Backstage with Her Ex

by Louisa George

  ‘Eat. Eat. Please,’ Luigi pleaded as he fussed around them, squeezing his large belly between the tables. ‘There is more coming for my new friend, Nate Munro. And bella Sasha.’

  Bella Sasha. That was her in a nutshell. Beautiful. Confident in her own space, and modest. She even had the ancient Luigi eating out of her hand.

  ‘There is one thing, though.’ She leaned forward, her words hesitant, as if she was trying to work out the right thing to say. ‘I’d like to talk to you about Marshall, to say how sorry I was about his death. I heard from one of your mum’s neighbours, and then I heard about her death a few weeks later too. I wanted to send something or to write to you, even go to their funerals, but everything was so private and I didn’t want to impose. Marshall was such a joy to know. Everyone loved him.’

  Not everyone. But Nate didn’t want to go into that now. Regardless of how Sasha made him feel, wanting her in his bed was very different from trusting her with the part of his heart he kept sealed off. The image he’d carefully constructed to keep everyone from knowing the real Nate Munro was too ingrained in him now.

  But he could give her a little. Any more than that and he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop. ‘Yeah. It was a difficult time. If only I...’

  She frowned. ‘What do you mean? What happened?’

  Too late. Pain twisted inside him. ‘Nothing.’

  A fraught silence hovered between them as she waited for him to explain. When he didn’t, she sighed. ‘It’s okay, I get the picture—you hurt too much. You must miss him terribly.’

  He could be upfront about this at least. ‘I do. It’s like an ache that doesn’t go away.’

  He’d landed a kid in Intensive Care, lost the respect of his school, the love of his girlfriend, and then the life of his beloved brother and mother. All because he’d had a stupid inflated sense of self-belief.

  ‘Hey, but I certainly mourned them in spectacular fashion. That self-destruct button jammed hard and fast, taking every cliché to excess: wine, women. And the songs. Introspective and pathetic.’ Shrugging, he laughed. ‘Gotta love that minor key.’

  ‘But heartfelt and eerily haunting. Truthful.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It won’t right all the wrongs—it won’t change the decisions I made, the stupid stuff. It won’t bring him back.’ The stab to his heart was tight and sharp.

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel, Nate. It’s like...like a light has gone out in your soul.’

  For a second his mask almost slipped as he looked up and saw the tears swimming in her eyes. Her hand touched his as she fought to control the wobbling lip. His hurt was all mixed up with the loss of her father.

  And he fought to breathe through the weight pressing in on his chest. He didn’t do this. Open Pandora’s box and let his emotions out, not when he had no idea how to shut them off again without a struggle.

  He needed to get out before he hit that self-destruct button again, and dragged beautiful, innocent Sasha down with him.

  Scraping the chair back, he stood. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  * * *

  The school hall buzzed with thick, palpable excitement. A queue for entry had begun four hours before the doors opened and, judging by the din of chatter out there, the audience were just as excited as the performers.

  ‘George, Tyler, please stay away from the curtain. We don’t want the audience to see you before the opening song—it’ll ruin the surprise.’ Keeping the kids focused was like trying to herd cats. ‘Let’s pretend this is the actual competition instead of the fundraiser. Be professional and confident but, most of all, enjoy yourselves. Big smiles.’

  ‘Hey, Miss Sweet. Cute outfit.’ There it was again. Behind her. That dark voice that made her weak-kneed. The press of his palm on her back. The scent that made her heart do loop-the-loops. She wasn’t sure he’d even turn up after his disappearing act the minute she’d probed a little deeper under that thick skin of his. Even if he didn’t have a sign round his neck flashing keep out, she’d certainly got the message.

  ‘Nate!’ She pulled him to the shadows at the side of the stage, ostensibly to prep him for the show, but in reality to grab a few seconds with him, alone. ‘Do you ever approach anyone from the front?’

  ‘And spoil the element of surprise?’

