That Carrington Magic

chapter 3



As sunlight streamed through the cracked open blinds, Jami awoke to her son bouncing horseback-style on her stomach and grinning down at her as he whooped, “Giddy-up.”

“I gather it’s time to rise, early bird?” She rolled over to buck him off, hiding a smile as she glanced at the alarm clock thoughtfully provided on the nightstand. Seven o’clock Mountain Time. Back home it would already be eight. No wonder her son was awake and kicking.

“When’s breakfast?” Toby asked, vaulting off the bed.

“Soon. We aren’t at home, so we can’t go down to breakfast in our nightclothes.” She climbed out of bed, straightened her nightshirt and padded bare-footed to the cabinet that held their bags. When she unzipped Toby’s backpack, Jami shook her head fondly as she pulled out the uneaten peanut butter cookie from last night. “What shirt do you want to wear?”

“Evil Jack, the beast of Zonar Galaxy,” Toby intoned, with an exaggerated snarl as he waved his hands like claws.

“Wait! Here.” Jami unwadded a lemon yellow shirt and flung it at him, snagging it on his head. “Put these on first.” She tossed him clean underwear and crew socks, which he caught neatly after peeling the shirt off his face.

“Do you think they have Blazing Galaxy Cereal?”

“No. If they serve cereal, it’s probably hot and healthy.”

“I hope they don’t make us eat mush.” Toby frowned.

“Be polite and try to enjoy whatever they serve you,” Jami advised as she gathered her own clothing, selecting her favorite blue jeans and a cotton-knit shirt. She figured August would remain summery, even in the mountains, but during their arrival, she had noticed hints of scarlet and gold already kissing the alpine foliage.

“I’m ready,” Toby announced, tying a lopsided bow in the last shoelace.

“Not so fast, buster,” Jami said, snatching Toby into a hug. “You grab the bathroom first. Don’t forget to wash your hands and face and brush your teeth. Okay?”

Fifteen minutes later, she cautiously peeked out of their door into the main bedroom, but no one occupied Grant’s rumpled bed, and the room was empty.

“You scared of something, Mom?” Toby asked, pushing up behind her, already impatient from waiting for her to do “girl stuff” like applying her makeup.

“Of course not.” Jami marched through the suite, leading her son into the hall without admitting her relief that Grant was already gone.

Downstairs, they found the dining room still deserted, but the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls drew them into the lodge kitchen. An array of gleaming copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling along with bunches of fresh dried herbs tied with twine. Jami inhaled deeply, realizing that she felt ravenous.

“Coffee?” Becca asked, as she and Nell transferred cookie sheets of swirled cinnamon rolls to platters, piling the sticky buns into mouth-watering mounds.

“Sounds good.” Jami shot a longing glance at the cinnamon rolls.

“Help yourself, dear,” Nell chirped, teetering toward the massive pine table as she balanced a roll on a spatula.

“Mother, I’ll wait on them,” Becca admonished, whisking it away from the elderly woman.

“If we’re too early, we can come back later,” Jami said, catching Toby’s hand before he could snare a roll from the top of one pile.

“This is fine. Breakfast is officially at eight in the dining room, but you’re welcome to sit at the table right here and chat with us.”

“Are you sure?” Jami asked uncertainly as Toby wasted no time scrambling into a chair. “I’m afraid we’re still on Houston time.”

“Take a seat by your boy,” Nell imperiously commanded.

Jami obeyed, accepting a steaming mug of coffee from Becca, before she placed a glass of milk in front of Toby.

“Want some cereal, sport?”

“What kind?” he asked Becca, his big brown eyes doubtful.

“What do you like?”

“Blazing Galaxy?”

“Gosh,” Becca said, wiping her hands on her apron. “We’re all out. How about corn flakes?”

“I guess so.” Toby reached for a cinnamon roll, but Jami gave him the look, and he pulled his hand back. “I know—cereal first.”

Jami smiled at her carrot-topped son.

“Where’s Grant?” Toby piped up. “Did he already eat breakfast?”

Jami’s smile faded. “Toby!”

Becca grinned. “Grant went fishing with my dad about five o’clock this morning. He’ll be back any minute.” She winked at the child. “They said to tell you that next time you could go with them.”

“Don’t you feel forgotten, young man. Grant wants us to fix a picnic basket so he can show you and your mama around Frost Lake,” Nell informed them as she tottered around the kitchen making preparations for the upcoming breakfast.

“It isn’t necessary for Grant to show us around,” Jami said, tension knotting her stomach at the thought of spending the day with him.

“Nonsense, girl,” Nell retorted, “he wants to.”

Becca chuckled. “And what Grant Carrington wants—he gets.”

“Great,” Jami muttered, tearing off a chunk of her cinnamon roll before stuffing the warm gooey sweet into her mouth. She munched absently, musing Grant might not get what he wanted this time. Not if she had something to say about it.

Another thought struck her. “Is the photographer spending the day with us?”

