That Carrington Magic

chapter 11



After breakfast the next morning, Jami went with Nell and Toby to pick berries as part of Toby’s supervised KP duty. Nell showed them the berry patch at the rear of the garden, where strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries grew profusely. Jami instructed Toby how to pick the berries without getting pricked or squishing the berries, and he caught on quickly, filling his basket faster than his mother or Nell.

“Mine’s full,” Toby announced, proudly displaying his harvest.

“Then you can help Nell fill hers.” Jami gestured to a shaded rock. “Please, sit your basket there so you don’t spill any.”

Toby obeyed and skipped between bushes to join the elderly woman now bedecked in a pink ribbon trimmed straw hat. Nell stooped to search a raspberry bush for the ripe, easy-off-the-bush berries as the boy reached her side. Jami watched them with a smile as she knelt to pluck juicy red strawberries for her own basket. She knew it was good for her son to interact with Nell and Homer. She wanted him to grow up with respect and admiration for older people, even though he had no grandparents or great-grandparents of his own. All the lectures in the world couldn’t compare to a dose of one-on-one experiences, she decided as Toby’s giggles merged with Nell’s tittering chuckles.

“How’s it going?” Grant asked, moving up behind Jami with a silent tread.

“Fine,” Jami replied, hiding the fact that his arrival had disconcerted her. She stood, turning from the strawberry vines to face him. “I think Toby is enjoying his KP duty.”

“The kid has character. He could be pouting, instead he’s treating it as an adventure.” Grant studied Toby as the boy put a handful of berries into Nell’s basket. “You ought to be proud of your son.”

“I am.” Jami’s heart swelled as she followed Grant’s gaze to see her little boy assist Nell and carry the basket. A laugh escaped Jami’s lips. “The real test will come tomorrow afternoon when Toby’s assigned to shuck corn.”

“Does he know how?” Grant asked, sweeping her hair off her neck and triggering a tantalizing sensation at his warm touch against her suddenly exposed skin.

“Toby hasn’t a clue. The only time he’s ever eaten corn on the cob was here at the lodge, and he’s never seen a cornstalk.” Jami forced herself to concentrate on the conversation and not the way Grant’s fingers danced along the nape of her neck. “I should have worn a ponytail.”

“It’d be a shame to confine your beautiful hair.”

“I’d be cooler.” Jami shook her hair free, strands rippling through his fingers as he slowly removed his hand. “I didn’t see Raven at breakfast this morning. I hope she wasn’t afraid of another frog scene.” Her gaze locked on him, watching for any telltale sign.

“She probably slept late,” he replied just as casually, neither his face nor his body language revealing a thing.

Memories of her ex-husband’s smooth lies slammed Jami like a tidal wave. Her survival instinct warned her to armor her heart against this other womanizer, while she still could escape. Grant’s warm strong hand clasped hers, entwining their fingers as he smiled down at her. Despite herself, Jami smiled back. Maybe it was already too late.

“Mom, Nell’s basket is full to the top. Do you need us to help you?” Toby asked, bouncing between berry bushes to halt beside her at the strawberry patch.

Jami glanced down at the wicker basket she held in her free hand. “No, mine’s loaded. Let’s get these berries back to Becca.”

Toby started to retrieve his basket from the rock, but skidded to a stop. “Hey, look at that!”

“A mountain bluebird,” Grant informed them quietly as they watched a petite azure bird perched on the rim of Toby’s basket peck cautiously at the berries.

Suddenly the bluebird cocked its head to watch them. A flutter of blue wings and it was gone. “We frightened it,” Jami whispered, disappointed to see the lovely bird fly away.

“I didn’t know bluebirds liked blackberries,” Nell commented, taking her own basket back from Toby as he picked up his.

“I’ll get that for you, Mrs. B.” Grant released Jami’s hand and took charge of Nell’s basket, and grasped the wobbly woman’s elbow to assist her over the uneven ground.

“Thank you, dear.” Nell tipped the wide brim of her straw hat back off her crinkled face to peer up at Grant. “I thought you had things to do this morning.”

“What things?” Toby quizzed, skipping between the adults as they headed toward the patio entrance to the Garden Room.

“Collecting our camping gear for one thing.” Grant steadied Nell, slowing nearly to a stop as he helped the elderly woman take the patio steps one at a time.

Jami was thankful to see the area back to normal, not a soap bubble in sight. The clear water of the hot tub churned and steamed, chlorination penetrating the fresh mountain air.

“I thought we’d leave about one-thirty and take the motorboat across the lake to our campsite. Sound reasonable?” Grant asked, as Nell scurried away from him to enter the French doors behind Toby.

Unable to avoid the subject any longer, Jami felt rising panic as her gaze met Grant’s. She swallowed hard. “Fine.”

“You’re afraid to go camping with me, aren’t you?” Grant reached up to twist a coppery lock of hair between his fingers as he stared deep into her eyes, mesmerizing her.

“Why should I be?” she asked, jutting her chin in the air.