  ‘One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack.’ One day? No more days. Two more hours and he’d be gone.

  And he looked awful. Sure, he was picture-perfect performance ready, and few would notice the dark shadows round his eyes, the clenched jaw, the hollowed-out cheeks. But she did. She knew enough about Nate Munro to read the signs.

  ‘Big night last night?’

  ‘Yep. And the night before...and the one before that...you get the picture. Too many early mornings and late nights.’ How easily he slipped back into his life. At least he hadn’t said too many women. For that she was grateful. He ran a hand through his masterfully scruffed hair. Which she would not touch. Would. Not. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll live, and I won’t let you all down. I’m still match fit.’

  ‘Well, I suppose we should be grateful you’re here at all, then, even if you do look like crap.’

  ‘Hey, steady with the compliments—you’ll give me a big head.’

  ‘Very unlikely. Is it possible for it to get any bigger?’

  ‘I’ll never have a big head with you keeping me grounded.’ He grinned, but she couldn’t help thinking his deterioration had something to do with their last conversation about Marshall. Clearly there was a lot more to the story than he was prepared to share. But it wasn’t her place to ask questions and push him into a corner, she’d learnt to her cost—the last time that had happened he’d screamed at her about breaking trust. And then walked out of her life.

  He grinned. ‘Excited about tonight?’

  ‘Yes. Very much. Thank you for doing this.’

  ‘My pleasure. To be honest, I wasn’t convinced at first, but this whole experience has been...interesting.’ His mouth twitched and his arm wrapped round her waist, pressing her long black silk dress to her body as he slipped a nonchalant kiss on her cheek.

  The fingers of his other hand played with the way-more-than-she-wanted-to-pay professionally styled curls bouncing around her cheeks. ‘And just look at you, sweet thing. Amazing. You’ve done well for yourself—you should be proud.’

  ‘I am.’

  Now his hand ran across the dip of her very bare collarbone sending hot shivers of desire arcing through her.

  She reached to the zipper on his leather jacket, and looked up into his face wishing she could stop time and stay wrapped in his arms for a few more minutes.

  For for ever? The thought shook through her. Once that had been all she’d dreamed of, but now it seemed a ridiculous idea. Things had changed: she’d changed. Moved on, wanted very different things. But it was enough to be the sole focus of those caramel eyes for a few more minutes.

  She smiled, warily. ‘Listen, I’m sorry about the other night.’

  ‘Hey. Hush.’ Pressing a finger to her lips, he stopped her. She remembered the way his mouth had fitted so perfectly over hers, how he had tasted. And her gut twisted with an ache for more.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. It was my fault, not yours. I shouldn’t have dodged out so fast, I should have stayed.’

  Her heart squeezed. When? Ten years ago? Or the other day?

  She laughed it off. ‘But that’s you all over, Nate. Always rushing on to the next thing.’ Always running away when things get tough.

  ‘I like to keep busy—it keeps me out of mischief. I could have done with being busy these last few days.’ His eyes widened and she wondered what he’d been doing. But she had no claims on him.

  ‘Please, spare me the gory details.’

  ‘It�
��s not what you think. The only...liaison...I had was with my old mate Jack. Daniels. We had some serious catching up to do. He’s a good friend, but he does make my head hurt after a while.’ As her blood pressure steadied he tipped his head towards the stage. ‘They look awesome. You’re going to knock that audience’s socks off.’

  The choir had assembled ready to start, resplendent in their black tuxedoes. ‘Gosh yes, I’m so proud of them. They’ve come so far, and worked so hard. Tonight’s just a first step on their journey.’

  But for her and Nate it was the end.

  ‘Almost curtain up.’ He winked as the front of house dimmed and an expectant hush shivered through the hall. Breathing deeply, he grinned. ‘Can you feel that buzz? Man, I love this stuff. Every. Single. Time. It’s like a drug. It’s what keeps me alive. Break a leg, sweet thing.’