“Mike? Heavens, he’s too busy for that.” Becca started frying sausage as she added, “Mike lives in the valley and has a studio down in town. He did give me a message for you, though.”

“What?” Jami asked, glad that Mike wouldn’t be with them today.

“Tomorrow night you and Grant need to dress up for the candlelight dinner that Mike’s assigned to shoot for CupidKey.”

Jami frowned, displeased with the sound of that. “I brought along my coral dress. I hope it will do.”

“I’m sure it’ll be very pretty, dear,” Nell said, slicing several loaves of homemade bread as her face wreathed in a smile. The old woman hummed softly, turning her back on the rest of the conversation as Becca chatted with Jami.

When Jami and Toby returned to the suite, she could hear the shower running in the fancy bathroom off the master bathroom. Trying not to visualize Grant standing naked under streaming water, she quickly scooted Toby through the main suite and into their own bedroom.

“Why do we have to come in here?” Toby grumbled. “The big TV and all the neat stuff is in the other room.”

“Grant’s in the shower. We need to give him some privacy,” Jami explained, closing the door behind her.

“Wow!” Toby yelped, halting in front of Jami, sending her stumbling into him. “Cool! My own dream-catcher!”

Jami followed his pointing finger to the oversized purple feather, tooth-and-beaded leather web hanging above their double bed. It didn’t exactly coordinate with the patriotic red, white, and blue motif, but she found herself grinning right along with her son. “That ought to chase away bad dreams.”

“Isn’t it great? I gotta thank Grant.”

Before she could grab him, Toby threw open their door and burst into Grant’s quarters.

Dripping wet from the shower with a towel barely covering his lower torso, Grant whipped around to face them, appearing every bit as astonished as Jami felt.

“Thanks for the dream-catcher,” Toby cried, flinging himself at Grant to hug the man around the waist. At her son’s assault, Grant’s towel slid a heartbeat lower, and Jami held her breath.

Toby rushed on, heedless of the tension he was causing between the adults. “That dream-catcher’s the coolest thing. Is it really mine? When I go home, do I get to take it with me?”

“Sure, kid,” Grant said, sounding very much composed as he used his free hand to unlatch Toby from his mid-section. “Glad you like it.”

“I could reimburse you for the cost...” Jami began, aware she was staring, but unable to stop.

“No. It’s a gift from me to your son.” Answering awareness flashed in Grant’s dark gaze, sending chills through Jami as she felt the current zing between them with unspoken messages. “I’ll have to come up with something for you.” His voice dropped. “Won’t I?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got everything I need.”

“Do you?” Grant murmured, feeling his loins stir as she watched him. Was she feeling an answering desire? Did she crave him the way he had craved her when he’d caught her clad only in a towel last night? Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he willed away the image of Jami’s luscious curves.

If she was looking for a Mr. Right, it certainly couldn’t be him. He wasn’t the marrying type. Once, long ago, he had thought he had found true love, but his love hadn’t been so true. Rachel had married a wealthy politician while Grant was away at college. So much for true love. So much for trust. So much for giving his heart. Bachelorhood was the way to go. No matter how attractive he found Jami, he was Mr. No Commitment, not Mr. Right.

Grant needed to dampen his attraction to this lovely redhead who constantly sent him mixed signals. His past had taught him to be wary of unpredictable females. He knew he should distance himself from Jami and her boy, but both of them seemed to tug at his heart. A bachelor heart.

“We better let you get dressed.”

“Must you?” Grant couldn’t resist, and Jami’s eyes grew wide as he purposely allowed the towel a tiny slip. For some reason, he delighted in bringing a blush to her cheeks or a flare of temper into those amazing golden Bambi eyes.

“You’ll catch cold,” she replied, pressing her tempting lips together.

“We wouldn’t want that.” Grant kept the laughter out of his voice.

“Bye.” Jami snagged her son by the arm, dragging Toby back into their room.

Before the door slammed closed, she heard Grant suggestively murmur, “Hurry back.”

Five minutes later, there was a knock at the bedroom door, followed by Grant’s muffled voice asking, “You two ready?”

Toby ripped the door open before Jami could put down her hairbrush.

“Yes!” Toby practically hopped with excitement.

Amusement still lingered in Grant’s eyes.

“For what?” Jami retorted, wishing the man wasn’t so darn attractive. Today he wore a white T-shirt, faded jeans, and snakeskin boots, and almost like an ad out of GQ magazine. Male models had nothing on Grant Carrington.

“The grand tour of Frost Lake.”

“All right!” Toby hollered, slapping his palm against Grant’s.

Grant grinned down at Toby and mussed the child’s hair. “Let’s go.”

“Do we need anything?” Jami asked, trying to ignore the way Grant’s arm muscles bulged and rippled as he picked up a wicker picnic basket from the table by the door.

“Sunscreen?” He cocked a brow at Jami. “The thin atmosphere and hot August days up here can be a lethal combination.”

“Redheads are rarely without it. We already put some on, and I have a tube in my bag.” Jami held a straw tote out for him to see.

