Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) (35 page)

"It's dirty money," Jeb reminded him.

Pastor Jerry shrugged. "It was earned legally. And as you say, you can't turn off the spigot and stop that money from flowing into your bucket."

Could that be the answer? In the past few years, Jeb had contributed to quite a few charities—mostly ones benefitting children, because Laney was so nuts about kids. He couldn't even count the times he'd whipped out his checkbook after seeing her cry over one of those TV commercials about starving children. So why couldn't he just sign over all of his future Skeptical Heart royalties to people who would use that money to feed kids and tell them about God?

He
wouldn't starve. And neither would Laney, if she married him.

Although he'd made several million dollars from his music, he'd never been interested in accumulating things like exotic cars, glass beach houses, fine art, and designer clothes. As a matter of fact, his material needs were so few that he could give away every penny he made and go back to living on the modest inheritance he'd received from his father.

And then he could start over, this time with a Christian band.

"Yes," he breathed as possibilities exploded like beautiful fireworks inside his head. "
Yes.
"

He stood and grabbed his gym bag. "I need to get home and make some arrangements," he said distractedly. "Thanks for meeting me today." He took several long strides toward the exit and then halted.

A quick glance around him confirmed that he and the pastor were still the only people in the gym. Feeling oddly self-conscious as he walked back to the bench, he had to force himself to meet the older man's questioning gaze.

"Pastor Jerry?" He pushed the words out before he lost his nerve. "Will you pray with me?"

A wide smile transformed the man's droopy face. "I'd be honored, Jackson."

I
n the music business, everyone knew somebody who knew somebody, so Jeb had to make only three calls before one of the
somebodies
he knew put him in touch with the president of a major Christian record label. Jonathan Rice seemed deeply interested in Jeb's conversion experience, and by the end of a ten-minute phone call, he had invited Jeb to meet him in Nashville on Wednesday.

Since Jeb intended to fly to Nashville and back on the same day, he decided not to tell Laney about the meeting until his return, when he hoped to have some good news to report.

He worried that she would sense his elation and ask what was going on. But as it turned out, she was late getting home on Monday evening, and nearly fell asleep over her onion rings at Willie's, so they didn't talk much.

She was breathless and distracted when she called him at six-thirty on Tuesday and said a large bridal shower was still underway at the tearoom. She told him to leave for the Bible study without her, and he did, but not before saying a prayer that things would go smoothly at the tearoom, and that she'd make some good money from that large party.

Pastor Ted had finished speaking and was taking questions when she finally slid onto the empty chair next to Jeb's and flashed him a weary but triumphant smile. Sensing her eagerness to speak, he leaned toward her, offering an ear.

"We had twenty-one people for the bridal shower," she whispered as she unbuttoned her coat. "They ran the Graces and me ragged, but they spent a fortune on food, and they were all so nice about everything."

She was having trouble wriggling out of the coat, so Jeb helped get her arms unstuck and then assisted in draping the garment over the back of her chair. She was still vibrating with excitement, so he leaned down again.

And almost died from delight when her sweet, soft lips accidentally brushed his ear.

"I think they had a good time," she whispered, "and they left a fantastic tip."

Jeb turned his head to share a smile with her.

"God bless '
em
, every one!" she murmured.

"Amen," Jeb mouthed. She'd be able to pay some bills this month. He sat back in his chair and gave silent thanks to God.

After the Bible lesson, they were having coffee and mingling when Jeb happened to look over the back of Laney's head and saw a blushing, stammering Steve trying to ask her out.

Steve seemed like a good guy, but he'd missed his chance; Laney Ryland was now taken. Moving to stand just behind her left shoulder, Jeb caught Steve's eye and raised his chin a notch.

Get lost.

Steve mumbled an apology and took off like a startled rabbit.

"I was handling that," Laney said over her shoulder. "You didn't have to give him the Death Stare."

"I didn't give him the Death Stare," Jeb retorted. "You don't shoot a rabbit with an elephant gun."

The instant the words left his mouth, he realized he was behaving like a jerk. He wasn't surprised when Laney whirled to face him, eyes narrowed in indignation.

His mouth worked, but his voice had deserted him, and he didn't blame it. He'd been Laney's boyfriend for just two days, and he had already screwed up.

She folded her arms. "Did you expect your kisses to rock my world and make me never want to look at any other man?"

Jeb stopped breathing. Expect? No. He'd just hoped, that was all.

"Because they absolutely
did
," she went on, a spark of deviltry lighting her pretty blue eyes. "But still," she added more seriously. "You shouldn't have done that to Steve."

"Or to you," Jeb said, breathing again. "I'm sorry for interfering. But I've never had a girlfriend before, so I'm not totally clear on how these things are supposed to work."

"Don't worry." Wry humor edged her tone. "I'm making allowances."

"Laney, about those other guys," he blurted. "Tom and Nathan." He hated asking in a room full of people, but the information might help him avoid messing up again, so he couldn't afford to wait for a more opportune time. "Where did they go wrong? I mean, how did they lose you?"

Her face softened. Her sweet blue eyes grew even more luminous, and her strawberry-colored lips curved into a tender smile.