  ‘You too.’ She paused, and then words escaped her lips before she had a chance to stop them. ‘And then?’

  It was almost a whisper, swamped as the music started to play. What she was hoping for she didn’t know. A declaration that he felt the same way as she did? Which was unsure and rocky, but turned on. That he wanted to see where these feelings could take them?

  She just wanted more time to...to what? To get to know Nathan all over again? No, to understand this new Nate. The man behind the public image. The one she was already too intrigued by. Mr Wrong.

  And not a slipper in sight.

  To hell with bloody slippers. A decision crystallised. Every look he gave her told her he wanted her. Even though he would leave. She was okay with that.

  She was sick of being scared, allowing her need for control to define her. She would let go. Grasp the passion she’d denied herself for so long. Just once. Give in to dangerous temptation, then she could go back to her nice safe life where passion was a distant memory. Something other people did.

  If he asked, she would say yes. She would take him for herself.

  The curtain began to open.

  He turned to her, his mouth kicked up in a smile that looked a lot like regret. Because, in reality she was way too late. The chances he’d offered her were now just a forgotten living-for-the-moment rock-star whim. He was probably already planning his next conquest.

  ‘And then, Sasha, I’m getting the first plane out of here.’

  * * *

  Once the applause died down Nate took the microphone ready to squeeze the appreciative audience for everything they had. If she wouldn’t take a cent from him he’d make sure Sasha got what she needed and more, somehow. It was the least he could do before he headed back home to the States.

  ‘Thanks very much for your support, everyone. Weren’t they amazing? There are some buckets going round for your donations—please dig deep. You know it’s for a good cause. Let’s get this choir to Manchester.’

  ‘Thanks. Wow. That was...bloody brilliant.’ Sasha greeted him as he finally left the stage, her smile as bright as the spotlights.

  ‘Language, Miss Sweet. Brilliant? It was epic.’ He fist-pumped the air in lieu of picking her up and hugging her. Touching her made him want her even more. He’d almost kissed her backstage, and that would have been a big mistake so close to leaving.

  ‘They were great. They did everything we asked, and more. Man, that was fun.’

  ‘Thank you so much. Just...thank you, thank you. We’ve made enough money to make Manchester a real trip to remember. It won’t matter if we don’t win the competition after this—it feels like we’ve won the jackpot already.’ Tiptoeing, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘They’ve excelled under your guidance. You’re a natural with kids.’

  At the briefest touch of her skin against his heat flared through him; all thought of the choir and the applause faded away. The rush of his usual post-performance heat hit Nate square in the groin, but, instead of being a need for a quick release, this time it was a long intense ache that threatened to overpower him.

  The ache belonged to Sasha. Just her. Not the performance. Not the adoration from his fans. Just Sasha. Nothing else matched the adrenaline boost he got just being with her and he didn’t want to lose that, not yet.

  Her lips parted, just enough for him to see the tip of her tongue, the wet that he wanted to taste. Her breathing quickened and her gaze locked with his. For a nanosecond the air stilled and that invisible connection tightened around them, weaving in more complex patterns, snaring them like a spider’s web, until there was nothing, no one in the world but them, caught in a magical sphere from which there was no escape.

  The truth flickered in her eyes. She wanted him. And he wanted her. Wanted to kiss that mouth, to explore those curves. To lose himself in her.

  But he’d already packed his bags.

  ‘Come with me.’ His voice was more growl than groan as he pressed his mouth to her ear. For a second he thought he meant back to LA. Anywhere. But he brushed that idea away as too intense, too complex. He couldn’t think past now. Here.

  Dragging her into the darkest corner he could find, he pressed her against a wall. Ran his fingertips over the curve of her cheek, into her hairline, couldn’t take his eyes away from her heated gaze. His thumb ran tiny circles along her jaw until it hit the corner of her mouth, which puckered. But what turned him on most was the sheer need in those eyes.

