ she dismissed. ‘Just a plaster will be fine,’ she accepted lightly, the cut no longer bleeding, although it stung slightly.
But not as much as remembering her complete breakdown in front of Logan McKenzie a few minutes ago! The sooner she got away from here, the better.
‘Thanks.’ She accepted the offered plaster. ‘Er—do you have any idea of Logan’s—Mr McKenzie’s,’ she corrected awkwardly, ‘shirt size?’
Karen’s blonde brows shot up in obvious surprise. ‘Logan’s shirt size…?’ she repeated speculatively.
Mistake, Darcy, she admonished herself. If she intended replacing Logan McKenzie’s ruined silk shirt she would just have to find another way of finding out what size to purchase.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told the other woman brightly, avoiding Karen’s questioning gaze as she put the plaster on her finger. ‘I’ll just finish clearing away here and be on my way,’ she added.
‘Fine,’ the other woman answered distractedly, obviously still puzzled by Darcy’s earlier question.
Well, she would have to remain puzzled, Darcy decided irritably; she had already embarrassed herself enough for one day!
Once on her own she cleared away in double-quick fashion, stacking everything into the baskets she had brought up with her, even the broken glass was swept up and wrapped in newspaper for her to take away with her.
It was just her luck to find Logan McKenzie waiting for the ascending lift when she struggled down the corridor with the two laden baskets!
He turned to glance at her, doing a double take as he obviously recognised her, a frown instantly darkening his brow.
Not surprising really, Darcy acknowledged with an inward wince; the poor man was probably wondering whether it would be safe to get into the lift with her, or if there was a chance it would break down
