But here he was.
He belted it out, and my emotion surged so hard, I realized I was seriously a goner after a single phrase. I just let it wash over me.
When a man loves a woman…
Chance opened his eyes then, looking at me. I ignored how it was silly to think he was singing anything to me. It was just a song. A romantic song. We hadn’t even met.
But it felt like it was for me. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was so earnest. So intense. His voice was spot on, gravelly in just the right way.
My breathing sped up. I clutched the stage like I might fall if I let go. And falling was something I didn’t do, not ever.
I tore my gaze from him to see what was going on behind me. People were closing in and the party focus had shifted. They were listening, hugging the stage. Some of the other women had pushed to the front. Women more beautiful than me, famous, recognizable.
Interested.
I was torn between backing away graciously and fighting for this stranger. I saw him first, the toddler in me wanted to shout at them. But I was a grown-up, and this was how the world worked. There was no love at first sight, no soul mates. I knew that better than anyone.
There were just people. People with careers to consider and calculated moves to make. Love could figure into it, sure, but there was no clear path to one predestined person.
Even if I had wanted to go, though, I was pinned by his voice, his command of the microphone and the guitar. The words flowed out of him in a ribbon of sound, so convincing. I couldn’t imagine anybody wouldn’t fall for this.
I let go of my fear, my feelings of inferiority, and just let the music wash over me. The band kept the background simple, letting Chance come through without their interference. He looked up as the chorus came around again, singing to the sky as if the stars were shining for his song.
I felt cocooned by his voice, safe and loved and happy. This touched a part of me I’d buried a long time ago, back when my life was simple and easy, not burdened by grief or regret. My mother and father were still together, and my baby brother still lived. I could picture the four of us, the boring embodiment of the nuclear family. I thought it was all pedestrian and would kill my muse. Now I knew that it was the safe place I could spring from.
Unconditional love.
The song came back to that.
Chance closed his eyes to the stars, then turned his attention back to the party, eyebrows lifting as if surprised by the sudden arrival of so many fans at his feet. My throat got tight as his gaze took in the women who were under his spell. Gorgeous, talented, available women he’d seen in theaters and on television. The sort of women who could open doors for him if he played things right.
My stomach lurched and I tried to back away, but I was hemmed in by the crowd. Chance held out the microphone and let everyone sing out the famous line, but I didn’t. I pressed my hand to my chest, already feeling the ache of losing something I had planned to pursue, someone I wanted.
But then his eyes met mine again. He passed right over the Hollywood elite and rested on me. The crowd turned, following his attention, and internally, I heard the silent click, click, click of a camera capturing the moment.
It had begun.
Chapter 8: Chance
She was here. Right here at the stage.
The crowd was listening to me now, and I could feel their energy lifting me, making me better than I’d ever been before. Good enough to be worthy of her.
The song was a risk. I should have kept the tempo fast and the party atmosphere going. But I couldn’t do it. I’d never sung that song to anyone in particular before. It seemed like the perfect thing. She was so beautiful, as elusive as an ocean wave, and I had to pull out all the stops to make sure I got her attention.
The crowd roared as I tore my eyes from her and bowed to them. I pulled the strap over my head and handed the Fender back to Paul, who looked truly torn about whether he should take the gig back over or leave it to me.
But no way was I going to stay up there. I’d done what I needed to do. The girl had her eyes locked on me, and I had to talk to her now or I might never get another chance.
I knelt on the stage next to her, so close I could reach out and touch those crazy pink dreadlocks. She watched me a moment, then moved aside so I could swing my feet around and jump down. A swirl of people came up to me asking questions, peppering me with comments and praise. A woman wearing a barely there dress with enough cleavage to hide a developing country tugged on my arm, but I managed to work loose, fighting hard not to lose eye contact with the girl.