Sweet Harmony (4 page)

Maria reached over and patted Cat’s hand. “But the coffee cake was a nice gesture.”

Cat shrugged again. “I suppose.”

“And he is really cute.”

“If you like the Wrangler-jeans-and-cowboy-boots kind of thing. Or get sucked in by those dimples of his.” Cat gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“And you don’t and won’t,” Maria said firmly.

“Not on your life,” Cat insisted, but then rolled her eyes. “Okay, I do and I have. Not that he will ever know it and let’s keep this our little secret.”

Maria laughed and made a show of locking her mouth and throwing away the key. “You’re going to be such fun to work with, Cat.”

“Ah . . . you say that now.”

Maria leaned back when Courtney brought their
stone soup. “You know, you’ve got some sass. I think you could pull off some kick-ass lyrics, kind of like Miranda Lambert or Kimberly Perry from the Band Perry.”

“You think so?”

Maria dipped her spoon into the steaming soup. “I do. But you’ve got this sense of humor that I think we can tap into as well.”

“I think most of the time my humor is accidental. I’m like, why are they laughing . . . ?”

“Oh, Cat.” Maria laughed. “Something tells me you’re much savvier than you’re admitting, but that’s part of your charm. Listen, stage presence is essential to the total package. Today you have to do more than simply stand behind your guitar and sing. Garth Brooks broke that country music mold years ago.”

“I understand what you’re getting at.” Cat nodded. “Taylor Swift has her wardrobe changes. Miranda Lambert has her attitude. Keith Urban has his intense emotion. Luke Bryan has his baseball cap and hip thrusts . . . but what would be my thing? Please don’t say twerking.”

Maria laughed. “No, definitely not twerking.”

Cat tilted her head to the side. “Do I have a thing?”

“Absolutely. Look, I know that Sweetside Records was trying to make you this sexy beach babe, but it just didn’t seem genuine to me. Am I right?”

“I love the beach,” Cat said. “I wrote the songs so the lyrics are a part of me but in more of a whimsical way . . . not just the sexy stuff. And it was heading in a direction that made me uncomfortable.”

Maria dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Rick sees so much potential that you haven’t even begun to tap because you’ve been viewed as only one thing. You have so much to offer.”

“I do want to explore so much more,” Cat admitted while she crumbled crackers into her soup. “And I do love songwriting.”

“We will, Cat. But like I explained, there will always be critics.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.”

“Country music, like anything else, has to grow, change, and evolve. Anything that doesn’t, simply withers and dies. I love the classics as much as anybody else and many of them were groundbreakers who were criticized at first. Not everybody took Dolly Parton seriously, and she’s an amazing singer and extremely talented songwriter. Not many people realize she wrote songs like ‘I Will Always Love You.’” Maria tapped her head. “And she’s smart. Look at Willie Nelson. He didn’t really break in until he let his hair grow into that long ponytail.” She scooped up some soup.

“So what do you think my thing is?”

“Your brand?”

Cat nodded.

“We will have to peel away the layers, Cat, and discover who you are and where you want to go with this. You have to connect with the audience. If you truly want to become a legend, your fans will not only love your music but love
you
as well. But I want your brand, your connection, to be authentic, not something contrived. Do you agree?”

“Totally.”

“Well, then, we’ll start bouncing ideas off each other and then showcase some of our favorites at a songwriting venue. I’m going to talk to Pete about hosting a songwriters’ showcase at Sully’s, much like the Bluebird Cafe in Nashville.”

“Oh, I love the Bluebird Cafe. So many great artists were discovered there. Like Garth Brooks.”

Maria nodded. “Eventually, Rick and I would like to team up with Pete and open Sully’s South up in Restaurant Row, the lovely mall overlooking the river. We will showcase songwriters and new talent. I hope to discover new artists and test songs there. Of course, that’s in the
future but it’s on my list of possibilities. I’m even hoping to snag the legendary Bob DiPiero for a session.”

“I adore the idea,” Cat said and then glanced down when her phone beeped. She chuckled.

“What?” Maria asked.

Cat tapped the screen and then handed the phone to Maria. “It’s Jeff Greenfield wearing overalls and sitting on a big green tractor. He’s playing Farmer Jeff for his sister’s educational hayrides for schoolkids. I dared him to wear them and he took me up on it.”

“That boy manages to make bib overalls look good, doesn’t he?” she said and looked at Cat’s reaction.

“I suppose.”

Maria rolled her eyes.

“Okay . . . he does.”

Maria looked at Cat for a moment and then inspiration hit her like a smack to the back of the head. “Cat . . . I have, well, an idea.”

“Okay.” As if sensing this was going to be something big, Cat put her spoon down. “Shoot.”

