by Karen Rigley
“Yeah, right.” Jami took a deep breath. “So tell me about this lodge.”
Darting inside the Houston airport several steps behind her rambunctious boy, Jami pushed a lock of hair off her face and wondered at the wisdom of her choice to bring Toby along. Mother and son skidded to a stop with Sierra Carrington a short way behind them as they slowly moved forward in a winding luggage check line.
With an exasperated sigh, Jami gazed down at her child, who aimed a rubber suction-tipped, plastic arrow toward a crush of people and drew the bow. “Toby, no! You can’t shoot that here. You might hit someone.”
“I want to shoot somebody.” Toby’s round freckled face scrunched.
“No, you don’t. Arrows aren’t allowed at the airport. How did you sneak that into your backpack? We need to put it in one of the suitcases. Now.”
“Do it, tiger, before Security takes the bow and arrow from you,” Sierra crisply cautioned while Jami crouched down and began unlocking a suitcase.
“Nobody takes my weapon.” Toby glared at Sierra, who looked like a female elf with her shiny black cap of hair in a pixie-cut that fit her gamin face.
Jami bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have allowed her friend to see them off, but this was Sierra’s deal and she was needed for an introduction to Grant Carrington. Besides, she couldn’t abandon her friend—Sierra had planned a publicity shot of Jami and her Cupid match as they met.
Unfortunately, a mutinous expression was settling over Toby from the set of his mouth to his stubborn body stance. This was not a good thing.
“We need to put your bow and arrow into the suitcase. Wait until we arrive at the lodge to shoot it, okay?” Jami touched Toby’s smooth cheek with a fingertip. Handful or not, he was so precious. Tears blurred her vision, her heart swelling with love as she gazed at her son. He was the only family she had left and she just couldn’t leave him behind for an entire week. “You wouldn’t want to lose your arrows before we even get there, would you?”
“I can’t believe you’re really taking him. You ought leave Toby like we planned,” Sierra scolded in direct conflict with Jami’s thoughts.
“Don’t go there,” Jami cautioned, aware of her son’s anxiety level rising.
“Let me take him to my place, instead. He’s got his stuff,” Sierra added, totally out of tune with the child’s panic as she ruffled Toby’s hair.
“Mom, don’t go without me,” Toby pleaded, a sob threatening his young voice. Bow and arrow clenched in his right hand, he grabbed her skirt with a chubby fist. “You promised you’d take me to the mountains with you.”
“You are coming with me,” Jami reassured him, miffed at her friend for upsetting Toby. When had he become so insecure? Couldn’t Sierra see that she was aggravating his insecurity? “Sierra, I meant what I told you last night. Toby accompanies me or I don’t go.”
“Grant’s not going to be happy about this.”
“You didn’t tell him?” Jami said, alarmed and surprised.
“No. I hoped you’d change your mind.” Sierra stood on tiptoe to scan the crowded airport lobby. “This is supposed to be a romantic getaway for you and your Cupid-selected, ideal mate.”
“Ideal mate? There’s no such thing,” Jami scoffed. “Besides, Toby and I are a team. If your brother-in-law objects—too bad.” She pressed her lips together, not realizing she mimicked her son’s pout.
“Mom, I’m going with you, right?”
“Hey!” Sierra suddenly hollered, staring past them, waving at someone in the crowd. “Jami, there’s your Mr. Right.”
Uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable Toby appeared, Jami ignored her friend to focus her full attention on her son. “Sweetie, I won’t leave you behind.” She gently unhooked his fingers from her dress, ruefully noting sticky chocolate prints marking the pink cotton. “Now put your bow and arrow away, please.”
“It’s not fair,” Toby grumped, his brown eyes bright with unshed tears that tore at her heart. “Robin Hood needs his weapon.”
Sierra waved both arms wildly. “Grant, over here!”
“Sorry,” Jami whispered to Toby, wishing they had just stayed home. Why had she let Sierra talk her into this?
“Jami,” Sierra’s excitement bubbled forth, “Grant is coming toward us. Smile and pretend you’re delighted. Play happy for the video.”
“Video? But my dress has chocolate smeared all over it,” Jami protested.
“Smile,” Sierra repeated. “Meet your Mr. Right.”
