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“You don’t think it implies…something else?” Emmy asked.

It was there, staring them all in the face. Jace saw it—felt it. The live-wire spark between them.

“A platinum single?” Luke was teasing, his enthusiasm unaffected by Emmy Lou’s concern.

Hank shot him a look, one brow arched. “Jace?” Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, Hank King was sizing up Jace, waiting for his reaction.

“I’m with Emmy on this one.” He shook his head. “The song will stand on its own.”

Travis moaned, running a hand over his face. “Are you looking at the same picture I am?”

Luke jumped in. “Jace, Hank knows what he’s doing—”

“I know.” Jace cut him off. “You asked. Use a different picture. There’s plenty to choose from.”

Hank shook his head. “I respect your opinion, son. And that you speak your mind. But I’ve been doing this a hell of a long time. See this?” Hank asked, tapping on the picture. “That’s something you can’t stage. The song is good and I believe in it. But you have to use every angle to set it apart.” He glanced at Krystal. “Okay?”

Krystal was motionless, the color drained from her face and her hands pressed flat against her upper t

highs.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hank grinned, then looked his way.

Luke nodded. “This will get people talking—and buying the single.”

Jace was pretty sure it wasn’t a yes. They might be comfortable moving on without her weighing in, but he wasn’t. “Krystal? Are you comfortable with this?”

The room fell quiet and all eyes shifted to Krystal.

She spared him a glance, shrugging. “It’s just business. That’s all. You want to sell records, don’t you?” There was an edge to the question. “That’s what this is about.”

While Hank picked out a few more pics, Luke was talking his ear off about a late-night show spot he was trying to book and a possible endorsement deal from a boot maker. Jace only half listened. Between the photo shoot and the show tonight, his adrenaline was pumping.

The show. Krystal’s song. Their duet. It was a big deal. And she was counting on him not to blow it.

No pressure.

“You look green, man.” Travis nudged him. “Nervous?”

He nodded.

“Nerves are good. Keep you on edge. Give you energy.” He grinned. “Keep moving, keep singing.” He nudged him. “Own your talent, man. You can sing. You wouldn’t be up there tonight if my dad didn’t think so.”

Travis’s attempt at a pep talk wasn’t doing much to settle Jace’s nerves.

“Besides, it’s not like you’ll be doing this alone.” His gaze settled on Krystal. “Follow her lead. She knows what she’s doing.”

Krystal was still staring at the computer monitor covered in photos from the shoot. “I think you just gave me a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Travis chuckled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Krystal spun away from the monitor and stared, hard, at him. What she was looking for was the mystery. Was it the song? His performance? Did she still resent him like hell? Did he blame her? Whatever it was, it weighed on her. There was a slight crease between her brows. And a tightening around those full, bright red lips. The only way to know what she was thinking was outright asking her. Right now didn’t seem like the right time. For one thing, he wasn’t sure he was up for dealing with the fallout from the answers she’d give him. Not and still manage to do what he needed to do tonight.

After the concert, after he’d done her and her song proud, he’d ask her what was on her mind.

After five minutes of staring, Jace’s nerves were strung tight. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” Her curls shook, one falling across her temple to rest against her cheek.

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