“Good.” He appeared to want to add some taunt about their towel-garbed encounters, but glanced at Toby and seemed to reconsider, merely tormenting her with a smug grin.

Jami and Toby followed Grant through the hall and down the stairs, nearly escaping the lodge before Nell fluttered up to them. “Have fun now, children.”

“Count on it, Mrs. B.,” Grant replied, steering Jami out the door.

Toby popped between Grant and Jami. “Why’d she call us children? You guys aren’t kids.”

“We are to Nell Ballingham,” Grant answered, leading them along a dirt-packed path instead of the cement walk. “Someday, Toby, you’ll find out that the older you get, the younger everyone else seems.”

Jami felt the warm sunshine on her skin as a gentle pine-scented breeze ruffled her hair. Grant reached back and took her hand in a strong calloused grip, sending electricity from her fingers and palm, clear up her arm. Their gazes met and she wondered if he felt it, too. A mountain warbler serenaded them from the top of the cottonwood trees. Sunlight and shadow played through the leaves on the swaying tree branches to create changing lace patterns against the azure blue sky above.

Toby skipped along the trail ahead. The moment her son spotted a huge granite boulder, he dashed toward it, scrambling up the notched side to perch upon the flattened top. “Look at me!”

“Be careful,” Jami warned, realizing that the boulder was nearly as high as her little boy was tall.

“Protective, aren’t we?” Grant shot her an amused glance.

She tugged her hand free. “He could get hurt.”

“Toby’s much safer here than he was in Houston.”

“My six-year-old son has never been to the mountains. He doesn’t understand the dangers.”

“And you do?” Grant drawled, moving alarmingly close.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and instinctively Jami’s lips parted in anticipation. Grant’s big hands grasped her shoulders, his head bent, as his mouth slanted a breath above hers sending her heartbeat to an erratic skitter.

“What are you guys doing?” Toby called, climbing down the boulder as fast as his short legs would carry him.

With guilty haste, Jami drew apart from Grant, who gazed down at her with more amusement than disappointment. She caught Toby as the child flung himself into her arms.

“Mom, come see this neat rock.” Toby twisted out of her embrace, grabbed her hand and practically towed her toward the boulder.

When they were several yards ahead of Grant, Toby urgently whispered, “He’s not your boyfriend, is he, Mom?”

“Why would you ask me that?” Jami was alarmed to hear how breathless her voice sounded.

“I saw you guys,” Toby answered disgustedly. “It seemed kind of like he kissed you.”

“Well, he didn’t.”

“Good.” Toby reclaimed his place at the top of the boulder, now eye-to-eye with his mother. “You’re not going to marry Grant, are you?”

“Of course not,” Jami replied in surprise. “I hardly know the man.”

Toby’s brown eyes shone with unshed tears. “I don’t want you to marry anybody. Ever.”

“Why not?”

“Because Dustin’s mom got married again, and now she doesn’t have time for Dustin anymore. He’s lonely and real sad.”

“I’ll always have time for you, Toby.” Jami gathered her son into a tight hug, inhaling his sweet little boy scent. “We’re a team, right?”

“Right.” He squirmed away, his endearing lopsided grin back in place.

Drawing back, Jami raked her fingers through her hair, not caring how she ruffled it. Now more than ever, she needed to keep her distance from Grant Carrington. What was she thinking, nearly kissing the man in front of Toby?

Still, a voice inside her expressed disappointment since she couldn’t help wondering about the kiss that almost happened. Feeling Grant’s stare, Jami whirled around in time to catch answering disappointment and curiosity mirrored in his midnight blue gaze.

For some reason, it pleased her immensely.



The intensity of awareness crackling between Jami and Grant made Jami want to run for the hills as they knelt inches apart over the picnic basket. A blanket had been folded atop a feast of foil-wrapped cold cuts. Trying to ignore Grant and the energy filling the air, Jami unearthed fried chicken, potato salad, carrot sticks, homemade rolls and apple crisp, plus an insulated jug of icy lemonade.

Grant’s shoulder brushed Jami’s arm, then grazed her breast as he bent forward to reach for a stack of paper cups. She felt an electric jolt at his touch. Her gaze flashed to his. A slow sexy grin curved his lips, telegraphing that the contact was not accidental. Unrepentantly, he angled closer to fit his thigh against hers as his hand drifted away from the paper cups to stroke her heated cheek.

“I didn’t know women still blushed in this day and age,” he said, his smile crinkling tiny lines at the corners of those striking midnight eyes.

Sometimes, she swore she got lost in his gaze. Jami cleared her throat, forcing her eyes from his as she confessed, “I hate blushing.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s charming.”

Jami blinked up at him, wondering when anyone had ever termed something she did as charming.

“I certainly didn’t expect my Cupid date to be a woman like you,” Grant said, watching her brush a wayward curl off her cheek.

“I never intended to be a Cupid date.”

“So why are you here?” His curiosity was a living thing eating at him.

“I owe Sierra. She was the only one who stood by me during my divorce.” Jami’s voice strengthened. “We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“The divorce was painful?” he asked softly, disturbed by the way she avoided his gaze. How could any man let such a woman go? Grant shook his head.

