Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel)

by Coulter, Brenda

  Jeb's mouth twitched, but his amusement was both faint and fleeting. "Pastor Jerry said something like that."

  He'd met the head pastor of Laney's church just a few hours earlier, when Laney had introduced them after the worship service. On learning that Jeb was a new Christian with a lot of questions, Pastor Jerry DeSantis had offered to speak with him in private. Laney had quickly excused herself, and Pastor Jerry had clapped a fatherly hand on Jeb's shoulder and led him away.

  Jeb hadn't even flinched at the unexpected touch. Clutching her Bible to her chest as she stood staring after them, Laney had been so overcome by wonder and gratitude that she'd ended up dashing to the ladies' room for a handful of tissues to mop up her tears.

  "I didn't understand until just now," Jeb continued in a low voice. "Thank you."

  Laney nodded, then drank some coffee to ease the sudden swelling in her throat.

  Childish laughter rang out behind them, and Laney immediately looked over her shoulder. She heard Jeb's amused snort and ignored it. Could she help it if small children drew her attention like magnets?

  On the other side of the park road, a little girl who appeared to be three or four years old was frolicking with a huge dog. While an older couple, perhaps her grandparents, sat on a bench and watched with fond smiles, the child threw a spindly leg over the dog's back, mounting it like a pony.

  "Go dis way, Benny!" she urged, flattening herself against her pet's back and tugging on its left ear. "Go dis way!"

  The dog carefully lowered himself to the ground. When the girl sat up and nudged his flanks with her tiny heels, "Benny" turned his head and regarded her with patient curiosity.

  Remembering Jenna's shower, Laney checked her watch and then got to her feet. "Come on, Jeb. I need to get home."

  He rose, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the little girl. Laney tapped his left elbow to get his attention.

  "Oh," he said brightly, turning toward her, his eyes round with fake innocence. "Do you want me to go dis way?"

  Laney laughed and gave him a playful shove.

  They dropped their coffee cups in a trash receptacle and walked home in an easy silence, Jeb slowing his steps as usual to accommodate Laney's much shorter stride.

  When they reached Mulberry Street and Mrs. Lindstrom's charred house came into view, Laney shuddered and looked up at Jeb.

  He wasn't looking at the house, but straight ahead, and he was smiling broadly enough to reveal his dimple.

  "Share," Laney demanded.

  He chuckled. "That little girl and that poor dog. It was like watching a video of you and me."

  "Oh, stop." Laney did her best to kill a grin. "You might have given me a piggyback ride once or twice, but I'm sure I never kicked you in the ribs to hurry you along."

  "Maybe not," he said, amusement still lurking in his eyes. "But you know I wouldn't have objected. You were the princess and I was your devoted slave."

  Stopping on the sidewalk in front of her house, at the very spot where their friendship had begun all those years ago, Laney gazed soberly up at him.

  "The princess was equally devoted, Jeb. She still is."

  His smile turned disturbingly wistful. "Do you still have that tiara? And the blue dress?"

  Laney nodded. "Mom packed the whole costume away years ago. She was saving it for her granddaughters."

  "I wish she could have lived to see you with children." Jeb's voice had gone husky.

  "Yes. " Hit hard by a wave of longing for her mother, Laney squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't sure what happened after that, whether she'd reached blindly for Jeb or whether he'd been the one to move, but suddenly she was in his arms and it was right, so very right.

  And then it was even more right, because he whispered her name and slid his warm fingers under her chin to lift her face. She opened her eyes, and they gazed at each other for a long, perfect moment. Then he lowered his head and—

  Abruptly let her go and stepped back.

  Laney nearly stamped her foot in frustration.

  A rueful smile lifted one corner of Jeb's mouth. "I just realized we're standing directly opposite Mrs. Schultz's kitchen window. Didn't you say Mrs. Lindstrom is staying with her?"

  "Oops." Laney's hand flew to her mouth and she giggled behind it. "I'll bet her nose is pressed against the glass right this min—" She broke off as a gleaming silver Cadillac glided past them and pulled into Jeb's driveway. "Who's that?" she asked.