“I could see you and Jeff Greenfield singing a duet.”

Cat leaned back against the booth and nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “Seriously?”

“You’ve got the fan base he needs to boost his career and he has the classic sound you’re looking to break into. I think it’s brilliant.”

“Mark my words, he’ll never agree to it.”

“Why would you say that? It would certainly help his career, and artists teaming up for a song has been popular for a few years now. I loved the Miranda Lambert and Keith Urban duet. Oh, and Taylor Swift and Tim McGraw? Perfect.”

Cat inhaled a deep breath and nodded. “I’m not disagreeing with you, but I had a conversation with Jeff about how we’re both taking control of our careers. I just don’t see him agreeing to do something with me.”

“Well, would
you
do it?”

Cat swallowed hard. “You mean one song, right?”

Maria nodded. “Yes,” she said, but in reality she could already hear their voices blending in her head. They were both such talented artists but Maria thought they could be amazing together. And country music was hungry for duos. And judging from the reaction Cat had from meeting Jeff, Maria had a pretty good vibe that there was some chemistry there. She smiled. “So let me get this straight. You’re willing, right?”

“Sure, why not?” Cat said with a slight lift of her chin. “Bring it on.”

We Can Work It Out

F
EELING A BIT OF APPREHENSION AT BEING SUMMONED to Rick Ruleman’s office at My Way Records, Jeff rolled his shoulders to get the kinks out. His new single, “Second Chances,” refused to budge on the
Billboard
charts, and after the success of “Outta My Mind with Lovin’ You,” the sluggish sales felt like a huge letdown. He suspected that Rick and Maria felt the same way. After inhaling deeply, Jeff raised his fist and rapped on the door.

“Come on in,” Rick called out in his raspy voice.

Jeff opened the door and stepped inside the spacious office, which smelled pleasantly of leather and furniture polish.

“Hey, Jeff, have a seat.” Rick pointed to the chair from his red leather chair behind a huge mahogany desk.

“Hello, Mr. Ruleman.” Jeff nodded at Maria Sully, who sat in a smaller chair bedside the desk. “Ms. Sully.”

“I keep telling you not to be so formal. I think we both feel old enough as it is,” Rick protested with a grin. “Right, Maria?”

“Rick, it’s part of his Southern upbringing. My son, Clint, is the same way. But that being said, I do prefer Maria—and whatever you do, don’t call me ma’am. Now
that
does make me feel ancient.”

“’Nuf said. Just don’t tell my mama.” Jeff raised both hands in surrender. They were both smiling so he felt his tense muscles relax. “Let me start again. Hey, Rick and Maria.”

“Ah, now that’s more like it.” Once a hard-core rocker with long spiked hair and a beard, Rick Ruleman now sported a short haircut and clean-shaven face. The only thing giving away his past were the tattoos peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves.

Jeff sat down, crossed his ankle over his knee, and waited.

“You’re probably wondering what this is all about.” Rick looked across his desk at him.

Jeff nodded.

“Well, we have an idea,” Rick announced and then glanced over at Maria. “Why don’t you elaborate?”

Jeff felt another twinge of nerves and had trouble not fidgeting in his chair.

“Sure.” Maria shot Jeff a friendly but businesslike smile that reminded him of when his mother would
ask
him to do something but really meant he
had
to do it. “We think that it would be an excellent idea for you and Cat Carson to sing a duet. With your slow Southern style and Cat’s sultry voice, your voices will blend well together.”

Jeff glanced at Rick, who added, “And from a business standpoint her popularity will boost record sales.”

“But Cat’s fan base and mine aren’t the same,” Jeff pointed out.

“Exactly.” Rick nodded. “This would benefit you both. Kind of like Taylor Swift and Tim McGraw, but you two have the added benefit of being around the same age so you could include some chemistry onstage and maybe in a music video.”

A music video? Jeff felt unease wash over him and this time he did shift in his chair. “Look, I get where you’re going with this and I really appreciate the effort you’re putting into marketing my music, but I just don’t feel like this is right for me . . . or my band. Cat just won’t fit in.” He swallowed and added, “And I have to tell you that we’ve already sort of butted heads.”

“Jeff,” Maria said, “you know that we love your music. But this could be a game changer and benefit you both, not to mention the label.”

Jeff hated feeling guilty. He’d felt that way when he left his family farm and headed to Nashville. “With all due respect, I signed with My Way Records to do things . . . well, my way. I don’t want . . .
didn’t expect
to team up with anyone.” He looked from Rick to Maria while trying to gauge their reaction to his resistance. “Um, what does Cat think about all this, or have you asked her yet?” He couldn’t imagine she would agree.

