Undone by the Star (2 page)

She went very still. Her chest rose and fell as a myriad of emotions washed across her face. Their brief encounter had to have meant something to her because, Marc realized with a slight shock of surprise, it had definitely meant something to him. And for her to not know who he was had made it even sweeter. He was right to come to England, to restart his career here. Funny how this situation, this Miss Kirkwood, had suddenly chased away any doubts he may have had.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I put you in an awkward position.”

She nodded. “So, then,” she demanded, “who are you?”

Marc casually set his hold-all on the floor.
Who are you?
was not a question he normally had to answer. But then, he’d put himself in this situation, not her. She’d made an honest mistake under what he now realized were trying circumstances. While he…he’d indulged himself at her expense. He moved towards her, his hand outstretched. “Marc Daniels,” he said somewhat sheepishly.

She didn’t bat an eyelash; and the intriguing interplay of emotion had disappeared from her face. She held his eyes as she slid her hand in his and gave it a firm shake. “Welcome to The Sadler, Mr. Daniels,” she said. “If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant, please let us know.” Not even a tremor in her voice. The hot-blooded woman had been replaced by the ever-so-cool professional.

And he’d thought he was the actor.

Alex was halfway down the corridor before she felt the first prickle of tears. What a disaster. If it hadn’t been for the flu bug ravaging the staff, none of this would ever have happened. She didn’t mind filling in for absent colleagues; nothing was worse than having to work when you weren’t feeling well. Except maybe ogling a guest and then mistaking him for a plumber! What on earth would her grandmother say!

Bypassing the elevator, Alex headed for the stairs at the end of the corridor. Thankfully, the stairwell was empty. She desperately needed a moment to herself. For several minutes, she stared unseeing at the soft-toned walls, hands clenched, chest heaving as she sought to control her emotions. She closed her eyes. It was difficult enough being a Sadler, but to have not recognized a guest for who he was, and then mistake him for a tradesman was inexcusable.

She reached inside her suit jacket for her phone. Marc Daniels, he’d said. Easy enough. She quickly keyed in his name, and a second later, up he popped. Alex groaned. A film star! How could she not know! She scrolled through his list of credits feeling slightly sick to her stomach.

“
Best action hero of his generation.”

“Watching Daniels on screen is always worth the price of admission.”

Followed by a load of stills, with and without his dark glasses, some of them looked unposed to Alex, others like they’d been released as publicity shots.

He was certainly gorgeous. And those blue eyes were to die for, so why hadn’t she heard of him? She read further. American, thirty-six, best known for his recurring role in The Javelin series, rumoured to be dating a Russian model.

And if she’d known who he was, thought Alex with a tiny grin, on a day like today, she still might have taken him for a plumber. A testament to his acting, perhaps? Maybe not. A sudden vision of Penelope Smith-Jones flaring her nostrils made Alex feel better. Not everyone had recognized him.

Regardless, nothing in the online gossip hinted at either bad temper or vindictiveness. Alex sighed. There was little she could do about it now, but it was a less-than-gentle reminder to keep her guard up. Hotel employees often found themselves in tricky situations. And as she well knew, any mistake she made would be put under the microscope.

Taking a deep breath, Alex put her phone away and followed the stairs to the ground floor. Despite the positives online, and the clear eyes of the man himself, she was still anxious. She’d torn a strip off Marc Daniels. But if he complained about her behaviour, he would come off as a bit of a prat. Pretending he was a plumber. Alex grinned. The moment they’d heard that toilet flush was hilarious.

Still, there were no excuses. She’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. And he’d let her. The end.

The lobby hummed with activity. Quietly, of course; this was The Sadler. One hundred-and-forty rooms for an elite clientele, or at least those for whom privacy was the number one priority. All other comforts being attended to, of course.

Cyril raised a finger.

Here we go, thought Alex. She slipped behind the reception desk.

“I’ve just had a call from Marc Daniels,” he said, a slight undercurrent of excitement in his voice. “You seem to have made an impression.”

“Good, I hope?” asked Alex innocently.