“Good question.” Grant smiled, taking her basket to slide it on his arm next to Nell’s. “Are you scared of me, or concerned that Toby the Terror will sabotage the trip?”

“Why would Toby ruin our camp-out? He’s thrilled at the chance to go camping!”

“But he’s not thrilled about us.” Grant stroked her cheekbone, then skimmed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Us?” Jami echoed, knowing she sounded naïve as she fought the shiver of delight his touch sparked.

“Your son thinks that you’ll ignore him, if you and I are...” Grant paused, a wicked glint in the midnight blue of his eyes. “An item.”

“He’s just protective of his mom,” she defended, stiffening her spine, and her resolve, as she stepped back from Grant.

“It’s more than that.” His expression clouded, deep lines carved around his mouth as he shook his head. “Toby gets upset when I’m with you.”

“There’s nothing for Toby to be concerned about.” Jami recalled the talk she’d had with Toby about his friend Dustin, who felt neglected when his mother remarried. She knew Toby worried about the same thing happening with them, but it never would. Still, the child was too young to understand that fact.

“We know there’s nothing for Toby to worry about, but he doesn’t.” Grant’s words pierced Jami’s heart. Why did it hurt when he stated the blunt truth about their lack of a real relationship? After all, this was only a sham. Just an advertising promotion and nothing more. Grant accepted it. So why couldn’t she?

Right after lunch, Grant met Jami and Toby on the dock where they helped him load the camping supplies and equipment into the motorboat.

“That’s everything,” Grant said, his muscles rippling as he hefted the rolled sleeping bags into the boat next to Jami’s feet.

“Wow, we need lots of stuff to camp,” Toby exclaimed, rummaging through the equipment and supplies.

“Is this all there is?” Jami asked, feeling exactly the opposite of her son as she stared at the pile of items, the sleeping bags, cooler, along with a myriad of other items so had no clue about.

Grant laughed, pointing things out. “The tent poles collapse and fold, as does the tent. The bags are the new compact lightweight type. The pans and mess kits are also designed to pack efficiently, just like the rest of the things. Food supplies are the heaviest, and we don’t need much.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Jami skeptically eyed the pile.

“Yes.” After untying the ropes to cast off, Grant started the engine with a rumble. “And a lantern and flashlight. I used to be a Boy Scout, so I’m always prepared.”

Jami ignored the double meaning Grant injected into always prepared and concentrated on refastening Toby’s orange life jacket. The motorboat cut through the water, fine spray misting her as they zoomed toward the far side of the lake.

Hair blew into her face, so she pulled the unruly mass of waves back with one hand, her other hand clutching the side of the boat as the craft bumpily zipped across the lake. They sped toward the far shore, Jami’s pulse quickening as the motorboat slowed to a crawl and then stopped.

The camping trip was now a reality with no turning back. They had arrived.

Tasting the lake spray as she bit her bottom lip, she forced herself to stop the nervous habit and concentrate on keeping Toby from launching off the deck before Grant could ground the bow of the boat. “Hey, tiger,” Jami said, grabbing her son’s arm. “Hang on until we hear Grant’s ‘go ahead.’”

“But I want to help him.”

“Slugger, get on and off the boat when I say.” Barely covered by tank shirt and cut-offs, Grant’s powerful bronzed body rippled from exertion as he steadied the grounded boat and hauled it ashore with Jami, Toby, and the gear still in it. “You’ll help me best by following the rules.”

“Too many rules,” Toby grumbled. The child’s frown swiftly curved into a grin. “Can I help unload our camping gear?”

“Depend on it, partner.”

Stepping carefully off the boat with her own tote bag, Jami’s sneakered feet squished through the shallows as she padded up to the dry bank. There she stood, frozen in place, questioning her decision to camp as she watched Grant Carrington. She tried not to stare at the corded, bulging play of gleaming muscles as Grant bent, twisted, and lifted to transfer the pile of camping gear on shore, out of reach of the undulating lake waters. He emitted a raw, powerful masculinity that called to Jami on a sexual level, yet at the same time his gentle, caring friendship with Toby touched her heart.

“That’s all.” Toby proudly carried the last item to add it to the collection of camping gear.

“Good job.” Grant reached down to ruffle Toby’s hair, then waved toward a forested area of blue spruce. “Now we can carry it to our camp site over there.”

“In the midst of trees?” Jami asked, staring at the woods Grant had indicated. “I don’t see a clearing.”

“You will once you enter the trees.” Grant tucked camping gear under one arm and two sleeping bags under another. “Toby, grab some things and let’s go.”

Toby lifted the other sleeping bag, lugging it as he bounded after Grant between the towering evergreens. Jami switched her tote strap to her left shoulder, enabling her to also carry a Coleman lantern and a blue satchel as she followed the other two into the woods.

There, ringed by the magnificent spruce was a meadow as magical and unexpected as a fairytale. Jami gasped in pleasure at the dazzling carpet of wild flowers, threaded by a gurgling brook. Alongside the frosted blue-green needled evergreens stood a grove of delicate aspen, the slim, white-barked trunks topped by lacy branches of quivering silvery leaves. “It’s beautiful!”

