“The cheek of it,” her grandmother was exclaiming. “Although when I was a girl…” she began, “Frank Sinatra was performing at the London Palladium…everybody was waving his picture and screaming for his autograph. It was an absolute crush!”
Any doubts Alex might have had about her grandmother’s ability to bounce back disappeared. She’d already lured Marc into giving her an account of their Portobello Road adventure by letting him think that Alex had already told her, which was blatantly untrue, but minor details like that had never stopped Grannie before.
“And by the way,” Marc was saying, “The dealer you suggested had exactly what I wanted for my collection. Another scout from the 13th Dragoons.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, but it was obvious that the elderly woman was beginning to fade. The day had been an ordeal. Marc noticed as well, caught Alex’s eye, then rose.
“Time to go,” he said, then carefully took Miss Sadler’s hand and dropped a chivalrous kiss on the back. “No more tearing the place up.”
The old lady laughed softly as he winked at Alex to indicate he’d wait outside.
“If I were thirty years younger…” Grannie continued to smile at her memories of past conquests.
Alex touched her hand. “Helen will be here shortly with your overnight case.”
The nurse had come back with a light meal and a drink for her patient. Alex offered to stay, but Grannie wasn’t having it. “Off you go, dear. I’m sure you have better things to do.” Alex leaned over and kissed her grandmother good-bye.
“She’ll sleep tonight,” said the nurse placing the dinner tray on the bedside table.
“I don’t like to leave her,” said Alex.
“We’ll call if there’s a problem, and you can ring the nurses’ station if you’re worrying.” She eyed Alex over a pair of half-moon glasses. “And if that fella waiting outside is who I think he is,” she said receiving a nod of confirmation from Miss Sadler, “then you should do exactly what your grandmother tells you.”
It was a relief to be able to look after Alex for a change, thought Marc, as he eased his way through the crowded pub with their drinks. They were in a booth at the back, and so far, nobody had paid them the least bit of attention.
“I went with the steak pie,” he said sliding onto the bench. “Hope that’s all right.” He passed Alex her glass of wine and held up his pint of ale. “Here’s to Miss Eugenie Sadler.”
“To Grannie,” said Alex. “Long may she reign.” They clinked their glasses and each took a drink.
“You do realize,” said Marc wiping a bit of foam off his upper lip, “that if I’d met her first, you wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
Alex blinked twice and then laughed. “I think she has a bit of a crush on you as well,” she said, cupping her chin in her hand and gazing back at him. “But don’t get your hopes up. Grannie can be very fickle, and her fans are legion.”
“Speaking of fans…” Marc cleared his throat. “I owe you a giant apology for the other day. I misjudged the whole market thing very badly, while you…you knew exactly what to do.”
She looked steadily back at him. “We have different job descriptions, you and I. And you were on my turf.”
“Shouldn’t you be telling me off?” asked Marc.
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t lost my touch, believe me. You should consider yourself lucky that our paths didn’t cross yesterday. I wasn’t in the best of moods. Where were you, by the way?”
“Keeping a very low profile.”
Alex laughed. “Your version of keeping a low profile is what? Only having three women chase after you instead of three dozen?”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
Alex snorted. “Perish the thought.” She sat back and reached for her glass, brown eyes assessing him over the rim. “Give me three guesses as to where you were hiding yesterday.”
Marc felt a shot of desire race through him. The conversation was nowhere near how he had imagined it, but then Miss Kirkwood, as he would forever think of her, was the most extraordinary ordinary woman he’d ever met.
“And if you guess correctly?” he asked playfully. “What’s my forfeit?”
“You buy my dinner.” Her eyes sparkled with the challenge.
“And if you don’t?” Marc countered.
She met his gaze and a slow, sexy smile grew. “You buy my dinner anyway.”
