Backstage with Her Ex (7 page)

He knew this was insane and then some, starting something he could never follow through on. Not the way she'd want him to. It was the craziest messed-up thing he'd ever done—and that was pushing it.

But damn it, he wanted to forget what was right or wrong. Especially when it felt so good.

* * *

Oh, hell
.

Nate's hands cupped her face, his light nibbles on her bottom lip sending a thousand shots of desire skittering through her, to her back, to her legs, and low down where an ache spread keen and unyielding.

Angling his head closer, he pressed his lips full onto her mouth, eliciting a groan from her throat that was deep and feral and hungry.

It wasn't the clumsy kiss of a teenager as she remembered.

It was the kiss of a man, mature, experienced, unlike her. His hands tangled in her hair, ran down her back, cupping her bottom as the kiss deepened. His tongue gently teased against hers, each stroke making her lose another grip on reality. Making her give in to dangerous temptation; just once. Then she would go back to her nice safe life where passion was a distant memory. Something other people did.

Madness, though, to be doing this with the man who had taught her how love could make you soar, and how much it could hurt, and who had the capacity to do it all over again.

Nate was a man of sharp contrasts and driven by passion, but he wasn't going to stick around. And he certainly wouldn't suit a nice sensible car and slippers.

But by God, he was divine.

Snaking her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer.

Through his jeans she felt his hardness push against her, showing her just how much he wanted her. And that knowledge seemed to suck the air away between them. Her nipples beaded against his chest; heat pooled in her gut.

Resisting him was hard enough in the daylight, but having him wrapped around her, damp and hot and hard in the dark, was testing her to the limits. He wanted her.

And she wanted him right back. Wanted to feel him, taste him, touch him. A desperate ache tugged at her abdomen as she groaned, imagining how he would feel deep inside her.

No.

She caught her breath as waves of panic rolled through her. She fought for air.

‘Stop. Stop.' Turning away from him, she breathed in the spicy smells and the dull thick sounds of the suburb, waited until her heart rate slowed. ‘I'm sorry, Nathan. I've told you before—this isn't a game.'

He shook his head, desire and confusion lodged in the dark shadows of his face. ‘And I wasn't playing you, Sasha. This wasn't what I planned.'

‘And what exactly did you plan?'

‘You want a list? Really? Bullet points? I don't know! I'm not like you. I don't plan every single move.'

Yes, and Plan A had been lost somewhere in the depths of his mind-numbing kiss. ‘Maybe you should. I definitely should. This can't go anywhere. We're too different—our lives are poles apart.'

He seemed to be trying to shake off the bad mood that had descended. ‘We could just have some fun?'

‘No. I don't do fun.' Not fun in the sense he meant, because that kind of fun wasn't lasting, or sensible. How to admit that, sexually, she wasn't much more experienced than the last time he'd kissed her? He'd laugh in her face. ‘And that sounds so hopelessly sad.'

‘Yes. It does.' The moment very definitely deflated, he looked out of the shop front as a yellow light illuminated the street. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to the kerb and waved. ‘A cab. Quick. Let's do something fun, then, shake things up. Where should we go? Brighton? Paris? Edinburgh? New York? Anywhere you want.'

Bed?
Maybe she could deal with it now. It had been a long time since she'd tried.

To be honest, the geography didn't matter, but the reality did. ‘Oh, sure, I'm all into a spontaneous trip when I have school tomorrow. In the real world people work nine to five. You take it, I'm fine—the tube station's bound to be round here somewhere.' She just needed to get away from him before she was bamboozled into something else, something even more dangerous.

Even in this light she could see the frown and the concern. ‘Are you mad? Do you know this area?'

‘Not really, not in the dark. But I'll be fine—it's only Portobello.'

‘Exactly. You are not wandering the streets on your own. Whatever happened to Miss Safe and Sensible?'

Great question—she'd been wondering that herself. ‘Seems she's had a day off, but she's back now and she wants to go home.' On her own.

