That Carrington Magic

chapter 6



Laughing and enjoying their truce, Grant and Jami strolled into the lodge with Toby at their heels. Thinking that the day had been more fun than he could remember, Grant smiled warmly at Jami as he gripped the cooler and fishing rods in his free hand. “We’ll leave this in the mud room with our fishing gear.” He grinned down at her son. “Toby, please put the tackle box by this stuff.”

“The hat, too,” Jami added with a soft chuckle, her face a peachy rose and her eyes sparkling as Toby reluctantly removed the old hat.

Now seconds ahead of mother and son, Grant stepped into the hall only to be tagged by Raven McGuire.

“There you are, Grant Carrington,” the wealthy young widow gushed, ignoring Jami and Toby emerging from the mudroom a few steps behind. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Why?” Toby asked as Grant lazily drawled, “You were?”

Raven batted spider-lashed violet eyes at Grant. “I wanted to invite you to drive down into town with me.”

“Thanks, but I can’t,” he replied as Jami watched the exchange. “I have other obligations this evening.”

Raven’s talons clutched Grant’s strong wrist, her alabaster skin and scarlet nails in harsh contrast to his bronzed arm. “Join me. I promise we’ll have a good time.”

With mixed feelings, Jami realized that she was Grant’s other obligation and rolled her eyes. Grinning at her childish action, her son scooted between Grant and Raven. “Grant, can we go tell Homer about that neat fish I caught?”

Raven’s haughty gaze lanced Toby. “Grant’s not your daddy, kid. Why don’t you bother somebody else?”

Breath hissed through Jami’s teeth. Nobody talked to her son that way. She felt like flattening the ebony-haired vamp. Hands closed into fists and chin high, Jami marched forward.

“Toby’s no bother,” Grant said, reaching down with one hand to boost the boy upon his broad shoulders, a split-second before she showed the offensive woman what happened to someone who insulted her cub. “We’re buddies. Aren’t we, partner?”

“Yeah, buddies,” Toby proudly agreed, hands clinging to Grant’s head and short legs dangling. “Let’s go tell Homer, now.”

“We’ll do even better than tell him—we’ll show Homer your fish.” Left hand steadying Toby, Grant’s right hand waved the ice cooler. He winked at both women, then strode through the hallway. “Hang on, Partner.”

Jami swallowed a lump in her throat. The man might be a bachelor, but he also proved to be a natural-born daddy. Confused, she plowed fingers through her wind-tousled hair. For the moment, Grant had stepped out of the womanizer mold she’d placed him in. That fact unnerved her.

She listened to Toby’s giggles drifting through the hallway as Raven’s venomous gaze met hers. Jami smiled in triumph. Score one for Toby and a big zero for the man-eater.

Ten minutes later, Becca commandeered the fish-packed cooler, shooing Grant and the boy out of her kitchen after they had swapped fish stories with Homer. “You caught enough trout to feed you guys and the family. I’ll cook them for supper.”

“I’m eating with you, right?” Toby asked, watching her nod. “But the lodge guests don’t get any of our fish. Just us and Mom, huh?”

“You bet, Toby.” Becca slung a dishtowel over her shoulder. “We’ll eat early, before I need to feed the lodge guests, so be back here by six, or I’ll eat your prize trout myself.”

Grant chuckled, guiding Toby by the shoulders through the kitchen doorway. “Your mom probably wonders what happened to us. Let’s get back to the suite. Pronto.”

“It’s fun talking to Homer,” Toby stated as they climbed the curved stairway, his hand trailing along the smooth banister.

“I agree.”

“I don’t know many old people.”

“You probably do if you think about it.”

“Well, Mrs. Porter who watches me after school is sort of old. She can’t catch me ‘cause of her aching bones.” His freckled face lit and he snapped his fingers. “I know somebody as old as Homer and Nell—Mrs. Willoby who lives in the big house on the corner.” Toby skipped ahead up to the top of the stairs, then turned to face Grant and, for a moment, the boy stood eye to eye with the man. “She has a dozen cats and they’re mostly broken.”