  "No idea."

  The vehicle stopped. The driver's door opened. A pair of outrageously long, slim, tanned female legs slid into view.

  Jeb groaned.

  Laney glanced up and saw his expression darken like a sky filling with thunderclouds. "Who is it?" she asked again.

  "Shari Daltry."

  He sounded about as pleased as Laney felt at tax time when her accountant gave her the bad news, so she figured the woman must be from the media. Yet Jeb avoided those people, and would never have invited one to interview him in Owatonna. So why wasn't he throwing an arm around Laney's shoulders and hustling toward the privacy of his house or her own?

  The woman emerged from the Cadillac and balanced gracefully on her mile-high legs, which rose from a chunky pair of shoes with the tallest heels Laney had ever seen. She wore a black leather jacket and the merest suggestion of a skirt, and when she flipped back her luscious auburn hair, Laney saw red.

  The fashionable female had spotted Jeb and was staring at him in the determined way of an ex-girlfriend come to reclaim her man.

  "Laney." Jeb spoke softly, but with obvious agitation. "Go inside."

  "No way," she muttered. She wasn't proud of her jealousy, but he had almost kissed her a minute ago, and her emotions were still in overdrive. So she wasn't going anywhere until she found out exactly what he had to say to this woman who'd chased him all the way to Owatonna.

  Fixing a bland expression on her face, she endeavored to keep her lips from moving as she lowered her voice and asked, "So who's Shari Sultry?"

  "Shari Daltry," Jeb corrected without a hint of amusement. "My manager."

  His manager. Of course. Why had she assumed Jeb would have a doughy, middle-aged, male manager like all the other rock stars?

  The woman closed her car door and continued to stare expectantly at Jeb. He didn't budge, so she stepped onto the sidewalk and headed their way.

  "Laney," Jeb said tightly. "Please go in the house."

  Throwing him a mutinous look that he failed to catch because his gaze was locked on the other woman, Laney folded her arms and stayed right where she was. If he wanted to have a private conversation with the person at the end of those freakishly long legs, he was going to have to make a proper introduction and then ask Laney to excuse him.

  Hey, she didn't make the rules. It was basic etiquette.

  "Hello, Jackson," the woman purred as she neared them.

  "Shari." His voice was hard enough to slice diamonds. "What are you doing here?"

  "Sightseeing." Coming to a stop a few feet away, she swept Laney from head to toe with an insolent look. "And I can't say I'm all that impressed with Minnesota."

  Mortified, Laney snatched Jeb's knit cap off her head and stuffed it into a pocket of her vest. As she hastily finger-fluffed her curls, she hoped the blush heating her cheeks would be taken for windburn.

  "Why are you here?" Jeb rumbled.

  "I came to see if you were writing songs or just—" Flicking another glance at Laney, her lips curled in derision. "—wasting time."

  Jeb's jaw flexed, and Laney instinctively touched his arm to settle his temper. He looked down at her, his harsh features instantly softening in the way she knew so well. But then he shocked her by grasping her shoulders and hauling her against him. And right there in full view of the rude woman and Mrs. Lindstrom, whose nose was no doubt glued to Mrs. Schultz's kitchen window, he lowered his head and claimed Laney's lips in a soft, achingly sweet kiss.

  It couldn't have lasted more than four
seconds, but it thrilled Laney right down to her toes, which were barely touching the ground. And when Jeb set her down and steadied her on her feet before letting go, she stared dazedly into his silvery eyes and read some very exciting promises there.

  "Alrighty, then." She hardly recognized the breathless, high-pitched voice as her own. "I'll just wait for you inside, Jeb, okay?" She aimed a dreamy smile in the general direction of his manager and completely forgot to excuse herself before turning toward the house.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jeb bit back a grin as Laney walked away with the cutest little swing to her step.

  Kissing her had been a crazy impulse, and he could hardly believe he'd done it in front of Shari and probably in full view of Mrs. Lindstrom. But she'd been jealous just now, and while that had caused the most primitive part of Jeb's brain to hum with masculine satisfaction, he'd moved quickly to reassure her.