“He did say you were extremely efficient. Which reminds me,” Cyril said as he passed her a slip of paper. “Your messages.”

On it was the usual list of last-minute emergencies, to which, Alex mentally added a reminder to pop down to maintenance and sign the work order for Bert. And quell any rumours while she was there. Although she didn’t think Bert would say anything, even if he did suspect Marc’s true identity. A regular per diem was a luxury.

“Oh, and we’re waiting for Mr. Daniels’ luggage. It’s arriving separately.”

“Duly noted,” said Alex, absolutely certain that short-staffed or not, she’d seen enough of Marc Daniels for one day.

Prowling the suite trying to decide what to do about Miss Kirkwood while the afternoon wore on wasn’t getting him anywhere, Marc decided. He’d made a few calls, bailed on a dinner with his production manager and sent out a few emails, but his thoughts kept returning to what had happened earlier.

In no way did wanting a fresh start in England justify playing anyone for a fool, let alone a young woman trying to do her job. What had he been thinking? Marc frowned. He doubted Miss Kirkwood would be thrown off balance for more than a moment or two, but there was something about the flash of anger in her eyes that he couldn’t forget. He’d behaved like one of those Hollywood celebrities he so loathed.

Pushing that unwelcome thought aside, he considered the woman herself. Beautiful, self-contained, soft skin that took on a sweet rosy flush when she was embarrassed, the delicacy of her wrists that the cut of her jacket emphasized rather than hid. She was attractive, yes, but what had caught his attention was her unconscious kindness and burst of justified anger. Marc smiled. No question that he felt a very strong attraction to Miss Kirkwood.

What incredibly bad timing! The paparazzi had been having a field day over his supposed engagement to Vivyana, and while he doubted Miss Kirkwood had the time or the desire to read celebrity gossip, once the press learned he was in London, it would be hard to avoid. They could eat someone like Miss Kirkwood alive if he wasn’t careful, and he hadn’t become as selfish as that.

Nonetheless, an apology was in order.

Then he could put the whole incident out of his mind, find a flat and get on with his next project.

Flowers. He would send a bouquet of flowers. He picked up the phone and then immediately replaced it. Flowers would be too obvious, and too easily misconstrued. And not just by Miss Kirkwood. The rest of the staff might misinterpret his intentions, and he certainly didn’t want anyone at the front desk to make the connection.

The whole thing was ridiculous. He didn’t even know her first name.

Putting his erratic train of thought down to jet lag and a seriously tight schedule, he wandered into the bedroom. The bellboy had delivered his luggage an hour ago. Personally escorted by the assistant manager. Marc had been hoping for Miss Kirkwood, but didn’t really expect to see her after the way he’d behaved earlier. No doubt she would make herself scarce for the rest of his stay at The Sadler. Which was a pity; she’d stirred something in him that had lain dormant for a long time.

Might as well unpack, order dinner to be sent up, and call it a night.

Yet twenty minutes later, he was standing by the window peering over the cobblestoned courtyard behind the hotel where The Sadler’s refurbished mews stood quietly in the gathering dusk. He’d contemplated renting one of their larger suites on a long-term basis, but what he really wanted was a place to call his own.

Committing himself to behind the camera was a big step for him, one he’d always dreamt of taking. When an opportunity to work with an independent company based here in England had come along, he’d jumped at it, knowing it was the right time for a move. Even though an action hero has a best-before date, the public didn’t always like it when an actor made a change.

Directing would expose him to another type of attention, yet it wouldn’t solve the aching loneliness that often went with stardom. Only a lucky few seemed to escape it.

Deep in thought, Marc almost missed her. She was crossing the courtyard, her arms swinging loosely at her sides. She must be tired, he thought, after the day she’d had. He watched her angle slightly towards an arched opening, wishing he’d had an opportunity to make it up to her, and then she disappeared from view.

Marc pulled back the curtain and waited by the window. Only a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

Room service.

With reluctance, he let the curtain drop.

