That Carrington Magic (CupidKey)

by Karen Rigley

  “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.

  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?”