Undone by the Star (3 page)

He was rewarded with a smile that lit up the same golden-brown eyes that only a few days ago had flashed at him in anger. Now that was worth grovelling for. “Shall we call it a truce then?”

“Yes. I would agree to that.”

“Thank you,” said Marc. He meant it in all sincerity knowing that what he really wanted to do was meet her later for a drink or have dinner together, but that would make her uncomfortable. The other afternoon had been a lesson in humility. He ought to be protecting her from the likes of him, not leveraging his position at her expense. It was obvious how important this job was to her. If he were to hazard a guess, he’d say it was disproportionately important. To jeopardize her standing at The Sadler would not endear him to her in any way.

She was eying him expectantly. “And I can help you, how, Mr. Daniels?”

“You could start by dropping the ‘Mr. Daniels’.”

She responded with a perfectly arched brow.

Marc let it ride. Perhaps things would be different once he’d actually settled in London and begun his new life. He craved normalcy. And relationships he could trust. He longed for balance, for people who didn’t want a piece of him. If only he could develop the patience he needed when all he wanted to do was take a woman like Miss Kirkwood in his arms and steal her away.

In the meantime, he had work to do. His plans for the future would take
all
of his attention.

“Miss Kirkwood,” he said fighting the urge to bow, “Would you be so kind as to hire me a car and a driver?”

“For this afternoon?”

“No, not today. Tomorrow morning, say ten o’clock?”

He watched her jot down his information. Slim and precise in movement, even her handwriting was elegant.

And then suddenly, she was on high alert. A minor royal, whom even Marc recognized and would prefer to avoid, had entered the lobby and was heading towards the concierge desk. Time for him to take his leave.

As he strode purposefully towards the front entrance, his mind reeled with the possibilities of life in London and seeing Miss Kirkwood again.

It wasn’t until he’d left The Sadler behind and reached the flower-lined pathways of Green Park, that Marc realized he still didn’t know her first name.

For Alex, the next few hours were a blur. She had a hurried lunch meeting with senior staff, followed by an equally hectic afternoon arranging last-minute theatre tickets and dinner reservations for hotel guests. So when a hand-delivered note arrived from her grandmother inviting her to five o’clock tea in The Garden Room, Alex was more than ready for a break.

Leaving Jeremy to man the desk in her absence, Alex slipped behind the scenes to the employees’ lounge. She could have gone back to her flat, but living on site wasn’t a perk she liked to advertise. Besides, the lounge was convenient and she felt comfortable using it. Her friend Kate was there now, changing her shoes and removing her name badge for the commute back to the suburbs.

“How was your day off?” asked Alex, pulling a cosmetic bag from her locker.

“Great. I slept through most of it.” Kate finished tying her laces and stretched out her legs. “Although I did hear an intriguing rumour when I came in this morning.”

“Really?” drawled Alex. “Rumours at The Sadler? Never.” She held up her compact and examined her face.

Kate laughed. “Don’t be putting on airs, Alex. This is me, your conduit to backstairs gossip. And now that we’re all back at work, we want to know what we missed.” She stood up and approached her friend. “Nice, is he?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Alex making a moue with her lips. But she did know. She’d been fighting her feelings for Marc Daniels since the moment she set eyes on him. And in a roundabout way, she was pleased that she’d had no idea who he was. Celebrity worship was not her style. Nor his, she suspected.

“Alex….”

“Okay. He’s gorgeous. He’s polite and he’s trouble.”

Kate reached inside her locker for her rucksack. “I know he’s gorgeous! I served him breakfast this morning. It’s the trouble I want to hear about.”

“There’s nothing!”

“Not what I heard.” Kate broke out in a Cheshire-like smile. Clearly she wasn’t going anywhere until she heard the full story.

Alex uncapped for her lipstick. “What exactly did you hear…not that I’m interested.” She touched up her lips and then slid her makeup back into her bag with studied nonchalance.

“Well…,” said Kate, sounding much too gleeful, “…according to my sources…first, Marc Daniels tricks you into going into his suite, and then Bert wanders out of the loo to find
Mister
Daniels undressing you, with his teeth, ripping the teeny tiny buttons off your shirt while you pretend to fight him off….”

“Which you, of course, totally believe!”