A plastic rubber-tipped arrow zinged past Jami’s left ear. She glanced up just as the arrow hit target. It stuck onto the forehead of a very handsome, very startled man, who halted mid-stride with his hand outstretched toward Jami.
So much for Cupid. Jami cringed. Toby-the-Terror had struck again.
Grant Carrington yanked the arrow off his forehead, the rubber tip releasing his skin with a pop. He held the arrow toward Toby. “This yours?”
Jami and her son stared at the white, red-rimmed target-like circle in the middle of her potential Mr. Right’s forehead. Toby gasped, and she wondered if the child would dash behind her.
Instead, he planted his small feet apart and faced the tall man who quickly closed the gap between them.
“I’m sorry,” Jami began, but the man cut her off.
“Did you shoot me?” Grant Carrington asked, his compelling gaze swiftly assessing Jami as she realized he was definitely blessed with striking Carrington genes.
“Well, no...”
“Then you’re not the one who owes me an apology.” Still holding the arrow, Grant targeted her child with a drill-sergeant glare.
Toby squirmed, but held his ground.
“Sorry, sir,” the child muttered, to her astonishment. Her son put apologies right up there with liver and spinach on his list of things to avoid.
“You know better than to shoot your bow and arrow in a public place, don’t you?” Grant Carrington continued, ignoring his sister-in-law, Sierra, who flitted around them like a distressed pixie.
“Yeah,” Toby whispered, his expression a combination of awe mingled with fear as he stared up at the man.
“Then I’m not the only one you owe an apology to, am I?” Grant drawled. Though his face remained impassive, Jami noted a smile twitch his lips.
And what lips! That sensually molded mouth distracted her for a moment into wondering how it would feel to be kissed by this broad-shouldered, tall Greek god of a man, who filled out an Armani suit to perfection. She shook away the tantalizing thought in time to see her son hesitate.
“Aw, gosh.” With a crooked grin, Toby stuffed his bow and arrow into the suitcase and zipped it shut. To Jami’s amazement, her rascal glanced from the towering man to her, saying, “Mom, I’m sorry.”
“Smile,” Sierra ordered with out-of-character force as she pushed Jami and Grant together. “Act delighted with each other.”
Grant shot his sister-in-law a scowl, but curved those sexy lips of his into a heart-stopping smile as he turned to face her.
Until that moment, Grant hadn’t been aware of the guy filming them. Ty had mentioned some publicity shots, but Grant had assumed his brother meant posed photographs. Nothing prepared him for a camcorder rolling before they even said hello.
Or for a bow and arrow attack by a carrot-topped miniature Robin Hood.
Or for this enticing beauty with doe eyes of tawny-gold and the face of an angel framed by a coppery cloud of hair. He had imagined his CupidKey date would be anything but lovely. Why else would the woman resort to a computer dating service? This friend of Sierra’s had no business investment in Cupid to protect, as he did. Or a baby brother to bail out of financial trouble.
“Jami Rhodes, meet Ty’s brother, Grant Carrington,” Sierra said, eyes glued to a shaggy cameraman instead of the couple she introduced.
“Hello, Grant,” Jami said, alarmed at the breathless sound of her voice. He did look like his brother, Ty. Only better. She gazed up into midnight blue
eyes lit by appreciation as they raked over her face and form. Frissons of awareness tingled her fingers when his hand enclosed hers into a warm strong grip.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jami. You’re not what I expected at all.”
“Hmm, what do you mean?”
“Gosh.” Sierra skipped between them as a warbled boarding call was announced. “You’re up, your turn to check luggage.” She pushed Jami to the counter. “You don’t want to miss the plane.”
Grant lifted up the suitcases as Jami took care of business. When she finished, her son demanded her attention, almost tripping her as she tried to move away from the counter.
“Mom, don’t make me stay with Sierra,” Toby wailed, his freckled face puckering and his fists again grabbing her dress. “I want to go with you.”
“Honey, you are coming with me.” Jami tried hard to keep her own emotions in check as his bottom lip trembled. This separation anxiety and insecurity troubled her. When had it developed? He was normally such an independent child.
“The boy’s coming along?” Grant asked, his expression alarmed.
“Yes.”
