Backstage with Her Ex Page 5

  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.

  Her hand covered her mouth in horror. She’d been about to commit the most heinous sin in her own book: kissing a man who was already committed to someone else. Her brain had clearly fried with lust. ‘And what about your girlfriend?’

  ‘Girlfriend? I haven’t got—’

  ‘The other night, after the gig, didn’t you have a date? And then...eugh, the tramp twins in the limo? What kind of person are you, Nathan?’

  ‘Misunderstood?’ His hands curled into tight fists as bewilderment turned to bitterness. ‘Story of my life.’

  ‘I’ve pegged you as a lot of things over the years, reading reports of you drinking yourself into oblivion, partying for days on end, and hooking up with the most...’ she tried to think of a word that didn’t sound as condemning or derogatory as her thoughts ‘...quirky of girlfriends. But I never thought of you as someone who uses women. Not until now.’

  Grabbing her handbag, she dashed to the door and down the stairs as quickly as she could.

  Only when she’d reached the tube station did she realise that, along with her pride, she’d left her messenger bag and files on his couch. Goddamn. The man was turning her brain to a soggy hot mess.

  But there was no way she was going back to fetch them, not tonight. Not when she’d had to rip her body away from him. Not when she had only one thing on her mind where Nate Munro was concerned. And it certainly didn’t include a whole lot of paper.

  * * *

  Insane.

  Yep. Insane in every aspect. Nate stood outside the grimy red brick walls of his old high school and felt the familiar tightening in his gut. How he’d allowed himself to be talked into this he didn’t know. And by a woman who hadn’t changed much at all no matter how much she protested to the contrary. She still shot first and asked questions...never.

  Don’t ask, but jump to conclusions. Check.

  Don’t give him a chance to explain. Check.

  That was Sasha all over.

  Just being here in this rundown dead-end school was bad enough, never mind spending more time with her.

  He found her in the old school hall. Nothing had changed here either—the whole scenario was as if he’d rewound ten years to his adolescent nightmares. If this was the punishment for being the bad boy of rock, he was definitely going to work on his game from now on.

  The place still smelt of sweaty socks and cheap lemon air freshener. Still had scuffs in the dirty cream paintwork, and old velvet curtains that didn’t quite fit the stage. Where she was standing. In front of a gaggle of kids who, as it happened, made quite a good noise.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt...’ He waited for her to turn round. Watched the silent gasp, the irritated raise of her eyebrows, the flush of her cheeks. The hesitant smile as she saw her bag in his hand.

  Sunshine streamed through an upper window, casting bright light across the stage in a perfect arc, catching dust motes dancing almost in rhythm with the song.

  Even from this distance he could see the different hues in her hair, not just red, but gold and blonde too, drifting down her back, shimmering with every move.

  Goddamn she was sexy. And so different from the women he usually dated. First off, she’d said no to him. Again. That never happened.

  She wasn’t lured by his fame or his wealth; in fact far from that, she didn’t want a dime of it for herself. Which was refreshing and curious. And the fact she’d left without taking advantage of what he’d had to offer pushed intriguing to the top of the list of adjectives he already had for her.

  She wore another fifties’ summery dress today, short capped sleeves, tight V neck and full skirt in a soft green that accentuated her waist and fell in feminine folds to her knees. Demure enough to be suitable for her job, it was cut from some kind of thin fabric that made you want to touch it. Touch her.

  Holding her finger towards him to signal him to wait, she led the choir through a medley of three recent number one hits, none of them his, while they performed a quirky dance routine at the same time. A mix of above-average talent and ability, they had enough charisma to pull at the heartstrings of any benevolent audience, but probably not enough to win any prizes. Yet.

  Sasha was good with them too. Praising and cajoling when the more timid ones forgot the words, or were reluctant to walk to the front of the stage. Singing along with them in her soft lyrical voice that swung him back to a time he’d be better off forgetting. Swaying her hips as she conducted. Her head tipping back with a gentle laugh as one of them played the fool, then bringing them back to focus again and finishing the song.

  Dragging his eyes from her backside, he watched the choir fine-tune the dance moves. One kid in particular caught his eye. So similar to Marshall it made his heart constrict into a tight fist. With his eager wide eyes, too big tongue and dazzling smile he was, as far as Nate was concerned, the star of the show. Just as Marshall h
ad been.