Kate snorted. “Are you kidding me! What woman in her right mind would fight him off?”

“Actually, I was swooning with ecstasy!”

“Really?”

“Nooo! If anyone got caught in the act, it was Bert. You should have seen him. Just as I was telling Mr. Daniels there was a problem with the toilet, it flushes, and out comes Bert hoisting up the back of his pants!”

“And you’re blushing because…?” Kate probed. And then she left, her parting shot hanging in the air as the door quietly closed behind her.

Alex rested her forehead against the cool metal of the locker. The gossips had it right; something had happened in that suite. The question was, what did it mean?

A few minutes later, Alex was on her way to The Garden Room. When she was a little girl, trying desperately to sit still during formal family teas, she used to pretend the room was still a conservatory filled with hothouse plants and exotic flowers, just like her grandmother had described it, with narrow little pathways and a fountain nestled amid the foliage. It would have been perfect for hide-and-seek.

Its high ceilings and tall, arched windows remained, bathing the room with summer light and a view of the gardens outside. As she wove her way through the opulent room, Alex breathed in the delicate scent of fine teas and buttered scones, underscored by the perfume of citrus and lilies. The Garden Room was a popular spot with hotel guests and shoppers finishing an afternoon out on the town.

Her grandmother was seated at her usual table. A glorious orange tree, blooming amid the gleaming white tablecloths and fine silver, provided the perfect backdrop for The Sadler’s matriarch. She dipped her chin in greeting as Alex approached, then turned her head to one side. It was then Alex realized she wasn’t the only guest. Which was fine. Miss Eugenie Sadler, as her grandmother was known to all and sundry, often held court in The Garden Room regaling friends and guests alike with stories from her past. But this wasn’t one of Grannie’s cronies who stood up to greet her – it was Marc Daniels looking every inch the film star!

Damn the man!

Alex plastered a smile on her face and managed the last few steps to the table. She kissed her grandmother lightly on the cheek, but inside, she was seething.

“I believe you’ve already met Mr. Daniels, darling.”

“Yes, I have,” said Alex. But how he’d managed to finagle his way into her day yet again was beyond belief. She could stall no longer. He was holding a chair for her, and she knew the sooner she sat down the better. Her arm accidently brushed his, and she drew back in alarm, her whole body tingling as he took his seat beside her.

Alex felt like making a face at her grandmother, but there was no point. Grannie might be eighty-five years old, but she was as sharp as a tack. And, to be fair, she was still The Sadler’s greatest asset, always gracious, and always beautifully dressed. Today’s number was a two-piece Chanel in a flattering shade of plum. With her silver hair and a touch of rouge on her cheeks, Eugenie Sadler exuded elegance.

“May I?” The waiter at Alex’s side had brought her favourite, strawberries with clotted cream and a fresh pot of tea.

“Thank you so much. I am absolutely starving.” He gave her a quick smile and withdrew, leaving Alex to sink or swim, while he returned to the kitchen.

Alex picked up her napkin and spread it on her lap while her grandmother poured. “I have been boring Marc with the hotel’s history,” she said, “and your great-grandfather’s brilliance.” She turned to Marc. “After the war, when there wasn’t much money going around, Alexander Sadler saw an opportunity that others didn’t. These massive Georgian houses had become difficult to maintain.”

Alex knew the story well. Her namesake had gambled everything on the rundown property, and refashioned it into an elegant hotel. Miss Sadler, and her late husband, Arthur Denfield, had kept a suite in The Sadler using it as their London base whenever they were in England. Even now, the suite and the name remained hers.

“I met your grandfather once,” said Marc, addressing Alex, “when I was a boy, but hadn’t realized the connection to the hotel and your family until recently.”

Interesting, thought Alex, seeking refuge behind her tea cup. But surely that was a long time ago. As if sensing her confusion, Marc explained, “My godfather and Miss Sadler’s husband were old friends, and fellow military buffs who’d met ages ago at Oxford.”

“You were born there, were you not?” her grandmother prompted.

“That’s right.” Marc smiled, “I’m practically a native. When I was picking a hotel for my stay here in London, where else could I go but The Sadler?”

“Where else indeed,” beamed Eugenie Sadler. A moment of comfortable silence spread across the table.

