Undone by the Star (13 page)

His head snapped up at her approach. “Miss Kirkwood.”

“Cyril,” Alex smiled. “Have you seen Kate lately?”

“I believe Miss Harrison is in the staff lounge.” He didn’t quite sniff with disapproval, but almost. Everyone knew Alex and Kate were long-time friends, but there had been a subtle shift in the hierarchy ever since Alex had become CEO.

“Thank you, Cyril,” she said. “You’re the best.”

Butter wouldn’t melt, she thought as she slipped behind the scenes to find her friend. But Cyril really was the “eyes and ears” of the hotel, and Kate was exactly where he’d said she’d be.

“Busy day?” asked Alex.

“Mad. I can’t wait to get out of here….No offence,” Kate slammed the door to her locker, “but sometimes…what?” she asked turning to face Alex.

“Do you have a class tonight?”

“Study group. But I could blow of it off. You’re looking a little hyper.” She gave Alex the once over. “What’s up?”

“I desperately need you in the Victoria suite.”

“And that would be because…?”

“You remember that red carpet premiere I told you about?”

Kate nodded.

“Helen’s been raiding Grannie’s closet. They’re waiting for me with a dozen designer gowns!” Alex could hear the bubble of excitement in her own voice. “They both have excellent taste, but I want this to be my decision.”

“And you need a second opinion.”

“Exactly. And who better than my best friend?”

Kate’s eyes sparkled. “These jeans, okay?”

Alex gave her a hug. “You’ve known Grannie since you were sixteen. What do you think?”

Kate grabbed her rucksack. “I’m in.”

They headed for the second floor. Helen had set up shop in the suite normally reserved for brides and their entourage whenever The Sadler hosted a wedding. With its full-length mirrors and straight-back chairs, it was the perfect place to play dress-up.

The door was ajar. Alex and Kate slipped inside, eyes popping as they caught sight of the wardrobe rack.

Helen stood guard over a breathtaking selection of evening gowns, tape measure around her neck, beaming in anticipation. “Ladies,” she said. “Do come in.”

“Oh, wow,” Kate exclaimed. “This is absolutely amazing! Can I look?” she asked craning her neck to see behind Helen’s ample figure.

Alex laughed, then crossed the room to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “How are you feeling today, Grannie?”

Her grandmother patted her hand. “Much better,” she replied. “Now that I have a project. Helen’s been very busy. And I can’t wait to see my granddaughter wearing one of these gowns in the way it is meant to be worn – by someone young and beautiful.”

“Oh, Grannie,” Alex felt the emotion pass between them. “Thank you so much…for everything.”

“Go on then,” urged her grandmother, “before I get all sentimental. Kate, sweetheart,” she called across the room. “Lovely to see you.”

Kate smiled and waved. “You too, Miss Sadler.”

“This one,” Kate sighed, singling out a deceptively simple cocktail dress – a black velvet sleeveless bodice with a flocked and fluffed white taffeta skirt. “This looks like something Audrey Hepburn wore….” She plucked it from the rack and held it up.

Miss Sadler’s eyes gleamed in remembered triumph. “I believe the wardrobe designer for a certain movie was somewhat inspired when she saw me in that dress. It’s a custom Dior.”

“Really!” Kate managed, eyes wide.

“Really,” said the older woman. “Now come and sit beside me,” she indicated the chair next to her own. “The only way to watch a fashion show is from the front row.”

Kate rehung the dress and “catwalked” across the room.

“Bravo!” clapped Miss Sadler.

“Everyone wanted to design for your grandmother,” Helen was saying as she guided Alex towards the dresses. “Her patronage guaranteed success.” The older woman eyed Alex appraisingly. “And now that you’ll be attending a number of formal events, you might want to give some thought to which designers you’d like to support.”

Alex scanned the rack. “Do you want me to pick out a few, or can I try on all of them?”

“All of them,” she heard her grandmother and Kate call in unison.

“Then, let’s do it!” Alex laughed at the sheer pleasure of modelling the exquisite gowns, knowing that one of them would be perfect for her walk down the red carpet with Marc.

