clumsy fingers, she opened her clutch, searching for a tissue. Dabbing her eyes, she slowly steadied her breath. A masculine voice sounded beside her.
“Are you okay?”
Hoping her mascara hadn’t run, she turned to find a man with shaggy dark blond hair smiling at her. Dressed in black slacks and a white button-down shirt, his chocolate-brown eyes held a hint of concern. Flustered, she couldn’t find her words.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, but you looked upset.”
She waved her hand. “It’s nothing. You know, weddings.”
His brow rose.
“The emotion and all.”
“Right.”
“It’s my dad’s special day.”
“Congratulations.” He paused, then his gaze moved to the platform and back. “I need to get to work.”
“Work?”
“Wedding band.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“No problem. Enjoy the rest of the reception.”
“Thanks,” she said as he moved away. Was it her imagination or did he look familiar? She hadn’t been back to town in years, not since her mother and stepfather settled in Cypress Pointe her freshman year of high school. Did she know him from school?
With athletic ease, the man leaped onto the platform, then removed his guitar from a case. He set the instrument in a stand by his feet before moving the case behind the curtain backdrop along the wall. When he finally lifted the strap over his head and plugged in his guitar, it hit her.
Luke Hastings. Only one of the best songwriters in the music industry. A four-time Grammy winner. A man who’d churned out hits before retiring to parts unknown at the height of his career. He’d been in Cypress Pointe all this time?
She’d seen pictures of him in tabloids and magazines, but never paid attention to his handsome features. In person, he made her breath hitch. Which surprised her more? That he lived in her old hometown or that she’d never noticed how good-looking he was? Both, actually. She’d worked with plenty of guys in LA, yet not one made her head turn like Luke did.
“Hey, what’s up with you?” her sister asked as she came up beside her.
“Do you know who he is?” She covertly pointed at Luke.
“Yeah. Luke. He’s a teacher at C.P. High.”
Cassie twirled on her sister. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About a teacher? Why would you care?”
“Because he’s Luke Hastings.”
Her sister still looked confused. “So?”
“So. So? He’s only a genius songwriter.”
Lauren looked up at the stage, head tilted. “Huh.”
“Huh. That’s all, just huh?”
“Cassie, I work in finance. I don’t know songwriters. That’s your area.”
Cassie glanced over her shoulder, her heart thumping double time. “He’s only a hero of mine. I started writing music after I heard ‘Won’t You Love Me Always.’”
“I remember that song. You used to drive me crazy singing it nonstop.”
She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “He wrote the lyrics.”
Lauren shrugged. “So goody. You get to meet your idol.”
Cassie went blank. “Meet him?”
“Well, yeah. He’s here. You’re here. Go introduce yourself.”
Did she dare? He’d left the business for a reason. Besides, he was working. Maybe he didn’t want her fawning all over him.
“I... He...”
“You’d better come up with better lyrics than that,” her sister advised as she swooshed off across the room.
Cassie slowly turned. Made her way to the wall where she slumped against it while the wheels turned in her mind. Luke Hastings, a man she’d admired for his song-crafting ability, in the same room as she. Did she dare introduce herself? What did she have to lose?
* * *
LUKE HASTINGS LOOKED up from a quick tuning to find the pretty woman he’d spoken to leaning against the wall. She stared at him, as if she’d seen a ghost.
He might as well be, at least in the music industry. He’d walked away from a lucrative career, turned his back on the one thing he loved most in his life, writing music. Sought refuge in this small town after a public divorce cut his heart and soul to shreds. Yeah, he was a ghost and intended on keeping it that way.
“Luke, did you bring the extra music in case we get requests?” his buddy Ryan asked from his position behind the keyboard.
The band had practiced the bride and groom’s preselected songs, which Luke could play with his eyes closed, but they always kept backup for the odd song a reception guest requested. Luke set his Mac computer on the stand beside him and booted it up. After a few clicks, the music program opened and the band synced together.
“Got it.” Luke glanced over at the drums. “Where’s Sonny?”
Ryan scanned the room then smiled. “Hitting on one of the guests.”
Luke chuckled. “He does know we’re starting in five?”
“Yeah.” Ryan waved. “Here he comes.”
Sonny jumped onto the stage and held up his cell, a goofy grin stretching his lips. “I got her number.”
Brian, the bass player, slapped him on the back. “Great. You can call her when we’re finished.”
“Dude, you’re killing me.”
Luke nodded to the empty seat behind the drums. “You have a job to do.”
Sonny stepped over the amp chords and picked up his sticks.
Luke loved his buddies like brothers, but sometimes he had to rein them in. Sonny constantly looked for a girlfriend, Ryan constantly worried over money since he’d recently become a new dad, and Brian, well, if he were any more laid-back, he’d be asleep. Luke was the glue that held this small wedding band, Sandy Palms, together.
“Hey, who’s the cutie you were talking to?” Sonny asked Luke. “Maybe I can get her number, too.”
“Daughter of the groom.”
“She got a name?”
“Yeah.
