That Carrington Magic

chapter 5



Snuggling under the covers next to her son, Jami punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape and wished they were back in their Houston townhouse in their own beds. Instead, she was trying to sleep in a room a mere door apart from the most attractive man she’d ever encountered. Grant Carrington left her feeling as exposed as a doe forced to seek shelter at the entrance of a cougar den. Then why did she want to sneak into the outer suite and spend the night in front of a roaring fire with him? She fought her impulse to tiptoe out of her room and into his.

She assured herself that she didn’t want to be with Grant. That womanizer? No way. And she certainly wasn’t eagerly forward to the “romantic” dinner tomorrow evening with Mike photographing them. Besides, her Irish temper always got in the way.

Resting her cheek against the cool pillow, she wondered if she could get along with Grant long enough to let Mike get any romantic shots for CupidKey. If it wasn’t for her promise to Sierra, she wouldn’t eat dinner in the same building as Mr. Know-everything Carrington, let alone share a candlelit table with the man.

Jami sighed deeply. Certain that she’d never be able to sleep, she burrowed her face into the downy pillow and promptly drifted off to dreamland.

Toby’s scream jerked her out of a heavy sleep. Thrashing wildly, his arms and legs tangled in the sheet, he had nearly rolled off the far side of the bed.

“Honey, hush,” Jami cooed softly, untangling her boy to gently cradle him in her arms. His forehead felt hot and clammy, and his breathing rapid. She rocked him back and forth as he awakened and calmed.

“A grizzly bear was chasing me,” he sniffled, pressing his face into her nightshirt. “He had sharp teeth and red eyes that glowed in the dark.”

“It was just a bad dream, honey,” Jami whispered, her chin resting on the top of his head as she inhaled his familiar little boy scent.

Just then the door burst open to silhouette a hulking figure of dark menace looming in the doorway. An involuntary scream tore from Jami’s throat. Toby screamed in response.

The figure charged into the room, re-forming into a man. A very shaken man. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Grant Carrington demanded, sounding ferocious.

“Toby had a nightmare,” Jami gasped, feeling foolish she’d screamed. “And then you came charging in here and terrified us.”

“He yelled bloody murder because of a bad dream?” Grant raked a hand through his hair. With dim light pouring in from the doorway, she could see the pained expression on his face. “I thought you were hurt.”

“Why didn’t my dream-catcher work?” Toby asked, a few leftover sobs hiccupping his words.

Grant rubbed his chin, his shadowed face thoughtful. “I see the problem. It’s too far away from you.”

“It is?” Toby asked in wonder, not a shred of doubt visible to Jami.

Grant reached up and popped a thumbtack out of the wall to remove the purple dream-catcher. He lowered the Native American creation and positioned it so the bottom edge of the lower beads and feathers dangled mere inches above the headboard on Toby’s side. “Much better.”

“Thank you,” Jami breathed, feasting on the sight of Grant’s rippling muscles as he moved. To her, he appeared the perfect male specimen, and her throat constricted at the sight. She wouldn’t have been female if she hadn’t responded. Grant wore only a pair of paisley boxers that revealed his beautiful body. From the way the waistband twisted and rode low on his hips, she guessed the boxers were hastily donned, daring her imagination to envision him in his full male glory.

“Now I won’t have anymore nightmares?” Toby asked, scooting back over to settle into his own side of the bed.

“I can almost guarantee it.” Grant tucked the covers up around the child’s neck. “No more bad dreams, and no more monsters.”

“I wish we could sleep in your big bed with you, Grant,” Toby said with drowsy innocence. “Then we’d be really safe.”

Sharing a bed with Grant Carrington would make her feel anything but safe, Jami reflected, her insides pitching at the thought. “Toby, your dream-catcher will work better now that Grant’s moved it.”

“It’ll work like a charm,” Grant agreed, sounding close to laughter.

“Good.” Toby snuggled deeper into the bedding. “Then I can go back to sleep and that grizzly will be all gone.”

“Yes, the grizzly will be all gone,” Jami echoed softly, her glance meeting Grant’s dark, electric gaze.

Suddenly, Toby reached up to throw his arms around Grant’s corded neck. “Thanks, Grant. You’re a cool friend.”

“So are you,” Grant replied. He brushed a kiss on Toby’s forehead. “Goodnight, slugger.”