“Very. I’ll never trust a man again.”

“All men aren’t the same,” he replied, offended that she painted him with the same brush as her ex-husband. “And you can’t claim women are any better.”

“Dogs are more faithful than men.” Tension radiated in the stiff line of her spine and the way her chin jutted up in defiance.

“But not near as much fun,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Is that why you accepted this Cupid invitation?”

“You’re kidding. I accepted this trip to bail my brother out.” Grant let his gaze rake over Jami, noting the nervous way she chewed her lower lip. Her action was very sexy, and he felt a surge of desire tighten his loins. “So I guess neither one of us wants to be here.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“Since we are here, let’s make the best of it.” Grant let a seductive nuance color his words as he trailed his fingers along her wrist, feeling the erratic beat of her pulse and the warm silk of her flesh.

“It’s obvious you aren’t one of Cupid’s clients,” she retorted.

“How so?” he asked, intrigued.

“Sierra told me they set up the Cupid computer to pick life-time mates—obviously not your intent.” Jami stared directly into his eyes, and he tried not to flinch as she struck a cord of truth.

“I admit I’m comfortable in my bachelor life. I’m not a family man type guy. My business comes first and that leaves no time to waste on nonessentials.”

“A wife and family are nonessentials?”

“Hey, Mom,” Toby hollered, scrambling over a decaying log. “See this neat thing I found.”

She automatically recoiled when her son thrust a wiggling green creature at her. “Toby, put that down—it could be poisonous.”

“It’s just a harmless lizard,” Grant stated, taking it out of Toby’s hands and sitting it on a rock in the sun. “It won’t hurt you.”

The creature turned its head in a stop-and-jerk motion like a dinosaur in a fifties B movie. Black reptile eyes rotated independently, and Jami suppressed a shudder. “I really don’t want my son to make a practice of touching wild things.”

Grant grinned. “Wild things can be exciting.”

Jami read the challenge in his eyes as the sexy nuance of his voice vibrated through her.

Their gazes locked for an electric moment, then Toby broke the spell by scooping the lizard back up. “Mom, can’t I keep it for a pet? Please?”

“Definitely not.”

“Aw, please.” Toby’s freckled face scrunched and he held the wiggling lizard out for her inspection. “It’s lonely. I can tell.”

Lonely. There was that word again. It seemed that Toby used it far too often for a six-year-old. Was he lonely? She bit her lip at the thought. “Sorry, tiger, but you can’t keep the lizard. Put it down and come have lunch.”

Her son deposited the lizard back onto the rock, whispering something to the creature so softly Jami couldn’t hear his words.

Grant unfolded the tablecloth and placed it on the ground beneath a blue spruce tree. Toby dropped to his knees and reached for food.

“Hey—clean hands.” She squeezed several drops of hand-sanitizer into his palm.

“On a picnic?” the reluctant child grumbled, obediently rubbing the gel over his hands–-seconds before he snared a chicken leg.

“Yes,” Jami replied firmly, doling the food onto paper plates and avoiding Grant’s amused stare.

Grant chuckled, tousling Toby’s hair. “Your mom’s a real drill sergeant, today. Guess we’d better be on our best behavior.”

“Lemonade?” Jami asked none too hospitably as she tried not to notice the sunlight dancing burnished gold through his wavy head of hair and glistening off the fine hairs of his powerful arms.

“I’ll pour.” Grant took the insulated jug from her hands, their fingers brushing in the process. Jami swallowed the gasp of surprise as the electricity discharged from his fingertips to hers.

“Ah, thank you,” she stammered as he filled three cups. She took hers, carefully avoiding touching his hand in the process.

Toby accepted a plate and cup from his mother and gave her a crooked grin. “Is it okay if I sit on the log by my lizard?”

For some reason Jami’s gaze drifted to Grant’s.

“Sounds fine to me,” Grant said, and Jami certainly hoped he didn’t think she sought his permission.

“Okay, tiger,” she murmured, focusing her attention on her son, instead of the unsettling man beside her. “Just don’t touch the lizard while you’re eating.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Toby bounded over to the log, and to her surprise, the reptile stayed perched inches from her child.

“Relax. Toby’s not going to get in trouble three yards away from us.” Grant was fascinated by her finely tuned mother instincts. He hadn’t been around many young single mothers and found the mother/child bond touching. If his sister-in-law was correct, Jami Rhodes was also a businesswoman. That image did not seem to fit her at all. “Sierra tells me you own a scuba and diving shop. It must be difficult to run your own business and be a single parent.”

“I manage.” Jami choked down a bite of potato salad, acting nervous about the sudden change of conversation, which intrigued him even more.

“Are you concerned about the business while you’re on vacation?”

“Should I be?” She cocked her head to stare back at him.

A rush of curiosity surged through him. What was she so tense about? Was her business in trouble? Or was it a personal tension radiating between them as male and female? He kept fishing. “Some businesses screech to a stop when the boss is away.”

