Undone by the Star

by Stephanie Browning

  “Exactly.” Marc reached for another strawberry. “Maybe that’s why I relate to him so much. I’m trying to shake off the chattels of ten years in Hollywood, and he’s trying to rebuild his life after the war. No comparison really.” Marc nibbled at his fruit. “But it helps me figure him out. Nobody took me seriously at first, because all they saw was the character I played.” Marc snorted. “I shouldn’t complain, but it became frustrating.”

  Alex nodded. Knowing Marc’s passion for history, it must have grated on him to be typecast as an action figure. But between the candlelight and the flickering glow from the fire, she could see why Hollywood was so anxious to keep him. The shadows in the room emphasized the strength of his jaw and his rugged, handsome features. His broad shoulders and muscled chest were what women dreamt about, and what men envied. Alex was glad she’d never seen Marc’s films; it was the man she’d been attracted to, not the star. And for her, the reality far surpassed any fantasy she may have had. He was kind and considerate; he made her laugh, and had stood doggedly by her side, no questions asked, when she needed him the most.

  “Tell about me about these dragoons of yours,” she said softly.

  “Are you sure? I’ve been known to bore even the most hardened academics.”

  Alex curled up in the folds of the duvet and rested her head on his knee, looking upwards at his face. “You have my full attention.”

  Marc’s fingers brushed her hair gently as he explained how the dragoons were part of the regular army, but their job was to sneak behind the enemy lines and bring back information.

  “Kind of like spies?”

  “Kind of like spies.” He smiled down at Alex. “Their scouting skills became legendary, and eventually the British Army gave them regiments of their own. Our guy wears the uniform of the 13th Light Dragoons.”

  Alex tried to read Marc’s eyes. For her, the moment was simply the soft warmth of a perfect evening with the man who seemed perfect for her, but what about him? They held each other’s gaze, then Marc lifted and turned Alex as he slid his body alongside hers, nestling into the soft down of the duvet.

  It felt as natural as breathing to lie together, to feel the warmth of each other’s body, and to share the most intimate of moments. Softly, tentatively, they explored their mutual needs and wants, deepening their caresses until the bittersweet ache of desire threatened to overwhelm them.

  When Marc’s hands slid along the bare skin of her back, Alex’s body arched of its own accord. He murmured softly, words she could barely hear. This was what she wanted, but it wasn’t the time. She met his eyes and saw his understanding. Then, despite her resolve, hunger overwhelmed her, and she pulled him down for more.

  He matched her need, and demanded more, mapping the contours of her body with his fingertips as though he were committing them to memory.

  “Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Kirkwood?” he whispered. “Because if you are, I am prepared to grant your every wish.”

  As soon as Alex registered what he’d said, she went still. She had totally forgotten about asking him to attend the premiere with her, and now he’d think the whole evening had been a setup!

  Sensing her sudden change of mood, Marc drew back, softening the cool air now flowing between them with tiny kisses on her eyes, her nose, her mouth.

  “Was it something I said?” Marc’s breath gently danced across her face.

  Alex shook her head. “No, no…I just….”

  “You just what?”

  “I have a lot on my mind.” She felt Marc tense, as she pulled away.

  Marc rose to his feet and went to rest his arm along the mantelpiece, his fingers sliding unconsciously towards the miniature dragoon.

  Alex cleared her throat, realizing there was no explanation good enough. “I forgot to ask you something, that’s all. But it can wait.”

  He didn’t answer at first, then he straightened and turned around.

  “Ask me now,” he said.

  “No, seriously,” Alex said. “Let’s not spoil the evening.”

  “And what could you possibly want from me that would take away from what we’ve just shared.”

  Alex briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then seeing no help for it, plunged forward. “I need a date,” she said. “There’s this charitable organization, The Funding of the Arts.” She risked an upward glance – not even a flicker of an eyelash. “You’ve probably heard of it.” She hated the stammer in her voice. “Anyway, The Sadler is one of its major sponsors. And has been for years.”