“Deal.” Marc reached across the table and took her hand in his. It was incredible. He felt as though they were the only ones in the room. The low thrum of conversation and the clatter of a few dozen people eating dinner faded further into the background. Distantly, he realized that this was what he had wanted. To spend time with a woman who cared about him as much as he cared for her. Marc tightened his grip on her hand protectively.
“You’re not stalling, are you?” he teased her.
She gave him that sexy smile again and he knew he could warm himself forever in its glow.
“You had a business meeting with your producer?”
“Nope.”
“Um…you went looking for flats?”
“No, but you are getting warmer.” He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help notice how the gold flecks in her eyes lit up when he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. Was she feeling the same adrenalin of attraction ripple through her body, he wondered? She must know how he felt; not even the best actors in the world could fake this stirring of emotions. And why would they?
“Wait, I know!” Alex retrieved her hand from his only to point her finger at him. “You went to the Imperial War Museum, no, no, let me think, not your time period…,” she frowned in concentration, “…likely within walking distance of the hotel, full of shiny red uniforms, pomp, ceremony….” She held up her hand for a high-five. “You went to the Household Cavalry Museum, didn’t you!”
“I did,” laughed Marc, slapping her hand. “It was fabulous…how did you know?”
“Head concierge of the best boutique hotel in London,” she said archly. She crossed her arms under her breasts and leaned on the table. “I saw the way you drooled over the displays of soldiers in the antique hall.”
Marc almost groaned aloud. He felt his whole body move towards Alex in one smooth motion which meant he didn’t see the waiter approach.
“Excuse me, sir,” said a bored voice. “You might want to eat your dinner first.”
Rather than hailing a cab, they strolled back to the hotel enjoying the mild evening air in companionable silence. She had no idea how stunningly beautiful she was, Marc realized, or how relaxing it was for him to be with a woman who was at ease with herself. As they approached the mews, Alex tucked her arm in his and Marc felt the heat of his longing flare into out-and-out lust.
“Are you walking me to my door, Mr. Daniels?”
“I am indeed.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Alex about the flat he’d rented, but sensing her day had been full enough, he held back. Although he felt certain, given everything that had happened this past week, having him move out of The Sadler would be one less complication for her. And him.
“I expect Grannie’s sound asleep by now,” Alex said. She had spoken with her grandmother before they left the pub, and had had a reassuring report from both the nursing station, and Helen Wolcheski, whom Marc had not yet met, but understood to be worth her weight in gold.
“And what about you?” asked Marc, “how are you feeling?”
“Tired, but relieved.” She sighed and leaned ever so slightly against him.
Pools of light cast by the old-fashioned lamps lining the mews were beginning to work their magic on him. Leaves chattered in the soft breeze and blended with the murmur of sound spilling from the windows of the hotel. Their footsteps were muted as they followed the well-worn cobblestones to the archway which he now knew led to Alex’s flat at the back of the mews.
Once there, Ma
rc drew Alex into the shadows, hoping to recapture the heat that passed between them in the pub.
“Alex…,” he began.
“Shh…,” she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek. The stubble of his beard rasped beneath the soft skin of her fingers sending cascades of erotic messages to his brain. He stood stock still savouring her touch yet at the same time, he sensed an unspoken note of sadness that hadn’t been there earlier. It wrenched his heart.
He could see that her eyes were moist. And her throat trembled with what he hoped was longing. “I adore you,” he said softly.
“I know.” Alex rose on her tiptoes to lightly kiss him on the cheek, but he twisted his head and captured her mouth with his.
She didn’t refuse. At first his lips brushed over hers, gently, reassuringly. Then he deepened his kiss, feeling her body arc against his as she fluttered and then surrendered to the passion that electrified the air between them. He heard her give a small moan of pleasure. Desire raked through his body, but he held himself in check.
He owed it to her not to take advantage of her vulnerability, and he owed it to himself to show her the man he really was, one who cared and respected her, and who would protect her, even if it meant denying his desperate need to be with her.