“G’night,” the child muttered thickly, already half asleep.

Grant eased away from the bed, his bare feet treading silently on the thick carpet. “Goodnight, Jami.”

“Thanks for coming to our rescue,” she said as he moved toward the door.

“Sorry I startled you.”

“Sorry I screamed.”

“I’m just glad you and Toby are safe,” Grant replied, his voice low and throbbing with messages.

With belated modesty, Jami pulled the sheet up over her chest, suddenly realizing that the light illuminated her as it now backlit Grant. Her breasts peaked against the thin cotton of her nightshirt, revealing her womanly awareness. Darn the man! Did he have to read her every emotion?

“Goodnight, Red.” His sexy, velvet growl hung in the air as he backed through the doorway and clicked the door closed.

“Goodnight,” she whispered into the darkness, still clutching the sheet to her throat, feeling the pulse there fluttering as wildly as her heart.



The next morning, Jami spread her coral cotton-knit dress out on the bed and eyed it critically. “I hope this will be fancy enough for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” Toby asked, toying with his bow and arrow.

“You remember Mike, the photographer?” She watched her son nod. “Sierra and Ty hired him to take some pictures of me and Grant at dinner. It’s dress-up.”

“Do I have to get dressed up, too?”

Jami smiled lovingly at her son. “No. Homer, Nell, and Becca have invited you to eat with them, or you can have supper with the lodge guests.”

“Will that lady with the pointy nails be there?” Toby asked, scrunching up his mouth in disgust.

“Probably. If you eat with the lodge guests.”

“I don’t like that lady.”

Jami threw him a conspiratorial smile and hugged him close. “Want to know a secret?”

“What?”

“I don’t, either. But we both must be very polite to her. Okay?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He squirmed out of his mother’s arms. “I want to eat supper with Homer. Maybe he’ll tell me his fish tales.”

Jami laughed at her incorrigible child. “I bet Homer will tell you plenty of fish tales.”

“Maybe I could go with you and Grant, instead. I’d be really quiet.”

“Grant and I are supposed to dine alone together.”

“Oh,” Toby replied, his freckled face transparent with conflicting emotions. She could tell her son was pleased about Homer, yet unhappy that Grant would be dining alone with Jami.

“It’s not until tonight and just for a few hours. Remember Sierra and Ty gave me this trip to help advertise their business? I must do this to repay them. Okay?”

“I know,” Toby grumbled, dropping his plastic bow on the floor and kicking it. “But don’t do any mushy stuff with Grant. Please, Mom?”

“Mushy stuff?”

“No kissy, huggy boyfriend stuff,” Toby persisted. “Because Grant’s not your boyfriend. Right?”

“Right,” Jami agreed, a secret part of her wishing she could claim Grant for a boyfriend. She shoved that traitorous thought aside and smiled down at her son. “Please put your bow and arrow away. Maybe later we can setup a target down by the lake. We could also take the toy boat Grant carved for you. Okay?”

“All right!” Toby squealed.

Constantly amazed by his quicksilver mood changes, Jami watched her son cheerfully obey her and put his bow and arrow set into his backpack. Life was so simple to a child. A promise of play made everything better. If only adults could find happiness in such simple things.

“Mom, can I have my chocolate éclair now? I fell asleep last night before I could eat it.”

“Not before breakfast, honey.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“It’s almost time to go down and eat.”

“Just a few bites?”

Jami gave her son her stern-mom look and he mumbled, “I’ll wait.”

She and Toby delayed their breakfast until eight to dine with the other lodge guests. To Jami’s disappointment, Grant was not among them. Becca informed her that he’d gone fishing with Homer.

“Grant said he’d take me the next time they went fishing,” Toby muttered to his mom, dejection in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Jami whispered, feeling like she was apologizing for her ex-husband all over again. Once a year he’d arrange to see Toby, then stand him up.

“My fault,” Becca chirped. “Last night I read Grant the riot act and told him it would be way too early to take a child fishing. He can take you at a decent hour.” Becca’s hands rested on her hips. “That all right with you?”

Jami watched her son weigh the information, a lump forming in her throat. So, it wasn’t Grant’s fault. This time, anyway. Still, Toby had been hurt and disappointed.

“You told Grant not to take me?” Toby asked, biting down on his quivering bottom lip.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Becca said, crossing her bosom in emphasis. “They left at first light. That’s an ungodly hour.”

