That Carrington Magic

chapter 8



“Mom, I can see the fish!” Toby hollered, practically hanging upside-down from the wooden dock, his red hair fanning out from his head as he dangled.

“Toby,” Jami cried, dropping the picnic basket with a clatter as she dashed toward her son. “You’ll fall!”

“Then we’ll fish him out.” Grant moved with agile strength across the creaking planks, reaching down to the boy.

Toby grabbed the offered hand and let Grant swing him upright to perch on the pier edge. “Wow, that was cool.”

“You’ll think cool,” his mother scolded, retrieving the basket. “When you land in the lake with the fish.”

“I’m drip dry, Mom.” Toby grinned his lopsided grin. “You told me to do that when we got caught in the rain on the way home from the park, remember?”

“Drip dry?” Grant repeated, his left brow arched, amusement reflected in his face and voice.

Jami felt her face flush. “I wonder where Mike is?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Here,” the photographer called, lumbering toward them, loaded with his equipment. “We can get started as soon as I get set.”

“Here on the dock?” Jami asked. The water slapped against wood, punctuating her words.

“Turn around and check out that view over the lake.” Mike swept a hand toward the panorama behind them. “See how the greens of the forest frames the blues of the lake with the backdrop of mountain and sky?”

She spun around and immediately saw the beauty in the scene. “It is lovely.”

“Nature’s own backdrop.” Grant waved at the scenery with pride, as he placed Toby’s hand-carved boat on top of the cooler.

“Exactly,” Mike responded, extending the metal tripod legs and attaching his camera to the top. “I want to capture the romance of the Rockies.”

“Maybe I should have dressed differently.” Jami glanced down at her navy shorts and crop-top. What had seemed appropriate for a day at the lake suddenly seemed too skimpy when she thought of the photo campaign.

“You’re so beautiful,” Grant said, his midnight blue gaze transmitting messages meant for her alone.

She responded to the heat of his gaze, and for a moment their eyes met, drawing her like a magnetic current. One she couldn’t resist. One she didn’t want to resist.

Jami felt a tug on her arm, reality flooding back as she glanced down at Toby.

“Mom, can I be in the pictures with you?”

“Later, junior. Right now I need an assistant, and you’re it.” Mike grinned at Toby and waved a camera bag at the child. “Find my lens cleaner. It’s in a container like this, but has a red label.”

“Sure, Mike, I’m a good helper.” Toby skipped across the dock to grab the black leather bag.

“Don’t drop anything,” Jami warned, both pleased and alarmed by the photographer’s offer to her son.

“I won’t. I’ll be real careful.” Toby instantly dived through the contents, and within seconds withdrew the lens cleaner. Proudly, he handed it to the photographer.

Mike immediately set him searching for something else, then directed his attention to the couple. “Grant, go stand by Jami. Put your arm around her shoulders and gaze lovingly into her eyes.”

“You’ve got it.” In two quick strides, Grant reached Jami’s side and sent her heartbeat skittering.

She tensed as Grant wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her against his powerful body, hoping no one could read her true attraction to her Cupid match. Her breathing quickened. What if Grant could read her attraction?

“Grant, why don’t you tip Jami’s chin up?” Mike grew excited, his words spilling into each other. “Yes, with your right hand like that. Now bend your head as if you’re going to kiss her. No. You’re blocking her. Both of you turn toward the camera. That’s it, open my view. Hold it there!”

A series of rapid clicks and whirs filled the air. Jami shifted, catching Toby out of the corner of her eye.

“I don’t want Mom kissing Grant,” Toby grumbled, halting his search and stood, his determined feet planted apart. “Mushy stuff is yucky.”

“It’s just pretend,” Jami whispered, caught in an awkward pose with Grant’s mesmerizing mouth a breath away from hers. The problem was that her body didn’t understand this was pretend any better than her son did.

“Pretend, just like in the movies.” Mike chuckled, giving Toby his full attention. “Don’t you sometimes pretend to be a fireman, cowboy, or pilot?”