SEVEN

‘Certifiable. Out of
your mind bonkers. Deranged. Gaga. Loony. No sister of mine. No sir-ee. You left sex-on-a-stick and went home in a cab? If you don't watch out you'll end up a lonely crazy cat lady.' Cassie's incredulous voice crackled through Sasha's mobile phone as she killed time in the hall between school ending and rehearsals beginning.

Seven days, twelve hours and thirty-five minutes later and her sister still wouldn't let the Nate subject drop. ‘I need more details. He was good? Great? The best?'

‘All of the above. And I don't have a cat.' She tried for the elder-sister voice but ended up sounding cross. Truth was, she always regretted telling Cassie anything about her private life because she only used it as a rod to beat her with. A sad, pathetic rod dented with a history of lies and let-downs. Safe men, she'd discovered, didn't always look after your heart.

And now this. A spectacularly failed attempt at living dangerously.

Page five in the gossip rags. Albeit a grainy photo of her falling over; no one would even recognise it was her. But Nathan's snarly expression had peered out, accompanied by the usual gory story about his unstable rocky lifestyle.

So she should stay well clear. She didn't want to risk being identified and all the stress that would bring to her family. But the man wouldn't leave her head alone.

‘It's only a matter of time, Sash. Before you know it you'll find a cute stray kitten and bring it home...and another to keep it company, and another. Then knitting will suddenly seem really fun, making jam, crocheted toilet-roll holders... It's a slippery slope to spinsterdom.'

‘I'm twenty-seven—there's plenty of time to find my soul mate. And people don't say spinster any more. Or
on the shelf
. Smart women choose life partners carefully. They don't jump into bed with the first offer.'

‘But they do jump into bed with someone at some point. You need to get laid or you'll be spinster central. You'll have spinster parties. Go on spinster holidays.' Sasha held the phone away from her ear as her irritating sibling continued her tirade. Which, unfortunately, was a hard smack of truth she didn't need to hear.

She'd waited a long time for Mr Right, and he seemed strangely reluctant to show up. Just her luck the only man who'd shown any interest was part gigolo, part magician. One word from him and her common sense had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

‘...You can be Queen Spinster. All hail Empress Sasha Spinster the—'

‘Okay, okay. Enough already. Do we really need to talk about my sex life?'

‘You haven't got one. Sash...' The soft edge to her sister's voice made Sasha wince. ‘It's been such a long time. It might be different. You should try again. You just need the right man...and why not Nate?'

‘Yes, well...' She would not have a conversation about her sexual inadequacy over the telephone. ‘Not everyone wants dirty sex up against a doorway. Even if it is with Mr Obnoxious himself.'

‘Oh, really? How disappointing.' The deep voice came from behind Sasha, dark and dangerous and loaded with teasing.

It was perilously close to her ear lobe, and that sensitive spot at the back of her neck, which fired on full alert sparking lust hormones to break out from every pore. ‘So where
would
you like dirty sex, Sasha? Because I'm happy to oblige, any time. My jet is on standby. Just say the word.'

Oh. My. God.
Do not turn around. Do not turn around
. Her heart drummed as she winced and overheated at the same time. A shiver of need tore through her body at the mere sound of his voice. That kiss marked a line that they'd crossed, and while her body thrummed her head ached to jump right back to safety.

She fumbled for the phone volume control and hissed, ‘Cassie, I have to go.'

‘Why? Rehearsals don't start for ten more minutes, so we have plenty of time to run through the details again. Okay. Slowly. From the top...Rain. Doorway. Lips. Tongues? Oh...you wanted him. Oh...he was so gorgeous. But you just couldn't—'

‘Shut. Up.'

The wide smug grin that hit her in the face as she turned round to face Nate told her he'd heard. Every single belittling word. She closed her eyes, shook her head and rued the day she'd coached Cassie to speak clearly and loudly for her drama practical exam.

And judging by his smile it seemed Nathan agreed with her sister: a little seeing-to wouldn't go amiss. Why pass up on the chance of some fun? Life was too short, and all that gumbo people used to excuse bad behaviour.