“Yes, isn’t it?” Grant agreed, satisfaction written upon his face. He deposited the bags, then unfolded a tarp, spreading it over the ground in a patch of shade.

“Aren’t we bringing the rest of the stuff?” Toby asked, dropping his booty next to Grant’s.

“Certainly, but I thought I’d set up a place to stash everything first.” Grant appeared to be setting up a diminutive tepee-shaped tent on top of the tarp.

“Does somebody sleep in that?” Toby asked, eyeing the tiny tent skeptically.

“No. It’s an old pup tent. We can keep our gear and supplies inside it.” Grant’s gaze slid from Toby to Jami and back again. “Homer loaned us a three-man tent. With the three of us sleeping inside, that won’t leave room for all our camping paraphernalia.”

“The three of us?” Jami demanded, turning to Grant after depositing the lantern and satchel by the sleeping bags. “I’m not sharing a tent with you!”

“There were no other tents available.” Grant’s face hardened into chiseled granite as he glanced over at her. “So, you don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t I?” She pointed at the pup tent. “You can sleep in there.”

“No way.” Grant snapped the canvas flap back to open the tent door. “I’m sleeping in a modern dome tent with leg room and netting for air circulation.” He waved at Toby. “Want to grab some more stuff to haul back here, slugger?”

“Sure, Grant.” Toby skipped out of the clearing, oblivious to the friction between the adults.

Grant crossed to Jami, placing his hands on her shoulders and gazing intently at her. “You’re perfectly safe sharing a tent with me. Toby can place his bag in the middle between us.”

“I will not share a tent with you.” Jami pressed her lips together and glared back at Grant, pretending he didn’t affect her one bit.

“Then you can sleep in the pup tent.”

“Fine.” Jami glanced at the ancient, pint-size tent and swallowed hard. “No problem.”

“That’s what you think.” Grant strode over to the pup tent and motioned Jami forward. “Go on, check your sleeping quarters.”

She bent to stick her head inside, noting that the air within the interior of the tent was already warm and stuffy. The tent seams were thin and fraying, several stitches pulled and the side-end poles dented. Assailed by a sense of claustrophobia, Jami didn’t feel confident about the pup tent or its sturdiness as a shelter. Still, people had used the things for years.

“It’ll be fine,” she reiterated, popping out quickly to inhale the breeze-freshened mountain air.

“Right.” Grant’s lips curved up into a cocky grin, fine lines crinkling around his eyes as if he barely restrained his laughter. “You’ll be real comfortable.” He took the modern, compactly parceled dome tent out of Toby’s arms as the child screeched to a stop beside him. “Thanks, partner. Let’s pitch our tent.”

“You do that,” Jami retorted, tossing her tote bag inside the pup tent.

It seemed to Jami that Grant raised the bright turquoise and emerald geodesic dome tent within seconds. It had a zippered doorway, plus gray mesh areas for airflow and bug protection and its own flooring. She watched Grant show Toby all the conveniences and wondered if she’d made the wrong choice. Their tent was much more comfortable and secure than hers.

As if catching her thought, Grant turned to Jami. “Ready to change your mind and join us?”

“In your dreams,” she replied, her chin high.

“Possibly,” Grant growled for her ears alone, those midnight eyes full of amusement, and something more.

“Wow,” Toby cried, bursting in and out of the tent doorway. “This is cool! Mom, you ought to sleep with me and Grant. Your tent is yucky.”

“Who says?” Jami laughed, mussing her son’s hair already tousled from the boat ride. Her own must be a tangled mess. She tried to finger-comb it, but her fingers snagged on knotted tendrils. Leaving the guys to store the camping gear and supplies, she crawled into the pup tent to get her hairbrush from her bag.

“Where did Mom go?” Toby suddenly asked, his big brown eyes gazing around the clearing uncertainly when he popped back out of the dome tent.

Grant paused, scanning the area. “Probably checking out her tent.”

“Why does Mom want to sleep in there?” Toby asked pointing at the pup tent. “Instead of with us?”

“Females are mysterious creatures.” Grant carried a knapsack of supplies into the dome tent as Toby trailed behind. “I’d tell you that you’ll understand them better when you grow up—but figuring out women doesn’t work that way. As matter of fact, it just gets worse.”

“It does?”

“Definitely.” Grant grinned at the youngster who knelt to play with a green metal and glass lantern, turning the key to raise and lower the wick. “Believe me, partner. It just gets tougher.”

“Can we light this?” Toby asked, lifting his freckled face up to Grant.

“Later. If we need to when it gets dark.”

The boy sniffed the lantern, wrinkling his nose. “Why does it smell funny?”

“Kerosene oil. The fuel that makes it burn.” Grant placed the lantern out of the way. “Don’t fool around with it, okay?”

“Okay. Hey, we don’t have a stove.” Toby sifted through the pile of camping gear. “How do we cook?”

“We build a campfire.”

“Cool.”