“The Sadler has excellent plumbing,” Alex heard Marc say.

“It does,” agreed her grandmother with a chortle.

Alex set down her cup with a sharp click. The only explanation was that she’d fallen down a rabbit hole. But who to cast as the Mad Hatter? Or indeed the White Rabbit? She nibbled at a strawberry while the other two chitty-chatted away. Grannie was morphing into the Queen of Hearts. Alex braced herself for a game of croquet.

“Miss Kirkwood?”

“Oh, do call her Alex, Marc. You’re practically family!”

If Grannie’s ankles weren’t so fragile, Alex thought, she might have kicked her under the table. She glared at her instead. This was probably some kind of test to see if she, Alexis Kirkwood, fourth-generation Sadler on her mother’s side, was indeed worthy of taking over the family business.

Not sure who was playing whom, Alex put on her game face and smiled sweetly at Marc. He caught her eyes, and she knew in an instant, that he knew exactly what was going on but he could handle it.

“My parents spent several years at the University,” he explained, “My father was doing a doctorate in military history, hence the connection to your late husband, and my mother specialized in eighteenth-century English Literature. I was a baby when we returned to the States. But it does give me dual citizenship.” He took a sip of his tea and turned to Alex. “What about you, Miss Kirkwood?”

Alex set down her dessert fork. “The short story is I grew up in Ottawa. Diplomatic service runs in the family, so when I was older, I spent my summers here.” She reached for her tea and took a sip.

Her grandmother skilfully took over the conversation, gave Marc a quick sketch of the family tree and then filled his ears with the pranks of a wayward child let loose on a harried staff. How Alex and a friend from school had nearly given the cook a heart attack when they stole the Christmas goose from the dumb waiter and replaced it with dirty sheets.

“Although after two years with us, I suspect Alex knows more about the workings of the hotel, and what goes on behind the scenes than I do.” Her eyes slid from Marc to Alex. “It’s your Saturday off, isn’t it dear?”

“Yes,” said Alex carefully. “I do believe it is.” Her grandmother hadn’t navigated the diplomatic world on her husband’s arm, or helped attract an elite clientele to the family firm without being a master manipulator.

“Why don’t you take Marc to Portobello Road? He’s never been, and apparently, he’s also quite keen on military history.”

“Really?” said Alex. She quirked a brow towards the man in question, who gazed innocently back at her.

Miss Sadler turned an inquiring eye to her granddaughter.

If Alex said no, Grannie would accept it with good grace, yet that would be churlish after seeing how much her grandmother had enjoyed her exchange with Marc. But if Alex said yes, she would get to spend the day with Marc Daniels. Away from The Sadler, and away from prying eyes.

Marc settled it. “If you don’t mind, I’d like that….”

“Fine,” said Alex. “Now if you would please excuse me?”

Marc stood. Alex gave her grandmother a brief hug and left. It had been an interesting afternoon. Not a word had been said about Marc’s acting career or Hollywood or even why he was in London. It had been all about Grannie. The man had manners; she’d give him that.

But still, giving up her day off to shepherd him around Notting Hill was not in her job description.

She was halfway across the lobby when Marc caught up with her. “I know this is awkward, Alex, but give me two minutes, please.”

She was tempted to keep going, but one did not, under any circumstances, ignore a valued guest, especially one who attracted a lot of surreptitious attention.

“What can I help you with, Mr. Daniels?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Call me Marc or I’ll tell your grandmother on you...just kidding!” He held up his hands before she could sputter a protest.

“I am not the enemy, Alex. At least, I’m not trying to be. However, if I were, I know who my commanding officer would be.” He smiled down at her. “She disarmed us both, wouldn’t you agree?”

Alex relented. “She does have a way of teasing out every little bit of information.” She grinned. “I do adore her. And, thank you. She was in top form today.”

“I honestly had no idea you were related until this afternoon. But, given the way the conversation went, I thought it best not to mention my plans.”

“Which are?”

“I intend to stay in London indefinitely. And I want my own place. I’ve lived in too many hotels and rented houses selected for me by someone else.”

“I can recommend a number of estate agents who specialize in what I believe you are looking for,” Alex said. And she could, easily. Marc Daniels wouldn’t be the first guest who’d decided on a permanent address in London.