But she'd kissed that smiling mouth. And it had been good. Very, very good. So good the intense tingling through her body had driven her wild ever since. So she could see they had a point. ‘Someone's here, Cassie. I've got to go.'

‘Who? Oh, your voice. It's changed. Soft, hoarse. Come-to-bed...' Her sister laughed. ‘It's him. Isn't it? Nate's there...at the school?'

Prising the phone gently from her hand, Nathan smiled. Wearing his usual uniform of black with black and a dash of...black, he looked lip-smackingly devastatingly beautiful.

A fragile invisible thread pulled her towards him, tugging tighter and tighter. It had started to tense the moment her eyes locked with his in the men's room and now felt so taut it would snap at any moment.

Struggling for breath, she handed her phone over.

‘Cassie? Nate here.' He held the phone away from his ear as she squealed. ‘Your sister has to go now. We have some...unfinished business to attend to.'

Not bloody likely. Sasha winced again. Seven days, twelve hours and twenty minutes ago she'd made the decision to never look at him with sex on her mind again. To not talk to him unless for purely professional purposes. To not breathe in that gorgeous smell that made her legs weak and her head woozy.

Oops. Too late.

* * *

That had been one hell of a kiss.

Long and hard. It had stoked a fierce need in him. And Nate wanted to do it again. Now.

What Nate wanted, Nate always got.

But not Sasha. And that was the biggest bounce his ego had taken in a long time, so much so he'd come back for more. Against all better judgement and Dario's protestations. Strange what frank hot-blooded lust could do to a man.

Two hours of immersing himself in choir rehearsals and he still couldn't take his eyes off her, off the wide-legged trousers and floaty top with a plunging flouncy neckline that gave him enough glimpse of her breasts to strain for more. Couldn't forget how she'd felt in his arms, how she'd wanted that kiss as much as he had. He'd seen it brimming in her eyes, felt it in her body's response.

And, okay, she'd been right to end it. Having seen the salacious photos in the paper he knew his most sensible course of action was to leave her alone.

Harsh truth: he couldn't give her what she wanted. He didn't do relationships; flings yes, togetherness, no. He preferred keeping a distance, not making promises; the only connection he enjoyed was physical. And Sasha was definitely the all-or-nothing fairy-tale melding-of-souls kind of woman.

So it was a good thing he wouldn't see her again after the concert.

Wasn't it?

She walked towards him, heels tapping across the parquet floor, her floral scent drifting around him and drawing him closer, firing all his senses on full alert.

‘Once again you've come to the rescue and made the performances so much stronger. You know so much about creating a good show, theatrics, stage presence...everything. The kids really react well to your tuition, Nathan. You're a good teacher.'

‘Nah. They're good at listening.' But the swell of pride in his chest left little room for oxygen. He'd spent so much of his time working on his performances, his career, his spectacularly colourful downtime, he hadn't had the chance to think how he might be able to help others. Until now, and it felt surprisingly good.

Sasha had packed everything away apart from a thick wad of large posters in her hand, which she showed him, delight emanating from her erect posture and eager eyes. ‘Do you like these? I've sent them to the local radio stations and I'm going to put them in the shop windows in the mall.'

‘Wow. They're good.' Artfully crafted and bright enough to catch anyone's eye. ‘But can you make my name smaller? Less bold? It's a shame to have it dominating the line-up when the kids have done all the work.'

‘You don't like it?' She seemed deflated. ‘We thought we'd sell more tickets if we put you centre. You seem to make headlines whatever you do.'

‘Not everyone has the same bouncy positivity you have. I did warn you it would be ugly.'

She shook her head and held up a finger. ‘Okay. Well, let's put the other night completely behind us. I've forgotten it already. We need to focus forward on getting those kids to the competition. That's what this is about.'

Forget it? He'd come running back for more.

But she was right, this wasn't about him or that kiss, it was about kids like Marshall. ‘How many tickets have you sold?'

‘None as yet. I have to collect them from the printers now, on my way to the shops.' Glancing at her watch, she said, ‘Oops...before they close.'

‘You made the posters. You collect the tickets. You do the drop-offs. Is there no one else to help?'

‘Are you offering?'