“I’m sure yours keeps on running,” Jami replied as she stared down at her plate, her hair falling into a spun copper curtain to obscure her expression.

“Doesn’t yours?” Grant countered, unable to resist brushing a silky lock of her glorious hair off her face. “You have lovely hair,” he added, to his own surprise.

“Thanks.” Inhaling sharply, Jami glanced up at him. For a moment, she stared at his strong, bronzed hands as he lifted a chicken leg from his plate. Her gaze moved from his hand to his mouth, lingering on his sensually molded lips.

“I’m sorry. It appears I’ve taken the last chicken leg. Would you like it?” he asked, putting the leg back on his plate before eating any.

Jami tore her gaze from his mouth, feeling her cheeks burn.

“What? Oh, no, go ahead.”

“So, do you have a good shop manager? Is that why you’re not worried about your business while you’re away?”

“What?” Jami muttered again, feeling she was in some Twilight Zone, where attraction overruled logic.

“Your shop.” Grant buttered a roll, not taking his eyes off her, and she nearly squirmed. “You must have someone you trust running it for you. A manager, assistant, clerk?”

“I can’t afford a manager. When I need help, I get college students to work at Dive-A-Wave part-time.” She really felt uncomfortable discussing her business with him. Hadn’t Sierra mentioned that Grant was a business consultant? Heavens, she didn’t exactly run her place by the book.

His forkful of food paused midair. “Who’s running the shop while you’re here with me?”

“Nobody.”

“What did you do? Just shut it down during peak season?”

“Yes.” Jami’s chin rose. How dare this man challenge her business decisions? “It’s my business—in every way.”



Grant scratched his head, troubled thoughts swirling his brain. He’d spent his career trying to mend businesses nearly ruined by haphazard management and careless attitudes. Now a woman he felt such an intense attraction toward, displayed the type of attitude he tried to eradicate in his clients. Only she wasn’t his client—she was his computer match. Still, she obviously needed his technical advice. “It isn’t good business to close when your customers need your services the most.”

“My shop is no concern of yours,” Jami replied, her color high.

“Someone needs to be concerned.” Grant admitted to himself that Jami was beautiful when her hackles rose, but his business sense itched at her careless dismissal of his well-intentioned advice.

“It’s my shop.”

“It won’t be for long,” he responded, telling himself not too sound so harsh. “If you continue to make such poor business decisions.”

“Dive-A-Wave is doing just fine,” Jami protested, keeping her voice low, aware she was stretching the truth.

“I hope you’re right, Red.” Grant rocked back on the blanket, deciding to drop the subject. He didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good picnic.

“Don’t call me Red,” Jami grumbled, thankful that her son was occupied trying to feed a carrot to the lizard and oblivious of the adults’ argument.

“What’s going on, Mom?” Toby called, a protective note quivering in his young voice as he interrupted them.

“Nothing. Finish your lunch.” Jami forced herself to pretend things were just fine between herself and Mr. Know-it-all Carrington.

“Okay. I think my lizard likes lettuce.”

“Good,” Jami said, feeling Grant’s gaze on her face. She stole a glance at him, and he was watching her with a broad smile on his face.

“Are we still friends?” Grant’s voice sounded low and sexy, sending shivers along Jami’s spine.

“Of course. My grandma used to have the perfect saying for arguments like ours,” Jami said, smiling back.

“What saying?”

“You think your way and I’ll think mine.”

“She sounds like a sensible lady.” Grant’s gaze locked with Jami’s.

“She was.” Bittersweet memories flowed over Jami. “My grandparents died when I was quite young, but I remember Gran as a quiet, prudent woman.”

“My grandmother’s just the opposite. No one would dare describe Grandmother Margaret or her daughter, my mom, Shirley Carrington, as sensible or prudent.” Grant’s voice grew warm and affectionate as spoke. “They’re both free spirits. You’d like them. Especially Mom. She’s a Texas tornado, whirling every direction at once and rarely touching ground.”

“Sierra’s mentioned your mother a few times. It sounds like they get along well,” Jami said, watching the tiny smile lines crinkle around Grant’s eyes.

“No one can resist liking Mother.”

“Is your family close?” Jami asked wistfully.

“Sometimes far too close.” He smiled as he spoke.

Jami was struck again by how handsome he looked with a breeze waving his burnished gold hair and plastering the fabric of his shirt against his muscular chest while he returned to lunch and chomped a chicken leg.

“Families are so important.” Jami’s gaze strayed to Toby, who was tearing bits of lettuce and placing them by the lizard.

“I’m beginning to appreciate how important.”

Wary of his increasing attraction to her, Grant watched a breeze ripple Jami’s hair into flowing copper that danced away from her face and streamed over her slim shoulders. Her cameo profile turned as she continued to watch her son. She was so lovely, yet so stubborn. To think anyone could close a business dependent upon tourists at the height of tourist season. Grant shook his head, unable to let go of it.