Toby nodded, his bottom lip caught in a pout and his brown eyes cautious.

“Think of this as a game or a movie. We’re the directors, so your mom and Grant have to do what we say, even if they think it’s silly. We’ll take some great photographs. Okay?” He snapped several shots.

“They have to do what we say?” Toby repeated with glee, his round freckled face brightening. “Can we make them jump in the lake?”

“Not exactly,” Mike replied, grinning defiantly at Grant as if he dared the man to protest. “But maybe we can have them play in the water later.”

“With my boat?”

“That the pretty sea craft named RED?”

Breaking her pose, Jami glanced at the pine boat atop Grant’s cooler. Sure enough, the name Red was painted in candy-apple red across the side. When had Grant done that?

“That’s my boat, but I don’t have a captain for it.” Toby scowled. “Grant said he’d help me find a teeny man to fit in my boat, but he hasn’t.”

“I’m working on it, partner,” Grant said, his expression revealing that he had probably forgotten. “Maybe I can whittle you a captain.”

“Today?” Toby asked.

“Not today.”

Easing away from Grant, Jami pressed her lips together as Toby lapsed into a sullen silence.

A sudden distressed shout sounded from the woods a short distance above the trail leading to the dock. Dottie and Doris, dressed identically in safari shorts and flowered shirts, burst into the sunlight. They crossed a clearing by the edge of the trees, a purple-faced professor huffing behind them dangling binoculars.

“You did not see a Great Spotted Woodpecker,” Professor Tolaski thundered.

“We did! You’re mistaken,” Dottie and Doris cried in unison.

“I’m not the one mistaken,” the professor chided, unmindful of others observing their exchange.

Jami smothered a giggle with her hand as she watched the arguing birders disappear back into the woods.

“I’ve got a Woody Woodpecker comic book,” Toby boasted, as usual not wanting to be topped by the birders.

“You have?” Grant said with sudden interest. “Those are collector’s items. How did you get one?”

“Mom gave it to me. When we moved, she found it in a box of dumb girl stuff from when she was a kid.”

Grant glanced at Jami with sympathy, realizing she’d probably found the old comic when she’d sorted through personal belongings in their family home after her parents’ death. She paled and averted her face from his scrutiny.

“I hate to interrupt, but aren’t we in the middle of a photo shoot here?” Mike said with impatience as he recollected his equipment. “Let’s get some shots of you on those boulders along the shoreline.”

Grant moved away from Jami to gather his gear. Toby took charge of his toy boat and Mike’s camera bag, which he proudly slung over one shoulder to Mike’s approving nod. Caravan-style, the three males took the lead down a narrow, dirt-packed trail winding downward toward the boulders.

Jami followed along behind, her mind on the old comic book she had given her son. It was the only thing, besides a pink Barbie convertible, that Toby had found worth saving from the box of childhood possessions they’d unearthed. On the other hand, she’d found some very precious items she decided to keep. The embroidered doll dress her mother had given her on her seventh birthday, a ceramic frog she’d made for her mother back in third grade, and the plastic binoculars her dad had given her on a trip to Big Bend National Park one year.

Even the geode and fossilized wood her dad had found for her fifth grade science project. She touched the tip of her nose, a half smile curving her lips as she recalled the pretend face powder compact and miniature plastic lipstick her mother had given her to keep her out of Mommy’s real make-up.

A poignant wave of nostalgia washed over Jami. So many memories. She brushed a tear from her eye as she reached the others, then pasted a smile on her face.

Grant watched Jami approach. So beautiful, but a haunting sadness now shadowed her lovely eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I’m fine.” Jami knew it was impossible for Grant to be reading her thoughts, but as he gazed compassionately at her, she felt he must. He possessed an uncanny ability to tune into her moods.

“Hey, cool! I’m king.” Toby climbed to the top of the largest boulder. “Get on that one, Mom, and be queen.”