“I ran it past her,” Maria said. “I’ll admit that she was a tad reluctant. Cat’s got a mind of her own—otherwise she’d still be with Sweetside—but she is willing to do one song with you.” Maria held up her index finger.

For some reason Jeff felt a little bit miffed by Cat’s apparent reluctance, even though he didn’t want to do this either. But still . . . “One song, huh?” So he wasn’t a big enough star for her? “Do you have a song in mind?” Or was Cat calling the shots?

Maria and Rick exchanged a glance. “‘Second Chances.’”

Jeff sat up straighter. “But we’ve already released it. I don’t get it.”

“It’s not really going anywhere,” Rick pointed out. “We feel strongly enough about Maria’s song to give it another chance, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“There’s just a spark missing and we think that you and Cat singing together will change all that. After you rehearse we plan on having you sing it together at Sully’s
first to get the reaction and if it’s positive we’ll cut another single and re-release it,” Maria explained further. “Kenny Rogers did something similar with ‘Islands in the Stream’ when he teamed up with Dolly Parton. The song was going nowhere until they added Dolly, who was actually right down the street when she got the call to record it with Kenny. So what do you say?”

Jeff felt a flash of irritation at being railroaded. Did he really have a choice? But then he remembered that he was sitting across from a former rock legend and one of the best songwriters in the business. He should be overjoyed at being in a position most new artists would give their eyeteeth for.

“Sure, I’ll give it a shot.” Jeff hoped his smile didn’t appear as forced as it felt. “And thanks for the opportunity. So when do we get started?”

“Right now, if that’s okay?” Maria raised her eyebrows.

Right now? “Sure, but is Cat here?”

“She’s due to arrive in ten minutes,” Maria replied.

“You were that sure I would agree?”

Maria angled her head. “I was hopeful, but I don’t want you to feel strong-armed. If you don’t want to dive in this quickly, I can do a songwriting session with Cat instead. She was coming in regardless, so don’t feel pressured.”

Jeff took a deep breath. He had agreed, so there wasn’t a valid reason to put this off. “No, I’m free, so let’s give this a shot.”

“Super! You can head into the studio and warm up. I’ll send her in when she arrives. Need anything? Coffee or water?”

“Water would be great,” Jeff answered and forced one more smile. If they thought he was going to make “Second Chances” into some pop-sounding bullshit, they were dead wrong. He’d do this, but on his terms, not Cat Carson’s. He wasn’t about to get talked into teaming up
with her and then having her run the show. Jeff had waited far too long for this opportunity to have it ruined by compromising what he believed in.

“Thanks.” Jeff accepted the bottle of water and headed into the state-of-the-art studio. Wondering how his band would react to this new development, he inhaled deeply. So Cat Carson would agree to one song, would she? Jeff took a swig of water and squeezed the thin plastic too hard, splashing water down his shirt and onto his jeans, which made it look like . . . well, that . . . “Dammit!” He was trying to remember whether he had a change of pants in his truck when the door swung open.

Cat walked in. No, she didn’t walk. She breezed in looking confident while he stood there looking as if he’d just wet himself. He wondered whether he could grab a guitar to hide it, but judging by her grin it was already too late. “Nervous, Farmer Jeff?”

“I spilled water.”

“Sure you did.”

“Evidence.” Jeff held up the crushed water bottle, and she laughed.

“So you don’t know your own strength?”

“Apparently not.”

“Okay, I believe you now.”

Jeff took a step closer and said in a low voice, “Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so you’re taking one for the team by singing with the likes of me?”

Jeff opened his mouth for an instant comeback, but Cat flipped her hair over her shoulder and when he caught a subtle whiff of her floral perfume his brain short-circuited. “I, uh . . .” He tried again but his traitorous eyes had to notice that Cat was dressed in a plain white V-neck T-shirt tucked into faded jeans that hugged her curves in all the right places. She tapped her dusty pink cowboy boot and folded her arms across her chest.
Come on, who wore pink boots? And why the hell did he find them cute? He didn’t . . .
dammit
. He forced himself to look away.

“So are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Taking one for the team?” she persisted.

“There you go, putting words into my mouth again. Oh, right, what I’m thinking is written all over my face.” Jeff felt the need to point straight at his nose and do a circle.

“Let’s just say I’d kick your butt in poker. And it was
you
who put words into
my
mouth. I didn’t say I didn’t want to do this.”

“Right, but you will only grace me with your voice for one song.”

“What? So you want to be a duo? Cut an album?” She raised her arms akimbo and eyed him as if they were about to start a boxing match instead of sing a song.

“Ha,” was all Jeff could manage because he was distracted by her mouth, sheer pink and glossy. “You wish,” he added. He raised his chin but then felt ridiculous and rocked back on his heels.

