Backstage with Her Ex by Louisa George

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 had 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.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜I can handle it.’ He nodded to the hall door where Dario