Jami sat the picnic basket down in the shade by a cluster of wood violets, before she stepped upon the boulder with a smile. He was so sweet, his carrot-red hair mussed and face already smudged with dirt. The child had certainly taken to this mountain wilderness where he seemed to get in much less trouble than in the city. Maybe she hadn’t kept Toby busy enough at home in Houston.

Grant gazed at them with mock sternness. “If Toby’s king, and Jami’s queen, what am I?”

“Queen’s paramour.” Mike chuckled as he set up his equipment again. “Grant, while Jami’s on the rock, put your hands at her waist, like you’re going to swing her into your arms at any moment.”

“We want them to look mushy?” Toby asked, his voice and narrowed gaze proof that the child was not won over completely.

“Yeah, real mushy,” Mike replied, adjusting his lens after metering the light.

“Will we make them play in the water soon?”

Jami stood atop the boulder at eye level with Grant. They exchanged a glance of amusement A mischievous glint danced in Grant’s eyes as the photographer mumbled, “Maybe.”

Mike had no idea how persistent Toby could be, but Jami knew Grant had already learned. It pleased her to share this unspoken jewel of parental knowledge. A bittersweet thought tugged at her heart—within a matter of days, Grant actually understood her boy better than Doug, the child’s own father. And possibly cared about Toby more, Jami thought as she witnessed the fondness in Grant’s face when his gaze swept over to the boy. Grant Carrington would be a good father someday.

Mike swatted at a mosquito and shooed away a fly. “Toby, report for bug duty. Keep those insects on the move and away from me.”

“Yes, sir.” Toby scrambled off the boulder to give Mike a military salute.

Jami grinned, wondering where her son had learned the salute. Probably television. Even with supervised watching, kids had access to so much. Good and bad. She shook her head, always amazed at the things Toby picked without her knowledge. He could be a sponge at times, absorbing everything. Especially things she wished he hadn’t noticed. Then other times.

“Watch Grant, not the kid,” Mike admonished.

Toby slapped the photographer’s thigh, sending a transparent winged insect zipping away. “Ouch! Don’t get so enthusiastic, Toby.”

“Whoops, missed it. Sorry, Mike.”

Jami smiled, stifled a giggle, and very obediently turned to focus on Grant Carrington, whose dark blue eyes gazed merrily at her, his lips twitching upward.

“Hey,” Mike hollered as they heard another slap. “Cut it out.”

“Gosh, I was just trying to do what you told me,” Toby grumbled, scuffing his sneaker toe in the dirt.

Jami and Grant burst into laughter.

Mike glared at them. “We should have done this session solo at the hot tub.”

Another giggle escaped Jami’s mouth.

“I would have made you wear a bikini,” Mike growled at Jami, while guiding Toby by the shoulders to a flat rock and sitting the child there. “Park it a minute.”

“A bikini sounds good to me,” Grant responded with a sexy grin.

“That would be cute on you,” Jami taunted.

“What hot tub?” Toby asked, face in hands and elbows on knees.

“The hot tub in the Garden Room at the lodge,” Mike shot back.

“Neat. Hot tubs have those bubble spouts, huh?”

“Guess so,” Mike mumbled, staring through his camera at Jami and Grant. “Grant, put your hands back on Jami’s waist and lean toward her. I want to see fun in your expressions. Lovers at play.”

“I hope nobody shows Toby that hot tub,” Jami whispered to Grant with a smile plastered on her face.

“Don’t worry,” Grant whispered back, “He’s never out of an adult’s sight long enough to cause any problems.”

“I guess you’re right,” Jami replied, enjoying Grant’s touch and feeling more comfortable. “Toby’s stayed out of trouble quite well since we arrived.”

“Grant, swing her in the air,” Mike ordered, with a waving motion either meant to direct them or disperse another insect.

