Undone by the Star by Stephanie Browning Page B

vibrant life, on the tables, walls, and the baby grand. It was both a picture of luxury and a private glimpse of a woman who had relished a full life. He adored her, Marc realized with a start.
    Drawing on a role he had once played on stage, he crossed the room, took the elderly woman’s frail hand in his.
    “Miss Sadler.” He kissed the back of her hand.
    “Mr. Daniels.” Her voice sparkled like champagne. “I see your ability to make a charming entrance isn’t confined to the screen.”
    “You haven’t seen any of my movies, have you?”
    “Not yet,” Miss Sadler said. “But Helen found you for me on the internet.”
    “Grannie!” exclaimed Alexis. She’d come to stand beside him. “Where is Helen, by the way?”
    “Gone to fetch my hot water bottle before the tea arrives.” She swung her attention back to Marc. “You will join us, won’t you?”
    “I’d love to,” he replied. Women were fascinating at any age, thought Marc, following Alex over to a cream-coloured sofa. He sat down next to her, feigning disinterest as she wiggled closer to the corner. He gave her an innocent look. “Comfy?” he asked.
    “Very.”
    Helen had appeared with the hot water bottle, introductions were made, and then the tea tray arrived. Four cups, Marc noted. With tiny sandwiches, fruit and a sponge cake. “I haven’t eaten this well in ages,” he said accepting a plate from Helen. “I’ll have to jog around Hyde Park three times.”
    She smiled in response, and the ice was broken.
    One of his specialties, Marc thought wryly. He kept his audience in a ripple of laughter with tales of his misadventures in the film industry while they had their tea. He was careful to avoid Alex’s eyes. She had an uncanny ability to sense his next move which, at the moment was to find an unoccupied suite and finish what they had started in the elevator.
    Timing was everything and theirs never seemed to work out.
    “These are delicious,” he said, taking a cucumber and cress sandwich. “I haven’t had time to stock my kitchen yet. If it wasn’t for your chef and the coffee shops in Kensington, I would starve to death.”
    He heard Alex snort beside him.
    “In that case, have a tart,” said Alex smiling sweetly as she offered him the plate; her fingers brushed his as he took and then nearly dropped the delicacy. “Two can play this game, you know,” she murmured.
    “My husband was very fond of these pastries,” Miss Sadler was saying. “He was in the foreign service, as was my son-in-law, Alex’s father, but The Sadler remained our home base.”
    “For all of us,” Alex offered. “Especially when Mum and Dad were on the other side of the world, and Jamie and I were here at boarding school. Holidays were at The Sadler.”
    A vision of a skinned-kneed Alexis tearing around the plush corridors brought a genuine smile to Marc’s lips. “I’ll bet you terrorized the place.”
    Alex’s eyes twinkled, but she remained silent.
    “And what about you Marc?” Helen stepped in.
    “Upstate New York mostly, while my parents taught at several different colleges. A well-loved only child with a vivid imagination. Reading was a family pastime.”
    “And do you still call New York home?” Miss Sadler eyed him keenly.
    “I’m comfortable there,” said Marc, “but it’s not where my heart is.”
    “And where is that?”
    “Interesting question,” said Marc. He felt a surprising rush of emotion, and masked it by reaching for another pastry. Where was his home? Not the Hollywood condo; not the latest university town where his parents had settled in anticipation of their retirement. Was it England? He couldn’t help but look at the young woman beside him. As yet, home was an unknown, except maybe now he had a vague sense that Alex should be in it. “England,” he said firmly.
    Alex set her tea cup down with a clatter. “We’ve tired you out, Grannie.”
    “Nonsense,” came the reply. “I’m fine.” But Alex was