“Broken cats?” Grant queried, unsure of the child’s meaning.

“Yeah,” Toby earnestly replied, “I heard Mom say that it was a shame Mrs. Willoby never had her cats fixed.”

Grant laughed, tousling the youngster’s hair. Toby again fell in step, and they traipsed along the hallway together. Kids were refreshing devils. In fact, Toby’s high spirits and antics had sent Grant and Jami into peals of laughter during their boating trip. Jami had good-naturedly allowed Grant to give them both fishing lessons, but showed no interest or aptitude in wielding a pole. While Toby tried his hand at fishing, Jami and Grant had discussed their common love of jazz, football, and old musicals. He smiled. They had more in common than he’d imagined.

He opened the suite door, followed by Toby. Something zinged through the air. Whack! Grant batted it away, sending the object clattering to the floor. A partially open Saks department store box, white tissue paper, and aqua silk spilled out onto the carpet. “What the...?”

“Think you can buy me?” Jami hissed, sailing toward him with fight taut in every inch of her. “Give your expensive gifts to gullible females.”

She snagged the box off the floor and flung it at Grant again, this time catching him on the jaw.

“Ouch!” Grant rubbed his chin.

“If a man wants something from a woman, he thinks he can just buy her. Well, Mr. Lady-killer Carrington, you can’t buy me.”

“Mom?” Toby stood with his mouth dropped open.

Jami took hold of her son’s arm and towed him through their bedroom doorway, slamming the door behind them.

Dazed, Grant automatically gathered up the damaged box, strewn tissue paper and rejected dress. Shaken by Jami’s reaction, he carefully refolded the sexy aquamarine silk cocktail gown he’d ordered to be delivered to her to replace her ruined dress. What caused her dramatic eruption? Maybe he should have had a card sent with the dress to explain the gift?

The toe of his shoe hit something, and he stumbled. Grant bent down to lift up the strappy high-heeled sandals he’d requested be included with the dress. Jami obviously hadn’t appreciated the footwear, either.

Bands of pressure built across his forehead, and a vein thumped in his neck. He’d tried to be helpful. Considerate. Nice.

Women. No wonder he remained a bachelor.

Holding the bent box, fancy dress, and discarded sandals, his gaze fell on the drawer holding Grandmother Margaret’s brooch. So much for magic charms. Cupid would find no love victims here.



Inside the inner bedroom of the suite, Jami stood with hands on hips glaring at the door. If she were a dragon, she’d be breathing fire. Taking several deep breaths, she tried to calm her surging adrenalin.

“Mom, are you okay?” Toby asked in a troubled voice.

“Fine. Peachy. Great,” Jami muttered. “I filled the tub for you. Please go take your bath now.”

“Sure, Mom.” Her son’s questioning brown eyes roamed over her face, and she could feel his alarm. “I’ll be real good. And I’ll wash up squeaky clean, I promise.”

Jami’s heart sunk. She had frightened her child. She cupped his hot, flushed face in her hands and said gently, “I love you, honey, and I’m not mad at you. Not at all.”

“You’re mad at Grant?”

“Yes.” She kept the tremble out of her voice.

“Why?” Toby bit his bottom lip and watching her with curiosity, and possibly a tiny bit of awe.

“Grown-up stuff.” She forced a smile. “Now leave the bathroom door open so I can hear you and check on you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Toby started for the bathroom, but paused to turn back to her. “Sometimes I get mad at Grant, too.”

“You do?” she softly prompted.

“Yeah. When he tries to kiss you and acts mushy about you.” Toby pulled a face, then marched into the bathroom, adding, “But most of the time I like him. He teaches me neat stuff. Stuff like kids’ dads teach them. You know?”

“I know.” She knew only too well.

A few minutes later, Jami could hardly see her son when she entered the bathroom, suds nearly bubbling over the tub. “How much bubblebath did you use?”

“Lots of squirts.” Toby blinked up at her, the frothy bubbles forming a Santa beard on his face.