  Before he knew what he was doing he crushed his mouth on hers. This time he didn’t want to be gentle, didn’t want to savour her taste, he wanted to take her, possess her.

  And she responded with equal hunger, a greedy meshing of souls, with a deep thirst for more. Her desire fuelled his as she rocked against him, gentle moans coming from her throat, her hands cupping his backside and pulling him closer until they were body on body, skin on skin.

  It was too much, but nowhere near enough.

  And all too quickly she pushed away, breathless and hot. ‘God, what are we doing?’

  Searching her face, he wondered whether she was joking. He couldn’t help the smile. ‘I think that’s pretty obvious.’

  ‘But we can’t.’

  ‘We just did.’

  ‘Not here, you noggin. There’s...there’s too many reasons. There’s way too much to do out there. We can’t get carried away. Goodness.’ She playfully struggled against him, but she was laughing, her head tipped back, and the delicate curve of her throat moved with the musical sound.

  He planted a kiss to the racing pulse at her throat, breathed in her scent, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing closer so he could feel the soft shape of her beneath the silky fabric.

  ‘Forget everything else, Sash. Let someone else sort it out. One of the other teachers, the mums. The choir. Somebody. Anybody. But not you.’ His hands ran down the back of the soft fabric; on their way they discovered the ridge of a bra strap, the outline of her pants. ‘I have plans for you right here.’

  ‘What if the cash gets stolen?’

  ‘You know, you worry too much.’

  ‘Hey, I live in this neighbourhood. I have due cause to worry.’ She squirmed as he licked against the nape of her neck, whispering through a stifled giggle, ‘Besides, someone might see us.’

  ‘Story of my life.’ He sighed and leaned his head against hers. They were hidden enough behind large boxes and electrical equipment, but she had a point.

  Sasha always had a good point, but he was always too busy enjoying the moment to think through the consequences of his actions. But, well, he didn’t want to let go of this moment. ‘This thing between us, it isn’t going away, is it?’

  ‘No, I guess not.’

  ‘Staying away doesn’t help. Being with you makes it worse. D’you think we should do something about it?’ When he palmed her breast through the folds of her dress she moaned and pressed harder against him.

  ‘I could be convinced.’ She bit her bottom lip and h
er cheeks pinked. She knew exactly what he was asking, and her blatant answer surprised him. ‘But where would we go?’

  ‘I don’t know. There’s a prowl of photographers out there just waiting to catch me. They’ll follow us to my hotel, make a scene.’

  Pushing her hands against his chest, she nodded. ‘My place, then. They surely won’t be interested in me and how I leave this place. My car’s out the back. The pink saloon nearest the gym. You want to risk it?’

  Good question. Risk what? His privacy? Hers? His heart? ‘Do you?’

  Stupid to ask her that question—now uncertainty flitted across her face. A sharp intake of breath. A frown. He could see the workings of her mind, the answers she struggled to find. Sasha, who planned everything, who factored danger and risk into every moment. ‘I...I don’t...know...’

  He took one of her hands. ‘Sasha, I can’t promise you anything, certainly not the stable future you crave. You need to know I am going back to LA.’

  So where was he going with this? Sleep with me. Make love with me. Stay with me, just once. First time in living memory that he’d had to ask. And he liked her all the more for it.

  He hoped she could see that he was being genuine for once in his life, and that this wasn’t some kind of play. That it was Sasha he wanted, not just anyone.

  Was it? Whether he played her or not, he hoped the end result would be the same. Him. Her. Hot, and sticky.

  Her gaze burnt with desire.

  He fought the need to have her now against the back wall. But it almost killed him. ‘Sasha, I swear to God, if you don’t stop looking at me like that I won’t be held responsible for the headlines tomorrow. Teacher and rock star found in flagrante backstage.’

  She ran her finger along his jawline, the passion mingling with anxiety as she struggled with the enticement of living dangerously. Foreign territory for a practical planning kind of girl.