Marc cupped her head with his hand and drew her into the hollow of his shoulder. Alex sighed and leaned against him. A limousine had entered the mews, its headlights playing over the courtyard. Marc eyed it warily as it drew up to the hotel’s rear entrance and stopped. Another moment passed and then a uniformed chauffeur emerged from the front of the vehicle. Marc felt Alex stiffen in his arms and raise her head for a closer look. They watched the driver open the rear door illuminating the car’s lavish interior and the couple seated inside.
“Let me go,” Alex suddenly hissed, pushing against his chest in panic.
Stunned, Marc widened his arms and drew back. “Why?” he demanded. “What’s the problem?”
A look of horror had crossed Alex’s face. “This is so wrong. I shouldn’t be here with you.”
Marc felt the blood pounding in his temples. “But, we’re perfect, you and me.”
His hand reached out for her again, but Alex had stepped back. She gave her head a quick shake. “You’re a guest of The Sadler.”
“What has that got to do with it!” Marc felt his jaw harden. After everything that had passed between them, he felt a sudden surge of hurt and anger. “Is it because of who I am?” he demanded. “Or are you just not interested?”
“This is about me, Marc. Not you!” Her voice was low and insistent, her eyes never leaving the tableau taking place across the mews.
“I appreciate everything you did for me and my family today,” she said stiffly, “but I’m afraid I can no longer see you.” Then she turned on her heel.
“Alex!” Marc called.
But she had already disappeared through the narrow passageway.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alex heard the gentle purr of the sedan entering the mews and coming to a stop on the cobblestones below.
It was time to go.
Grabbing a pair of dark glasses, she left her flat and went down the stairs. No one would question the dark circles under her eyes. Or that she was going directly to the hospital to see her grandmother. For many of The Sadler’s long-time staff and frequent guests, Miss Eugenie Sadler was the equivalent of royalty. Her health and well-being were woven into the very fabric of the hotel, and they would be waiting for reassurance.
George opened the rear door at her approach. “Morning, Miss.”
Alex returned the greeting with a smile. He’d been calling her “miss” since he’d arrived at The Sadler as a young man. She’d been eight-years-old then, and here she was, twenty years later, about to step into the top position at one of London’s most exclusive hotels.
She’d never felt more alone.
She fought the impulse to glance at the windows of Marc’s suite, and lost. The curtains were still drawn – was he asleep, she wondered? Or had he tossed and turned as she had?
“Miss?” prompted George.
Flushing, Alex ducked into the back of the car. The last thing she wanted was for anybody to suspect the truth…that she was all over the map.
One minute she was worrying about her grandmother, the next she was reliving how perfect it had felt to be in Marc’s arms, and how quickly it had all disintegrated when she’d thrust him away. She bit her lip. She hadn’t been fair to him; but how could he possibly know the pressure she was under? The entire legacy of her family rested on her shoulders. It was her choice. Her mother was more than capable of running a business like The Sadler, but as Grannie liked to say with an accepting shrug, “A love of place often skips a generation.”
Alex sighed. She’d fallen for The Sadler the first summer she’d spent with her grandparents in London, and now, it was her home.
She should call Marc as soon as she had a chance. The least she could do was to try and fix it, find a way to explain the situation so that he understood how torn she was between him and the hotel.
“Do give Miss Sadler my best,” said George as he stopped to let her out.
“I will,” said Alex. “And, thank you. She’ll appreciate it.”
Hurrying along the hospital corridors towards her grandmother’s room, it was hard to believe scarcely more than twenty-four hours had passed since she’d found her grandmother crumpled on the floor of her suite, her leg twisted, and…Alex dashed the image from her mind. It didn’t bear thinking about.
She knew Grannie was fine; she’d called the nurses’ station at least half-a-dozen times in the last twelve hours, but until she saw for herself, Alex couldn’t settle. An orderly was clattering by with an empty trolley as Alex reached the room. She stuck her head in the open doorway. Grannie was awake, looking tired and pale, but sitting up, surrounded by enough bouquets to fill a flower shop.
