The Wedding March. Tara Randel

      Luke opened the top drawer to his desk, removed a key ring and tossed it to Denny.

      Denny caught it midair. “Thanks. And sorry, again.” He took a step, stopped and twirled around. “Hey, do I know you?”

      Cassie smiled. “I’m a musician.”

      He noted she didn’t call herself star. Props for her.

      Denny pushed his glasses more securely on to his nose. “Cassie Branford, right? My friend Erin listens to your music.”

      “You’re correct.”

      “I heard some of the kids say your family lives in town.” He frowned. “I’m not real familiar with your songs. I’m more of an opera fan.”

      Cassie blinked and glanced at Luke.

      “I know, most kids his age don’t have a clue.”

      “It’s my grandma’s fault,” Denny explained. “She raised me on the stuff.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with opera,” Cassie rushed to assure him. “It’s an acquired taste.”

      “Which usually skips teenagers,” Luke deadpanned.

      “Yeah, my friends think it’s odd, but before long I’ve got them listening. Some of ’em actually like it.”

      “Good for you,” Cassie said.

      Denny gripped the keys in his hand. “I’ll bring these back when we’re finished.”

      Luke nodded as Denny hustled out the door.

      “Interesting young man.”

      “He is. I’ve known him since he was a freshman. He was one of the first students to try out the program.”

      “Troubled home life?”

      “If you call having a family who loves you trouble.” He chuckled. “No, it might have been because he was bullied when he was younger. He’s never admitted it, but I can see the signs. Once he heard about the concept for the Klub, he tagged along and has been an integral part ever since.”

      “He must be an amazing young man.”

      “He’s getting there. Now, back to the subject at hand.”

      “I can see you’re not convinced,” Cassie said.

      “I got the distinct impression you were trying to ask me something the other night. Does this offer have anything to do with that?”

      “Busted.” She sighed. “Yes. I might as well be honest. I do want to volunteer here, no matter what your answer to my next question is, so keep that in mind.”

      “I know I’m going to regret it, but, what do you need to be honest about?”

      As she bit her lower lip, Luke couldn’t ignore the rush of attraction. Cute and conflicted. Her hair shone under the fluorescent lighting, highlighting the bright pink streak. Her skin, so luminous, had him itching to trace his fingers over it. And those unforgettable eyes. His downfall so far.

      “I have a deadline coming up,” she went on to say. “I have to be back in the studio in three months. Problem is, I have no new material.”

      “That’s a problem.”

      “No kidding.” She pulled her braid over her shoulder and tugged at it. “I can’t come up with any new songs. You might not know this, but my last album was a bomb.”

      He’d heard.

      “I have writer’s block. No matter what I do, I can’t come up with anything new. No sparks. No inspiration. Nothing.”

      So here it was. The real reason behind her altruism.

      In the music industry, Luke knew how devastating writer’s block could be. He’d never experienced it, but had friends who’d agonized because of it, usually after a big blow, like a bad album. He could sympathize, even though he didn’t live in that world any longer, but he found his back up at her request. He could agree to most anything but songwriting.

      “So you want, what, help? Suggestions?”

      “At this point all I know is that my career will definitely suffer if I can’t snap out of this—” she wiggled her hand in the air “—whatever it is.”

      The music business could be fickle at times. One day you were a star, another a has-been.

      “I’m hoping being around you and the Klub might kick-start my muse.” She lowered her eyes for a moment, then met his gaze, a captivating grin making his chest squeeze. “No pressure or anything.”

      Cassie’s look got to him. He didn’t want to be the guy she pinned her hopes on and who let her down. Or have her get involved only to have her muse show up and then she’d leave him in the lurch. His focus was on troubled kids, not a pretty songwriter who’d lost her way. He glanced at her again. Those green eyes always managed to trip him up. She bit her lower lip again, anticipating his answer.

      “If I said I can’t make any promises will you still do the concert?”

      “Yes. Absolutely.”

      He knew he was digging a hole for himself, but if this wasn’t a publicity stunt and truly a chance to aid his kids, then he might be willing to give her pointers. Still, he’d closely watch her actions after the concert. One sign that she was playing him and he’d sever ties between them. “Then what do you say we plan this concert and go from there?”

      At her relived burst of breath, he cringed and forcefully told himself he was agreeing in order to keep the Klub going.