As she slipped off her day clothes behind an antique screen, Helen passed her the first gown – a slinky black Gucci keyhole dress. Once she’d slipped it over her head, Alex saw that its severe lines unexpectedly accented her figure, and the keyhole on the hip displaying the golden Gucci logo, was decidedly provocative. Marc would love it. She imagined his warm fingers, sliding softly from the sleek fabric over the exposed skin at the keyhole. Just as she was ready to hyperventilate, Helen hurried over to adjust the fit. “Off you go,” she whispered, “Before your daydreams give you away.”

With an inescapable blush, Alex stepped out and took a slow turn around the room.

“You look amazing,” enthused Kate.

“It’s the dress,” Alex replied. She could barely talk. As a little girl she’d watched her grandparents get ready for formal evenings, but never did she dream that she would wear one of her grandmother’s dresses. “It hangs so perfectly.”

“It does,” Helen agreed, but she was assessing the dress with a critical eye. “The cut seems a bit severe on you. It worked for your grandmother, but you are a different personality and the dress should reflect that.”

Alex frowned at herself in the full-length mirror. Maybe it was too dramatic. Besides, there were lots more.

Next she tried on a black and white number. “Beautiful,” Helen said fastening the top hook for her. “Perfect fit and works for your figure.”

“I saw a dress just like it in a shop in Piccadilly,” Kate said.

“Whatever you saw,” Helen retorted sharply, “it was
not
just like this dress.” When Kate looked stricken, Helen softened her tone. “But you do make a good point, Kate. We wouldn’t want anyone to think that Alex was not wearing an original.”

On to the next and the next…long sleeves, short sleeves, cap sleeves, sleeveless….silk, chiffon, velvet, satin, taffeta…a long, navy sheath of a dress covered with asymmetrical white crystal beading….

“You look like a giant doily.” Kate smothered a laugh and this time she earned a glare from both Helen and Miss Sadler.

“Not exactly the image I’m going for,” Alex murmured in response.

“That is a Chanel,” Helen said stiffly.

Kate shrugged. “Maybe Coco had an off-day.”

“Have her try the plain black Chanel,” Miss Sadler sighed before the clash in personalities erupted into hurt feelings.

“Now this is the empress of little black dresses,” declared Helen. It was strapless, hanging in perfect lines from a small bow at the bust.

Alex could have cried when she saw herself in it – it was elegant and sophisticated, and while it might not be appropriate for a film premiere, it would be ideal for a cocktail party or evening reception.

“Very nice,” her grandmother confirmed. “Put it in the possibility section.”

There were more – multi-coloured flared skirts from Oscar de la Renta, a rather absurd striped taffeta gown with the collar standing in a huge ruffle behind her head. “Queen Elizabeth would love it,” Kate giggled. “The first Queen Elizabeth.”

And on they went…a red, fluttery-sleeved Dior…a deceptively simple Haute Couture, neutral, classic, sleeveless, covered with perfectly sewn beads…a black Valentino with feathered sleeves….

“It makes my nose itch,” Alex protested.

“It made the Italian ambassador’s nose itch, too,” Miss Sadler said sotto voice.

“Grannie!”

Miss Sadler sipped her tea, a smile hovering on her lips, as the show continued.

A ruched, pink satin sheath that made Alex feel like a well-dressed sausage, a red pencil skirt so tight at the knees that she was sure she would waddle, a frilly blue with an eye-popping plunging neckline, a black velvet that hung like she had been wrapped in the colours of night gathered at the waist with a crystal moon. And finally, a deceptively simple, silver-blue satin gown.

The sleeveless bodice fitted as though molded to Alex’s form and the skirt swayed in elegant seductiveness with every step she took. Alex crossed and recrossed the room, relishing the sensual swish of the fabric, envisioning the expression on Marc’s face when he saw her in it. Imagining the touch of his hands sliding across the sleek lines of the fabric and into the soft folds of peau de soie sent a surge of heat through her entire body.

She turned to the waiting women, knowing her pleasure would be shining in her face.

“This is it,” Alex said. “This is the dress I want to wear.”

“It’s perfect,” sighed Kate.

Helen frowned slightly, while Grannie slowly nodded her head. “Yes…always one of my favourites.”

“Who designed it?” Kate asked fingers barely touching the skirt. “This fabric is absolutely gorgeous.”

“A little known designer,” Miss Sadler recalled. “Emma, her name was. She created only a handful of evening gowns and then moved to Cornwall with her husband to open a hotel. She made this dress for me as a thank-you. I helped them get their business started. Lovely girl, such a talented artist.”