“That’s way too much!”

“I didn’t know.” Toby sunk lower in the warm sudsy water with his hand-carved boat floating beside him. She shook her head—at least he’d be clean.

“Rinse off really good after you let the suds out. Okay?”

“Okay, Mom.”

Leaving the bathroom door open a crack, Jami crossed the room to the extension phone by their bed. She dialed Ty and Sierra’s number, practically holding her breath and counting each ring until it was answered.

“Hello,” piped a familiar, effervescent voice.

“Hi, Sierra.”

“Jami! I’m so glad you called. How’s the lodge? Don’t you just love the Rockies? Isn’t Grant gorgeous?”

“Sierra, we have to talk,” Jami interjected sternly.

“What’s wrong? Did you fall down a mountain? Did Toby fall down a mountain? Is everything all right?”

“No. Things are not all right,” Jami snapped, hoping her friend would give her a chance to participate in their conversation.

“You sound upset.”

“I am upset.” Jami took a deep breath before forging on. “This vacation isn’t working out. I think Toby and I should just head home.”

“What?” Sierra screeched, her high voice even higher. “Tonight is the candlelight dinner publicity shoot, isn’t it?”

“It’s supposed to be...”

“Supposed to be?” Sierra cried. “You can’t let me down now. We’re depending on you, and CupidKey is at your mercy. Please, Jami, please don’t ruin everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Jami sighed, holding the phone away from her ear as Sierra launched into more fervent pleading.

“You can’t back out now! We’ve already bought the ad space in several singles magazines, and Ty is updating our website. The campaign is set in motion. We’re just waiting for the rest of the Frost Lake photos from Mike.”

“Aren’t the ones he took earlier enough?”

“No. We need romantic scenes, like your dinner tonight, and the shoot of you and Grant on the lake tomorrow.”

“What shoot on the lake tomorrow?” Jami asked, her own distress escalating as she half-listened to Toby splashing and singing, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.”

“Oh,” Sierra’s voice sounded suspiciously regretful. “Did I forget to tell you about the lake session?”

“You certainly did.”

“Ty thought it’d be so romantic and beautiful to capture a love scene of you two on the lake.”

Jami gritted her teeth and counted to ten. “What do you mean love scene?”

“Just normal stuff. You know, Grant and you kissing.”

“I will not kiss Grant.”

“Don’t be juvenile, Jami.” Sierra sounded exasperated. “Pretend you’re kissing the man for the pictures. I’m certain Mike isn’t into bedroom photography. We just want some romantic shots to make singles drool and flock to CupidKey for their own perfect mate.”

“Well the candlelight dinner is off, anyway.”

“It can’t be off. I talked to Mike an hour ago, and he said everything was set to use the Garden Room at the lodge.”

“Toby ruined my only suitable dress,” Jami began to explain.

“Toby?” Sierra shrieked, hurting Jami’s eardrum. “I should have known it had something to do with your little monster.”

“He didn’t mean to stain it, but the dress is ruined, and I have nothing to wear for a fancy dinner.”

“Why didn’t you drive into town and buy a new dress?”

“I don’t have any transportation, and I can’t afford to buy an outfit every time my son ruins one.”

“This time, we would have reimbursed you for the expense. And I’m positive Becca would have gladly loaned you the van, but it’s too late now. You’d never make to town and back before the dinner,” Sierra concluded with a sniffily sob.

Jami suffered a burst of guilt. “Grant did buy me a dress, but naturally I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t believe you’d asked that,” Jami sputtered, her insides knotting at old memories ripped open by Grant’s action. “Men like Grant buy expensive presents to get what they want from a woman, or to cover-up their other affairs.”

“Wait a minute! Are you and Grant having an affair?”

“No,” Jami choked.

“And what do you mean men like Grant? Don’t you dare lump my brother-in-law into the same rotten mold that your ex-husband fit. They’re nothing alike.”

“A womanizer is a womanizer.” Jami pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes closed to shut out the pain.

