That Carrington Magic (CupidKey)

by Karen Rigley

  From this moment on, Jami knew that no matter how much she tried to maintain a business only relationship, he had awakened a raw sexual need within her. Mesmerized by the sight of this beautiful man who made her want to ignore her screaming sense of self-preservation, she stammered, “I—I thought you were playing cards.”

  Grant stepped forward, saying in a sexy growl, “I wouldn’t have wasted a moment if I’d known you were waiting for me.”

  “I wasn’t.” Painfully aware of her own nakedness, one hand clutching her towel and the other pressed against the door frame, Jami whispered, “I need my purse.” With her free hand, she pointed to the table.

  “Sure. Your purse.” He cocked his head, a brow lifting incredulously. “You going somewhere dressed like that?”

  She stared at him, forbidding herself to surrender to the tempting thoughts their state of undress invited. Still, she could no more parade nearly nude through the suite under his intense gaze, than throw herself into his arms and beg him to make passionate love to her. Jami’s chin rose along with her voice. “I want my lotion, and it’s in my handbag.”

  “Lotion is what you want?” A wicked smile curved his mouth and, to her dismay, he continued to scrutinize her as if he could see right through the towel.

  “A gentleman would bring me my handbag.”

  “Mmm?” Grant stroked his square jaw as his eyes blazed and his voice dropped to rough velvet. “I can think of other things a gentleman would do for you.”

  Jami’s breath caught, realizing that Grant Carrington appeared far too potently male, far too dangerous. Gathering her willpower and channeling forbidden temptation, she countered, “You are no gentleman!”

  “Allow me.” He swept her handbag off the table and strode across the room, halting before her. “Here’s your lotion, Red.”

  Grant pressed the purse against her hand clutching the towel. The touch of his knuckles seared right through the terrycloth against her breasts as she fumbled for her handbag without releasing the towel. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice breathless as her heart beat a wild tempo.

  “My pleasure.”

  He grinned as she ran out of the room.

  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 tha
t 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 v
oice 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.