The second Alex entered her flat at the back of the mews, she kicked off her shoes and padded across the room to the tiny kitchen. She’d been happy to fill in at the last minute, but what a day! Backed-up toilets, faux plumbers, and a drop-dead gorgeous film star.

Tea.

She needed tea.

Followed by a hot bath, a good book, and bed.

It had taken all her self-control not to turn around and look back at the hotel as she’d crossed the courtyard. But that would have been an acknowledgement of how much her encounter with Marc Daniels had affected her. His incredible eyes and easy confidence had captured her attention from the moment he’d first slipped off his sunglasses. But it wasn’t all about looks; he had that indefinable characteristic that made him stand out in a crowd. Once met, never forgotten.

Alex wondered if his ego had been bruised because she had not recognized either his face or his name. Yet the humorous twitch of his lips had told her that he was more likely to be amused than offended. Another point in his favour.

Reaching for the kettle, Alex slowly filled it with water and set it to boil.

No matter what she thought of Marc Daniels personally, she had no trouble understanding his need for privacy. Not everyone knew she was the great-granddaughter of Alexander Sadler, the hotel’s founder, and she preferred it that way.

She wanted to earn her place the old-fashioned way – start at the bottom and work her way to the top without jeopardizing her position, or the hotel’s reputation. Which meant Marc Daniels was definitely off-limits. Out of sight and out of mind. In fact, totally banished from her thoughts. Starting first thing in the morning…

CHAPTER TWO

Alex wanted to pump the air with her fist. It had taken her half the morning, but she’d done it! Centre court seats at Wimbledon for a couple from New York. A friend of a friend of a friend who was willing to swap a day’s tennis for a walk on the red carpet in two weeks’ time.

“I love my job,” she breathed aloud as she bent over to write a note.

“Glad to hear it.”

Alex felt her heart clench. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. She’d spent the last two days avoiding him, and tuning out the idle chatter of the younger girls who were besotted with him. Now Marc Daniels, the film star whose name seemed to be on everyone’s lips, was standing in front of her desk. In her lobby. Alex straightened slowly, helpless at the sight of him. Blue-eyed, clean shaven, and every inch the star from his crisp oxford-cloth shirt, also blue, to his well-cut jeans.

He shouldn’t smile; it was so unfair.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Daniels?”

“You could start by calling me Marc.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.” Alex looked over his shoulder. She was such a charlatan. He was no more “Mr. Daniels” in her imagination than he was in the flesh, but just because he was the embodiment of male perfection didn’t mean he could jump the queue. At least not hers. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Alex signalled one of the clerks at reception.

“Certainly.” Marc took a step back, his expression bland. The last thing he wanted was to further offend the prickly Miss Kirkwood. Although he would dearly like to tease her about the u-turn she’d made last evening when he’d come out of the bar with his press agent, or the way she’d sidled into the elevator behind a party of six just as he was heading out for a meeting with his producer.

Perhaps he should have kept the beard. The young man Miss Kirkwood had called over was now standing next to him as wide-eyed as a raccoon. Apparently, “Jeremy” was her assistant. Cursing the burden of celebrity, Marc politely ignored him. Until he realized it wasn’t him the kid was interested in; it was her. That brought Marc up short. He was competing with a twenty-one-year-old! Who would have lingered had Miss Kirkwood not firmly sent him on his way to deliver the message she had just written. Only then, he noted with appreciation, did she turn her gaze on him.

“How can I help you, Mr. Daniels?” she asked sweetly.

Marc gave himself a shake. “I wanted to apologize for the other day. It was…childish.” He winced at his choice of words, yet they were true. He had acted as the only child he had been, the son of a pair of academics who were so engrossed in their professional lives they had often left him to his own devices. Toy soldiers re-enacting endless battles had turned out to be the perfect training ground for an actor. But when it came to the conversations that really mattered, he invariably flubbed his lines. “You were only doing your job,” he began again, “in what I now realize was a difficult situation.”

“No excuse,” countered Miss Kirkwood. “Had I known who you were…but then, here I am about to give one.” Was that a touch of humour he heard?

“You have to admit it was pretty funny when we heard that toilet flush.”