They both glanced up to see Jami silhouetted by bright sunlight in the tent doorway.

“Grant, where’s the restroom?”

His grin broadened. “Across the lake by the picnic area.”

“I’m serious.” Jami’s hands rested on her hips as she stared at Grant.

“So am I.”

“Why didn’t you warn me that we’d be camping under such primitive conditions?” she demanded, dismay clouding her wide amber eyes.

“Camping is primitive.” Laughter coating his words, Grant tried to stand, but his cocked head nearly brushed the tent top.

“Mom, Grant showed me where there’s toilet paper in the bag in the corner,” Toby volunteered, still fiddling with the lantern. “Isn’t camping great? With no bathroom, I won’t even have to brush my teeth or wash my hands!”

“We don’t have to get that primitive,” Grant said, this time laughing out loud. “We have some water purifier for the lake water, and we brought along several gallons of bottled water.”

“No restroom,” Jami muttered, shaking her head. “Barbaric.”

“I wanted to bring you and Toby to someplace special.” Grant gestured at the idyllic mountain wilderness surrounding them. “Cheap motels have bathrooms, but only nature has this.”

“Nothing’s wrong with a few basic comforts.” Jami ducked inside to cross the canvas flooring of the tent and grab a roll of bathroom tissue.

“Where’s your pioneer spirit?” Grant challenged.

“In the toilet,” Jami tartly responded as she disappeared out the zipped-open doorway.

Grant watched her go, thinking how pretty she was with the swing of her curvy hips and those long shapely legs steering his thoughts into an unacceptable direction.

“Grant, which sleeping bag is mine?”

“Which one do you want?” Grant forced his thoughts back to the boy.

“This purple one.” Toby tugged the bottom bag from the pile. “They have sleeping bags like this in Zonar Galaxy.”

“Then it must be yours. Later we’ll unroll our sleeping bags. Do you think your mom prefers blue or green?” Grant asked, motioning to the remaining bags.

“Blue. That’s her favorite color. Like this bag.” Toby immediately dug into the blue satchel. “What’s in here?”

“The first-aid-kit, waterproof matches, sun block, and soap.”

“Oh,” Toby replied, dropping the satchel as if it contained nothing exciting. He unfastened an outside pocket of the knapsack. “What’s in this?”

“Flashlights, knife, deck of cards...” Grant began as Toby extracted a slim penlight, then pointed it directly at his eyes, flashing the beam on and off as he squinted.

Toby didn’t notice Grant’s discomfort. “Wow. This flashlight is just my size. Too bad it’s not purple.”

“Put it by your sleeping bag, and you can hang onto it for tonight. Okay?”

“Great!” Toby jumped up and threw his arms around Grant to give him a hug. “Thanks lots!”

“No problem.” Grant gave the boy a return squeeze, rocking back on his heels to grin down at Toby. Why did the child affect him so? “After dinner we can roast marshmallows.”

“Don’t you need ovens to roast things?”

“Not marshmallows. You just slide one onto the end of a stick and roast it over an open fire.”

“Sounds messy,” Jami declared, appearing in the tent opening.

“But delicious,” Grant countered. “Good things are worth the trouble.”

“Depends on how much trouble.” Jami’s gaze locked with his, electrifying the air between them.

Toby grabbed his toy boat, then darted past his mother and out of the tent, calling, “I’m going to float my boat in the water.”

“Be careful,” Jami automatically replied. She heard her son’s responding “Okay.” As he disappeared, she turned back to Grant. “I haven’t thanked you properly for carving him that boat. Toby really enjoys it.”

“This afternoon I should whittle a captain for it. Maybe we’ll even add a sail.” Grant seemed to fill the entire tent, forcing Jami to back away slightly.

“That’ll be...nice.” She watched Grant move toward her and suddenly her throat went dry. “I think I’ll put a sleeping bag in my tent now.”

“That’s not necessary. You can sleep in here with us.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” Jami blurted, one hand flying to her mouth as she realized what she’d said. At the same moment, she also realized it was untrue. Completely untrue.

“You don’t?” Grant drawled, his left brow cocked.

“Hey, Mom!” Toby hollered from outside.

“What, honey?” Jami grabbed the opportunity to flee from the disturbing proximity and rushed out into the sunlit meadow.

“I need a teeny motor for my boat to make it go real fast.” Toby stood holding his boat, the name RED painted on the carved pine sides.

“You don’t need a motor,” she replied, crossing the clearing to take the craft out of Toby’s hands. Jami knelt in the wild mountain grass beside the gurgling brook. “The current will make your boat float downstream.” She set the tiny craft in the water. It bobbed and dipped, then unsteadily drifted several yards before getting tangled in a clump of emerald green watercress.

“See, it gets stuck.” A scowl creased the boy’s freckle-spattered face as he gazed accusingly at his mother. “I need a motor.”

“How about a sail?” A shadow fell just as Grant’s deep voice startled Jami. Glancing up, she saw his large form blocking the sun. Amazing how the man could intimidate even Mother Nature, dominating this landscape as easily as he had the confined space of the tent.

