But Nate couldn’t help himself. He’d spent the best part of a decade learning how to be someone else, especially in public, and he couldn’t shake that off. Not even for her. And he had no way of coming to terms with how he felt. He didn’t even know how he felt. Apart from that something important was coming to an end and he didn’t know how to stop it, and that if he didn’t act soon he’d lose her for ever.
He caught her arm as they entered the tiny private airport transit hall; once outside the other end they would both be going home. Not together.
He couldn’t fathom the screwed-up twisting in his chest. It hurt. Actually hurt. He loved going back to LA. Going home. Loved it. But now? He couldn’t contemplate that big empty space in LA, and Sasha in her shoebox, here.
His throat was raw. Every bloody emotion had bundled up in his ribcage and he had to keep hauling in air just to stay upright.
He wanted to say something to make everything right. But what? He didn’t know what right was. He hadn’t promised her anything after all. ‘Hey, look, Sasha. I’m sorry—’
A bright flash made them turn towards the immigration desk. Further along the corridor he saw a group of photographers he recognised from countless times before. The ones that took the risks, but got the shots.
And then he saw Sasha’s eyes darken. ‘How did they know we were here? It’s a private airfield.’
That sharp ache in his chest? Just got a whole lot worse. He pulled her closer. ‘Someone will have told them. And if I find out who...’
‘Nate! Sasha! Sasha Sweet!’ One of the men stepped forward and clicked. ‘Are you taming our bad boy?’
‘Sir, your cab is waiting. Your flight is leaving soon.’ An airline representative pressed into his face. ‘Sir. Mr Munro. We have to—’
‘Where’s Security? We’re not stepping foot out there,’ he rallied back at the staff member.
‘I’ve radioed them, sir. I don’t know where they are. They should be here. They’re always here. I can only apologise.’
‘Too right. This is ridiculous. How did they even get in here?’
‘Sasha! Tell us about your father.’
‘What?’ Sasha glanced angrily from the airline rep to Nate, to the photographers, clearly trying to come to terms with the intrusion. ‘Er...no comment.’
‘Don’t dignify their presence with one word. They’re not worth it.’ Nate pressed a finger to her lips, determined not to rise to their bait. While his fists balled.
He ignored the tightening in his chest, and kept his voice steady for Sasha. ‘Let me sort it out.’
‘Why did he screw those people out of their pensions?’
His focus narrowed to that one sorry excuse for a man. ‘What did you say, pal?’
‘William Sweet. CEO of Sweetly Secure Finances. Screwed a lot of people out of a lot of money.’
He took a step forward. ‘Where do you get off with this kind of drivel? Hey?’
Judging by the hack’s quick retreat against the wall, he knew he’d crossed a line in gutter journalism.
Something inside Nate snapped.
So yeah, he’d made a promise not to get riled by these guys. Yes, he’d made a silent vow to curb his angry outbursts in front of Sasha. To even let it all wash over him. But that all faded into nothing in the face of her being dragged into this bloody circus.
The blood left Nate’s fingers as he squeezed them tight.
This was all his fault.
The one thing he’d said he’d do—protect her—and he couldn’t. Disappointment didn’t cut it.
But rage did.
It started as a deep ache in his gut, rose like bile to his throat, then rushed through him.
Without thinking he vaulted over the desk, grabbed the camera by the lens and tried to pull it away from the man. Nate’s hand caught in the strap and suddenly he and the reporter were collapsing to the floor. As they fell he heard running footsteps, loud voices.
Finally. Security.
‘Nathan.’ But it was Sasha he came face to face with, hands firmly on her hips, as he stood up. Somehow, she seemed taller, stronger, braver. Pure indignation sparked from her eyes, infusing him with immense admiration and sending a shot of fire to his groin.
She flashed him an understanding smile. ‘Honey, you know we talked about this.’
* * *
God. Sasha’s body pulsed with a powerful rush of adrenaline as she stared at the two men. No, as she stared at Nate.
The ripped muscles, the feral reaction, the intense heat in his eyes as he’d leapt the barrier in her defence, fired something primal in her blood. Pure anger whirled with flagrant desire inside her and now she wanted a piece of the action too.
Maybe she was mad. Or just free. Free from doing everything right, from following her rigid rules, from not making waves just in case she got hurt.
Because she was hurting already—at Nathan, for retreating back into his shell when there was a whole lot of things they still needed to say. Hurting that this was the way their week was going to end. In a brawl on the floor. Hurting that someone would dredge up her father’s death and use it as a weapon against her.
‘It’s okay, really. I get that you’re pissed off. I understand. It’s a blatant intrusion of our privacy, especially here, where it’s supposed to be private... But getting angry isn’t enough. Getting even is.’
‘Too bloody right.’ Nate stepped forward, but she stopped him with her hand on his chest.
‘No. Wait. I’ve got this.’
He swiped a hand over his jaw and raised his eyebrows. ‘Okay. Go for your life, sweet thing.’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the reporter shuffling backwards, but she stomped on the camera strap. Stopped him short. Felt the ripple of anger seep through her cells, her bones, her skin, and waited for it to grow enough to harness it.
