Page 6 of California Love Songs
Damien’s expression softened. “And I always wished you’d come along for the ride. You would’ve been an amazing manager, Crys.”
Crystal laughed, the sound carried away by the ocean breeze. “Me? On tour? Please. I’m more of a roots-firmly-planted kind of girl.” She gestured toward the party. “Besides, my little business isn’t too shabby.”
“Little?” Damien raised an eyebrow. “Crystal, you just threw a multimillion-dollar bash at Pebble Beach.”
She leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling. “I have clients who can afford to hire you, you know.”
Damien’s laughter joined hers, deep and warm. “And I only agreed to this gig because you asked me.”
Crystal’s heart fluttered, and she found herself studying his profile in the moonlight. Had his jawline always been so defined? She shook off the thought, reminding herself that this was Damien—one of her oldest friends, not some unattainable rock god.
“Well, aren’t I lucky, then?” she said, aiming for levity. “Having a world-famous musician at my beck and call.”
Crystal’s words hung in the air, charged with an electricity that neither of them had expected. Damien turned to face her, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.
“Maybe I’m the lucky one,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.
The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the silence between them. Crystal’s heart raced as Damien’s hand found hers, his callused fingertips sending a shiver up her arm. He held her hand for a moment, squeezing it gently, then let it go.
“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?”