Feeling his gaze, she peeked at him through her lashes. He was devastatingly masculine in a way that spoke to the female in her, no matter how she fought against the attraction. She could tell that he disapproved of her, but no one told her how to run her life. Or her business. Not Grant. Not even the devil himself. She chewed her bottom lip, recognizing Grant’s effect on her was nothing short of devilish.

“A deer!” Toby cried, launching off the log to sprint between the trees.

“Toby, no!” Jami called, scrambling up from the blanket as her little boy disappeared into the woods. She ran after Toby, but screeched to halt at the point where she had lost sight of him. She searched for him for several minutes, panic welling higher within her as she felt more helpless by the second.

Grant practically barreled into her, grabbing her shoulders before impact. “Don’t stop so fast. I nearly bull-dozed you.”

“Which way did he go?” she asked frantically, her amber eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she scanned the woods.

Grant stared down at her, mesmerized by her sudden vulnerability. “It’s okay. Toby can’t have gone far.”

“Okay?” Jami stared up at Grant. “My six-year-old is somewhere in these woods alone.”

Tension vibrated her barely controlled stance, sending a wave of protectiveness through Grant. He released his grip on her shoulders. “My voice carries well. I’ll call him.”

“Thank you. I don’t want him lost. Besides, I’m afraid of what trouble Toby will get into on his own in the woods. He has to explore everything around him and takes nothing at face value.”

“Like his mother?” Grant teased.

“My son’s getting farther away and closer to trouble every second.”

“But it’s so quiet with Toby gone.” Grant grinned at Jami.

She put her hands on her shapely hips. “Grant Carrington!”

“You win.” Grant cupped his hands around his mouth, his deep tones projecting easily as he hollered, “Hey, Toby! Toby, stop right where you are and yell back to us.”

“Mom? Grant?” came a small distinct voice, bringing a sigh of relief from Jami and a knowing grin from Grant.

“Toby, keep talking and stay put. We’re coming to get you.” Grant aimed Jami forward and guided her left, winding through the trees toward Toby’s chatter. Twigs whipped across her while weeds and vines tangled her feet as she stumbled through the brush with Grant grabbing her arm occasionally to steady her.

The moment they spotted Toby’s yellow shirt, Jami broke into a run. She threw her arms around her precious child, unmindful of the burrs, stickers, and twigs clinging to her jeans, and the scratches stinging her arms.

“Aw, Mom,” Toby protested, pushing his warm, sweaty body away from her. “Don’t get mushy.”

Grant stood by, observing the reunion with arms folded and mouth stern. “Toby, you broke the rules.”

“What rules?” the boy asked, squinting up at the towering man.

“Mountain rules.” Grant crouched down and pulled Toby to him. “These rules are very important. Okay?”

Toby nodded, gazing at Grant with a mixture of wonder and fear.

“First rule—don’t go off the trail. It’s easy to get lost and lose all sense of direction. Got it?”

“Yeah. Stay on the trail,” Toby muttered, none too happily.

“Don’t chase the wildlife. Don’t hike or swim alone—ever.” Grant waited for Toby to nod his head in agreement, then tousled the boy’s hair. “That’s enough for now. I’ll tell you the rest later. Let’s go clean up our picnic and head back to the lodge before Homer sends out a search party.”

“All right.” Toby’s brown eyes traveled from Grant to his mom. “You walk with me, Mom. We can follow Grant.” He slipped his warm hand in Jami’s. “Okay?”

“Sure, honey.” She suppressed a smile, knowing it was her son’s way of claiming her and keeping her with him instead of Grant.

With everyone pitching in to help, they were on their way in minutes, tracking down the trail with Grant in the lead. Jami tried not to notice how snugly the jeans clung to Grant’s neat behind, or how they accented his muscular thighs and long legs. Her eyes traced the broad, powerful line of his shoulders tapering to a vee at his waist, forcing her to remember his taut washboard stomach. Her own stomach muscles clenched in response. She shook away the tantalizing image of Grant, skin wet and glistening, clad only in a towel, and tried to concentrate on tree and rock landmarks as they hiked down the packed-dirt path toward the lodge.

“I’ll take you two to the lake later,” Grant said as they entered the lodge, greeted by the aroma of baking bread.

“Great,” Toby chimed.

“That’s not necessary,” Jami said at the same time.

Grant grinned at both of them. “I better return this basket. See you in awhile.”

He aimed for the kitchen as she steered Toby toward the stairs. “Let’s get cleaned up, tiger. A nap might not be a bad idea, either.”

“Aw, Mom,” Toby protested, his dirt-smudged face scrunching as he snuck a side-glance to make sure Grant was out of earshot. “I don’t want a nap.”

Jami ruffled her son’s hair. “Maybe I do.”

He shot his mother a questioning glance, but obediently trudged up the stairs with her. “Did you know you can get Rocky Mountain Fever from wood ticks?”

“Yuk, that sounds real bad.”

“It is. I read up about it before we came, so we need to clean you up extra.”

“Aw, Mom,” he grumbled again as she marched him straight into the bathroom to make sure he got a thorough scrubbing in the tub.