Suddenly, Jami’s feet left the boulder as Grant picked her up to twirl her in the air like a doll. The heady sensation of flying teased her, then her body slammed against his rock hardness, knocking her breath away.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Mike hollered, his camera clicking and whirring at top speed. “I captured that entire sequence on film.”

“Do they play in the water, yet?” Toby asked, none too patiently.

“After lunch,” Mike answered, sounding tortured by his own suggestion.

Grant grinned, understanding how the young photographer felt. A pit bull with a tug rope had nothing on Toby Rhodes when that boy decided he wanted something. Including a captain for the handmade boat. Maybe he could come up with something tonight. He’d better, he reminded himself, or there’d be hell to pay.

The morning whizzed past as Jami and Grant posed for a variety of photos, including several in the sailboat, angled so the fact the craft was still docked was camouflaged. When they broke for lunch, Grant led them to a lovely wooded area that jutted right up to the lake. “How about this?”

“Picnic tables, Grant?” Jami teased, secretly delighted by the picnic grove. “Won’t the ants be disappointed this time?”

“I’m sure we’ll drop enough crumbs to please them.”

“Do you think my lizard’s here somewhere?” Toby asked hopefully, his big brown eyes on Grant.

Grant shook his head. “We’re probably too noisy today. Maybe we can stop at the rock spring and let you see some frogs on the way back.”

“Could we put one in my boat and let it have a ride?”

“Frogs hop, remember, honey?” Jami said gently, while unpacking paper napkins and bright plasticware from the picnic basket. “It would jump out.”

“Okay,” Toby responded, resignation on his freckled face. “But I need something to ride in my boat.”

“Lunch!” Grant declared, piling cold cans of soda pop, sandwiches, and a bowl of pasta salad from the cooler.

“What? No beer?” Mike joked, taking a Pepsi from the stack of cans.

Grant handed a root beer to Toby, then grinned at Mike. “This is as close as it gets. Though, Homer tried to convince his wife and daughter to add brew—Nell and Becca ignored him.”

“Good for the girls,” Jami retorted, choosing a red-cream soda for herself and trying to identify the ingredients of the sandwich she had selected. “This is peanut butter and probably grape jelly. Do you want it, Toby?”

“Sure. Thanks, Mom,” her son added with a quick glance at Grant.

Jami bit into a tuna and lettuce sandwich as she gazed up at the leaf-laced canopy above. Blue sky peeked through the foliage, songbirds chirped in an ancient cottonwood. A striking black-and-white magpie squawked and argued with a much wee starling atop a silver-leafed quaking aspen. Everywhere, she saw faint touches of scarlet or gold brushing the various greens. “The leaves are starting to turn already.”

“It is early August,” Mike reminded her.

She exchanged a smile with Grant. “August often brings the hottest, stickiest part of the summer in Houston.”

“True. Made survivable by the life-saving invention of air-conditioning,” Grant added, his gaze still locked with hers.

Jami tore her gaze from Grant and scanned the area. “These mountains must turn to a glorious blaze of color in the autumn.”

“Early autumn. We have early falls and winters. Late springs.” Mike paused with a forkful of pasta in midair. “At this altitude, our summers run short and winters run long.”

“I’d like to visit Frost Lake during each season,” Jami said, inhaling the fresh, alpine air, tinged with the lake scent.

“That could be arranged,” Grant responded, his midnight gaze still lingering on her, sending a languid flush of warmth through her body.

Did Grant mean he wanted to show her the Rockies each season? Jami took a sip of her soda, studying the man. A breeze ruffled his dark blond hair where it waved off his broad forehead, and his golden bronze tan appeared deeper than ever. Though his set, chiseled features gave nothing away, his probing dark blue eyes searched hers.

“Visiting the Colorado Rockies four times a year isn’t in the cards for me,” Jami replied softly, wishing it was.

“It could be.” Grant still watched her.

“If everyone’s through chowing down,” Mike said, getting up from the table bench. “We can get back to the photo shoot.”