  And suddenly the urge to escape across the hardwood floor threatened to overwhelm him. It was too much to relive all at once. Chesterton High. Marshall. Sasha. Too many dark memories he’d worked hard at pushing to the farthest corner of his mind in a blur of hard alcohol and commitment-free sex. Good sex, too. Fast, hot, hard. Sex that had taught him how to be a man, how to please a woman.

  Not the kind of sex Sasha would want, all fluff and fairy tales and diarised on her planner. Every Wednesday and Saturday, missionary position only.

  He dumped her bag on a chair and turned to leave, but at that moment the choir stopped singing and he heard her voice. ‘Guys, I have a visitor I need to talk to. Go through your steps again, from the top. George, you count them in. I won’t be long.’

  Good, neither would he. ‘Security here sucks. I walked straight in and no one batted an eyelid.’

  ‘Nate, it’s a school. Public property, really. People come and go all day. Besides, it’s four o’clock and almost everyone’s gone home. You hardly look like a potential threat. Hmm...much.’ She looked at the baseball cap pulled down over his face and the dark sunglasses disguising his features. Then her gaze stole a quick glance down his black leather jacket and dark jeans.

  Her eyes fired with something akin to want. After ten years in this job he knew when a woman wanted him. After two years of loving her he knew when Sasha wanted him too.

  Which was all kinds of a turn-on.

  ‘You’re risking a mobbing, though. I don’t think the kids have worked out they’re sharing the same air as Nate Munro, but once they do you’ll be swamped.’

  ‘I can handle it.’ He nodded to the hall door where Dario stood watch. ‘And I have back-up.’

  ‘Oh, Tweedle Dum. How nice.’ She waved her fingers over to his manager-cum-minder, who, true to form, did not move a muscle. ‘Are you two joined at the hip? That must make your love life very interesting.’

  ‘Aww, he’s very discreet. And he’s not the jealous type.’

  Her eyebrows peaked. ‘Really? Could have fooled me.’

  ‘Well, maybe just a little bit, but he has my best interests at heart.’

  ‘He has a heart? Funny.’ Stacking chairs along the side wall, she shrugged. ‘And clearly I’m not on his list of Nate interests.’

  ‘He thinks this whole project is too distracting.’ That was the polite way of describing Dario’s reaction. At her frown he smiled and went to help dismantle the rest of the rows of plastic seats. He just couldn’t help but wind her up, watch the pink tinge her cheeks. ‘And, for the record, my sex life can be very interesting. As interesting as you like, Sasha.’

  ‘Whoa. Down boy. Er...girlfriend?’

  ‘Will you ever listen? There is no girlfriend.’ And that was all she needed to know. Private time needed to remain so. There was sex, which he did, and there was dating, which he didn’t. ‘Is your opinion so low of me that you think I’d do something as crass as run with two women at the same time?’

  ‘Wasn’t there a leery story once about you and blonde triplets? Really, and I always thought three was a crowd.’

  He smiled at the memory. That had been fun, even though the journalist had exaggerated the details beyond any semblance of truth. But recently he’d lost his appetite for hard and fast with adoring strangers.

  ‘Don’t believe everything you read. I might be bad but I do have some morals. Like helping hapless choir teachers when I could be doing something infinitely more relaxing. Here, I brought this.’

  He offered her the bag containing way too much paper. No matter how much he’d wanted to scroll through it to find clues about her life he’d managed to keep his eyes away. Her business was her business.

  And her private life? Yep, damn right he wanted to know more about that. Far more than was good for him.

  As she took the bag her line of vision tracked back to the kids on stage. She shifted position, inadvertently stepping a little closer, flowers and vanilla and something...something that made his heart beat a little faster enveloping him. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think...’ She really did not need to know what thoughts were running round his head. ‘I’ll see you at the concert.’ Dario was right: she was distracting. Flirting was all well and good, but with his body reacting so strongly to her the best thing he could do was get out. Fast.

  ‘Oh. Don’t you like the choir? I realise we could do with some help.’

  Yes, they could. But it was not going to come from him. ‘Well, yes, but I have to go.’

  ‘Could you at least tell me your first impressions? Some pointers?’ Her shoulders twitched backwards and the beginning of a pout hovered over her lips.

  He huffed out a breath. Seemed she wasn’t going to let him off lightly. She held him there with her teacher stare that simultaneously scared the pants off him and turned him on.

  ‘Okay. I like the mash-up, it’s a clever mix. But you need to focus more on the harmony in the second verse of “Sunshine Smile”, it gets lost, and that whole riff needs simplifying...’ He paused to watch her bemused reaction.