  Judging by the rigidity of his jaw, whatever she said was not going to go down well.

  “And you need a date because…?”

  “Grannie can’t go.”

  “So let me get this straight. You, who wanted nothing to do with my celebrity for fear of some weird kind of backlash against the hotel and its reputation, came over here tonight like a Trojan horse complete with caviar and champagne. In fact, you planned this whole evening with military precision, didn’t you?”

  “Only the food,” Alex protested. “I kind of…really actually wanted to continue where we left off this afternoon.”

  Marc shrugged. “That part I get, but don’t you think it’s a little bit disingenuous asking me to walk the red carpet after the way you behaved the other evening?”

  “Yes,” Alex admitted, “I do. But in my defence, I was rather distraught at the time.”

  “Fair enough,” Marc’s arm rested against the mantel like some latter-day lord of the manor.

  “You must have an old boyfriend hidden somewhere. I’m sure now that you’re CEO of The Sadler you could entice him back. Better still, take Jeremy. He adores you.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Actually it is, he’s a nice kid, but seriously, he would do anything for you. Hey, I know…he’s a concierge, he could find you an escort.”

  Alex stood up, ready to do battle. “You should talk, mister big-shot movie star!” She stabbed the air as she marched towards him. “Now that gives me an idea. Maybe I should take a page out of your book, play it Hollywood style. What was her name? Started with a ‘V’ – your fake fiancée – Viagra was it?”

  “Oh, you are on a roll.”

  “Never, ever, vex me, Marc Daniels. Especially when I’m in the wrong.”

  “Or else?”

  “I shall resort to tears. And then you’ll be really, really sorry…and why are you grinning at me like that?”

  “It took you long enough.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “To ask me to the charity premiere.” He slid his hand along the mantelpiece and plucked a white envelope from where it had lain undetected all evening. He advanced, waving it gently in front of her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to go with me, but the way things stand….” He shrugged dramatically.

  “You bum!” Alex pummelled his chest. “You let me practically beg you to be my escort and you knew all about the premiere!”

  Marc grinned and reached out for her. “Shall we kiss and make up!”

  With a relieved sigh, Alex snuggled against his shoulder. “On one condition. That we call it even. And no more acting unless the camera’s rolling.”

  “It’s why you like me so much.” He pulled her into his arms.

  They called the taxi an hour later. Marc walked her down and waited with her on the street, his arm around her shoulders. “I could ride home with you.”

  Alex shook her head. “I’ll be fine.” She hesitated. “Would you have gone to the premiere if I hadn’t asked you?”

  “No,” Marc confessed. “I’ve had enough of the limelight. But I‘ll enjoy basking in the afterglow of yours.”

  “I feel like Cinderella at the moment.”

  “In that case, I shall audition for the role of Prince Charming.”

  “You’re a shoe-in.”

  They were still la
ughing when the taxi pulled up. “See you soon,” said Marc. He closed the door on his princess and watched her drive away. If only life was always this good, he thought, as he turned to go back inside.

  The next three days passed in a frenetic haze of business demands, punctuated by the occasional moment when Alex could fall into the bliss of remembering how Marc’s arms had felt around her, how his kisses, both gentle and demanding, had made her feel alive, safe, and above all, cherished. She knew he was working full-tilt in the boardroom; she could sense his presence, and once or twice she’d heard his voice in the distance, but she’d had no time to spare, not even for Marc. Besides, she had no wish to dash in and out, possibly interrupting, and definitely frustrating both of them.

  None of which changed the fact she was desperate to see him. She had a surprise for him, a little bit of shared history, but she would wait until he got in touch with her. She wanted his full attention, not to be sandwiched between meetings and phone calls. Ruefully, she surveyed the neat stack of paperwork she still had to work her way through. With a sigh, she opened the first report. There was so much to learn in such a short time.

  And then, finally, around four, Kate breezed into her office waving a folded piece of notepaper, eyes alight with mischief.

  “Guess who sent you a note?” she teased.

