Free Backstage with Her Ex by Louisa George Page A

behind them her heart rate normalised. Not many guests so far, but enough to keep the ambient noise above a whisper. And no more photographers.
    What groups of people there were she recognised from the TV as they air kissed and mwah-ed their way round.
    â€˜I feel seriously underdressed,’ she whispered.
    â€˜You look fine. You look—’
    Nate brushed a curl back from her face and looked down at her, his dark eyes locked with hers. A ripple of heat engulfed her, sucking air out of her lungs, stalling her breath. Everything around her lost sharp focus, then he abruptly dropped his hand, startled by something—some war inside him that played out in the shadows of his cheeks. There was a flicker of doubt in those heated pupils, a question that he seemed to be pondering.
    Like her. What was she doing here?
    Flustered by his proximity, she dragged her eyes away from his, and refocused on the surroundings, trying to make the best of it. After all, it wasn’t every day she was invited to such a schooshed-up event. ‘This place is astonishing. I’ve never seen anything like it. Although, I guess for you it’s nothing unusual. It’s part of your job. A way of life.’
    He shrugged. ‘It is my life. Heart and soul.’
    â€˜You never think of stopping? Settling down? Family even?’
    Oh, Lordy, where did that come from ? She hoped her question didn’t sound too much more than idle curiosity. Which it wasn’t. Seriously. ‘I read that you got engaged once.’
    Again with the shrug. She got the feeling he’d brought the shutters down just a little the moment he’d felt her prying, or was it just before that? ‘In this job if you stop, you die. Or your profile does, which is about the same thing. Truth is, I’m just not the settling kind.’
    And she’d known it, so why her stomach contracted, just a little, she couldn’t say. ‘Do you get proper time off, ever?’
    â€˜No.’
    Casting her eye around at all the beautiful people, she asked him, ‘Do you have real friends?’
    â€˜As opposed to what? Imaginary ones? Because I grew out of those years ago. Of course I have friends.’ In a swift motion he stepped back and spread his arms out. Laughed. ‘I’m just a regular guy.’
    A smile tugged at her mouth, just watching him laugh had a relaxing effect on her. ‘Believe me, Nathan, there’s nothing regular about you. Or this...’
    She pulled her shoulders back and wandered through the cavernous room towards the bar refusing to be intimidated by the designer suits and sky-high heels, people who wouldn’t know where Chesterton was or how desperately needy the area was. Who had never met a special-needs kid let alone fought for their rights.
    And they were the poorer for it.
    Unless, of course, she was being overly judgemental.
    And spending time with Nate had shown her that she could be. She’d been wrong about him, after all. Was that how she’d become? Placing people in boxes, with labels? Was that what being safe meant? That she couldn’t see further than her own experiences?
    She rolled her neck from side to side, eased the muscles, and tried to relax.
    Nate leaned against the bar with languorous ease, his legs crossed at the ankles, sleeves rolled up. A regular guy at a regular work function. Worth about a trillion dollars. ‘You want a drink, Sash? It might help you relax a little.’
    â€˜Just a fruit juice, please.’ He had a way of making her want to do things she shouldn’t, like attend pretentious parties, lean into his palm on the small of her back. Kiss him.
    The thought buzzed round her head like an irritating wasp she couldn’t waft away.
    Kiss him!
    Goodness, no.
    So she’d be avoiding alcohol, because that would only lead her further into temptation.
    â€˜Let me see,’ he said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Fruit juice...lychee