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‘But he isn’t married to her yet…’
‘And you intend hanging around until he is?’ Logan accused angrily, putting down his whisky glass to stride over to where she stood, and grasping her shoulders.
‘Of course,’ she assured him determinedly. ‘The wedding isn’t going to be immediately; I may still be able to persuade him to see sense.’
Logan gave a groan. ‘Darcy, you’re an attractive young lady yourself—’
‘I’m not in Margaret Fraser’s league,’ she countered.
‘Oh, damn Margaret Fraser!’ Logan snapped.
Her eyes flashed deeply grey. ‘My sentiments exactly!’
‘Oh, Darcy…!’ Logan muttered before his head lowered and his mouth claimed hers.
It was the last thing, the very last thing, Darcy had been expecting, standing acquiescent in his arms, her head starting to spin as the kiss deepened, became more intimate. Her body moulded against the hardness of his as his hands moved restlessly up and down her spine.
Emotions were high, Darcy’s earlier anger turning to a passion she hadn’t known she possessed, her lips opening beneath his, her hands beneath the material of his jacket, able to feel the warmth of his body through the silk of his shirt.
Her hair was loose about her shoulders now, Logan having removed that hated band that secured it at her nape, his fingers threaded in the silky softness as his lips sipped and tasted hers, hot breaths intermingled.
She had kissed men before, of course she had, but it had never been like this, feeling as if she were melding into Logan, their bodies a perfect match, her soft curves fitting into the hard hollows of his body.
But it came to a sudden end, Logan wrenching his mouth from hers, looking down at her, almost as if he were confused. ‘What am I doing—? I’m sorry, Darcy.’ His arms dropped from her as he ran the fingers of one hand restlessly through his own hair, his shoulders hunched beneath his jacket. ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’ He turned away. ‘I brought you here to try and help you, and instead I almost ended up making love to you. I just—The man is old enough to be your father, for goodness’ sake!’ he burst out as he turned back to face her.
Darcy took in a deep breath, barely able to think, her lips and body still tingling from Logan’s kisses. ‘What man?’ She frowned her puzzlement.
‘Daniel Simon,’ he said aggressively.
She swallowed hard. ‘I—’ She tried to think, to remember what had already been said. But after Logan’s kisses, she couldn’t think straight at all! ‘Logan,’ she finally managed. ‘I don’t know—I don’t seem to have explained—Logan, Daniel Simon is my father.’
Until just over a year ago, when her mother had died after a brief illness, Darcy’s father had been happily married to her mother, their relationship a very loving one.
Which was the reason Darcy was so upset at his announcement he intended marrying again, to the flamboyant actress Margaret Fraser of all people, her off-screen affairs seeming to attract more attention than her actual acting career.
Darcy swallowed hard again as she saw Logan was staring at her, unmoving, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw, seeming to be lost for words himself now. It wasn’t too difficult to guess the reason why: he probably believed her attitude was an extremely selfish one. It probably was, Darcy accepted dully. But she couldn’t help the way she felt…
CHAPTER FOUR
HER father…!
Daniel Simon was Darcy’s father, and not the lover Logan had assumed him to be.
Apparently he had announced his intention to Darcy of marrying Margaret Fraser…
This was news to Logan, although he had an idea this could have been what Fergus had been intending to talk to him about earlier.
‘I realise you must find my attitude—selfish.’ Darcy began talking self-consciously. ‘I just—My mother only died just over a year ago,’ she explained in a sad voice. ‘They were married for twenty-eight years. Twenty-eight years! We were such a happy family, too. I just don’t see how my father can possibly believe himself in love with someone else after so short a time.’ She looked across at Logan pleadingly.
Her father.
Every time Darcy said that, Logan gave an inward wince about what he had believed to be her relationship with the chef. It was his own fault for making such an assumption, of course, although, to be fair to himself, Darcy had never told him her surname—and he hadn’t asked her for it, either—or addressed Daniel Simon as her father, or called him ‘Dad’!
Although, looking back, Logan could see she had never really stated they had any other sort of relationship, either; he had drawn his own conclusions about that. Completely erroneously, as it turned out!
The problem was, how did he now tell Darcy—?
‘I think I had better go,’ she said suddenly, her gaze not meeting his as he looked across at her. ‘I really have taken up enough of your time.’
‘Darcy!’ He moved to grasp her arm as she would have turned away, turning her slowly back to face him.
‘I know I’m being selfish!’ Those deep grey eyes were swimming with tears. ‘I just—I can’t even begin to think of that woman as my stepmother!’ she cried emotionally.
Logan pulled her gently into his arms, cradling her against his chest as the tears fell hotly down her cheeks.
He seemed to be making a habit of this! Not that he was complaining, exactly, he just didn’t like to see Darcy upset like this. Although, as far as his equilibrium went, it was probably preferable to her smiling at him.
Once again, in the taxi earlier, her smile had almost been his undoing. There was just something about Darcy’s smile that took his breath away…
Which was incredible in itself. She was right when she said she wasn’t in Margaret Fraser’s league when it came to looks. It was like comparing an exotic bird to a garden robin: the actress was flamboyant, completely unmissable, whereas Darcy—unless she smiled!—would be all too easy to overlook in a crowd. Although Logan had no doubts which woman he—and apparently his inner senses too!—preferred.
‘I know it’s not much consolation at the moment, Darcy—’ Logan stroked her back as the tears began to cease ‘—but I very much doubt that Margaret Fraser will ever be your stepmother!’
Darcy straightened, wiping away the tears. ‘My father is adamant that she will.’
Logan shook his head with distaste. ‘And I’m just as sure that she won’t.’
Grey eyes widened, eyes that were slightly red from crying. ‘But how can you be?’ Darcy swallowed hard.
He looked serious. ‘Believe me, Darcy, I—’ He broke off as the intercom buzzed beside the lift.
After the way the evening had been cut short at the restaurant earlier, his visitor was likely to be Fergus—and his cousin was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Well…probably not the last person, he conceded; Margaret Fraser had to take that honour!
‘Shouldn’t you answer that?’ Darcy prompted as the buzzer sounded a second time, self-consciously wiping away all trace of her recent tears.
‘I should,’ he acknowledged reluctantly—because it was the last thing he wanted to do.
He needed time, and space, to talk to Darcy, to explain. But with Fergus waiting downstairs, now certainly wasn’t that time. Except Fergus, if allowed up here while Darcy was still here, was sure to say something he shouldn’t…!
‘Darcy, will you have lunch with me tomorrow?’ he found himself asking quickly.