“Doug cheated on you and showered you with expensive gifts to keep you from guessing what was really happening, but that has nothing to do with Grant.” Sierra’s voice grew reflective. “I think it’s sweet of him to replace your dress.”

“Sweet?” Jami grumbled. “It’s a sexy slinky number that’s about as sweet as a jalapeño pepper.”

“Wow! He’s hot for you. Why didn’t you tell me that’s how it is between you two?”

“That’s not how it is,” Jami protested, a blush heating her cheeks as she recalled his kiss—the kiss he regretted.

“Well, I don’t see a problem, Jami. Grant bought you a suitable dress, and now the dinner can go as planned.”

“That dress is not suitable.”

“Sure it is. Live dangerously.” Sierra’s excitement crackled over the wires.

“It’s silk, for heaven’s sake,” Jami stormed into the phone.

“Sounds luscious.”

“Silk,” Jami ranted, tearing her hand through her hair and pacing the carpet. “Expensive and impractical! You know I only wear Toby survivable fabrics like denim and cotton.” Even though the silk had tempted her for the briefest moment. How long had it been since she had owned such a beautiful dress?

“That silk dress is a gift for a special occasion, not something for your child to use for survival gear.”

“Grant had the gown delivered from Saks Fifth Avenue. It must have cost him a fortune.”

“He can afford it.” Sierra’s voice firmed. “Don’t you dare offer to reimburse him for it, either. The man gave you a present, so accept it gracefully.”

“I don’t want presents from men. You know that!”

“Tough. Make an exception tonight. What color is the dress?”

“Aqua,” Jami spluttered, frustrated that her long-time friend failed to understand her turmoil. “What there is of it.”

“Aqua? Jami, that’s a divine color on you. Maybe we can blow up a poster-size photo of you and Grant dressed to kill. Clients will be beating down our door,” Sierra raved. “Oh, thank you. You’re the greatest.”

“Sierra, I can’t wear the dress Grant gave me.”

“Forget your false modesty–remember, I was there when you wore that string bikini at Galveston Beach.”

“For heaven’s sake, Sierra. I was sixteen!”

“You have an even better figure now.”

“I gave the dress back to Grant,” Jami admitted, knowing she had no intention of reclaiming the thing.

“You what?” There was no missing Sierra’s alarm.

“Ah, yeah.”

“You really gave it back?”

“Threw it,” Jami clarified, feeling a bit childish as she re-examined her actions. What did Grant think of her? She cringed at his likely opinion.

“Retrieve that dress immediately,” Sierra said, an uncustomary order coloring her words.

“I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.”

“No way.” Jami’s hand tightened on the phone as Toby padded into the room, barefooted and clad in his cartoon underwear.

“Get Grant on the line,” Sierra persisted. “I promise to make this as painless as possible.”

“Here, Toby,” Jami said, taking the chicken’s way out and thrusting the receiver at her son. “Tell Grant that he has a call from Sierra.”

“Sure, Mom.” Toby threw open the door to yell, “Hey, Grant, Sierra’s on the phone for you.”

Jami heard Grant muttering—possibly cursing.

Toby grinned and hung up the phone. “He got it.”

“My turn for the bathroom,” Jami informed Toby with forced cheer. She needed a temporary reprieve. Still not ready to face the man she had maligned, Jami dashed into the bathroom and sought the sanctuary of a shower.

“What?” Grant barked into the phone, his sister-in-law not exactly on his favored list at the moment.

“You sound like a wounded bear,” Sierra answered with a tinkling laugh.

“It’s been a bad day,” he growled. “What can I do for you, Sierra?”

“It’s what I can do for you, C.G.”

He disliked it when his brothers teased him and called him C.G., and now Sierra had adopted the annoying initials. He scowled at the phone in silence.

When he didn’t respond, she continued, “When you gave Jami that dress, she misunderstood your intentions.”

“I noticed.” Grant raked a hand through his hair and wondered where this conversation was headed. With his dingy pixie of a sister-in-law, he could never be certain.

