Page 27 of Fractured Trust

“Oh. Um, no, I just really needed to… use the restroom,” she finished lamely.

He tipped his head toward her and frowned, but before he could say anything, the faint sound from the ballroom suddenly increased in volume as the door opened. A group of women spilled out, their loud, vaguely inebriated voices echoing down the corridor as they headed toward them. Before she could react, Noah grabbed her arm and tugged her around the corner.

He turned her so her back was to the wall, not letting go. “What’s wrong, Summer?”

She started to shake her head, but he cut her off. “You’ve obviously been crying, so why don’t you just tell me instead of pretending you’re okay.”

Ignoring the shrieks and laughter of the women as they approached the restroom, which thankfully tapered off as they disappeared into it, Summer stared up at him. “Why do you even care, Noah?” She’d meant it to come out dismissively, but the plea ringing in her voice made it sound far needier than she wanted it to.

He dropped her arm and raked his hand through his hair. “Because it seems to be a bad habit that I can’t seem to shake, even after all these years. Even when I shouldn’t give a damn about you anymore. I can’t seem to help it.”

Summer’s lips parted. She hadn’t expected him to answer. She certainly hadn’t expected him to answer her like that. Warmth pulsed through her at his words, and she tried to steel herself against it. But it was a struggle she couldn’t win. Her face must have shown some of what she was feeling because the tightness around his eyes eased.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his tuxedo pants, and she swallowed hard at how gorgeous he was standing there in front of her, all dressed up and so damn handsome. It really wasn’t fair.

“Do you remember the last time we were both dressed up like this?” she asked softly—an olive branch. Or maybe something more selfish—a sudden craving to recall a time when this man had belonged to her.

He stared hard at her for a second, before those lips, those sexy as hell lips of his tugged upward and the dimple in his left cheek flashed. “I do.” His voice had deepened. “But I believe you were wearing blue, and”—his gaze burned its way down her chest—“your dress wasn’t quite as… low-cut.” He peeked up at her through his lashes, his dimple flashing again. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Summer laughed softly. “Your hair was shorter, and”—she tilted her head to the side and let her gaze roam over his broad chest—“you weren’t quite as tall and… well-built.” She raised her eyes back up to meet his, the intensity with which he was watching her making her pulse race. “Not that I’m complaining.”

She couldn’t believe she was flirting with him. And yet, seeing him standing there in front of her with that devil-may-care smile on his face, it was too easy to forget who he was now, to forget the years that had passed. To forget the pain and just remember all the good times. And there had been so many of those.

Still, she was shocked when he held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

They could still hear the faint strains of music coming from the ballroom, and ignoring the warning bells in her head, she gave him a small smile and reached out to take his hand. He tugged her toward him, and she half-stumbled into his arms. Keeping her hand clasped in his, he placed his other one on her waist, and they swayed to the music, both lost in the memory of a simpler, less painful time.

Summer looked up at him, seeing him watching her, his eyes roaming over her face as if he were cataloging the differences between then and now. The hand on her waist slid farther around as he pulled her closer, his fingers tracing a slow line up and down the groove of her spine, leaving a burning path in their wake. His breath stirred the tendrils of hair that had escaped her up-do, and she suppressed an almost violent shiver.

She’d wanted to be friendly, but what she was feeling now was far more than that. She needed to pull away, but she couldn’t make her limbs move. Just one more minute, and then she’d step back, smile, and suggest they return to the others.

A rush of noise startled her as the group of women that had been in the restroom came bursting out, drunken laughter echoing up and down the corridor. Noah’s grip tightened, holding her against him, and Summer had just started to relax again when a shrill voice came from the group as they made their way back toward the ballroom. “Oh my God, have you seen the Fractured guys? Sooo hot! I’d love to hook up with one of them tonight.”

“Half of them are taken,” said another woman.

“Not the drummer, though. My sister’s friend’s cousin said she hooked up with him after one of his concerts and apparently it’s true what they say about drummers.”

“What do they say?” someone else asked.

A chorus of voices answered her. “They can go aaaallll night!” Shrieks of raucous laughter followed that comment as the group moved further away.

Summer stiffened, a band tightening around her chest.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Noah muttered, his eyes squeezing shut and that crease back between his brows as he looked down at her. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Summer,” he said, an odd urgency in his voice.

A fierce ache spread through her. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. What you do is none of my business. It hasn’t been for a long time.” She tried to tug her hand away from his, but he held on.

“People say shit about us all the time. It doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Unless you’re telling me you’ve never slept with someone after a concert, then it has as much chance of being true as not. And I told you, I don’t care what you do, anyway.” She tried again to pull her hand away—to step back from him.

“You obviously do care, otherwise you’d still be pressed up against me like you were before. But nothing I say will make any difference; you made your mind up about me a long time ago.” His voice was gritty, tense.

“I’m not naive, Noah. You can’t tell me you haven’t slept with hundreds of women since we… since we broke up.”

“Sincewebroke up? Don’t you mean since you broke it off with me?”

“What does it matter who broke up with who, it doesn’t change anything, does it?” she hissed. “And I couldn’t care less how many women you’ve screwed sincewebroke up.” She made sure to emphasize that last bit since he’d made such a big deal about it. She hesitated before lifting her chin and adding, “Or before that.”

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