âI donât want your gratitude.â
Patrickâs voice was low and husky.
âBut you have it,â Darcy told him. âI canât stop that.â
He was close now. So very close.
He stared into her eyes for so long that she was afraid she would lean toward him, show him how drawn to him she was.
Instead, he looked down to where she clasped his wrist. He covered her hand with his, turning her hand so that her palm was up. Then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed that most sensitive center of her palm.
Desire shot through her so fast she couldnât contain it.
âI want to kiss you,â he said. âBut if you tell me no, I wonât.â
She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair. âNo,â she said, as she pulled him down to her and touched her lips to his.
Myrna Mackenzie is a self-proclaimed âstudent of all things that concern women and their relationshipsâ. An award-winning author of over 30 novels, Myrna was born in a small town in Dunklin County, Missouri, grew up just outside Chicago, and now divides her time between two lake areasâboth very different and both very beautiful. She loves coffee, hiking, cruising the internet for interesting websites and âattemptingâ gardening, cooking and knitting. Readers (and other potential gardeners, cooks, knitters, writers, etcâ¦) can visit Myrna online at www.myrnamackenzie.com, or write to her at PO Box 225, La Grange, IL 60525, USA.
Donât miss Myrna Mackenzieâs
next Mills & Boon Romance The Frenchmanâs Plain-Jane Project October 2009
Dear Reader
When Darcy Parrish first came into my imagination in her wheelchair, I did a double-take. Darcy could do the tango in her chair, and bake a soufflé with one hand tied behind her back. Those things are outside the bounds of my experience. I wasnât sure I could write her and do her justice. Then she opened her mouth and told me that it was okay, because she was totally unwilling to be a romance heroine, anyway.
In the meantime, Patrick Judson was hanging around at the edge of my thoughts. He thought he knew women. Heâd raised three sisters. He had been running the family business for years. He was rich and powerful and there wasnât much he couldnât handle.
Somehow (donât ask how), these two managed to collide in my mind one day. I swear I never meant for them to cross paths. There was really no hope for them. But meet they did, and Darcy realised thatâokayâmaybe Patrick was handsome and intriguing, but she was still not going to go along with this heroine business.
As for Patrick, he realised that there were things he didnât know about women, and some things he just couldnât control. Darcy was, apparently, one of them. She perplexed him, intrigued him, and drove him nuts. But nothing was going to keep him from getting to know her better, even if a happy ending wasnât written in the stars.
Sigh. Sometimes characters just wonât behave. And sometimes thatâs an unexpectedly good thing. In this case, Darcy and Patrick turned out to be a writerâs blessing. I loved getting to know them, and I hope you enjoy their story.
Best wishes
Myrna Mackenzie
CHAPTER ONE
âMR. JUDSON said that his guests want to meet the cook.â
âExcuse me?â Darcy Parrishâs throat nearly closed up with dread as she addressed the young serving girl who had delivered the message.
âI said that Mr. Judsonâs dinner guests want to meet the cook.â
Such simple words. Such a simple request. Why then were Darcyâs hands shaking? No question.
âThatâs impossible,â Darcy said. âTell him no.â
She looked at the young womanâs astonished and horrified face. To tell the truth she was a little horrified at her audacity, too. She had only been at Judson House a week. Sheâd been hired by the housekeeper while Mr. Judson was out of town and had never actually met her boss. But she knew about him. She knew a lot about him.
More than that, she knew that he didnât know about her. At least not some important details.
âIâm sorry, I canât do that,â the young woman, Olivia, said. âIt would be my job. Unlike some people, I need this work. I donât have charity to fall back on.â
Anger burned within Darcy even as she conceded that Olivia was right. It wasnât fair to hurt another person to keep from hurting herself.
âIâm sorry, Liv,â she told the girl. âReally, butâ¦I canât go out there. You donât know how it feels to be on display, to be like a bug under a microscope â¦I just canât.â
Olivia sighed. âIâm sorry, too, but he asked, Darcy. What can I say?â
âSay that Iâm covered in flour.â
âBut youâre not.â
Darcy wanted to groan. Olivia was so young and so honest. She hadnât learned the convenient little lies that helped protect a person from lifeâs blows. And being paraded out in front of a millionaireâs guests like a pet performer would be a blow, especially once they realized her situation. Pity always followed. She wasnât going through that.