“That dress,” Sierra teased with her voice full of laughter, “Sounds like a sexy number.”

“I just told the store what I thought would be attractive on Jami and appropriate for our Cupid dinner. I never saw the dress until it hit me in the face.”

“Just be glad you gave her something soft.”

“The box wasn’t soft,” Grant grumped, rubbing his chin. “Neither were the shoes.”

“You gave her shoes?” Sierra giggled, and Grant was sorely tempted to strangle the telephone.

“Sandals to match the dress. Spike heels and thin straps. Very nice.”

“High heels for Jami?” Sierra was hiccupping giggles now.

“Women like heels,” Grant protested, desperately searching for escape.

“Men like high heels on women. Women tolerate the foolish things.”

“I just wanted to give Jami a present, something to wear tonight.”

“Jami’s not into presents.”

“Obviously.” Grant hesitated, then added, “I intended to replace the dress Toby ruined. I certainly didn’t attempt to buy her favors.”

“Her ex-husband used to,” Sierra confided, a wealth of meaning underlying the statement.

“I see,” Grant replied, suddenly understanding what had triggered Jami’s emotional explosion. “What should I say? How can I repair the situation?”

“Don’t say anything. Just lay the dress out on her bed and threaten Toby with his life if he so much as breathes on it.”

“I hope Ty appreciates what I’m going through for him,” Grant groaned, thinking his baby brother owed him big.

“We both do.” Sierra’s tone dropped. “Jami’s been burned, Grant. She may act fiercely independent, but most of it’s armor.”

Grant replaced the telephone, pondering this new facet to Jami Rhodes. He gathered up the dress and sandals, then tapped on her bedroom door, breathing a relieved sigh when Toby opened it.

“Mom’s in the shower.”

“Good. We have to talk,” Grant said, striding into the room to deposit his gifts onto the quilt-covered double bed.

“What about?” Toby asked warily.

“This,” Grant replied, arranging the dress carefully. “I don’t want you to sneeze around this outfit.”

“Okay.” Toby cocked his head. “I’m hungry. What time is it?”

“Nearly six. Can’t you tell time?” Grant asked, trying to recall at what age kids learned such things.

“On some clocks.” Toby pointed to the old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand. It had gold dashes in place of numbers. “That one’s hard.”

“I see.” Grant wavered, not convinced that it would be advisable to leave Toby and the silk dress together. “Didn’t Becca tell you to be in the kitchen by six?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to tell Mom.”

Grant winced, recalling why Toby hadn’t found the opportunity to inform Jami. “What if I write your mom a note and take you downstairs to Becca?”

“All right!” Toby whooped.

“Keep it down, partner. We don’t want to set your mother off again.”

“We sure don’t,” Toby agreed, sharing a conspiratorial grin with Grant.

Jami came out of the bathroom and stepped into an empty bedroom. She immediately focused on the bed where a large piece of paper lay atop the silk dress. Now what? She cinched the sash of her terry robe and picked up the note to read Grant’s bold scrawl:


Jami,





Toby got dressed, and I’m taking him down to the kitchen. He’s eating dinner with Becca, Nell, and Homer, then playing checkers with Homer. Nell promises to tuck your son into bed afterwards and wait here in your room to keep an eye on him while we’re at dinner. She says not to worry if we run late, since she’ll bring her knitting.





Later, Grant.





Recalling the awful things she’d said to Grant, Jami let his note flutter onto the quilt. He hadn’t mentioned a word about their fight or the cocktail dress. What had Sierra told him? Jami thought of calling Sierra back, but a glance at the clock reminded her that she needed to get ready for the photo session of the candlelight dinner with Grant. Sierra wanted romance on film, but Jami was sure romance was the last thing her tantrum had put Grant in the mood for.

Jami took a fortifying breath as the exquisite, daringly cut, aquamarine silk reclaimed her attention. Oh, for some of the naïve brazen courage she had once possessed to parade the beach in a string bikini at sixteen.