That Carrington Magic

chapter 10



Thoughts dwelling on how well Grant had defused the frog scene at dinner, Jami wandered along, lured by the alpine peacefulness and serenaded by an evening chorus of insects and bird songs. Inhaling the thin, pine-scented air, she chose the short lower trail and reached the lake quickly. She rounded the last bend, pausing to stare as Frost Lake reflected like lavender glass in the purpling mountain twilight.

Jami chose the place where Grant had carved Toby’s boat, but the lake there was too shallow for good swimming. She headed up the shoreline until spotting a deep cove notched into woods. Wonderfully secluded, cool and inviting. She dropped her terry cover-up and beach towel onto a flat-top granite rock and slipped off her sandals before carefully picking her way to the edge of the grassy bank. For a moment she just sat, dangling her legs to drag her toes through the chilly water.

A hand closed around her ankle. With a startled cry, Jami jerked her foot free, the sudden lurch toppling her into the lake. She somersaulted headfirst into the water, plunging into the icy depths inches from whatever had grabbed her. Panic flowed over her, along with the fishy water. She knew better than to go swimming alone. The rule had been drummed into her head since childhood, yet here she was alone in an isolated mountain lake with someone or something.

She blinked her eyes open underwater trying to orient herself on which way was up, before kicking her way to the surface. The churning water swirled dirt, plants, and debris to make visibility murky and distorted. A dark unidentifiable shape swam toward her. Terror clogged her throat, tempting her to scream, but she knew an underwater scream would be a silent, water—gulping futility.

When human hands clamped her arms, Jami fought fiercely to free herself, ignoring the pressure ache in her lungs. Implacable strength forced her to surface, locked in the assailant’s steel grip. Still struggling as her face burst into the atmosphere, she took deep, gulping breaths of oxygen. Her eyes fluttered open to stare into familiar midnight blue eyes set in a face she was beginning to know as well as her own.

“Grant Carrington, were you trying to scare me to death?” Jami choked, her blood pressure pumping as wildly as the adrenalin surging through her system.

“Not intentionally.” He flashed those beautiful, maddening lips into a heart-stopping grin and slid his hands caressingly from her wrists up her arms. “You’re strong for your size, Red.”

Jami felt a blush heat her cheeks as she remembered where her knee had aimed during their struggle. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Fortunately, I’m efficient at evasive action. Being underwater helps.” Amusement crinkled tiny lines around those arresting eyes as he gazed down at her.

Water streamed from her tangled mass of hair, dripping over her shoulders and down her neck. Tension thrummed between them as his gaze intensified, his pupils flaring inky black. She became conscious of how intimately close they remained, their bodies entwined and submerged, legs interlocked, her smooth, naked thighs rubbing against the rougher, hairier skin of his thighs. Her stomach and sensitive breasts pressed against his bare chest, the heat of his flesh penetrating the flimsy stretch fabric of her one-piece swimsuit.

Her palms pushed at his shoulders, trying to force some distance between them and halt the sensual onslaught of his overpowering masculinity.

“You can let go of me now,” she told him, her voice sounding high and breathy to her own waterlogged ears.

“You shouldn’t go swimming alone.” His rough velvet tone vibrated through her, speaking of a danger that had nothing to do with the lake waters swishing around them.

“You were swimming alone,” she argued, trying to tamp down her too female response to his blatant maleness.

“I’m experienced,” he countered, as she tried to untangle her legs from his.

“So am I.” Her cheeks fired as Jami suddenly realized she’d fallen for his bait by the wicked gleam in his eyes. “At swimming,” she lamely added.

A deep rich chuckle rumbled through his chest. She remained close enough to feel the vibration as he drawled, “I adore experienced women.”

Before she could protest, Grant’s warm mouth captured her own, his lips moving deliciously over Jami’s to steal her breath, along with her willpower. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste, scent, and feel of him. Her body curled into his, cool water washing over them as their heated skin seared together. Jami realized she was drowning, not in the lake, but drowning in the mind-numbing sweetness of his kiss, swirling deeper and deeper into a vortex of desire—and possibly of no return.

Someone crashed through the woods. A female voice calling for Jami filled the night air. Jami hastily drew apart from Grant and swam to the bank, with Grant right behind. As she scrambled onto the grassy embankment, self-consciously aware of her soaking swimsuit clinging to her curves, Dottie, or Doris, dashed out from the trees. Unless the sisters were together, the differences between them were barely noticeable.

“Jami,” the woman gasped, leaning against a tree trunk. “Thank goodness, I found you.”

“Is it Toby? Is he all right?” Jami exclaimed, tugging on her terry cover-up and stuffing her wet feet into her sandals as she grabbed her towel.

“Toby is fine, but I can’t say the same for Becca. She’s having fits, and bubbles are overflowing the patio.”

“He didn’t...?” Jami’s hand flew to her mouth in consternation.

“He did.” The retired schoolteacher gazed at her sympathetically, as if she understood Jami’s frustration.

“But Toby was with Homer and the family,” Grant objected, a towel now slung over his shoulders as he stood dripping wet and sexy. “How did the boy get away to put suds in the hot tub?”

“He snuck Becca’s dish soap.” Dottie smiled sadly, her dimple-creases carving twin lines in her round face. “It’s my fault. Doris and I were arguing over whether wild peppermint or spearmint grew by the spring and so we asked Becca to come help us settle the argument—ah, disagreement.”

“Dottie,” Jami said, glad to know which sister she was addressing. “Even if Becca went to talk to you, Nell and Homer were with Toby, right?”