No way.

At his hesitation she laughed, resignedly. ‘I thought not. The kids helped with the poster design and they're all taking tickets home to sell door-to-door. But I said I'd do this. And no, there is no one else to help, Nathan. And that's absolutely fine.'

‘I could get someone to do it for you.' That would get the job done without getting his hands dirty, and his head even more messed up by being with her longer than was good for him. ‘You know, you work too hard.'

‘Says Mr My-job-is-my-life. If I do it I know the information has been given correctly. I'm invested in this. I can't risk someone else making a mess of it.'

‘It's a poster, for a kids' show. What mess could they make? They stick it in a window, with tape.' But okay, he got it. She took her job and her responsibilities very seriously. She was dedicated and ambitious. He respected her drive and attention to detail—even if it did get bloody annoying at times. That, and the fact she was an out-of-control control freak, meant she had to do the donkey work. On her own.

He followed her out into the afternoon sunshine, tried hard not to look at the way the light silhouetted her shapely legs through the flimsy trousers.

Suddenly the thought of her walking the littered grimy streets for those needy kids made his heart ache. ‘You want some company?'

What the...?

‘No, Nathan. Please don't.' She came to an abrupt halt and looked up at him, doubt and uncertainty swimming in her eyes. Shoulders hiked again around her ears.

‘Don't what?'

A muscle in her jaw tensed and he suspected she was biting back what she really wanted to say. ‘Don't be kind to me.'

That was a label no one had pinned on him before. ‘Whoa, Sasha, no. That wasn't my intention. I was more concerned that the publicity machine cranks into action sooner rather than later. There's only a week to go and I refuse to perform to a half-filled house. You dawdling here chewing the fat isn't getting the job done. But it's okay, do it on your own. Take as long as you like. Fine.'

‘Great.' Her eyes rolled. ‘You give, and then you take away. Typical.'

‘Now I'm the bad guy?'

‘Nathan, you're always the bad guy.'

Figures.
And he was well and truly backed into a corner. ‘I won't try to kiss you again, if that's what you're worried about. Although, I am going to think about it. A lot.'

The shoulders relaxed a little and a hint of a smile played over her lips. ‘Thinking I don't particularly care about. Acting is definitely a no-no. There are way too many shop fronts out there. We'd never get any of these posters delivered. Just so you know, and in case you're in any way confused about the issue—kissing is not going to happen again.'

‘And there was me thinking you'd forgotten all about it.' So the kiss had been eating her. It had eaten away at him too, but now he just ached for more. And she clearly...didn't. ‘Okay. No kissing. You have my word.'

‘Good. Definitely.' She chewed the corner of her lip and he wanted to smother those lips all over again. Wanted to explore other parts of her body too. Heat zipped through his veins.

Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, ‘Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself?'

‘You. I'm already well and truly convinced. So it's good you understand. Good. Brilliant. Fabulous. No kissing.' She glanced towards the street. ‘Er...no one's lurking in the shadows. Are you on your own today? Tweedle Dum gone rogue?'

‘I gave Dario the afternoon off. Is that so strange?' Yup. Dario had certainly thought so, seeing as they usually spent pretty much every waking moment together.

But since that doorway kiss Nate hadn't been able to focus on anything, certainly not on scheduling another tour or a round of TV interviews to promote his new album. Couldn't stand being cooped up in an office. Didn't want to be outside. Couldn't bear listening to Dario's retorts about getting too serious about a bunch of kids going nowhere.

Driving around had done nothing to salve his unease. Suddenly he'd found himself back here. Fuelled by lust. No plan, as always. As she said. Rushing headlong into danger, and meeting disaster along the way. ‘This gig has my name on it—it's got to work or I look lame. I just wanted to see how rehearsals were going. He didn't. So I came solo.'

‘Okay...well, you're here now and it's getting late.' She handed him a roll of tape. ‘Put your money where your big mouth is and get sticking. But don't expect a heap of excitement. It's only Chesterton, and you know what that's like.' Her voice was breathy, trying to be nonchalant. ‘It'll be dull and dreary.'