“How do we make a sail?” Toby asked, using partially submerged rocks for stepping-stones as he retrieved his boat from the sparkling brook.

“Like this.” Grant strode toward the trees and stopped by a young pine. He slashed the trunk bark with his knife, releasing the sharp pungent odor, then scooped up a gooey transparent blob with the tip of his blade. “This is a pain to clean off my knife blade, partner. I’d only do it for you. Give me your boat.”

“Sure.” Toby handed the wooden craft to Grant, who applied the sticky goo to the inside of the boat in one big dab.

“Now we need a good stick. Let’s try that twig over there,” Grant said, pointing at a pile of brush, branches, and pine needles sprinkled with assorted pinecones. “That top twig, please.”

“This one?” Toby bounced to the pile and back as Jami watched, astonished by her son’s eagerness. Hadn’t the rascal been pouting a moment ago? She shook her head.

“Good job. Hold the boat while I shorten the stick.” The silver blade flashed in Grant’s sure bronze hands as he whittled it into a miniature pole. “We’ll use the sticking power of the pine sap to attach it to your boat. Think of it as nature’s glue.”

“Wow, you know all kinds of cool stuff!”

Grant looked pleased with the boy’s comment.

Toby held the craft still as Grant stuck the pole into the blob. “There, we have the mast, now we need a sail.”

“I know what,” Toby cried, darting past his mother to duck into the pup tent. Jami sidestepped her son to avoid a collision, wondering what he was getting out of her tent.

To her horror, she saw what her son thought was perfect for a sail. Cheeks aflame and overcome with embarrassment, Jami recognized the pink cotton bikini panties Toby waved proudly. “This will work great, huh, Grant?”

“Undies?” Grant’s deep rumbling laughter shattered the peaceful mountain quiet.

Jami wanted to slink behind the nearest tree. Mortified, she snapped her underwear out of Toby’s hand and marched back to the forlorn tepee, where she swooped inside to stuff the offending panties back into her tote bag. How could her son do such a thing? A least it wasn’t her bra, she reminded herself as a fresh wave of embarrassment washed over her. Maybe she should have had an angelic little girl, instead of Toby the Terrible? Truly, she wouldn’t trade her precious son for anything, but still, life would be much simpler if her rascal wasn’t so incorrigible.

“Mom? Was I supposed to asked permission first?” Toby asked, sheepishly popping his head into the pup tent as Grant’s laughter reverberated in the background.

Jami sighed. Her six-year-old had no clue of what he’d just done. “Maybe I can find you a handkerchief. That’ll make a much better sail.”

“Okay.”

She rummaged through her tote, discovering a white crochet-edged hanky in one of the pockets. The scent of her favorite rose sachet filled the air. “Here.” She jammed the hanky into her son’s hand. “This is much better.”

Toby bounded away. She heard him holler, “Mom says this will make a better sail. Will it?”

“I don’t know,” Grant drawled wickedly, “I kind of like the pink bikini.”

“Oh, you!” Jami scolded, blasting out of the pup tent and wishing she had something to fling at Grant, while her son sat cross-legged in the meadow trying to attach her hanky to the boat mast.

“What?” Grant teased, “Nothing to throw?”

“Huh?” She halted. How did he know she wanted to throw things at him? Her surprised gaze met Grant’s impudent stare, and he grinned.

“You should have brought along spike sandals and a silk dress for such emergencies, Red.” Grant’s smile deepened, laughter merrily creasing the lines around his eyes and mouth as he rubbed his jaw where she had once struck him with the department store box. “At least you could’ve remembered the box. You’re a good shot with that.”

“You’re impossible,” Jami muttered, her face hot with another blush. “You enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”

“I could torment you in a much sweeter manner,” Grant growled huskily, his eyes flaming midnight blue.

“No, thank you,” Jami primly replied, pressing her lips together to hide the trembling that threatened. “I think you have a sail to make.” She spun on her heels and marched away, trying not to think about Grant’s suggestive comment, or her son’s first choice for that sail. Jami left Grant and Toby tinkering with the toy boat. She wandered through the meadow, out between the towering evergreens and back to the lakeshore. There, she perched upon a granite boulder, cool mountain breezes caressing her as the August sun warmed her skin. Birds sang in the trees above as lake waters swirled around the huge rock, while insects hummed softly in the late afternoon sunshine. Watching a delicate hummingbird hover to sip from a wild orchid of pale lilac, Jami inhaled the fresh mountain air. A dragonfly droned past, its iridescent wings catching the sunlight. Grant had been right. This was a special place.

Grant silently moved up behind Jami, taking her off-guard as he wrapped his powerful arms around her to pull her against his hard chest. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

His clean, masculine scent tantalized her nostrils as her body instantly responded to his.

Jami could not resist savoring their momentary closeness. “Very lovely,” she whispered back.

“So are you,” Grant murmured into her hair as he nuzzled her neck, shooting frissoms of awareness through her.