“What do you think, Helen? How does it fit?” Alex asked.

Reserving comment, Helen removed the measuring tape from around her neck, and silently checked the length and fit of the two-piece gown. “We’ll need to take up the hem,” she said looking up at Alex. “But I like it.”

Alex breathed a sigh of relief as Helen got to her feet. “It’s about the dress and the woman who wears it in my opinion,” the older woman was saying. “Not the designer. And you, dear, look beautiful.” She squeezed Alex’s hand and whispered, “We still have the matching bag, but what about shoes?”

“Glass slippers?” suggested Alex grinning at her reflection in the mirror.

“Let’s drink to tomorrow,” suggested Marc as Douglas lowered his beefy frame onto the bench opposite without spilling a drop of beer.

“Here, here,” said the scout.

They raised their glasses and drank deeply. They were happily ensconced in the bar of the King’s Inn where Marc was staying the night. It had been a gruelling afternoon. Rain, followed by disappointment in the first property they’d looked at – not Douglas’ fault, it just didn’t suit the main character – and then finding another production company had beat them to the next one.

“I’d never given a thought to the difficulties of finding the right location before this picture,” Marc said, “but then I didn’t have to worry about the mechanics of filming.”

“Or financing,” contributed the location scout. “This part of Yorkshire is a popular spot for shooting. Prices have gone way up. We need to travel further afield.”

“But if it’s the right place.…”

“Exactly.”

Marc felt the familiar burr of an incoming text and groped for his phone. With a thrust of pleasure, he saw it was from Alex.
Meeting Grannie for dinner in The Garden Room, talk later?

“Do you mind?” he asked Douglas holding his mobile phone aloft.

The man shook his head. “Take your time.”

Having a pint with my scout…,
Marc wrote. He hesitated. There was nothing else he could put in a text.
Will call later.
His message sent, he traded his phone for his glass. Twenty-four hours ago, he was sitting in the Library Bar at The Sadler, and here he was in Yorkshire, content with his progress on the film, but missing Alex like crazy.

“Found yourself a girl down in London, have you?” Douglas was eying him speculatively.

Marc grinned. “Maybe.”

His companion snorted. “There’s no maybe about it, looking at your face.”

“That bad, is it?”

Douglas took a long pull on his beer then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think maybe your career change has come at the right time. You can’t act worth a damn.”

Marc laughed and sat back. He was enjoying the camaraderie that had developed over the day. “What about you? Is there someone special at home?”

“Aye, there is. A wife and two kids.”

Marc felt an unexpected pang of envy. “How old?”

“Gavin’s the oldest; he’s six and the little lass is two.”

A month ago, having a conversation like this with the other actors on the set who did have children, would have been polite, but of little interest. But now, with Alex in his life, Marc suddenly found himself viewing the world differently. That’s one of the reasons his star status had lost its shine. He wanted stability. He wanted a home, and surprisingly, he now knew he wanted a family as well.

“I’m an only child,” he said abruptly.

Douglas cocked his head. “Only and lonely?”

“Yes, and no,” said Marc sliding his glass from hand to hand as he spoke. “But one gets used to doing whatever, whenever.”

“And then the right woman comes along and, boom.”

“It seems that way,” agreed Marc. Their steak and kidney pies had arrived. He downed his beer and asked Douglas if he wanted another one. Douglas took a pass.

“We’ve a lot to cover tomorrow and not much time.”

They made plans for the next day while they ate, shared a few war stories from the film business, and then Douglas took his leave. “You’d best go call that girl of yours,” were his parting words to Marc, “or you won’t be sleeping tonight.”

Watching the other man lumber towards his car through the pub’s rain-spattered window left Marc thinking how nice it would be to have someone waiting at home. He’d been a well-loved child, but his parents had been so caught up in their work, he’d often been left on his own. Having a family had always been a rather vague “maybe someday” kind of concept for him.

Until now.

Until Alex.

Marc finished his beer and headed upstairs.

Alex sprinted across the room and dove for the phone, almost losing her towel in the process. “Hello?”

“Hello.” The sheer pleasure of hearing each other’s voice left them both speechless.

Alex tugged her towel closer and lay back on her bed savouring the intimacy of their unspoken thoughts. “I was in the bath,” she said feeling herself blush. She heard him inhale sharply, all the way from Yorkshire.