Years of dealing with stroppy, surly, unruly teenagers had honed her for this moment. Years of being too frightened to step out of her box had honed her for this moment.
It was time to fight for what she believed in.
‘You.’ She pinned the reporter with her take-no-crap stare. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’
The little man nodded.
‘Everyone has a right to a little privacy, right? You want people prowling round your house? Stalking your mother? Your sister...’
He shook his head.
‘Your daughter? Making their lives hell? Going through their bins? Telling their secrets? Because everyone has secrets, right? Even you?’
The weasel nodded again. Was that all he could do? He was like a puppet.
‘You want me to start searching your history up?’
Now he was starting to look ill.
‘I thought not. Because that would be crass, wouldn’t it? Low. But I’m not like you. I don’t stoop that far.’ She stepped closer and lowered her voice, commanding every bit of his worthless attention. ‘So take your camera and your lousy morals and your greed and your pathetic desire to destroy other people’s lives and stick it...’
But before she could tell him exactly where to stick it he’d scrambled up and fled to the exit. Coward.
‘Coward!’ She chased him up the corridor and watched, with a great deal of satisfaction, as he disappeared into the car park.
Yes! God, that felt so good.
What a team. Now where was Nathan?
Nathan. Her heart stalled. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. His flight. For a brief moment she’d forgotten he wasn’t going to the same place she was. And there was still so much to say.
She turned to see him standing at the immigration desk flanked by a security guard and the airline rep. She could see by Nate’s tense stance that he’d climbed further into that shell. The distance h
e’d put between them was way more than physical. Despite the passion he’d felt for her, despite everything they’d shared, it just wasn’t enough to make him stay.
This was definitely the end. Of that she had no doubt. There was no fairy-tale ending about to happen here.
The after-effects of the adrenaline shot made her start to shake and suddenly she felt bruised and battered as if her heart had been punched right out of her. She walked towards him.
Did she have to fight for him too?
* * *
A tight fist of pain lodged in Nate’s chest. Part pride, part desolation, all awe.
‘Wow...Sasha, you’re on fire,’ he said gently, to the woman he now knew he absolutely loved with every part of his soul. The one who had made him whole again, who had glued back together those hollow pieces he’d been pretending were his heart for far too long. Loved her. Completely.
Which was why this next conversation was going to shatter it all over again.
She stared up at him, eyes brimming with tears. Her hands trembled as she placed a finger on his mouth. ‘Don’t say it. Just...don’t.’
‘Mr Munro.’ The airport rep tugged at his sleeve. ‘They’re starting to board. There’s just enough time.’
‘Mate, give me a minute. There’ll be another flight.’ But never another moment like this, a last moment that he wanted to treasure.
I love you.
He understood what that meant now. That subtle soft melding of souls, the sharp crackle of electricity. Laughter. A certain scent. Respect. A bone-melting ache. A lot of paper, too, it would seem, and files and stickies and paperclips and lists. And now, absolute awe.
Yeah, he loved Sasha Sweet with every cell in his body.
She was strong, stronger than he was, and she’d just proved she didn’t need protecting. She didn’t need him. And, sad truth was, he had nothing else to give her.
She’d hate him for doing this. But he’d spent a good part of his life doing the wrong thing, now it was time to man-up.
And she would survive, after all. She’d survived the worst kind of nightmare that put his problems deep in the shade, and grown into a beautiful woman.
He didn’t know what to do with all this chaos swirling in his head, his body. He was way out of control.
That scared the hell out of him.
He looked deep into those navy eyes that melted his heart Every. Single. Time. ‘I have to go. The flight’s waiting.’
‘That’s it? Finished? You’re not even going to try to make it work?’ Hauling in a deep breath, she pushed her fist into his chest. ‘All this...us...and that’s it? I have to go?’
‘Look at it logically. We both have jobs, futures, lives and responsibilities, thousands of miles apart. You hate my world and I don’t...can’t fit into yours. Opposites don’t attract, they just circle each other for a while and inevitably they go in separate directions.’
Her fist grabbed his shirt and she twisted the fabric into a ball. ‘So what now? Thanks for the memories? Will I hear about it all in a number-one hit?’
‘I don’t think so.’ He took his life in his hands and ran a finger down her cheek, caught the first tear but didn’t show her that he’d noticed. ‘You really are wired.’
‘One of us has to be.’ She blinked. And again. And he just knew she was trying to stop the tears from falling. ‘Because I happen to think what we have is pretty special. No—really once-in-a-lifetime special.’
‘But it can’t be for ever. I never promised you that.’ Man, this was the hardest thing he’d ever done. By a long way. Burying his brother and his mother had broken him, but this...this was a whole other depth of loss.
I love you. He ached to say those words, but if he did he would only make things worse. Better for her to believe she was a temporary fixture in his life than permanently etched on his heart. Otherwise she might do something crazy, like convince him to stay. ‘If you ever need anything, anything at all, make sure to come find me. Okay?’
‘Sure.’ She couldn’t hide the catch in her throat, the crack in her voice. ‘I hear the men’s room is the best place to get you these days.’