“Where’s Toby?” she asked, trying to regain her composure, knowing she couldn’t do so in Grant’s embrace.

“In the tent sorting out the mess kits. There are three sets, but they’re all mixed up and that disagreed with your son’s sense of organization.” Grant swerved Jami around on the boulder to face him. “Toby surprised me. Did he inherit his organizational skills from you?”

“No. My parents were always super organized,” Jami admitted, returning Grant’s intense scrutiny. “You know—a place for everything and everything in its place?” He nodded as she continued. “Mom even labeled my outfits with a dot code for what socks coordinated with which shirts...” Her voice faded with a tinge of embarrassment. She’d never shared that with anyone, since Sierra had discovered it in the fourth grade on an overnight sleepover and had teased her about it. That was when Jami learned everyone didn’t live life by color codes and index numbers.

“So you rebelled?” Grant softly asked, his expression full of compassion, not amusement.

“I guess so. Not consciously, but I tend to be scattered and disorganized. Toby has this neat streak, like keeping his comics on the top shelf, his storybooks on the second, and his coloring books on the bottom shelf of the book stand in his bedroom. If I misplace them, he rearranges them immediately.” Jami bit her bottom lip. “My parents would be proud.”

“They’d be proud of you, too.” Grant brushed a lock of hair off Jami’s face, gazing at her with admiration. “It can’t be easy to be a single mother and run your own business.”

Jami felt uncomfortable enough divulging family history, but she certainly did not want to discuss her shop. “We’d better get back to Toby, before he gets into mischief again.”

“Toby will be fine,” Grant replied, but released her shoulders, giving her room to climb off the boulder.

“I’d rather not test your theory. He could have your compass in pieces by now or all the food arranged by color. With my son, you never know.” Jami gracefully hopped off the boulder and together they headed back toward camp.

Jami reached the dome tent and stepped inside, not certain what she would find. Toby sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by three separately stacked mess kits. One was new and shiny, one dull, dinged and very old, and the third was somewhere between with a silvery sheen tempered to pewter gray.

“Good job, slugger,” Grant said, stepping into the tent behind Jami.

“See, now they match.” Toby flashed a lopsided grin at Grant. “Want me to sort anything else for you?”

“No, thanks.” Grant recalled Jami’s statement about her son coordinating food by color and grinned back at the boy. Both mother and son were full of surprises. Sometimes delightful, always intriguing, surprises. “That’s enough work for now. It’s time for something fun.”

“Roasting marshmallows?” Toby eagerly asked.

“No. That’s after supper.” Grant tugged off his tank shirt and pulled on a gray T-shirt. “It cools down toward evening. I hope you two brought some warm clothes and long pants.” He raised a questioning brow at Jami.

“We did.” Jami exhaled as Grant replaced his skimpy tank with the short sleeve shirt and yanked the bottom of the shirt over his stomach. Part of her was relieved that the lanky Texan covered some of his magnificent flesh. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t cover too much more. “Ah...should we change now?”

“We’d probably all be wise to trade our shorts for long pants, but it’s still too warm for long sleeves.” Grant shot Jami’s legs a scorching glance. “Though, it’s a shame to hide such nice gams.”

“What are gams?” Toby asked as Jami’s cheeks burned.

“Legs.” Grant flicked another hot gaze over Jami from head to toe and back again. “Legs like your mother’s.”

“Oh,” Toby replied, sounding disappointed. Suddenly the child’s enthusiasm resurfaced. “So after we change clothes, what’re we going to do?”

“I think it’s time for a nature hike. Sound fun?”

“All right!” Toby leapt to his feet to slap hands with Grant in a high five. “Mom, are you coming with us?”

“I guess so.” Jami glanced at Grant, so natural next to her son. She’d never seen Toby show such emotional attachment to an adult. She swallowed hard—except to her. “I’ll go put on my jeans. Toby, where’s your backpack?”

“Right there.” The child pointed to a purple sleeping bag. She saw his backpack beside it with a penlight flashlight sitting on top.

“Good. Please change, and I’ll meet you two outside.”

“There’s more room to change clothes in our tent,” Grant offered as Jami left the bright dome tent for the dappled sunlight.

“The pup tent will be fine.”

“Sure. Lots of room in there,” Grant replied with amused sarcasm.

“No problem.” Jami pranced to her weathered pup tent and ducked down to enter. The dim interior was warmer and stuffier than before, even though she’d left the door flap tied open. Several flies were buzzing around inside. She swatted at them, wishing her tent had netting like the dome tent. The pup tent wasn’t high enough for her to think of standing up, so Jami was forced to crawl to reach the jeans out of her tote bag.

Her blue-jeans wouldn’t go over her damp sneakers which she eventually had to remove. She nearly tipped over trying to get her legs into the jeans and ended up sitting down with a thump. A few groans and grumbles later she finally squirmed into her pants.

“Are you okay in there?” Grant rumbled from outside the tent.

“Just fine.” Jami nervously glanced at the tent opening, hoping he couldn’t see inside and had not witnessed her struggles.