  She was falling in love with him, and he was beginning to think that might not be such a terrible thing. Granted, he didn't deserve her and he never would. But he loved her and he understood her, and that had to count for something.

  He'd done some heavy thinking and praying since Wednesday night, when he'd told her about his conversion, and it had paid off. Just a little while ago, the jangling in his head had suddenly ceased and he had become aware of having made two very good decisions: one about the band and one about Laney.

  "She's not much to look at," Shari commented.

  Laney was beautiful, inside and out, but Jeb wasn't going to discuss her with Shari. He propped his fisted hands on his hips and waited for his manager to get to the point of this unwelcome intrusion.

  "Are you coming back?" she asked.

  Looking straight into her eyes, he slowly shook his head.

  Her lips pinched together and her eyes glinted, but she said nothing.

  "I was planning to call you and the guys tonight," Jeb said. "And first thing tomorrow, I'm calling my attorney to see what my legal options and obligations are."

  Shari made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "We beat the odds, Jackson. With the third record and this last tour, Skeptical Heart has built up some serious momentum. If you quit now, there's no second chance. It will take the fans this long—" She snapped her fingers in his face. "—to forget you."

  "I know. But I don't think God wants me to go back to Skeptical Heart."

  Stepping closer and fingering the zippered edge of his open jacket, Shari tilted her head to one side and lowered her voice to a seductive purr. "God wants you to be successful, Jackson."

  He couldn't believe she was making a move on him. But she probably didn't have any ideas left.

  He calmly removed her hand from his jacket. "Maybe God's definition of success isn't what you think, Shari."

  Her eyes flashed. "What am I supposed to tell the guys?"

  "If they want to go on," Jeb said with quiet assurance, "they'll have to do it without me."

  "Skeptical Heart can't go on without you," she grated out. "You own the trademark, remember?"

  That was one of the things he meant to speak to his attorney about. Skeptical Heart was, in every sense, his band. He'd formed it and he'd chosen its name and he'd registered the trademark. But he wanted to be fair to Taylor, Matt, Sean, and Aaron, who had worked their tails off to make the band a success.

  If he signed his rights over to the guys, they could replace him and probably retain a large portion of Skeptical Heart's fan base. But wouldn't it be a mistake to offer that kind of assistance to a band that would continue to mock the faith Jeb had so recently embraced?

  He shoved his spread fingers through his hair and sighed. "Look, Shari, I haven't got it all worked out yet. Don't tell the guys about my decision. They deserve to hear it from me, and like I said, I plan to call them tonight. As for the other stuff, I should be able to tell you something in a few days."

  Her nostrils flared, but she spoke in a moderate tone. "This is not an insurmountable problem, Jackson. You handled that last show just fine, changing those lyrics that you suddenly found so offensive. Nobody objected to that. So you could write a couple of God songs, nothing too blatant, and slip them in with the rest. Other bands have done it, and if it's handled carefully, the fans will hardly notice. So—"

  "No." How many times did she need to be told that his new faith had radically changed his heart and mind? "I'm a different man now. I can't just pull on a 'Jesus Rocks' T-shirt and go back to—"

  "Let me finish," she insisted, halting him with a raised hand. "We'll have your publicist put it out that you've had a spiritual awakening. And then—"

  "I said no."

  "So you're going to throw it all away!" Shari flung out her arms and let them fall back to her sides, her palms noisily slapping her thighs. "Everything we've worked for. You don't want it, but you're not going to let us have it, either. Is that it, Jackson?"

  "No, that's not it," he said wearily. "I don't want to hurt anybody. I'm just trying to do what's right."

  "For yourself," she retorted. "Excuse me, but I thought Christians were supposed to care about other people more than themselves. But this is all about you, isn't it, Jackson?"

  "You shouldn't have come here," he said.

  She jerked a shoulder in irritation. "My brother's getting married in some tiny town on the northern border of Iowa, and it was easiest to fly into Minneapolis. And I had to drive right past Owatonna."

  Compassion overtook Jeb's annoyance and he nodded. "I guess you had to give it a shot. But I've got nothing for you, Shari. I'm sorry."