Grant glared past Jami to his sister-in-law who danced around nervously. “Not my fault. I tried to change her mind.”
“This isn’t a kid’s vacation.” Grant’s gaze pinned Jami, making her feel like a trapped butterfly.
“Why not?” Jami pressed, trying to calm her racing pulse.
“Frost Lake Lodge might not even allow children,” Sierra chimed.
“They do.” Jami nodded her head. “I called and they said children are welcome and kids under twelve stay free. No problem.”
“No problem?” Grant scratched his chin, appearing perplexed and none too pleased. “You can phone the lodge, but no one bothers to warn me?”
“Warn you?” Jami exclaimed. “I don’t even know you.”
“Getting acquainted was the purpose of our Cupid trip. Sans children.”
The camera guy finished shooting, so Sierra skittered between them. “Come on, guys, you’re ruining everything. Do you have a clue how much editing this is going to take?”
“I can still go, can’t I?” Toby pleaded, tears sparkling his big brown eyes.
Jami bent and gave him a kiss. Cheek only, the way he preferred, then hugged him so tightly that both of them could barely breathe. He smelled like soap, bubblegum, and pure boy as he hiccupped back tears.
“Of course, honey,” Jami replied before turning to the adults. “This is a package deal. I won’t leave him behind.”
Grant’s left brow rose. “You won’t?”
“I won’t.”
She heaved the strap of her tote bag more firmly upon her shoulder and stood to face the handsome, intimidating man who was to be her Cupid companion. She chewed at her bottom lip, wondering whether to walk away and leave Sierra to deal with the fall-out.
Seeing Jami Rhodes’s distress and realizing that Ty and Sierra were depending on them for positive publicity, Grant regretted his swift objection, but he’d been taken aback that the child was accompanying them. Kids weren’t part of the bargain. Damn, he was a master negotiator—he ought to be able to handle a kid. He smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Hey, buddy, I’ll make you a deal.”
“What?” Toby asked suspiciously.
“Be on your best behavior, and I won’t hassle your mom to leave you here with Sierra.” Various expressions played over the child’s freckled face. As Grant watched the youngster, he heard Jami gasp. Was she as surprised at his statement as he was? He didn’t want a kid along, yet how could he resist those bright hopeful eyes? “You can come, if you’ll be good.”
“Okay.” Toby released his mom’s dress and teetered back and forth, toe to heel in his sneakers. “Guess so.”
With an exaggerated sigh of relief, Sierra took Toby’s hand and shooed Grant and Jami. “Try to make this romantic. Hold hands like this.” She swung hands with Toby who grimaced in disgust.
Trying not to laugh, Grant took Jami’s tote bag from her and shifted it to his left hand. “Let me get yours. My luggage is all checked.”
“Have fun.” Sierra gave Jami a quick hug, adding, “A photographer will meet you at the lodge for additional shots. Act delighted. Please?”
Grant captured Jami’s hand in his. Jami snared Toby’s hand, and the three of them hurried toward the escalator like a happy family.
“Quite a boy you have there,” Grant said, steering them around a senior citizen tour group armed with cameras and canes.
“You think?” Jami glanced up at Grant Carrington’s strong profile. “People don’t usually, ah, compliment me on my son.”
“He’s great.” Grant grinned down at her. “Reminds me of myself as a kid.”
“Toby tends to get into trouble sometimes.” Jami pretended not to notice as Grant’s thumb slid not-so-innocently over her palm, firing delightful tingles into her hand. The six-year-old in question hung back, straining her arm as he lagged behind to see everything around them.
“Sometimes?” Grant laughed a deep sexy chuckle. “All the time, I bet.”
“Well, yes,” Jami admitted. “But he’s really very sweet.”
A wicked grin curved Grant’s mouth. “Yeah, right.”
She tugged her hand free and glared up at him, her instincts as a protective single parent surging outward. “Don’t knock my son.”
“Easy. He’s cool. I allowed him to come with us. Right?” Grant shrugged toward Toby, who trailed behind them just enough to step onto the escalator last.
Jami reluctantly nodded.
“So drop the temper, Red.”
“Red?” Jami fumed at his broad-shouldered back as they rode up the escalator with him in the lead. Below them, from the lobby, the photographer took more shots when she glanced behind at Toby.