“In your dreams,” Cat shot back.

“More like a nightmare,” Jeff told her. Since Cat was tall, her boots made them stand almost eye to eye. The thought that they would, in fact, look good onstage together slipped into his mind, but he shook it off. When she opened her mouth to retort, Jeff heard the loud clearing of a throat.

“Um, shall we get started?” Maria asked lightly.

“Oh . . .” When had Maria entered the room? Jeff backed away quickly, oddly feeling as if caught in an embrace instead of bickering. “Sure.” He nodded and then glanced at Cat, who appeared just as guilty-looking.

Maria handed them sheets of music. “I’ve created this arrangement. Look it over while we wait for Rick to join us. Remember that this song is about embracing a
second chance at love,” Maria added with a soft smile. “It doesn’t happen often,” she said, and there was an odd twist to her lips that gave Jeff pause. He had to wonder whether the song was a reflection of Maria’s own life. The entire town of Cricket Creek was pulling for Maria and Pete Sully to reconcile. Jeff thought it would be pretty darned cool if they did.

Jeff sat down on the tall stool and looked over the arrangement. The song weaved a story about love lost but never forgotten and the hope of someday getting that elusive second chance to begin again. Jeff loved the lyrics about eternal hope and never giving up.

“This song is so sad,” Cat said to Maria. “I didn’t realize when I first heard it.” She glanced at Jeff.

“That’s because it’s not,” Jeff protested, defending his interpretation of the song. “It’s about hope.”

“That never comes!” Cat sputtered.

“Until tomorrow,” he argued.

“Always tomorrow,” Cat countered. “That’s what the lyrics say. The tomorrow that never comes.”

“The tomorrow that is always there for the taking,” Jeff argued. “Are you that cynical?”

“Are you that naive?”

Jeff started to reply, but Rick entered the studio. “Okay, let’s get started.” Rick rubbed his hands together and gave them a smile. If he sensed the tension between Jeff and Cat he chose to ignore it.

“I don’t know the song the way Jeff does, so bear with me,” Cat said with a slight frown.

“No, you sure as hell don’t,” Jeff mumbled and was rewarded with a glare from Cat. Jeff shrugged at her and when the music began the result was like a singing sparring match. Jeff sang of hope and Cat countered with despair. The result became angry, edgy, and chock-full of emotion. Jeff turned and moved toward her pleading, but Cat countered with resistance. But when he finally gave up Cat lured him back with the lyrics, and at the
conclusion of the song Jeff leaned closer . . . close enough for a kiss—and for a crazy moment he thought Cat was going to give him one. Then she abruptly turned away, leaving him feeling lost and needing her.

Jeff wanted to turn her around, but the sound of silence in the room made his heart thud and he remembered that Maria and Rick were watching. Jeff removed his headphones and shoved his fingers through his hair. Damn, he’d been that emotionally into the song!

Oh boy . . .

Jeff looked at Cat’s back. Her shoulders raised and lowered as if she was breathing hard. Upset? Angry? He told himself he didn’t care and yet he had an odd urge to draw her into his arms. He told himself his reaction was to the powerful lyrics, but he found himself frowning. What the hell was going on here?

This time both Rick and Maria cleared their throats, bringing Jeff back to reality. Well, that performance most likely killed the whole duet idea. Good. Problem solved.

Right?

“That blew my mind,” Rick said, drawing Jeff’s attention. “I mean, wow, man. Sorry to be so blunt, but . . .
holy shit
.”

Cat whirled around as well. She glanced at Jeff with a total I-blame-this-on-you slight narrowing of her eyes.

Rick turned to Maria, who was dabbing at the corners of her eyes. Good God, they’d reduced her to tears? Did this really just happen? “Thoughts, Maria?”

“I totally agree.” Maria swallowed hard and then gave them a shaky smile. “Pardon me for saying so, but I think holy shit says it all.”

“We could run through it again,” Cat offered and then gave Jeff another glare. “Can’t we, Jeff?”

“S-sure.” Jeff nodded but returned her glare with a this-totally-wasn’t-my-fault stare down.

“You think you can top that performance?” Rick asked. “I’m already blown away.”

“Top it?” Jeff asked hesitantly and then it hit him. They’d liked it. He heard Cat suck in a breath and he glanced her way. She was frowning as if confused.

“That edgy, hard-hitting version was super unexpected,” Maria admitted. “But the emotion was raw and powerful and quite frankly took my lyrics to a new level. But that’s what music is all about. Touching you with fierce emotion and you two have it in spades. Chemistry. Explosive.” She raised her hands skyward. “Boom!”

Jeff looked at Cat, who seemed a bit stunned.

“The question is, can you capture that same emotion again?” Rick wanted to know.