Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“We should get back to the party,” he said quietly.
She nodded, not wanting to admit to herself that her hand in his had felt perfect. As though they were meant to fit.
As they strolled back, she asked when he’d be leaving town. “Will you have time for one of your parents’ big breakfasts?”
He paused, looking thoughtful. “Definitely. In fact, I was thinking maybe it’s time I spent a little more time in Carmel. You know, reconnect with my roots.”
Crystal’s pulse quickened. “Oh? And what about your adoring fans? Your world tours?”
“They’ll still be there.” He shrugged, his fingers absently playing an invisible melody on his thigh. “But I’m starting to realize what I might be missing out on, being on the road so much.”
His gaze traveled to her lips for a moment before meeting her eyes again. Crystal felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff, exhilarated and terrified all at once.
“And what might that be?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
A burst of laughter sounded behind them. They both startled, suddenly aware of how close they’d been. Crystal reluctantly pulled away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was feeling too many conflicting emotions at the same time. It was overwhelming.
“I should probably check on the staff,” she said, gesturing toward the mansion house, where the party was in full swing.
Damien nodded, a mix of disappointment and understanding crossing his features. He offered her his arm with a playful bow. “Shall we, Ms. Lopez?”
Crystal laughed, linking her arm through his. “Why, thank you, Mr. Davenport.” But her smile faded as she felt the jolt of electricity race through her body at his touch.
The double doors swung open, and a wave of music and chatter washed over Damien and Crystal as they entered the glittering ballroom of the Pebble Beach mansion. She gave him back his jacket and, once inside, excused herself as quickly as possible. Out of sight, she leaned against a wall, taking deep breaths to calm her racing pulse. But try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling of Damien’s arms, the scent of his skin.
It’s just because he’s a rock star now. He’s used to charming everyone around him. It doesn’t mean anything special.
Even as she tried to rationalize it, Crystal knew she was lying to herself. The spark she’d felt was undeniable, and it would probably always be there, as hopeless now as it had been fifteen years ago.
There was nothing left to do but throw herself back into work and make sure everything was still running smoothly behind the scenes.
Chapter Three
“Damien Davenport!” a woman in a sequined gown practically squealed, rushing him. “Your latest album changed my life.”
“I’m so glad you connected with the music,” Damien replied, his fingers unconsciously tapping out a rhythm as he spoke. “That’s always my goal as an artist.” More guests swarmed around him, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of praise and questions.
“That song about heartbreak—were you writing about someone specific?”
“Dude, your guitar riffs are legendary!”
While he answered questions as best as he could, Damien’s gaze darted around, searching for Crystal. He spotted her across the room, speaking intently with a member of the catering staff. Even from a distance, he could see the quiet authority in her stance, the way she commanded respect without raising her voice. It also didn’t escape his notice that she looked stunning in her evening dress. Professional but beautiful. He didn’t know how she pulled it off, but she did. Crystal always managed to pull off the unimaginable. It was why she was the most in-demand event planner around.
“Mr. Davenport, may I have this dance?” A tipsy redhead in a low-cut dress batted her eyelashes at him.
“I appreciate the offer,” Damien said, forcing a polite smile, “but I’m afraid I don’t really dance.”
He smiled and posed for a selfie instead, not wanting to offend the stranger. As soon as he was alone again, he found Crystal. She was now deftly maneuvering through the crowd, pausing briefly to adjust a centerpiece here, whisper instructions to a waiter there. Her movements were so fluid, it was almost like watching a dance in itself.
A portly gentleman in an ill-fitting tuxedo approached Crystal, his hand extended in invitation. Damien heard him say, “Miss Lopez, surely you can spare a moment for a quick turn around the dance floor?”
Crystal’s laugh was warm and genuine, her voice firm. “I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I have to decline. I’m needed in the kitchen to revive the ice sculptures.”
Damien felt a smile tugging at his lips. That was Crystal—always the consummate professional, but with a charm that made even rejection feel like a compliment.
He turned back to his own admirers, trying to focus on their questions about his songwriting process. But his mind kept drifting to Crystal, marveling at how effortlessly she balanced warmth and authority. It was a skill he’d always admired, one that had made her indispensable to each member of his family over the years.