“Stop complaining and smile,” Grant warned, and half-turned toward her. “That guy’s still filming. You got the computer date you wanted and a free trip. Don’t blow the Cupid ad campaign for Ty and Sierra.”
“I wanted?” Jami demanded in a fierce whisper, trying to remember to smile at the same time. How dare this arrogant man imagine she wanted this date with him? “I’m doing this as a favor to Sierra.”
“Sure,” Grant drawled, eyeing her skeptically. “An all-expense-paid vacation for you as a favor to her? That’s hard to believe.”
“Believe it, Carrington.”
They stepped off the escalator and reached the security screening.
“Cool, like going into outer space,” Toby cried.
He snuck a glance at Mr. Carrington, hoping the guy wouldn’t cause problems for him or his mom. He and Mom didn’t need anybody but each other.
Jet engines rumbled, vibrating across the massive airliner as Jami tugged Toby along behind Grant toward their seats.
“We’re here,” Grant said, directing them to three seats on the right side of the narrow aisle.
“May I sit by the window? Please, Mom?” Toby begged, his freckled face alight with excitement.
Jami glanced at Grant. He nodded, a smile curving those wicked lips of his. “Sure.”
“Great.” Toby scooted into the seat by the thick airplane window. That left Jami no choice but to take the middle seat. She leaned toward her son to help him unstrap his backpack and slide it off onto his lap. “Please put your backpack under the seat, Toby.”
“Here, I’ll stash the bags away.” Grant whipped the pack out of Toby’s hands and crammed it, along with Jami’s tote, into the overhead compartment.
“Thanks, mister,” Toby said with a lopsided grin.
“Call me Grant.”
“Sure,” the boy agreed, eyes glowing as he tested the name, “Grant.”
“I wanted my tote,” Jami grumbled as Grant settled his big, powerful body into the seat beside her.
“Why? It’s easier to stash now. You still have your handbag.” Grant awkwardly folded his long legs, trying to fit them in the not-generous-enough
space between the seats.
“That’s not the point,” Jami said quietly as Toby stared out the window, completely absorbed in watching gray-uniformed personnel load luggage. “You might have asked if I needed my tote before you stuck it out of my reach.”
Grant’s gaze seemed to shoot straight through her. Even in the plane’s garish artificial light, she was mesmerized by the velvety midnight blue of his eyes. His pupils flared inky black as she stared at him. Her breath caught. She’d never seen a man with such beautiful eyes. She found herself unable to look away until he spoke again, breaking the spell. “I can get it down for you when you want it. Do you need it now?”
“No. I guess not.” Jami quickly turned away and busied herself buckling her son’s seatbelt. Toby wiggled as she drew the belt over his tummy and snapped it securely.
“That’s no place to keep your boarding passes.” Grant plucked the protruding ticket packet from the side slot of Jami’s handbag. “You’ll never make it back home if you lose your return tickets.”
“Hey.” Jami tried to snatch the tickets back. “Give me those.”
“No. I’ll take care of them.”
“You can’t take charge of us, even if you are related to Sierra.” Jami whispered to keep Toby from hearing. Not difficult since her son avidly gazed out the thick glass toward a huge silver plane parked next to theirs and the luggage crew scrambling on the tarmac below.
“I am in charge, so relax,” Grant smoothly admonished, adding his ticket to the two he had lifted from Jami.
“Not of me,” she countered, “or my son.”
“Temper, Red.” The infuriating man chuckled, amusement lighting his dark blue eyes. “If you’re any kind of friend to Sierra, try to act happy, Jami Rhodes.” Grant leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. “We never know when our photograph’s being taken.”
“Cut that out.”
“What?” Toby asked, his attention diverting to them.
“Nothing,” Jami muttered.
“Ah.” Grant clasped his hands together. “Another crisis averted.”
Recognizing his subtle sarcasm, Jami chose to ignore it, instead letting her thoughts wander. She hated the way Grant Carrington stirred her emotions. Emotions she had suppressed for five long years—since the day she had left Doug. Raw memories still ripped at her confidence and ricocheted misery through her as she recalled that horrible afternoon when she had returned home early.