“Do we have to?” Toby grumbled, echoing his mother’s sentiments.

“Just a while longer, partner,” Grant sympathized, gathering plates from the table. “Then we’ll check out those frogs.”

“All right,” Toby cried, hopping to his feet on the table bench.

Jami grinned and began helping Grant clear the picnic stuff. He always seemed to know the right way to handle Toby. And she knew from experience that was no simple task.

After Mike tortured them into poses for every photo he could possibly need, he began shooting candids of the two of them playing with Toby. They’d waded into the lake with the toy boat and between all the splashing and laughter, she ended up as wet as her little boy. Her crop-top and shorts clung damply to her body, and her hair corkscrewed into wet, dark copper curls. She could taste the fishy lake water on her lips as she watched Grant spin around with Toby perched on his broad shoulders until both males landed in the water with a gigantic splash.

The cold water hit her in the face. She hoped her mascara wasn’t streaked. “Cool it, guys.”

“Why? You’re already wet,” Grant countered, dripping as he rose up from the lake with a giggling, wiggling Toby in his arms.

“Jami, wade closer to them. This is a perfect family-at-play shot.” Mike waved her toward Grant and Toby.

Though she kept a smile on her face, she swallowed a lump in her throat. This perfect family wasn’t a family at all. Just like the ad campaign photos, this was only pretend. So why did that fact hurt so much?

Rumpled, but drip-dried, Jami and Toby bid goodbye to Mike at the boat dock, then followed Grant back to the lodge, detouring from the trail to stop at a gurgling, frothing spring. Jami was surprised to recognize rhubarb and asparagus growing by the wild mint and watercress surrounding the natural mountain pool. The clear, icy spring flowed freely out of a rock outcrop and then disappeared as mysteriously a few feet away.

Grant held a finger up to his lips. “Be really quiet and maybe we’ll see squirrels or deer.”

“Do they play in the water here?” Toby whispered, excitedly gazing all around the wooded area.

“Some drink it. The water acts as an oasis, drawing animals and insects.” Grant gestured to several frogs leaping on the stones and sitting in the water. One frog’s long pink tongue darted out, unfurling to snatch a fly mid-flight.

“Cool,” Toby gasped. The frogs croaked and hopped, scattering for shelter as the boy knelt close and gazed into the water. “I see some fish and lots of bugs. What are those squirmy bitty green things with round heads and long tails?”

“Tadpoles,” Grant replied, smiling as proudly as if he invented the amphibians. “Polliwog.”

“Baby frogs,” Jami explained, used to simplifying things for a child.

“Can I keep one?”

Grant scooped a couple of polliwogs into his hand, keeping them under the water. “Sorry, slugger, but they can’t breathe out of the water, until they grow up into frogs.”

“Then can I have a frog?” Toby persisted.

“Think you can catch one?” Grant challenged with a chuckle.

Jami threw the man a strong glare, but her son was already squealing as one frog squirted out between his hands to send the other frogs leaping in various directions. The spring exploded with splashes and chaos.

“Enough!” Jami exclaimed, hands on hips as she watched Grant dissolve with laughter, and Toby determinedly pursue the hopping amphibians.

“I’m going back to the lodge,” Jami told them, choking back her own laughter. “You boys can meet me there.” She started to hike down the beaten trail, but paused, turning back to add, “Dinner is in an hour, Toby. You need time to clean up first. Okay?”

“Okay,” Toby agreed without taking his eyes off the teeniest frog.

“I’ll see to it,” Grant merrily promised, laugh lines around his eyes crinkling in a way that made him appear as carefree and abandoned as Toby.

Jami headed down the trail, automatically skirting rocks and protruding roots as her head swam with emotion. This felt too comfortable—too much like a real family outing. Why did the man have to be so devastating? Why couldn’t Grant Carrington be a boring, eccentric nerd? Instead of an irresistible, fun-loving hunk?

She had to admit that her heart was in danger—in serious danger.