  Alex felt her face heat up. There was only one person she could think of, only one person she wanted it to be, but she said nothing as Kate stood in front of the desk waving her prize like a baton.

  “You’re no fun,” Kate scolded. She put on a puzzled frown and held the note to her forehead like a faux fortune teller. “Hmmm…let’s see…who do we have here? Could it be Bert? Cyril? The Duke of Argyll, maybe? No…wait! I know! It’s what’s his name…you know, the guy down the hall with the….”

  “That’s it, Kate! You’re done!” Alex lunged across the desk. “Give me that note this minute or I will fire you and have you beheaded!”

  Kate surrendered the folded piece of paper to her friend. “So if I tell you what it really says, you’ll probably want to have me drawn and quartered, as well.”

  “You read my note, didn’t you?” charged Alex.

  “Yes, and no.” Kate plunked herself down in one of the nearby chairs. “It was like this. Mr. Daniels asked me if you had any meetings scheduled tonight. So I told him that, as a lowly waiter, I really had no idea what our exalted CEO was up to this evening, but should he want to ask you for a drink in the Library Bar, you might well be available.” Speech delivered, Kate raised her hand, curled her fingers and blew on her nails.

  Alex had to laugh. Kate was incorrigible. They played off each other perfectly, and Kate wanted nothing more than Alex’s happiness – she always had.

  Leaving her friend to enjoy a few minutes respite, Alex read, and then reread, Marc’s note, relishing his handwriting as if it were an ancient text. And if Kate hadn’t been there, she probably would have pressed the paper against her face and sniffed it for clues. As if his scent alone would reveal the depth of his feelings for her.

  “Marc wants to meet me at seven,” she announced, glancing at her computer screen. “I suppose I don’t have anything that can’t wait until the morning.”

  “Seriously, Alex, you need to take some time off,” said Kate. “You’ll work yourself into a coma, and then where will The Sadler be? Not even your grandmother was this dedicated.”

  “I know.” Alex reluctantly set Marc’s message aside. “But I didn’t expect to have to take over so quickly. And I’m terrified I’ll make a mistake and let the family down.”

  Kate jumped to her feet and rounded the desk. She threw her arms around her friend. “Not going to happen, Alex. Ever. You are the smartest, most responsible person I’ve ever known.” Stepping back, she added, “Will you please give yourself a break! And for the sake of all us poor, humble worker bees at The Sadler,” she went on, ignoring Alex’s snort, “go and have some fun! Marc Daniels is the sexiest guest we’ve ever had around here. And you’re hesitating?”

  Alex sighed. Kate was right. She’d been glued to her desk for days. Was it just the work, Alex wondered, or the fact that Marc was only a few doors away?

  “Come on, Alex,” said Kate. “You owe it to us. Gossip is good for morale. We haven’t had anything juicy to talk about since Bert caught you fixing the toilet in the VIP suite!”

  “Okay, okay.” Alex threw up her hands. “Please tell Mr. Daniels, I’ll meet him in the bar at seven.”

  Kate snorted as she headed for the door. “Will do.” She did a half-turn. “By the way, Helen’s all revved today. Something about an evening gown?”

  She gave Alex a wicked wink and then she was gone.

  Alex rested her chin on her hands, and closed her eyes.

  An image of Marc in a tuxedo swam into view, all elegant broad-shouldered male, his hand outstretched as she stepped from a limousine wearing...a dress which she still didn’t have and couldn’t yet picture. Reluctantly pushing the tantalizing image from her mind, she turned back to her computer. The best thing she could do to make her life run smoothly was to focus on the weekly financial report and try not to think about Marc.

  Or how the blood in her veins pounded at the thought of meeting him in a few hours. Her eyes slid to the canvas tote bag resting against the wall, and her lips curved into a smile. She was quite proud of what she’d uncovered in the hotel’s archives.