“What’s first light?” Toby demanded, curiosity replacing dejection.

“About an hour before dawn when the birds start singing,” Professor Tolaski said, joining their conversation. “Then dawn stains the heavens, and even later the sun rises to announce daylight.”

“So it’s real early in the morning?” Toby asked, obviously digesting the information. Jami smothered a chuckle, knowing that before daylight was too early even for her chipper morning person.

“Real early,” Becca agreed, sounding relieved.

“Technically night,” the professor added, tugging on his beard.

Jami smiled her thanks at both of them.

“The owl is still hunting at that hour,” Dottie declared.

“It’s dark and cold, too,” Doris added. “I remember one morning when Dot and I were staking out a mockingbird...”

“Do we have to have so much talk this early in the morning?” Raven complained, blinking already heavily made-up violet eyes at her fellow lodgers. “If we weren’t required to be at breakfast by eight, I would have stayed in bed for several more hours. This is barbarian enough without all your babbling.”

“Sleeping half the day away is unproductive,” the professor stated, peering at Raven through his thick lenses with disapproval.

Becca hovered by the table, a fresh and heavenly fragrant tray of blueberry muffins in her hands. “If you don’t choose to eat breakfast with the other guests, you can have a cold tray in your room or make breakfast arrangements elsewhere.”

“A cold tray sounds appetizing, doesn’t it?” the young widow returned with dripping sarcasm. “And driving through the canyon all the way into town for breakfast sounds a bit much, thank you.”

“Oh, the cold tray is delicious,” Dottie chimed, dimple-crease lines deepening as her eyes glowed with pleasure. “Fruit bowl, muffins, juice. Delightful.”

“Delightful,” Doris echoed. “Strawberries this large.” She held her fingers several inches apart to show the size.

“Not quite,” Becca corrected, winking at Jami. “But it’s not a bad meal.”

“We like fruit. Don’t we, Mom?” Toby said, stuffing a huge bite of blueberry muffin in his mouth to punctuate his words.

“We do,” Jami replied, noting that Raven sat glaring daggers at everyone. Good. Jami wouldn’t mind if the scarlet-lipped widow failed to grace the breakfast table with her presence for the remainder of the week.



While the other guests were downstairs eating breakfast, Grant stood under a hot pounding shower to wash away all traces of his early morning fishing trip. He still felt bad about omitting Toby from their fun, but Becca had made him promise to take the kid during normal daylight hours.

As Grant massaged the shampoo through his hair, he found himself hurrying. For reasons he could not identify, he felt an urgency to join Jami and her boy before they made other plans for the day. He had talked Homer into letting him use either the motorboat or the sailboat later, hoping such an outing would tempt Jami and Toby. Grant wanted to be the one to introduce them to their first boat excursion on Frost Lake. He had ruled out taking the canoe, considering Toby’s penchant for trouble. A cold dunking was not in his plans today.

He could still hear Jami’s bell-like laughter ringing in his ears. He must have looked ridiculous sitting in the drink with Toby and a muddy wader on his lap. Grant smiled as he rinsed away the last of the soap lather, shut off the shower taps, and shook off water droplets in a manner that would make an Irish Setter proud.

He reached for his robe, a concession since Toby and his blushing mother had surprised him yesterday morning. Not that he wouldn’t mind seeing that flash of pure sexual attraction heat Jami’s eyes and feel his answering hunger once more, but there was the boy.

Rubbing his hair with a towel, Grant paused to remember his original anger when his Cupid match had insisted on bringing her child along on this publicity vacation. Now he admitted that much of the time he enjoyed Toby’s company. Occasionally the kid got in the way of romance, of course.

Grant pulled on his clothing and told himself he had no business thinking about romance, anyway. It was obvious that Jami merited more than a one-night-stand. She deserved a man who would be there for her every night of her life and wake up next to her every morning. A woman as lovely and special as Jami Rhodes was destined for a man who could promise her forever. Definitely not a die-hard bachelor. Grant scowled at his reflection in the mirror. Plus, she needed a father for her redheaded monster.

For the briefest moment, Grant was tempted to check on the Cupid key and make certain it had not escaped the confines of the envelope. He told himself not to be absurd, but was staring at the suspect drawer when Toby burst through the hall door and into the suite.

“I thought you were fishing,” Toby stated, feet planted apart and arms folded in a body stance as accusing as his high voice.

