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Isabella kept stressing that the party would be a casual affair.

As I discovered, that meant a whole other thing for celebrities.

The patio and yard were transformed into a fairy wonderland of sparkling lights so expertly entwined that the trees and bushes seemed to glitter with fireflies.

Our dresses may have been summer casual, but we had our hair, nails and makeup done by the same women who’d pampered us in the city, brought in for the day.

At six, the guests began arriving in a procession of chauffeured luxury cars and self-driven sports cars. Valets whisked vehicles off to some unknown location where they wouldn’t clog the residential street.

Isabella had invited fifty guests. I counted sixty, presumably some unable to resist sneaking in a friend. Everyone was A-list – actors, directors, musicians, producers, all flying from around the world to celebrate Colt and Isabella’s anniversary.

The impulse to run and hide nearly overwhelmed me.

It might have, too, if I hadn’t kept reminding myself that, to them, I was the hired help.

If Isabella took pains to introduce me, they assumed she was simply being kind, and they were kind in return, but they’d forget my name a minute later, and I was okay with that.

I mostly hung out with the children. Hid with them, really, taking refuge in my job. There were a few other kids to keep Tiana and Jamison company, and I played hostess to their corner of the party.

There were two guys my age. One was Parker Harmon, an actor in a hit TV series and the son of a director. The other was Justice Kane, lead singer of the Indigo Kings, the hottest boy band around, and the nephew of a family friend.

Earlier, Tiana had said Isabella invited Parker and Justice for me, and I will admit that I entertained a few fantasies of kissing a Hollywood prince that night.

Those fantasies were dashed when Isabella introduced us…

and I found an excuse to flee the moment she walked away.

Kissing princes was one thing; talking to them was quite another.

As dinner got under way, I ducked into the house to prepare for our performance. Tiana, Jamison and I were going to surprise their parents with an after-dinner anniversary musical tribute. Of course, it wasn’t really a surprise to Colt, but I was sure he could fake it, being an actor and all.

While the kids ate, I snuck the instruments out behind the hedge.

Then, as Isabella and Colt dined on the beach with their guests, we came out playing.

We started with the theme song to Mi Hermana , and then the theme for Fatal Retribution and, finally, the theme for The President’s Wife , the movie where they’d met.

Tiana played her sax, Jamison his violin and I had my viola, and we serenaded the celebrating couple with songs from their past.

As we focused on Isabella, drawing closer to her, Colt slipped off. We swung into “Belle” from Beauty and the Beast , and Isabella clapped and turned to Colt… only to see his spot empty. Then he appeared from behind the boathouse, joining in with a guitar.

“She’s going to cry,” Tiana had said earlier, and Isabella did.

When we finished, she came to embrace the kids, and I slipped off to grab dinner, leaving them to their family moment.

I came back when Isabella brought out her flute, and we played impromptu tunes while the guests danced. Then Isabella pulled in Justice Kane, who took vocals. Guests danced on the beach, and champagne flowed. I had half a glass before Tiana backed into me, and I spilled it on my viola.

I excused myself, and I was hurrying inside to get a rag when Karla – Colt and Isabella’s manager – appeared, towel in hand.

“Colt’s right,” I said as I took it and wiped down my instrument. “You really are a fairy godmother.”

She chuckled. “No, I’m just not much of a party person, so I look for any opportunity to be useful. I’ve offered to serve drinks, but Isabella refuses.”

Her eyes glittered with an almost self-deprecating amusement that was a far cry from the ultra-efficient woman I’d come to know.

Karla stopped by regularly, usually following a summons from Colt.

He’d have some minor emergency, and she’d need to race up from New York, where she was staying while they vacationed.

She was indeed their fairy godmother, and judging by her tailored clothing and tasteful jewelry, they compensated her well for it, as they should.

We chatted for a few minutes, a lighter conversation than usual. She usually only talked about my job, making sure I was comfortable and happy, and I suspected, if I’d said I wasn’t, she’d have waved her wand to fix that.

Karla wasn’t exactly warm – at our first meeting, she intimidated the hell out of me – but she had a deep streak o f compassion I’d come to appreciate.

Between Karla and Isabella, I’d discovered two models of successful women to emulate, capable and caring in very different ways, proof that you didn’t need to be a stone-cold bitch to succeed…

and proof you could be a stone-cold bitch if the situation required it.