  With barely fifteen minutes to spare, Alex zipped back to her flat, peeled off the business suit, and slipped into a sleeveless summer dress feeling blissfully carefree. She checked her makeup, hesitated over whether to spritz herself with a light cologne, and then with a slightly giddy laugh, picked up the tote and headed back to the main part of the hotel. Marc was already waiting for her in the Library Bar, and rose to greet her as she entered.

  “How could anyone who works as hard as you do look so beautiful all the time?”

  He kissed her on both cheeks.

  “You’re very continental this evening,” Alex said setting her tote bag on the floor.

  “Thanks to your friend Kate. She gave me the once over before she left to deliver my message. Do you know that girl can read upside down?”

  “And sideways, I should think,” laughed Alex. “She has many talents.”

  “Including fetching my dry cleaning from downstairs. Apparently, my jeans weren’t up to code in her opinion.” Marc waited for Alex to sit down in one of the two button-back leather chairs. “Hence the sports jacket and chinos.”

  “Ever get the feeling we’re being micro-managed?” she asked as Marc sat down.

  “If this is the result, then I’m all for it. Now let’s have that drink. Wine?” asked Marc signalling their waiter.

  “Please. And a charcuterie board for later? Sausage, cheese and…humus.”

  “Perfect.” While Marc gave their order, Alex snuggled into her chair with a sigh of relaxation. And one surprising thought. She felt totally comfortable being with Marc in public. It wouldn’t matter who saw them. She was the CEO now, and her private life was her business. Maybe she had over-reacted that night in the mews. It was as though everyone in the hotel was in their corner.

  “Busy?” Marc reached over and laced his fingers lightly through hers.

  “Crazy,” Alex confirmed. “Grannie’s cousin Hector is still playing hard to get.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Unlikely. He inherited his share in the business, so he automatically has a seat on the board. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, what about your day?”

  “Executive producers like to meddle right up until the first day of filming,” replied Marc. “And I have two, one of whom thinks he’s a writer.”

  “And is he?”

  Marc shook his head. “Not even close. But he does have a lot of money invested in the project. That gives him clout. And he’s using it.”

  When the waiter arrived with their drink
s, they raised their glasses, and then Alex couldn’t contain herself any longer. “I have something to show you,” she announced reaching for the bag by her feet. She pulled out the old ledger and placed it on the table. Its spine was cracked and its binding a bit loose, but the faded linen cover still bore its original label.

  “Mrs. Rutledge?” Marc read with a question in his voice.

  “She was the head housekeeper here for years,” Alex explained. “More like a chatelaine, according to Grannie, and she kept meticulous records.”

  Alex opened the ledger to the page she wanted Marc to see. “These entries are from the late 1950s. She kept track of every guest who stayed here, their likes and dislikes, and how often they’d been with us, including….”

  “My godfather!” Marc’s eyes shone with excitement. He shifted his chair closer, and with his arm around Alex, traced the column down the left-hand side of the ledger where all the names were entered. “There he is! Charles Elliot, Oxfordshire…this is fantastic! This is like catnip to a history buff like me!”

  Alex leaned slightly into his shoulder, and watched with deep pleasure as Marc’s strong hand slid down the page, fingers almost caressing the name of his long-dead godfather. The swell of emotion washing over Marc roughened his voice as he read the entries next to his godfather’s name. “Allergic to goose feathers!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t know that!” And then further down he read that his godfather preferred Darjeeling in the morning before he went down to breakfast, and that he was “meticulous in his personal habits.” He laughed. “Now that I did know.”

  His eyes took on a faraway look and then tightening the arm around her shoulders, he leaned over and impulsively kissed Alex on the cheek. The scent of his cologne, clean shirt, and maleness washed over her. Her breathing deepened as she felt herself slip into the rhythm of his movements, his heartbeat.

  “This is incredible. Thank you. I can’t think of a better surprise.” Even in the quiet light of the library, Alex could see the glint of moisture in Marc’s eyes. “I was pretty sure my godfather had stayed at The Sadler because of his friendship with your grandfather, but to see it recorded here is really exciting.”