  ‘Oh...really? Are you sure?’

  ‘You did ask. If it doesn’t suit, then don’t change a thing. But you’ll be sorry you didn’t.’ He fought the urge to bury his face in that vibrant hair and tried to refocus on the choir. Not easy. ‘While you’re at it you should drop the tenors just for that verse, see if it sounds less...busy. And the alto needs to be stronger in “Ways of a Saint”...have you thought about a more abrupt ending instead of the way it finishes on the original?’

  ‘Whoa...slow down.’ She held her palms up, scrabbled round for a pen and paper and started jotting down bullet points. ‘Isn’t that a bit radical?’

  ‘No. You’ve got to give them something that surprises them. Trust me. This is my job, I live and breathe this kind of stuff.’ He hadn’t even started, but pointing out all their failings would take time he didn’t have. And he didn’t much like the idea of hanging around this hall, with all its ghosts and memories, for the next millennia.

  ‘Do you want to walk the kids through your ideas? I’m sure it’d be better coming from you.’

  ‘What? Me? Teach? Them? No, thanks. Like I said, I’ve got to go.’ Always the outsider, he’d never felt as if he’d belonged in this place so there were no warm fuzzies or sentimental reasons keeping him here. None at all. Nothing to compel him to help any more than he already had.

  ‘What? Mr Fabulous and oh-so wild, Mr Off His Head Crazy...scared of a bunch of mixed-ability kids?’ She laughed. ‘That’s hysterical.’

  He couldn’t see a funny side. ‘I’m just busy. Not scared.’

  ‘Prove it, hot-shot music man. Prove you’re not scared.’ The paper fluttered to the floor as she stared him down, her eyes a mix of serious intent and a playful tease that tugged at long-buried heartstrings.

  Prove it. Her mouth formed the words but no sound accompanied them. For a moment he thought she might stick out her tongue as well.

  ‘Don’t be immature.’

  Then her voice came, soft and appealing. ‘Imagine how fantastic it would have been if you’d had a mentor all those years ago. If someone had helped you, even for a few minutes. It might have made such a difference. What have you got to lose?’

  She was right. Guidance was scant back then. No one was interested in a loud-mouthed kid with an over-inflated sense of musical skill and entitlement. But...if someone had helped...

  He shook his head, shocked he was even considering this...but even if he didn’t make a difference to their performance, getting involved could surely make some amends to the damage he’d wreaked when he was young and stupid. When he’d thought he knew what was best, and that the only way to solve problems involved a whole lot of aggression riding on a surge of testosterone.

  These kids n
eeded help.

  Looking at their hopeful faces, he suddenly didn’t want to be the one to poop on their parade. And if that meant he spent more time with Sasha, then so be it. He could keep a lid on his libido.

  ‘Okay. I can spare a few minutes. Bring that boy...’ he pointed to the Marshall lookalike, saw the big open grin and the thick palms, the intense need to please ‘...and...’

  And just like that his past came crowding back in on him along with a host of emotions he didn’t want. His voice caught as a dull ache gripped his chest. ‘Yes...more to the front, he’s got great rhythm and clearly loves it. You need enthusiasm like that to carry such a happy song.’

  Sasha glanced at the boy and then back at Nate. And clearly he hadn’t been hiding his feelings too well, because tears filled her eyes and she pressed a palm to her chest. ‘Oh, Nate. I’m so sorry.’

  That was all he needed, her pity.

  Back off. Because, in truth, Sasha was the only person in the world who’d understand the pain of losing Marshall. That was a part of his life he never shared and he wasn’t revisiting any of it again in a hurry. Not when she was within reach-out-and-hold distance.

  ‘Yeah, me too.’ Forcing his voice through the Rock of Gibraltar that had lodged in his throat, he focused back on the kids. The ones that mattered now, the ones he could help. ‘Right, let’s get this act whipped into shape, shall we?’

  FIVE

  ‘Miss Sweet, is that...is that Nate Munro?’

  Readjusting back to the choir took monumental effort. Sasha had been too busy watching the colour in Nate’s cheeks bleed away at the memory of Marshall. And she realised at that moment how difficult it must have been for him to come back here. How much she was in his debt that he’d even stepped foot in this hall.

  Nate had protected his brother, had fought for him to attend mainstream school at a time when Down’s syndrome kids were often regarded as unteachable. And he’d taught them all to embrace differences. So losing his beloved Marshall so young must have been devastating.