He took her wrist, drew a small heart with his fingertip on the sensitive skin, something he used to do so long ago he’d forgotten, sending shivers through him and a lump to his throat. ‘Okay. Okay. Goodbye, sweet thing.’
‘Hey, well, at least this time you actually said goodbye.’
FOURTEEN
Not So Sweet Talkin’ Woman!
Lobby group, Celebrities Against Media Intrusion (CAMI), found itself an unlikely new advocate yesterday in the guise of spirited schoolteacher, Sasha Sweet.
The apparently very private Ms Sweet, Head of Music at Chesterton High School, learned firsthand the perils of media fame when she landed at a northwest London private airfield, accompanied by rock star, Nate Munro. The notorious bad boy of rock, whose hits include platinum bestsellers ‘Sweet Talkin’ and ‘Sex Me Up’, and his alleged new paramour, Sasha, were returning to London after a week’s break at a secret hideaway.
Their attempt at a cloak and dagger arrival was scuppered when News.com reporter, Malcolm Price, tried to snap them leaving the airport hand in hand. But Miss Sweet, described by a former pupil as ‘shy but strict’, very definitely put Mr Price in the naughty corner as she rallied against him with a verbal attack on media intrusion...
...Ms Sweet, however, is no stranger to scandal. As the daughter of the CEO of maligned pension company...
...The hilarious outburst, caught on camera by an airfield employee, shows Ms Sweet jumping to Munro’s defence as he rugby-tackles the reporter to the floor. She then wags her finger at Mr Price, no doubt threatening him with a week’s detention...and a hundred lines...
Just brilliant. Excellent. So much for girl power.
Sasha lay back in her bed and dropped the paper to the floor, unable to read the rest of the article again.
Stupid teary swollen eyes.
But she didn’t need any kind of clear vision to see what an epic mistake she’d made. She should never have gone with him to Italy. Crikey, she shouldn’t have sought him out in the first place, and she certainly shouldn’t have acted in such an outlandish way. Even if it had felt right, and so good.
Glancing down at the crumpled tabloid, she sighed. But then, if she hadn’t gone she would never have truly known what love meant, that you could feel safe with the most dangerous of men. You could finally open yourself up to trust and it felt amazing. That one man could give you the gift of self-belief and the courage to let go.
One man. Nathan. Only ever Nathan.
Damn him. Did he really have to break her heart into too many pieces all over again?
Her cellphone rang. Cassie.
Oh, hell. Drawing in a deep breath, she answered. ‘Hi Cass.’
‘Who are you and what have you done with my sister?’ Her sister’s laughter caught Sasha off guard. ‘Have you seen the papers? You made front page, second and fourth. And the video’s gone viral on the Internet. You go, girl!’
‘Yes and it’s all rubbish. So I said a few things—’
‘A few? You were epic. You should see the comments...sassy, sexy, siren. You’ve sparked a whole new debate about privacy laws. Famous people are lining up to endorse what you said. You’re a legend!’
Sasha cursed. She didn’t want to be a legend, she wanted to be left alone to wallow with her broken heart. ‘But they raked all that stuff up about Dad again. I feel terrible. Have you spoken to Mum? Suzy? I can’t get through to them.’
‘Yeah. Suzy is not amused—she’s been fightin
g off reporters at the hospital and it’s interfering with her job. If you ask me she spends far too much time there anyway. The distraction will do her good. And Mum? She was surprisingly sanguine about the whole thing. Time heals and all that.’
Sasha hoped to God it did. If only time could move a little more quickly. She could do with a little healing. Okay, a lot of healing. Starting now. ‘I was worried it might set her back. I remember what she was like...before. I couldn’t bear to have her go through that again.’
‘Hey, stop worrying.’ Cassie’s voice softened. She’d been protected by them all and knew few details about the circumstances of her father’s death. ‘It was a long time ago, Sash. I think she’s truly moved on now. She’ll get over this. And so will you.’
Maybe she was right—maybe Sasha was the only one still living with the effects of the past. Not any more. Nate had seen to that. ‘Thanks. I’m getting there.’
‘But hey, what does Mr Killer-ass think? Are you planning more secret hideaways? Can I come?’
‘No.’ Gosh, that hurts. Sasha blinked away more tears. She was done with crying over him now. ‘He’s gone back to the States.’
‘But you’re seeing him again. Right?’
‘No.’ Okay, so she wasn’t quite done with the tears. She scraped back the wet hair stuck to her cheek.
Her sister gasped. ‘So what happened? He’s gone? Leaving you to face this mess?’
Sasha looked at the flashing answer-phone machine full of messages he’d left as soon as he hit the tarmac in LAX. The ones that said he’d got lawyers on to the newspaper. That he’d do everything he could to stop any more information getting out. The ones that didn’t say he was coming back any time soon.
If he couldn’t see that what they had was worth fighting for then it was his loss. ‘I don’t need anyone to help me. I’m fine without him.’
‘So he has gone. For good?’
‘Yep.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, sis. I’m sorry I suggested it, that I encouraged it. I just wanted you to have some fun.’
Backstage with Her Ex Page 16