"Laney!" A woman on the other side of the room waved and started toward them.

Laney waved back. Then she crooked a finger at Jeb, signaling him to bend down.

"They weren't
you
, Jeb," she said in his ear. "That's all. They lost me because they just weren't you."

As he stood there dumbfounded and so grateful he almost cried, she patted his shoulder and turned away to greet her friend.

The evening's planned social activity was a roller-skating party. Even after her exhausting day, Laney insisted on participating, so Jeb drove her to the rink. And then he publicly declared his new status as her boyfriend by holding her hand as they skated in big circles on the old wood floor.

He left her side only once, when he bribed a bored-looking DJ to dim the lights and play the Righteous Brothers' "Unchained Melody", a song more than twice Laney's age, but one she'd fallen in love with as a teenager. He scored even more points for singing it to her as they skated arm-in-arm. And when she looked up at him and smiled, he just knew that that the stars in her eyes were because of him and not mere reflections of the mirrored disco ball twirling above their heads.

"I never dreamed you could be so romantic," she said, and his heart jumped over the moon.

He had to kiss her when they parted for the night. Just a little bit.

Then he kissed her a little bit more, and he wasn't even sorry. If the Graces had seen the way she'd been looking at him all evening, they would have understood.

Awakened by his alarm clock at 6:45 on Wednesday morning, Jeb flung off his covers and leaped out of bed.

He sang in the shower.

Dressed and ready to go
, he poured some coffee and sat down at his kitchen table with his Bible. When he realized he wasn't craving a cigarette, he laughed out loud.

He'd finished three mugs of coffee and two long chapters in Psalms before a faint rumbling told him Laney was opening his garage door. He waited until she'd left for the tearoom, and then he headed out his back door, guitar case in hand.

His flight to Nashville was an hour late, so he had two more cups of coffee while he waited. On the plane, he drank another cup in the packed First Class cabin, his knees jiggling nervously as he stared out his window and mentally reviewed what he planned to say to the record mogul.

He made it to downtown Nashville right on time for his appointment. He presented himself at the headquarters of Bright Hope Records and was immediately ushered into a cavernous office, the walls of which were plastered floor-to-ceiling with gold and platinum records and other awards.

Behind a massive desk, a man of enormous girth hung up a telephone and rose like a full moon, soundless and unhurried.

Becoming aware of an uncomfortable churning in his belly, Jeb wished he'd had something besides coffee for breakfast and lunch. Caffeine jitters aside, he was just plain nervous. After nearly two decades of uncompromising self-reliance, he was about to humble himself and ask a complete stranger to assist him in building a new career.

"I'm Jonathan Rice." The big man approached Jeb for the requisite handshake. "Can we get you some coffee?"

"No," Jeb said quickly. "Thank you."

Jonathan shook his head at the woman who had escorted Jeb into the office and lingered in the doorway. She withdrew, closing the door behind her.

"Have a seat, Jackson."

"Thanks. It's good of you to give me some time today." The words rolled smoothly off Jeb's tongue. After years of watching Laney be polite to people, it was no great trick to emulate her good manners. He just had to remember that people liked to be answered with words, and not stares.

He set down his guitar case and was about to lower himself onto a heavily padded leather chair when he spotted a familiar music CD lying on a corner of Jonathan Rice's immaculate desk. He froze, dread trickling through him as he stared at the mocking, accusing cover of Skeptical Heart's third album.

Jonathan followed his gaze. "Ah, yes. Your latest." He walked back to his desk and picked up the CD. "I had my assistant run out and get it this morning." Extending his broad arm, he dropped the CD into the trash container next to his desk, where it landed with an embarrassing
thunk
.

Jeb swallowed hard. Why had he allowed himself to believe, even for a moment, that he might find acceptance as a Christian recording artist? As long as radio play and record sales were beyond his control, he could no more distance himself from his old music than he could unzip his skin and step out of it.

"I listened to four tracks." Jonathan pointed at the trash container. "And I have to tell you, Jackson, that's not an album I'd want my sixteen-year-old daughter singing along with."

Jeb's gaze faltered. "I understand," he mumbled, shame heating the back of his neck.

How was it that he had always taken such care to preserve Laney's innocence but had never spared a thought for anyone else's? How many young minds had he corrupted with his songs?

As he stared at his shoes, the churning in his stomach reached an alarming intensity. "Coming here was a mistake," he said hoarsely. "I apologize for wasting your time." He grabbed his guitar case and headed for the door, dizzy and sick and praying he could find a men's room before it was too late.

"I don't believe we're finished," the big man boomed.

Jeb halted. He was trembling and sweating, but he turned and forced himself to meet Jonathan Rice's unyielding gaze. Raising his chin a notch, he braced for the rebuke he so richly deserved.

"You have a remarkably expressive voice," Jonathan said, "and fantastic tone. You have an ear for melody and you write a great hook. Your lyrics—" He shrugged. "Well, apart from all the anger and vulgarity, they have a literary quality that's all too rare in this business. They're imaginative and evocative, and they hint at a very appealing vulnerability. Even your guitar playing is extraordinarily good."

Compliments?
Jeb shook his head. "I don't understand."