“What’s taking you so long, Mom?” Toby hollered, poking his red-topped head in through the doorway.

“I’m ready.” Scrambling out behind her son, she blinked in the warm sunshine, inhaling fresh pine-scented air that was considerably cooler than the stifling pup tent.

“You may want to close up that tent,” Grant advised, watching Jami’s approach.

“You’re always telling me what to do.” Hands on hips, Jami stood scowling at him. “It’s suffocating in there.”

“You’d rather entertain uninvited company?” Grant’s gaze met hers in an unspoken contest of wills—male against female—an unresolved challenge as old as mankind.

“What uninvited company?” Jami queried, considering his words while not blinking down from the eye contact.

“Forest creatures, snakes, spiders, insects...” Grant shook his head, finally dissolving the stare-down as he glanced around the wilderness surrounding them. “Whatever decides to venture into your pup tent.”

“But it’ll be hot,” Jami protested, unsure of the wisdom of sticking to her original intention of airing out the pup tent.

“Why’s your frown so big, Mom?” Toby asked, trotting in a circle around a patch of red and yellow, spur-blossomed columbines. “Aren’t you having fun?”

She reluctantly closed the tent flap to shut unwanted guests out of her temporary quarters. The flies were annoying enough. She didn’t need any midnight surprises. “Oh, I’m having tons of fun.”

“You could be.” Grant lifted the pair of binoculars that hung around his neck and handed them to Jami. “Take these in case we spot a bear on the mountain.”

“A bear?” Fear and excitement blended in Toby’s voice as he skipped between his mother and Grant to take hold of each one’s hand.

“Or a deer. Or maybe an elk,” Grant hastily amended, recalling the child’s nightmare about a grizzly bear.

“This is better than the zoo.” Toby scampered across the meadow between the adults, swinging their hands with his.

Grant and Jami looked over Toby’s head to exchange smiles. The mountain wilderness was as far from an urban zoo as imaginable.

“Yes, better than a zoo,” Jami agreed fondly.

“Much better,” Grant added, as he guided them between trees and into the woods. The ground became steeper and rockier, forcing Jami to watch her footing as they hiked up the mountainside.

She enjoyed the hike nearly as much as her son, listening as Grant pointed out dangers to avoid such as poison ivy, poison oak, and stinging nettle. Delighted by rare mountain orchids hidden behind larger, brighter wallflowers, she appreciated Grant’s choice of campsite even without bathroom facilities. Toby threw crumbled crackers to the squirrels and chipmunks, but obediently refrained from touching or chasing the woodland creatures.

As they stopped on the way back at a deep fishing hole along a rugged stretch of the lake shoreline, Grant and Toby immediately caught three trout for supper.

Jami tried her hand at fishing, but she felt a snag. It wouldn’t budge and she was afraid to break the pole.

“Your line’s tangled in a tree branch,” Grant said with a chuckle before carefully disentangling it.

Jami laughed, surrendering her pole back to Toby. Grant had made quite a fisherman of the little guy. She was impressed, yet disturbed at the same time. Toby and Grant were growing closer and it frightened her. What would happen when the vacation ended and Granted walked away from them? What would Toby do? What would she do?

“I’d like to hike up one last trail before we return to camp,” Grant stated, taking their fish to wrap in plastic and pack into an insulated bag he hung over his shoulder. “If you and Toby aren’t too tired?”

“Tired? After sitting here watching you two fish? I think I can handle a short hike.” Jami hopped off her rock, realizing she’d sat on a lot of rocks lately and glad to be moving again. Besides, she didn’t like the direction her thoughts wandered when she was unoccupied.

“I’m not tired,” Toby announced, bounding between them to dash ahead.

“You’re never tired,” Grant responded as he led them on a steep trail that zigzagged up the mountainside.

“Not that he admits.” Jami examined her son’s flushed face, bright eyes, and mussed hair. His jeans were damp around the ankles and his knees muddy, his shirt smeared with dirt, but Toby seemed happier than she’d ever seen him before.

“We’re almost to the spot.” Grant climbed a tricky incline of layered rock and held a hand out to boost Jami up beside him. Toby scampered up the slope of sandstone and shale, sure-footed and frisky as a mountain goat.

Grant did not release her hand, and Jami savored the pleasurable sensations of his strong, warm grasp. Never before had a man made her feel so protected, even if it was born of sheer politeness, and, for the moment, she surrendered to it.

At the top of the rise, Jami realized they had reached a cliff that protruded off the mountainside, offering a panoramic view of the lake below and the other mountains surrounding them. The lake had transformed into a fluid rainbow of colors mirroring the sunset-painted skies above them.

Jami gasped at the beauty. Grant squeezed her hand in understanding. A pastel palette of violet, turquoise, and pink stained the sky and the mountains to the east. In stark contrast, streaks of scarlet, orange, and gold fired the clouds gathered above the mountains rising toward heaven in the western horizon as a fireball sun sank between mountain peaks.