  She just looked at him for a moment. Then without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back to her rental car.

  As Jeb watched the Cadillac back out of his driveway, Taylor's words echoed in his head: If you get off this merry-go-round, the ride's over for all of us. You know that.

  The Caddy's tires squealed as Shari gunned it down Mulberry Street.

  Jeb sighed. He'd been hoping to find a way to soften the blow of his defection from the band. But if a guy was earnestly trying to please God, and if certain other people believed that guy's devotion was wrecking their own plans, maybe those people ought to take that up with God.

  So that was it. He was off the merry-go-round. Feeling pounds lighter, he jogged around to the back of Laney's house and bounded up her porch steps.

  "It's open," she called when he rapped on the kitchen door.

  He entered and found her seated at the table, her board-straight back facing the window from where she might have observed him and Shari, had she pressed her nose to the glass and looked toward the street. He knew she hadn't done it—his Laney was no snoop. But considering how transparently jealous she'd been out there on the sidewalk, she must have been tempted.

  She was pretending to read her newspaper, and when she turned a page with exaggerated indifference, Jeb had to swallow a laugh. It was rotten of him, but he was thrilled by her prickly reaction to Shari's visit. This show of jealousy confirmed it: Laney was beginning to care about him in an exciting new way.

  She'd lost her confidence out there, and Jeb hadn't thought twice before laying that reassuring kiss on her. It had seemed to do the trick, but it had apparently worn off after she'd come inside. Alone in her kitchen, determinedly not facing that window, she had gone right back to wondering and worrying.

  Hey, no problem. If her confidence required additional bolstering, Jeb was her man. She could have as many of his kisses as she needed. Now that God accepted him, there was no reason he couldn't offer himself to Laney.

  But right now she needed to talk, so he sat down beside her and waited for her to begin.

  "So that's your manager." She closed the newspaper and then straightened the edges and folded it with great care. "She's beautiful."

  "No, she isn't." Jeb scooted closer and laid his arm across the back of her chair, cupping her shoulder with his palm. "Not in any way that matters."

  While the rigid line of her back h
adn't softened at his touch, at least she didn't shrug away from him. Her gaze remained fixed on the neatly folded paper as her pretty eyebrows rose and the shoulder beneath Jeb's hand twitched, conveying an adorably desperate nonchalance. He knew what was coming, and he had to mash his lips together to hold back an exultant laugh.

  "Was she your girlfriend?"

  "No," he managed with a straight face.

  "No?" She was nibbling that thumbnail again, and Jeb's amusement swiftly died.

  "No," he repeated. "There has never been anything between Shari and me but business."

  She turned her head and looked into his eyes. "Then why didn't you introduce us?"

  "I didn't want you exposed to her nastiness. She's been under a lot of stress lately, and her temper gets out of hand. As a matter of fact, the last time I saw her, she threw a glass of whiskey in my face."

  "So you were trying to protect me." Irritation flared in the China-blue eyes so close to his own. "I know Mom expected a lot from you, Jeb, but you can stop shielding me now. I'm not a kid anymore."

  "Believe me," he drawled, "I am very aware of that."

  "Are you?" she demanded. "Because that's not what it feels like to me. You're still pulling a curtain over a huge part of your life because you're terrified that the pampered princess might be tainted by—"

  "Yes." He stared at her, baffled by her irritation. "Yes, I've shielded you from the unsavory parts of my life. Yes, I was trying to protect you from Shari's caustic tongue out there. But come on, Laney." He tried to pull her into a hug, but she resisted. She was still looking at him, though, so he went on. "You've always been good at understanding, and I really need you to understand now. This new life isn't easy for me. I'm trying to get it right, but I'm confused about a lot of things. So if I messed up, I'm sorry."

  Her stiff shoulders suddenly relaxed. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me lately." Sliding down in her chair, she pillowed her head on the crook of his arm and stared at the ceiling. "You think people who have been Christians for a long time have it all figured out, don't you? You think we never do or say stupid things. But that couldn't be further from the truth, Jeb. Just look at me."