“Clean and shiny and no bugs.” She laughed, then tossed him a Blazing Galaxy comic book when he was dried and dressed. “Quiet time for you, while I grab a shower. Don’t,” she added with motherly emphasis, “don’t leave this room. Okay?”

“Sure thing.” Toby grinned innocently up at her before burying his nose in the book.

Jami watched Toby for a moment longer, wondering if he would really stay put. He appeared quite settled, stretched out on the bed with his face in the comic book, his bare feet in constant movement to bounce the bed slightly as Jami collected her robe.



Grant Carrington stepped into the lodge kitchen, plunking the basket upon the counter top and startling Becca. “Thanks for the picnic lunch.”

“No problem. Did you enjoy your outing with Jami and her boy?”

“Actually, I did.” He winked. “She’s lovely, and I like Toby, too. It’s refreshing to see things through the eyes of a kid. Makes me realize how jaded I’ve become.”

Laughing, Becca slapped the sink with her dishtowel. “You’re a lot of things, Grant, but jaded isn’t one of them.”

“I wonder.” He automatically helped sort out the basket as they talked. “Jami and Toby make me feel like an old stuffed shirt at times.”

“You are a stuffed shirt at times. I think that pretty redhead has made quite an impression on you.”

“She certainly has.” He shook his head, puzzling over Jami’s unpredictability. “Do you know she simply closed her business to come on this vacation?” He snapped his fingers, shaking his head once more. “Closed it without a thought.”

“Maybe she didn’t have anyone to run the place in her absence.”

“She could have hired someone.”

“Maybe not.”

“Still, to close a diving shop during peak season,” Grant persisted, his jaw tightening more as he thought about it.

“I suppose you lectured her,” Becca said with a knowing sigh.

“Naturally.”

“And she got mad, right?” She wagged her finger at him.

“How did you know?”

“Jami doesn’t like to be told what to do anymore than that boy of hers does.”

Becca sliced an onion, its pungent aroma stinging Grant’s eyes. He wondered how she kept her own from tearing as she attacked the offending onion at chef speed. “If you want to get on that girl’s good side, you won’t stand in judgment of her or her decisions.”

“I don’t stand in judgment.”

“Ha!” She cleaved a second onion neatly in half, exposing its layered rings. “That’s a Texas tale.”

“You’re right that Jami got upset. Funny thing,” Grant added, “I think the kid was mad at me, too.”

“For a man who can untangle executive relations, fine-tune major corporations, or smooth a business glitch no one else can even find, you’re hopeless when it comes to personal relationships.”

“I don’t have a relationship with Jami.”

“Ha!” Becca reiterated, whacking a third onion as Grant fled from the kitchen, leaving his skeptical friend and eye-watering onion fumes behind.

Grant entered the suite, catching Jami’s unique floral scent as it lingered in the air. The door to her bedroom was closed, and he considered tapping on it, but refrained. The phone rang, and he answered, snapping, “Hello.”

“Carrington? This is Mike, the photographer.”

“Yes?”

“Just wanted to confirm the candlelight dinner shoot tomorrow night.”

“Here at the lodge?”

“Right. At seven-thirty,” Mike answered. “Will you pass the message along to Ms. Rhodes? Be sure and dress nice. CupidKey wants this to be very romantic.”

“No problem,” Grant replied, picturing Jami in a flowing silk evening gown with gardenias tucked behind her ears and a diamond necklace encircling her slender throat. He grinned to himself. Obviously, she couldn’t have packed an evening gown in those overloaded bags of hers. Could she? It would be fun to see the practical single mother dressed to the nines and without her redheaded monster in tow.

Grant tapped on the bedroom door.

Toby flung it open wide. “What do you want?”

“To talk to your mother.” Grant eyed the boy, wondering when he had turned into the enemy.

Toby pressed his mouth into a straight line and folded his arms across his clean T-shirt. “Why?”

“Grown-up business,” Grant said, glaring down at the hostile child.

“She’s in the shower. Besides, I don’t think she wants to talk to you.”

Now it was Grant’s turn. “Why?”

“You make her mad.”

“Don’t you ever make her mad?”

“Yeah, but I’m her kid and she loves me no matter what.”

Grant felt a ping in his heart at the thought of a woman who loved someone no matter what. “I don’t think your mom is still mad at me. We were going down to the lake, remember?”

A momentary glitter of excitement lit Toby’s brown eyes, but he scowled again. “Me and my mom can go by ourselves.”

“You could,” Grant said, suddenly challenged to persuade the boy to like him again. “But I can show you how to make a boat that actually floats.”

“Really?” Toby’s face lit with excitement.

“I can also show you the best fishing hole in the Rockies.” Grant trained his face into a nonchalant expression. “But if you aren’t interested...”

“I’m interested,” Toby chattered. “Mom will be, too. I’ll tell her when she gets out of the shower.”

“Fine. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”

“All right,” Toby cried, an endearing grin on his freckled face as he high-fived Grant.

“All right,” Grant replied, with a boyish grin of his own.