“I believe someone is waiting for you,” Karla said, her eyes twinkling as she nodded toward the pool.

I looked over to see Justice with two filled champagne flutes in hand. He lifted one and smiled. I excused myself and walked over.

“To a successful concert,” he said as he passed one flute to me.

I thanked him and took a sip. Then I glanced toward the beach.

“The music’s done,” he said. “Apparently, everyone’s going swimming.”

A splash echoed in the background.

“Right on cue,” he said. “You’ve got a suit, I’m guessing?”

“Already wearing it.”

He lifted a brow and looked at my dress.

“Underneath,” I said.

“Good plan. I forgot mine. I’m hoping if I swim in the ocean, no one will notice I’m wearing my boxers.”

I laughed softly. “Also a good plan.”

He extended his elbow. “Will you join me? I hear you’re at Juilliard, and I’m dying to pester you with questions. I figured I’d throw in a champagne walk on the beach to make it worth your while.”

I nodded dumbly and took his elbow, and as we passed Isabella, she tossed me a wink. I was glad for the darkness as my cheeks flamed.

“Did Isabella tell you that I tried to get into Juilliard?” he said as we wound our way through abandoned picnic blankets. “Twice. Didn’t make the cut.”

“And now look at you,” I said with what I hoped wasn’t a nervous laugh.

Justice grinned. “Well, that’s what I say when I mention it in interviews.

Hey, kids, I couldn’t get in to a fancy music program, either, and look where I am .

It makes a nice feel-good story, as my publicist would say, but the truth…

” He shrugged and sipped his champagne. “There’s a huge difference between being a talented classically trained musician and a guy who can strum a few chords.

I grew up being told what an incredible musician I was, which I thought must be natural talent, since I never practiced.

” Another quick grin my way. “But the truth is that I was a cute guy with a guitar. Of course the girls voted for me in the talent show every year.”

I was about to say the expected thing – that I was sure it was talent that won him those accolades – but I’d sipped more champagne than I intended, and I heard myself say, “Nobody likes to practice.”

A sharp laugh. “True enough. I still dream of Juilliard, though. What’s it like?”

We talked as we strolled along the beach.

Whenever we started getting too far from the house, he’d notice me glancing back and turn us around.

The champagne buzzed through me, loosening my tongue, and we chatted away about the life of a music student versus the life of a pop star.

At some point, we tossed our clothing onto one of the blankets and swam.

Isabella had invited Justice in hopes I’d have some flirty fun. And I did. I talked and swam and laughed with a heartthrob who, in person, was as real as Colt or Isabella. C olt complained about how often people said he seemed like a real person.

“I am a real person,” he’d grumbled. “Do they expect a talking mannequin?”

That was the allure of gossip rags. Look, this actor eats at McDonald’s, too! This musician’s kids throw tantrums in the mall, too! They’re just like us! As if we thought they were another species, dwelling on some perfect plane of existence separate from our own.

Justice Kane was a swoonworthy twenty-one-year-old who played guitar and sang lead vocals in one of the most popular bands on the planet.

He was also a guy who liked bad puns, couldn’t swim very well, and wished he’d gone to college.

I basked in the glow of his attention, but even more than that, I enjoyed exactly what Isabella prescribed: time with a guy my own age.

Despite my hopes, there wasn’t any kissing. I got flirting, though, and glances of appreciation for my new bikini. We’d retreated to the beach to talk when a shadow blocked out the moonlight, and I twisted to see Colt looming over us.

“I’m behaving,” Justice said, gesturing at the two-foot gap between us. “We just snuck away from you old fogies.”

Colt kicked up sand, and Justice dodged it, laughing.

“I need to steal Lucy from you,” Colt said. “Tiana wants to talk to her.”

“Sure.” Justice held out a hand to help me stand, but Colt deftly moved into his way. I ignored both and rose to my feet.

“We’ll catch up later,” Justice said. “I think I saw cake. I’ll grab you a piece before it’s gone.”

“Lucy has to put the kids to bed,” Colt said, and I shot him a look – since when did I do that? – but he ignored it and started leading me away.

“I’ll still see about the cake,” Justice called after me. “I’d love your email in case I have more questions about Juilliard.”

Colt snorted and muttered something under his breath. He had his hand on my elbow as he led me away like a naughty child.