“Toby!” Jami exclaimed, taking hold of her son’s shoulders and boosting him through the room toward their bedroom door.

“It’s okay,” Grant said, stepping toward them. “Toby, I’m sorry Homer and I went fishing without you. I think we would have had more fun if you’d been along.”

“You do?” Toby’s brown eyes grew round.

“I do.” Grant grinned. “How about if I make it up to you? Would you and your mom go boating with me on the lake today? We can bring our fishing gear along with us.”

Happiness shone in Toby’s face, then his expression crumbled. “I don’t have any fishing gear. I don’t even have a fishing pole.”

“We’ll come up with something. Do you want to go?” Grant found himself sounding almost eager. He schooled his tone to be more matter-of-fact. “Your mother has veto power, naturally.”

Jami threw Grant a curious stare.

“All right,” Toby hollered, “I get to go fishing!”

Grant felt a curious lightness and satisfaction as Jami nodded her own agreement. So what if she didn’t share her son’s enthusiasm? She hadn’t refused.

“Jami, can you two be ready by ten-thirty?”

“Fine,” she replied softly. Had he detected a hint of resentment? He hoped not. Grant watched her guide Toby into the bedroom and firmly shut the door. He stared at the closed door for a long moment, then started to whistle. Life was good. He was going fishing again—this time with Jami and Toby.

At ten-thirty Grant had just stepped back into the suite when he heard Jami scream, “No!”

Adrenalin pumping, he strode across the room to throw open the bedroom door. “What’s wrong?”

Face pink and eyes snapping, Jami spun around holding up a pretty coral dress. “This is what’s wrong!”

Grant gaze dropped to a smear of chocolate and a white creamy substance marring a significant section of the bodice.

“Sorry,” Toby sniffed, wearing the same chocolate and whipped cream goo as the dress. “The éclair fell out of my napkin.”

“This dress is the only thing I have suitable for tonight.”

“It’s no big deal,” Grant soothed, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Not to you,” Jami moaned, crushing the dress into a ball and aiming it at Grant’s head.

Grant instinctively ducked. “We’ll get you a new dress.”

“Where?” Instead of sending the ruined garment his way, she flung it on the bed. “An extra-large, souvenir T-shirt from the lodge gift shop?” Jami retrieved the ball of stained fabric and unwadded it. “I don’t think so. I’ll never get this stain out of my coral knit.”

“I said I’m sorry,” Toby wailed, throwing himself at his mother, his sticky chocolate-smeared hands compounding the damage.

Grant gazed in wonder as she smoothed the hair off her son’s forehead and said gently, “I know, tiger. Go wash up and find a clean shirt. Okay?”

“Okay.” Toby grinned his endearing lopsided grin, and Grant thought of the challenges of parenthood.

Though it was obvious Jami was distressed and frustrated, she chose to give her son some slack. Grant shook his head in wonder. Could he be that generous as a parent? He crossed over to Jami and took the ruined dress from her hands. “I’ll take care of this. Trust me.”

“But you can’t,” Jami sputtered as he walked out of her bedroom.

“Trust me.” Grant began to close the door, pausing before he clicked it shut. “Tell Toby that he has ten minutes, then we’re off to the lake.”

Jami stared at the closed door in surprise. Did Grant think Becca had a secret formula to clean the stain? She shrugged. He’d asked her to trust him, and she didn’t have much choice. When they returned from the lake, maybe they’d have to postpone the publicity dinner. Her spirits brightened. That wouldn’t be a bad idea. Toby might have done her a favor, after all. Jami shrugged her shoulders and decided to make the best of the day. Whatever happened, happened.

Fifteen minutes later, they found themselves winding through the woods, a pine-scented breeze flapping Jami’s khaki shorts against her bare thighs. If she could call her legs bare under all that sunscreen and bug repellent. She loved the way her skin was actually tanning to a pale honey, instead of just freckling. Toby already boasted a ruddy suntan, but not the rich golden bronze of Grant’s skin. Jami smiled as Grant forged ahead on the trail, Toby skipping along just behind him. Freckled redheads could never hope for that.

“This is a different trail,” Toby said, as they took the right fork to eventually hike along a wider, higher path than before.

“Good observation. This leads up to the boat dock and runs above the other trail.” Grant carefully held a branch so it wouldn’t flip Jami in the face as he let her and Toby move abreast of him on the path.