“Good morning, Grannie,” said Alex as she approached. “Looks like half the florists in London have been here before me!”
“They must think I’m dead already,” grumbled her grandmother.
“I doubt it.” Alex leaned over and kissed the elderly woman’s cheek. “Not enough lilies for a funeral, Grannie,” Alex teased. “Just a long list of admirers wishing you well.”
Miss Sadler responded with a chuckle, and then gripped her granddaughter’s hand. “All this attention has me convinced. I need to free up my schedule, and enjoy the rest of my life. Maybe even a find myself an older version of your Marc.”
“He’s not my Marc, Grannie.”
“Maybe not yet,” her grandmother replied, “but we can spar over that later.” She waved the subject away with her other hand. “As you know, we have more pressing business to talk about…you look very nice, by the way.”
Alex had come prepared. She was wearing what she thought of as her “boardroom” suit, a beautifully tailored, and very feminine, midnight blue. It made her feel confident. Something she was in dire need of at the moment.
“Yesterday’s mishap made it clear.” Eugenie Sadler gave her granddaughter’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “I don’t want you to just fill in for me, Alex. I want for you to take over – to be the face of The Sadler.”
Hearing her grandmother say it out loud almost did Alex in. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled, or terrified, or both. She’d been preparing for this moment since she was a teenager. But now that it had arrived, her heart was divided. Between the dream of a lifetime and the man of her dreams.
Now she would have no time for love….
“I have great faith in you, Alex,” her grandmother was saying. “And if everything goes according to plan, the job is yours for the taking.”
Ignoring the lump in her throat, Alex got to her feet. “I won’t let you down, Grannie. I promise.”
Fresh from the shower with a towel cinched around his waist, Marc grabbed his empty suitcase from the cl
oset, and swung it onto the bed. He’d been here what…a week maybe? Mooning around, hoping to hear from the head concierge like a lovesick schoolboy when he should have been working. Six weeks from production, and he still didn’t have a final script.
Marc unzipped his case and flipped it open. His foray into the lobby this morning, ostensibly to book a meeting room but actually in the hope he would hear something about Alex or Miss Sadler, had been painfully successful. Jeremy had been full of news. Alex was stepping up, and was now in charge of the Sadler. Marc tried not to feel hurt that she had not shared any of this with him. Why should she? It was just a kiss – not a commitment. He looked bleakly around at the elegance of the empty room, realizing that wealth and fame had really lost its appeal. He couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel if Alex were there with him, if the air carried a hint of her scent in every breath he took. For the first time in his life, he was beginning to think about commitment.
Scowling, he shoved the image from his mind. Perhaps he should take lessons from The Sadler’s new CEO – she had her priorities down cold. And, despite the depth of their kiss in the shadows of the mews, he wasn’t one of them. He had wanted to make a fresh start in England, live like a normal person with a normal relationship. He just hadn’t expected normal to include being so thoroughly dumped.
Still fuming over Alex’s sudden change of heart, Marc stormed over to the room’s armoire and tugged at the door. He started with the stack of neatly folded dress shirts, tossing them into his case with a vengeance. Then it was jeans, sweaters and t-shirts and anything else he could lay his hands on. Luckily the phone on the bedside table rang before he could ravage his neatly-hung suits.
“Yes?” Marc said curtly into the phone. “Fine. Put him through.” His manager. He’d stepped up his calls the last few days, likely worried about the expected drop in Marc’s income, and therefore, his.
“Pete. What can I do for you?” Now that was a mistake. Marc wandered into the suite’s sitting room in search of a glass of water while the man droned on about the box office figures from Marc’s last film. A half-empty water bottle sat on a silver tray next to the half-empty bottle of scotch. A reminder of yesterday, which only added to his bad temper. Marc put the handset on speaker phone and set it on the table.
Undone by the Star Page 5