“Not bad, huh?” Grant queried with pride as he pulled Jami close to his side and grabbed Toby’s arm with his free hand to prevent the boy from moving to the edge of the drop-off.

“Wow, we’re high,” Toby cried in awe.

“Very high.” Jami heard her voice pitch high and unsteady as a wave of dizziness assailed her. Suddenly the view went from pretty to frightening. “Oh!” she swayed back against Grant’s solid strength.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Grant murmured in her ear.

“I don’t like being this high.” She wanted to turn and bury her face in his shoulder, but bit her lip and briefly shut her eyes. “Can we go back down?”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared,” she automatically responded.

“Right.” Grant grinned as he gently took her arm. “Be careful and don’t slip.” Towing Jami along behind him, Grant also kept hold of Toby’s hand, restraining the boy’s desire to charge ahead. “Go slow.”

Jami held her breath until they descended past the rock slope and reached a normal trail again.

“Are you okay?” Grant turned to her, releasing Toby’s hand to let the child scamper down the trail.

“I don’t think I like heights.”

“Is this the woman who lives in Houston, city of high-rises and multiple stacked freeways?” Concern edged the humor in his remark, as Grant cradled her chin in one hand and caressed the back of her neck with his other.

“That’s different.” Jami shut her eyes, afraid to let him read her vulnerability.

“Look at me,” he demanded huskily.

“Why?” Jami obeyed, meeting his gaze full of tenderness and compassion.

“I never would have taken you up to that cliff, if I’d known it would frighten you, Red. You know I never want to hurt you.” His words throbbed with such sincerity Jami felt tempted to believe him. No. Grant Carrington was a man who liked women. All women. She was just another one of his conquests. Still, he was being thoughtful.

“Sometimes I think you enjoy upsetting me.” Jami pressed her lips together and jerked her chin free of his touch, unaccountably disturbed by her reactions to him. His actions and consideration clouded her preconceived notions.

“I do enjoy razzing you to set off that redhead temper of yours or teasing you to make you blush.” His fingers combed through her hair, twirling a strand of copper around his index finger.

“So you admit it!” she responded, latching on to anger, the safer emotion.

“Why not? When you get mad, you’re like an angry goddess with the power to send lightning bolts from those exotic topaz eyes.” His voice dropped lower, his own eyes blazing with heat. “And when you blush, your skin glows with the sheen of a rose-tinted pearl.” Grant smiled and shrugged. “So how can I resist?”

“You get satisfaction out of tormenting me,” Jami whispered, her gaze glued to his, her emotions in turmoil.

“Piquing your temper or making you blush are minor offenses.” His hands clamped over Jami’s shoulders. “But trust me when I say I never want to cause you real distress or hurt you in any way.”

“Words are easy,” Jami returned, her entire body tensing as she strained away from Grant.

Deep lines carved into Grant’s handsome face as his fingers dug into her shoulders, his tone gruff. “What does that mean?”

“Do you need a dictionary?”

“Jami, stop measuring me by the actions of another man.”

“What do you mean?” Jami stammered, stunned by his accusation.

“Toby’s father wounded you, but you can’t judge all other men by what your ex-husband did.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Hardly.” She glared at Grant, who glared back, neither willing to budge. She thought of flinging his relationship with Raven into his face as proof, but what if she’d misread their midnight encounter? What if he and the young widow had met each other by accident? She had seen Raven put the moves on Grant, but to be truthful, she’d never seen him respond.

Jami jerked out of Grant’s hold and marched down the trail, conscious of him just behind her. What if she was wrong about the man being a womanizer? How could she rebuild the only barrier she had for defense against his powerful Carrington charm? She nearly stumbled over a tangle of vines, thinking it was difficult enough to fight him along with fighting herself. Yet, how else could she protect her heart?

Grant watched Jami descend the trail in front of him, her curvy bottom swaying in her close-fitting jeans. If his brothers expected Grandmother Margaret’s Cupid key to cast a love spell over Jami, they’d be greatly disappointed. She could barely stand him, and their vacation would be over in a few days.

He thought about returning home alone to his Houston bachelor pad, and suddenly the life he’d been so satisfied with appeared empty. Grant would miss Jami’s musical laughter, and her sparkling golden eyes that mirrored every emotion in her tender heart. He’d miss her soft voice and fiery temper, her unique combination of gentleness, spunk, and unpredictability. He sadly smiled to himself. He’d miss everything about Jami—even her mischievous boy, who was a heart-stealer as well.

Grant followed her down the mountain trail, shocked by the knowledge that a future without Jami Rhodes depressed him. Too bad Cupid didn’t really possess magical powers. He’d actually consider using magic on the copper-headed beauty who’d thrown his well-ordered life into chaos. Almost tripping over a root, he chided himself on losing all common sense.

How could he believe the Cupid charm was magic? That idea contained no more logic than believing Jami could grow to love him. Since she viewed him as the enemy, it wouldn’t help him if Frost Lake was afloat with magical Cupids. With fresh determination, Grant decided that at least he’d find a way to make her like him. Even if she couldn’t love him.