“Sunday’s a long way off.” He rose and reached out his hand. “Let’s get breakfast. I’m starving.”
She made no move to take his hand. “If you prefer, we could go to your church?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Then it’s settled,” she said with satisfaction. “We’ll go to mine.”
An expletive slipped past his lips.
Her eyes widened. “Am I to take that to mean you don’t want to go?”
“You got it,” he said.
“You say you’re a believer, yet you don’t want to go to church. I guess I don’t understand where you’re coming from,” she said, half to herself. Her gaze lingered on his hair before dropping to his tattoo.
She paused. “Tell me something, Crow. Do you believe that as a Christian you should follow God’s law?”
“I know I should be going to church, if that’s what you mean.”
She laughed, a husky throaty laugh. “That’s part of it. But there’s more to it than that. Come on, just humor me.”
He plopped down in the chair. It looked like breakfast was going to have to wait. “You mean like the ten commandments?”
“Yes, like the commandments.”
Crow thought quickly, not sure he wanted to get into a religious discussion. But he decided the question was more philosophical in nature. “If you’re asking if I see things as black and white, in absolutes, the answer is no.”
Sara raised a brow. “Are you saying that sometimes it’s okay to kill? Or to…or lust after your neighbor’s wife?”
Her expression remained impassive, but her gaze was sharp with interest.
Crow hadn’t set foot in a church in several years. It had been even longer since he’d thought about the commandments. His answer obviously hadn’t been what she’d expected. But he’d never been one to tell a woman something just because she wanted to hear it.
“If you’re asking if I would ever make a play for a married woman, the answer is no.” Lusting after someone’s wife had never occurred to him. As a little boy, he didn’t understand what “covet” meant, and as an adult he respected marriage vows too much to ever let his thoughts go in that direction.
“But in terms of killing, I’m a bodyguard. Why would I carry a gun if I wouldn’t use it?” He paused. “Don’t get me wrong. I think the commandments are a good way to live. And other than killing, I think most can be regarded as absolutes.”
“Even stealing?”
He could tell she regretted asking the question the minute the words left her lips. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t want to prolong the discussion, either. A little bit went a long way on an empty stomach. Thankfully she’d given him an easy question this time. A plate of ham and eggs were as good as his.
“Stealing?” He met her gaze head-on. “That’s easy. If a person’s survival were at stake, I might be able to excuse it. Other than that I can’t see where stealing would ever be justified.”
I can’t see where stealing would ever be justified.
Sara told herself if Crow knew why she’d originally started stealing money from her mother’s boyfriends, he would understand. After all, her fear of being homeless had been a powerful motivation. But it was that last forty dollars that even Sara found hard to justify. Because what she’d done went beyond stealing. It was pure selfishness. Pure vanity and greed had led her to steal. And because of it, she’d nearly killed her own mother.
The events of the morning haunted her thoughts and she found it difficult to concentrate at breakfast. But thankfully once she reached the studio and shut the door to the isolation booth, she was able to block everything out but the music.
Though Crow had wanted to be with her in the studio, she was glad she’d insisted he wait in the lobby. It was hard to concentrate when he was around. This album was too important, and the last thing she needed was to be distracted. After six hours of hard work, her producer told her he was convinced they had a good one.
Exhausted, Sara could only smile with relief. She loved to sing but the recording part sometimes got a bit intense. Her new CD was scheduled for a fall release and winning the Sheldon Award had only increased the pressure.
After thanking the musicians and backup singers, Sara grabbed her purse and headed over to where James stood. He rarely came to the studio when she was recording but she’d seen him slip into the production booth toward the end of the session.
“That sounded great,” James said, brushing a kiss across her cheek.
“You think it’ll be good?”
“It’ll be fabulous.” His voice was filled with confidence. “I don’t know why you’re so worried. This is your third album, not your first.”
“Yes, but my fans expect more now.” The sick feeling in the pit of Sara’s stomach that had been there earlier returned. “A bad album could ruin it all.”
“It’s not going to be bad,” James said. “And even so, worst-case scenario, one bad album won’t destroy your career.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” he said, meeting her gaze. His expression softened at the worry she knew must be in her eyes. “Just remember, more careers are destroyed by bad press than by one bad album.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It should,” James said. “You’ve got a great reputation, both personally and professionally. I know you’ve heard me say it a thousand times but I’ll say it again. Image is everything. You can bounce back from a few mediocre songs, but ruin that reputation and you could be out for good.”
“What happened to good old-fashioned Christian forgiveness?” Sara forced a lighthearted laugh.
“People are funny.” James paused for a moment. “They’ll forgive friends and family, but if their heroes disappoint them, they can be vicious.”
“Vicious, eh?” Sara widened her eyes in mock surprise. “I hope they never turn on me.”
“Why would they?” A warm fondness reflected in James’s gaze. “You’re as good as they come. Practically perfect.”
If he only knew.
“What if I wasn’t?” Sara lifted her gaze. Was it finally time to come clean? Her heart pounded in her chest and she resisted the urge to wipe her damp palms against her dress. “Perfect, I mean?”
She’d never planned to withhold information from James. Ever since he’d taken over as her publicist, she’d wanted to be straight with him. But what would he say if he knew the truth?
James stared at her for a long moment. Suddenly he laughed. “You’re good. For a second you really had me going.”
She swallowed hard. “I did?”
“For one wild instant I actually thought you had a deep dark secret that you hadn’t told me.” His arm stole around her shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that.”
This was her cue to laugh and toss off some remark that the only deep dark secret she had was that she used to practice singing with a toy microphone in front of the mirror. But she couldn’t bring herself to speak, much less laugh.