Birds chirped and sang in the cottonwoods as the green leaves fluttered in the breeze, filtering down shifting patterns of dappled sunlight. A butterfly dipped and flitted to drink from sweet-scented wildflowers blooming in purples, pinks and yellows beside the trail. Grant could hear the lake swishing and washing the shoreline, but trees, bushes, and brush blocked the view.

Soon they would come around the last bend, and Grant wanted to see their expressions when Jami and Toby caught their first glimpse of Sullivan’s Cove. Mountain heaven.

“Are we going uphill?” Jami asked, a fine sheen of perspiration adding a glow to her satin skin. She brushed a wayward curl off her face and gazed expectantly at Grant.

He inhaled sharply. Did she have any idea of her beauty? Roses tinted her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled the soft fawn-gold of a deer foal. Her lips were pink and moist and slightly parted to show her pearly teeth. Grant tried not to think about kissing those lips as he answered, “Yes. We’ve climbed quite a ways, but we’re almost there.”

“Good.” Toby trotted ahead, one hand clutching the tackle box Homer had loaned him. A tan, well-aged, bait-hooked fishing hat that once had been Grant’s favorite scrunched sideways over Toby’s red hair to give him a midget-sized rakish air. Grant carried the poles along with a canvas backpack.

“Wow!” The boy skidded to a stop when he hit the top of the rise. The landscape fell away to reveal the rippling aqua expanse of Frost Lake nestled in the mountains like a shimmering jewel. “Mom, see this.”

Grinning proudly, Grant took Jami’s delicate hand in his and led her to Toby’s side. “Oh,” she gasped softly.

“See!” The child hopped excitedly. Without waiting for a reply, Toby tracked down the slope where the trail wound downhill toward the lakeshore and a wooden boat dock. “Let’s go.”

“Not yet,” Jami gasped. “I want to enjoy this view.”

“What do you think?” Grant asked, studying Jami’s awed expression.

“I never realized Frost Lake was so beautiful. It’s breathtaking.”

Breathtaking was an appropriate word, Grant mused, admiring the graceful line of Jami’s throat and sweet curve of her jaw. Her satiny skin tempted him to reach out and touch her. He allowed his fingers to just skim her cheek as he tucked a blowing copper curl behind her ear. “Lovely,” he murmured as her misty rose lips curved into an appreciative smile.

“It is lovely,” she exclaimed turning glowing eyes upon him, then back to the alpine panorama. “Why didn’t you tell us about this remarkable view?”

“It’s better to show than tell,” he breathed into her ear, his voice throbbing with hidden meaning as he pulled her backwards against him. Her body yielded to snug her back to his chest, her curvy bottom to his pelvis. She fit perfectly, the scent teasing his nostrils as he rested his chin upon the silky hair at the top of her head.

The double-edged meaning of his words rippled through Jami as the contact of his hard powerful form awakened forbidden desires. Why did this man stir her? Why did he trigger such yearnings? She let herself relax against him, absorbing his strength and allowing herself to enjoy this brief moment of intimacy as they gazed together out over the valley and down on the shimmering lake below.

“There are so many things that I want to show you,” he crooned into her ear, a barrage of sparks tingling from her earlobe, along her jawline to the racing pulse in her throat.

“More spectacular views?” she teased, her voice husky and low as she turned in his arms to face him. Her gaze sought his, reading passion in those midnight blue depths before his head bent to blot out the sun and his mouth swooped down to capture hers.

The tang of mint, the heady sweetness of wine swirled Jami’s senses as his lips mastered hers. She gasped, and his tongue flicked between her parted lips to duel hers in a sensual tango that buckled her knees. She spun deeper and deeper into his kiss as if he absorbed her very soul.

Grant groaned, wrapping around Jami to press her so close she could barely breath. As if she cared about breathing, swept into his fierce embrace and lost in the magic of his kiss. Breathing meant she was earthbound, but this exquisite moment felt like heaven.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Grant moaned against her mouth, then pulled back to study Jami.

Her exotic eyes glazed with passion, and he felt overwhelmed by an accompanying tenderness. She appeared as fragile and vulnerable as she was gutsy. He must have had a temporary lapse in sanity. Grant stared into her eyes, wondering what they’d started and where it could lead. Probably nowhere, he decided with a feeling of regret.