CRASH!
âDamn!â
Logan looked up from the letters he was signing, his expression one of puzzlement as he heard first the crash of what sounded like glass, quickly followed by the expletive.
Whatâ?
Crash!
âDouble damn!â
Loganâs expression turned to one of bemusement as he put down his pen to stand up, moving in the direction from which the sound of breaking glass was coming: the boardroom that adjoined his vast office.
He and a couple of business associates had lunched in there earlier, discussing contracts while they ate; Logan had found this to be a good way of doing business. The table was still partially set for the meal, he now discovered, but the room itself was empty.
âDamn and blast it,â a disembodied voice muttered impatiently. âThatâs two glasses Iâll have to replace now. Iâ ouch!â The last was obviously a cry of pain.
Logan was even more intrigued now, walking slowly around the long mahogany table, to find himself peering down at the top of a head of bright red hair. Ah, the puzzle was solved: this was the girlâwoman?âwho had served their lunch to them, an employee of Chef Simon. Logan hadnât taken too much notice of her during the meal, having been intent on his business discussions, but he did remember the occasional glimpse of that gleaming red hair as sheâd moved quietly round the table.
The girl straightened, frowning down at her left hand, where a considerable amount of blood had appeared at the end of one of her fingers.
âDid you cut yourself?â
Whatever reaction Logan had expected to his sympathetic query, it was not to have the girl jump almost six inches in the air in her nervousness, knocking over one of the water glasses as she did so!
Logan managed to reach out and catch the glass before it rolled off the tableâto join the two he could see now were already shattered on the shiny wood-tiled floor.
âNo point in your having to buy three replacements instead of two,â he murmured dryly as he righted the glass on the table. âIs it a bad cut?â He reached out with the intention of looking at the girlâs hand.
Only to have that hand snatched out of his grasp as it was hidden behind her back. The girl looked up at him with stricken grey eyes. âIâm so sorry if Iâve disturbed you, Mr McKenzie,â she gasped. âI was just clearing away, andâandâI broke the glasses.â She looked down at the shattered pieces. âAndâandââ Whatever she had been about to say was lost as she suddenly dissolved into floods of tears.
Logan recoiled from this display of emotion, frowning darkly. âHey, itâs only a couple of glasses. Iâm sure Chef Simon isnât that much of an ogre that you have to cry about it.â
The outside catering company of Chef Simon had been taking care of the occasional business lunches Logan had in his boardroom for over a year now, and Logan had always found the other man reasonable to deal with. Although he hadnât seen this young girl before, so perhaps she was new, and feared losing her job because of those breakagesâ¦?
âYou could always tell Chef Simon that I broke them,â he attempted to cajole; weeping women were not his forte!
Wellâ¦not when they were weeping because they were worried or upset, he acknowledged ruefully as he remembered that last meeting with Gloria a couple of weeks ago. The frown deepened on his brow as he recalled the tears she had cried, tears of anger and frustration because he had told her their year-long relationship was over. She had even thrown a vase of flowers at him when heâd refused to change his mind, Logan remembered with distaste.
âOh, I couldnât do that,â the girl instantly refused. âThen he would put it on your bill, and that wouldnât be fair at all.â She shook her head.
Fairâ¦It wasnât a word Logan heard too often, either in business or his personal life. Besides, the cost of a couple of glasses would hardly bankrupt his multimillion-pound, multifaceted companyâ¦
The girl reached up to wipe away the tears staining her face, inadvertently smearing blood over her cheeks instead. âOh, damn,â she muttered frustratedly as she realised what she had done, searching unsuccessfully in the pockets of her trousers for a tissue.
âYou like that word, donât you?â Logan murmured, his head tilted as he looked at her properly for the first time.
She was a tiny little thing, barely reaching up to his shoulders, black trousers and a cream blouse emphasising the slenderness of her body, that shoulder-length bright red hair framing a face that, at first glance, seemed to be covered in freckles. On second glance, he saw the freckles only covered her cheeks and nose; her grey eyes were framed by thick dark lashes, her mouth wide, although unsmiling at the moment, her chin pointed determinedly.