Backstage with Her Ex

‘None. As always, you’re very thorough. Very...impressive.’ Judging where his eyes were scrutinising now, she got the feeling Nathan wasn’t talking about the reams of paper in her hands or the hours she’d spent on the spreadsheets.

And if he just leaned in a few more inches...

If she leaned forward...

Oh, hell. Seriously? She wanted to kiss him? She fought for a breath.

Maybe it was the champagne lulling her into a false sense of...insecurity? Because there was nothing secure about the way her heart hammered or her legs weakened. Or the way he was looking at her with possession written all over his beautiful face.

She tore her eyes from his gaze, but they flatly refused to leave his face. Instead, she drank in the thick dark lashes, sculpted cheekbones and strong stubbled jaw. Everything about him screamed confidence, strength, sex appeal.

But more than that, he’d agreed to help her, at a huge personal cost. He’d given her time to go through the details when she knew he probably didn’t give a damn, indulging her for no one’s benefit but her own.

That just about blew off the assumptions that he was a selfish sex-crazed raiser. Who knew there was a softer side too? Strident. Complicated, not one dimensional like his media persona.

For goodness’ sake, where did he get off being kind? And where did that leave her?

Captivated? Hot. Yes, too hot. And aching to feel the press of his mouth on hers.

When she spoke her voice was shaky. ‘Why did you invite me over when we could have talked all this through on the phone?’

‘Direct as ever. I wanted to see you.’ The spark in his eyes swirled with confusion now.

‘And what Nate Munro wants, Nate Munro gets, right?’

‘Usually.’ He shrugged. ‘I just had a...feeling about you. Your last entrance made quite an impression. I wondered what you could possibly do for an encore, but I wasn’t expecting spreadsheets. Women usually employ other techniques to get me to do things with them.’ He laughed. ‘You’re definitely one of a kind.’

That was new—no one ever had feelings about her. She tried hard to be unobtrusive and not draw attention to herself. Fighting the heat whooshing through her now, making her unsteady and unsure, she swallowed deeply through a dry throat. ‘A feeling?’

‘Yes, I don’t know. A hunch.’ But he clearly didn’t want to elaborate. For a man famous for heavy, heart-on-your-sleeve rock ballads that wooed the world’s women, he kept way too much wrapped up inside when it mattered. ‘Why did you agree to come if we could have just talked it through on the phone?’

‘Cassie made me. Suzy, of course, would have a fit if she knew I was here.’ And no way was she going to admit the guy had been burning a hole in her brain for twenty-four hours.

‘Suzy. Suzy.’ He shook his head, his mouth kicking up into a rueful half-smile. ‘So forthright and ardent and so...righteous. How many times did she warn you off me?’

‘Too many to count.’ It had been a battle of wills in the end: the more Suzy told her no, the more Sasha had said yes. To Nate. ‘But I never took any notice of her.’

‘Until the end. Seems she was right after all.’

That he was wrong for her? That he was bad through and through? That he’d break Sasha’s heart? ‘Yes, I guess she was.’

Her big sister had been right about all of that. But Sasha had ignored the warnings. Just as she was ignoring the alarms blaring in her ears now.

Go. Walk away. She’d got what she wanted from him.

Hadn’t she? ‘So. Is that it? I should go now.’

‘Unless...’ His hand was on her arm now.

‘I don’t...I can’t...’ Can’t think.

‘Hush, Sasha. I don’t want anything you don’t want to give.’ He’d said that line before too. And she’d ached to give him everything, but every single time she’d stopped short. Unable to truly let go. With him, or anyone else since.

His voice was thick and gruff as the pad of his thumb stroked along her arm, and it felt as if he were stroking her insides too. Her breathing matched his as his fingers wound up the back of her neck, her nerve endings on full alert, rooting her to the spot. ‘I’d forgotten just how beautiful you are. How intensely you feel things. Ten years, but you haven’t changed so much.’

‘You want to bet? If you think I’m still that little lost girl I used to be then you’re very mistaken. I’ve worked hard to be who I am now. I’ve changed more than you could imagine.’

‘Yes.’ He smiled as he unhooked a strand of her hair that had caught in her dress strap, then he glanced down her body. ‘I guess you have.’

Oh, God. She didn’t want him touching her in some sort of rose-coloured grasp at something they’d had, too long ago. Rewinding wouldn’t achieve anything but heartache, and moving forward meant grasping her self-respect and waiting for Mr Right, not grabbing a quickie on a couch—however nice—with Mr Very Wrong.

Typical, the first time in years her hormones were demanding usage, and it just had to happen with Mr So-Far-From-Safe not even one of her health and safety policies could help her.

Her hand reached to his hard wall of chest to push him away. But the feel of his T-shirt beneath her palm, and the heat of his skin beneath that, made her fingers curl into the fabric.

His face closed in, his eyes telling her what he wanted, his so familiar spicy scent weaving round her in a sensual web. Breathing became laboured as she waited for the moment she felt his lips against hers. Waiting to see if he still kissed the same way after all this time.

His head inclined towards her but he paused, his face swimming with a mixture of emotions, the most profound of which was confusion. Giving her just enough time for her doubts to jump in and fill the gap.

Wiggle away from the sex god, Sasha.

She knew who she was now, what she wanted, and it definitely wasn’t inviting trouble back into her life.

Finding strength from who knew where, she pushed him gently away, then swung her feet to the floor and slipped on her shoes. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea, Nathan. It might be the way you crazy rock stars roll, but it’s not how I do things.’ Or was this how he wanted to be paid for his help?

Yikes.

‘What? Have you invented a whole new way of doing things in Chesterton? In LA-LA land we usually start with a kiss and then see how things pan out...’

‘Nothing’s going to pan out. Is it just a game to you? Something for old times’ sake? Play the silly ex-girlfriend and see how far you can get. What happened to leaving the past alone?’

‘I was just getting caught up in the moment.’ His smile was genuine and warm and reflected in his eyes. Which made her feel even worse. He stood calmly and offered her his hand. ‘And so were you.’

Good point. ‘But I can’t just live in a moment, Nate. My life’s not a wild ride like yours. I have responsibilities, I have to work, to pay the mortgage, I have to be a good role model to my students. Moments don’t count, the big picture does.’

Her sister Cassie would kiss and walk away without a second’s thought. No, Cassie would stay the night and not have a qualm. Cassie would relish the chance of grasping a little vicarious fame, enjoy the buzz of being with a celebrity.

But Sasha wasn’t Cassie. She couldn’t do the one-kiss thing, and definitely not the one-night thing. She was a for-ever girl, plain and simple, so there was no way she’d let herself get carried away with him. Especially not to then watch him leave again.

Shaking his touch away as quickly as she could, she smoothed down her dress and her nerves. ‘I’ll see you at the gig in two weeks. Thanks for taking the time to see me. And for helping in this project.’

‘No, seriously, the pleasure was all mine.’ But his eyes had darkened and he looked as bewildered as she felt. Standing up, he reached for the hotel phone. ‘I’ll call the car.’

‘You’ll do no such thing. I can find my way home from Mayfair.’ The further she got away from him, the better. And quickly. Spending time in his car with his people wouldn’t help her a jot. And she didn’t need to owe him any more. The one lesson she’d learned from her father’s suicide—never owe anyone anything.

Nate captured her gaze and shook his head in an I’ll-never-understand-you kind of gesture, but eventually capitulated to her firm stance. ‘Then at least let me walk you to the tube.’

‘No. I’m just fine. Thank you. I can manage the tube—’ And then she remembered their phone conversation, his chat with Dario the bear in the gent’s.