Backstage with Her Ex. Louisa George

Chesterton was the best thing I ever did. And yes, there are some mad parties in LA. It comes with the territory.’ The press had wasted no time covering the best bits—it just happened the best bits were also the worst. Drunk and debauched had been one hell of a ride.

      She tugged at his arm. ‘Nate, I need to—’

      ‘I know. Here.’ He felt in his pocket for her phone. ‘Text her back. I presume the Cassie ID refers to your little sister?’

      She looked surprised. ‘Yes. Of course. You remember Cassie? Although, she’s not so little these days, at twenty-five.’

      ‘How could I ever forget the infamous Sweet sisters?’

      Even though he’d long since put their failed relationship down to innocent first-love infatuation, he hadn’t forgotten the details. Three feisty red-headed girls who had set the fragile hearts of every nubile boy in Chesterton racing. With Sasha, the middle sister, the only woman who’d ever said no to him.

      And here she was, all grown-up and seriously hot.

      The freckles he’d loved to count and kiss way back in the Dark Ages were still there on her fresh lightly made-up face. Her spirit, clearly, hadn’t diminished. Neither had the curves highlighted by the tight capri trousers and dark mesh top, making her look as if she’d just walked out of a fifties’ movie set, or the translucent skin that had sent shivers down his adolescent spine. But he’d got steel in there now.

      Working in a business of backstabbing and greed, he was used to people trying to piggy-back on his success. He’d been taken for a ride too many times to count and wouldn’t be doing it again; a costly separation had taught him that lesson.

      So why his interest was piqued by this particular old girlfriend he didn’t know. He might as well just get the cheque book out now. Far easier than going through a messy conversation.

      Grabbing the glittery phone from his outstretched hand, she glanced at the screen and visibly cringed. ‘I’m sorry about that. Cassie might be an adult, but she hasn’t fully grown up yet.’

      ‘And what are you going to reply to her?’

      ‘Oh...I don’t know.’ She looked up through thick dark eyelashes, her lips pursed, teasingly. ‘That you’re still obnoxious and full of yourself.’

      ‘And with an ass to die for?’

      ‘See? Obnoxious.’ She flashed a smile, which did something funny to his heart. He put it down to being on the road for too long.

      ‘I aim to please. And it seems to work for the most part. I have to admit, you surprise me, Sasha. I never thought you’d do something like this. You always played everything so safe.’ He returned the smile with one of his own as he undid the top button on his shirt, ready to have a little fun.

      Instead of the flustered reaction he’d imagined, she sat forward and pinned him to the seat with an ice-cool gaze. ‘I did not.’

      ‘Yeah? Grade-A student, always toed the line. Never broke the rules—at least never broke them for me. So what’s changed? Why are you in my car en route to a fancy hotel?’

      ‘Hotel? Oh, for goodness’ sake, get over yourself.’ She blinked quickly, the cool fading into fluster. ‘I...I said, I’m not here for sex.’

      ‘Oh, yes, and I remember you saying that before too. But I never did quite believe you.’ He leaned forward, met her almost in the middle of the seat, caught a glimpse of fire in her eyes before she turned away.

      She’d been saving herself for when they were married or some such foolish idea. At least, until they were engaged. He wondered, fleetingly, who had taken his place, been her first time.

      He shook that thought away along with the accompanying uninvited tension that zipped through his veins. And fought back an urge to run his fingers through a curl, see if it was as soft as he remembered. ‘Your body always did give you away.’

      ‘Not any more. I have full control.’

      ‘Really?’ He focused on her legs, did a slow journey up to her breasts, her throat, her mouth. Awareness crackled around the car sucking out the oxygen. After five long seconds he met her gaze. ‘You want to put it to the test?’

      ‘Absolutely not. You should save your energy for someone who’d be more...grateful. Like the poor misguided gruesome twosome you just had in here.’ She glared at him. But he didn’t miss the flash of heat in her eyes. ‘Look, this has been a mistake.’

      And the blushing was still the same; she never could control that. A full peachy rash bloomed in her cheeks, spread to her neck and disappeared into that midnight-blue top.

      Dragging his eyes away from her, he tried to breathe out the weird emotions thrumming in his chest.

      Outside, the city lights illuminated Marble Arch, traffic slowed even at this time of night.

      London.

      For the first time in years, he was back home. At least it used to be. Home now was a sprawling Malibu mansion overlooking the ocean. But sometimes he missed the vibrancy of this city, the exciting pulse that emanated from the streets and throbbed through his veins, mixing with the comforting feel of the familiar.

      Or was that just his strange reaction at seeing Sasha Sweet again?

      She looked out of the window, too, for a few moments until her surprisingly girly phone signalled a new message. When she’d finished reading she tilted her head in his direction. ‘Can you drop me off now? Cassie’s going to meet me. I’ll get the tube from here.’

      ‘Are you serious? You used to cling to me on the tube. You hated it—all those crowds, all that danger hidden in dark corners. The rush of hot air. The noise. Rats.’

      ‘Well, looky here, things move on. I have.’

      ‘Clearly. If you’re sure.’ He tapped on the screen to alert his driver, then turned back to face her, still confused as to why she was here and why his body was so stirred up by her. ‘But what’s going on, Sasha? We both know this isn’t about my backside or any kind of sexual intent. “Target located,” Cassie said. Why am I your target? What do you want?’

      ‘It doesn’t matter. Seriously, forget it. All this...’ She gestured to the car, to the unopened bottles of champagne in the console. ‘You’re way too busy, and...different from how I remembered.’

      ‘I hope so.’

      ‘I didn’t mean it was a good thing.’

      ‘Champagne is always a good thing. As is success.’ In truth, he didn’t have time for another sob story. He already had sacks full of begging letters at his manager’s office.

      But her eyes drew his gaze and he was fixed there with a strange need to prove he could do something she hadn’t—listen. ‘Okay. I’m probably going to regret this, but I’ve got five minutes. Try me.’

      * * *

      As the car drew to a halt he watched her take a slow deep breath then exhale the way they’d all been taught back in form four music class. Sing on the out-breath. So he knew if she needed to keep her voice steady it was something important.

      ‘I’m a teacher now, Nate. Music. And my show choir has reached the finals of a national contest. Problem is, we can’t afford the fares up to Manchester, the hotel costs, costumes and everything. We need your help.’

      As he’d thought. Just someone else asking for a handout. Disappointing. ‘You want a cheque? Cash? We could stop by a cash machine.’

      ‘No. Part of the contest is about raising the money, not just digging deep into our own pockets—not that we could if we wanted to. It’s all about the process—teaching the children about community spirit and involvement, you know the kind of thing. You don’t get handouts, you need to work hard to achieve...’ As she spoke about the project her eyes blazed with a mesmerising fervour.

      Immediately