Grant shut the door that formed the barrier between himself and the Rhodes family. His own reactions puzzled him. A moment ago, he was looking forward to time with Jami, sans her child, and now he found himself looking forward to giving Jami and Toby a tour of the lake. Grant raked a hand through his hair, surprised at himself. It would’ve been easy to get out of the lake tour with both of them miffed at him. Instead, he wanted to take them.

Wrapped in her frayed, but comfortable pink terry cloth robe, Jami stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing her hair dry with a towel. Toby sat cross-legged on the bed, blowing iridescent bubbles with his bubble wand.

“Grant came.”

“Oh?” Jami felt her pulse skip. “What did he want?”

“To talk to you. He’s taking us down to the lake when you’re ready.”

“We can go to the lake by ourselves.”

“Mom, Grant wants to show me how to build a boat and where there’s a good place to fish.” Toby’s voice pitched high and pleading. “Please, Mom, don’t spoil it.”

To make No more effective, she had always tried to use the word only when it was necessary, and try as she might, she could not find a solid reason to refuse her son’s request. How could she explain to her child that she preferred not to be in close proximity to Grant because the man sent her emotions into a tailspin? Emotions she believed her cheating husband had killed when their marriage had incinerated. Toby’s trusting, hopeful, expression tumbled her resistance. “Okay, we can go with Grant,” Jami finally agreed. “But you have to be on your best behavior.”

“Sure.” Toby bounced off the bed and began pulling on his socks.

“Promise?” she pressed, suspicious that her son had agreed too quickly and too easily.

“I’ll be good.” Toby hopped on his right foot as he pulled on his other sock. “Have you ever made a boat?”

“Not really.”

“Have ever you gone fishing?” Toby asked, eying his mother critically.

“Once,” Jami answered uncomfortably, aware of undercurrents in this mother-son conversation.

“Only once?” Toby wailed in disgust. “I wanna be a fisherman and fish all the time when I grow up. I bet Grant fishes lots.”

“I scuba dive and watch fish under the water,” Jami reminded her son. “I’ve taken you with me several times, haven’t I?”

Toby pulled a face. “Watching doesn’t count. That’s not fishing.”

“It’s more fun.” Jami shook her head, wondering why she was arguing with her six-year-old. “I’d better get dressed if we’re going to the lake with Grant,” she added reluctantly.

“I need glue and some nails,” Toby announced, pawing through the empty drawers of the dresser.

Jami smiled at her son. “I’m sure that Grant will supply whatever you need for boat building.”

“Think so?”

“Yes,” Jami answered with a gentle smile.

An hour later, they stood gazing at a mountain lake, postcard perfect as rippling waters shimmered every shade of blue, from clear aqua to lavender-tinted indigo. Toby skipped to the edge of the shore and dropped to pull off his shoes and socks. “I just want to wade a minute, okay, Mom?”

“Stay right where we can see you.”

“Okay,” Toby whooped, before splashing into the water, splattering his Hawaiian shorts. “It’s kind of cold.”

She could believe that. Jami shivered slightly as the crisp pine-scented breeze puffed her denim skirt and her sandaled feet crushed a moist cool patch of wild mint. Grant stepped up behind her, sliding his large hands over her shoulders, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin cotton of her shirt. She backed against his powerful body, lured by the sensations he ignited, swimming warm honey through her veins as she caught a whiff of his aftershave and a deeper musky scent, so blatantly male.

“Chilly?” Grant asked, his velvet voice tantalizingly close to ear.

His chin rested on the top of Jami’s head, her silky hair teasing him with the sweet fragrance of fruit and flowers. Grant knew he shouldn’t draw her so close, but she enticed him like a magnet attracted nails, regardless of his intentions to keep his distance. Her soft feminine curves fit perfectly against him and he ached with a desire to connect at a more intimate level. He felt her shiver and stroked his palms down her arms, reveling in the smooth satin of her skin.

“I’m fine,” she insisted in a high breathy voice that reminded him of Marilyn Monroe. He grinned into her hair, thinking that during the peak of Monroe’s reign, the movie queen wouldn’t have had a thing on the copper-haired beauty pressed against his heart at this moment. He turned her in his arms to face him.

“Why are you shivering, if you’re not cold?” he asked, bewitched by the temperamental redhead. He hoped he had the same overwhelming effect on her as she did on him. His gaze dropped to her lips, parted, moist, and so kissable.

Jami stared up at Grant, her gaze drawn to his lips. A wicked smile curved that beautiful mouth of his as if he knew exactly why her response to him had caused her shivery reaction. Great, she grumbled to herself as she fought the sensual chill sweeping through her. She might as well be a virgin where he was concerned. No man had stirred her the way Grant Carrington did. They needed a change of topic. Fast. “I thought you were going to show Toby how to build a boat?”

“I can think of another kind of instruction I’d prefer to offer.” His voice dropped to a sexy growl, hinting at the type of lessons he had in mind.

“Uh huh—I bet.” Jami flounced up the path and out of his reach, turning back to call, “Toby’s waiting.”