“No.” Dottie sounded apologetic. “Nell and Becca couldn’t agree on which type of mint it was, so the four of us popped over to the spring to pick a sample.”

“What about Homer?” Grant asked.

“He dozed off. Toby had been quizzing Becca about the location of the hot tub earlier, but she hadn’t expected the child to sabotage it.”

Grant burst into laughter.

“Men!” Jami shot him a glare. “Let’s go,” she said to Dottie, and the women hurried away toward the lodge, leaving a laughing Grant Carrington behind.

“This way,” Dottie said as the eaved roof peeked through the treetops. “If we go through the gardens, it’ll lead us directly to the patio.”

Any other time, the naturalized gardens blooming with lilies, lavender, asters, and an array of blossoms would have enchanted Jami, but at the moment her thoughts focused on her son and the best way to handle the situation. She’d always tried to avoid reprimanding Toby in front of others, believing it wrong to unnecessarily embarrass a child. Now he had put her in an awkward situation for the second time in one evening.

As they approached the patio, frothy white bubbles poured out of the redwood tub to drift and billow over the slate flooring. Becca had hold of the back of Toby’s collar in the same manner that a mother cat seizes her kitten. The rascal was more delighted than sheepish as bubbles rapidly multiplied toward them in waves of effervescent foam.

“Toby Justice Rhodes!” Jami cried, so angry at her son she didn’t know what to say. She raked her hands through her sopping hair, too wet to stick out in the usual peaks.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Toby responded as Becca released him, allowing him to dance through the bubbles toward his mother. “You can call me that, and I don’t care. Justice is better than Vin Diesel.”

Confused, Jami halted at the patio steps between two potted roses. “What are you talking about?”

“Grant said...” Toby began.

“Grant told you to put bubbles in the hot tub?” Jami sputtered, angrier than before. Toby’s actions were bad enough, but if Grant put the child up to it? She shook her head in disgust.

“Not the bubbles,” Toby protested, scooping up a handful of foaming froth as he spoke. “I meant Vin Diesel...”

“You saw the bubbles thing in a movie?” Dottie asked, moving out from behind Jami to catch a few soap bubbles with Toby.

“Nope.” Toby glanced up at his mother. “Grant’s name isn’t Grant.”

“Well, it isn’t Vin Diesel,” Jami returned, thoroughly frustrated with her son. She stomped up the sudsy steps and grabbed his arm. “And names don’t have anything to do with pouring soap in a hot tub, do they?”

“No, but...” Toby objected as she towed him toward Becca.

“No buts. Apologize to Becca. Then we’re going to help her clean up this mess.” Exasperation fizzed through Jami much like the bubbles popping and frothing as they moved through the suds. “How could you do this to people who have been so nice to you?”

“I didn’t do anything to people,” Toby answered, a perplexed expression on his freckled face as he stomped as many bubbles as possible in their path.

“It is quite humorous,” Dottie offered, blowing iridescent bubbles off her palm, enjoying the suds nearly as much as Toby.

Becca stood with hands on hips, shaking her head at them. “I hope it hasn’t ruined the hot tub water system.”

Jami felt the color drain from her face. How could she afford to replace an expensive hot tub on her budget? But still, her son was responsible. She sighed.

“No problem, Becca,” Grant offered, striding onto the patio in his take-charge manner. He squatted down by the tub and reached into the foaming water, his arm disappearing to the elbow in suds. “I’m shutting off the water. Then I’ll drain the tub, clean the filters, and flush the pipes. By tomorrow we’ll have the chemicals balanced and the tub back in perfect working order.”

“You sure about that?” Becca asked, her face clouded with doubt.

“Promise.” Grant had pulled on a pair of cut-off jeans, which didn’t do much to cover his magnificent body, and Jami had difficulty tearing her gaze from his expansive, perfectly muscled chest as he turned to her. “Toby would be more in the way than help with clean-up tonight. What if he signs on with Becca for KP duty to make up for this episode?” Grant gestured around the foaming patio.

“What’s KP duty?” Toby asked.

“Kitchen clean-up, picking berries, folding linens, or anything else Becca asks you to do.” Grant turned to Jami. “Well?”

“It’s up to Becca,” Jami responded, thankful to have some solution in sight.

“Sounds good to me,” Becca answered, brushing bubbles off her ankles and more relaxed.

“I agree.” Dottie smiled around at all of them. “Doris and I will be happy to mop up the patio.”

“I can do that,” Jami replied, gazing around at the dissipating bubbles, now shrinking instead of multiplying.

“No,” Grant and Becca said together.

Grant chuckled. “You put Toby to bed and get yourself dried off. He’s had a big day.”

“That’s for sure,” Becca seconded with emphasis. She waved Jami off. “Go on and get out of here. Grant has everything under control.”

Grant always has everything under control, Jami reminded herself as she led her mischievous son up to their room. Grant consistently organized everyone and everything around him, including her and Toby. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his intervention tonight. She knew it would have been impossible for her to replace the lodge hot tub, still she refused to let anyone else take control of her life. Or her son. Or her business. Sometimes, Grant seemed to think he had the right to control all three.

After one more lecture to Toby on his behavior, she tucked him into bed with his comics, then escaped into the bathroom where she poured jasmine bath salts in the tub for a hot fragrant soak to unwind from an emotional day.

The hot tub and patio clean-up went more quickly than Grant had guessed, so he hurried upstairs to catch Jami before she went to bed. He tapped at the bedroom door, opening it when Toby called, “Come in.”

“Where’s your mom?” Grant asked, glancing around the room as he inhaled Jami’s sweet fragrance, which seemed to permeate the air.

“In the tub.” Toby kicked the covers off to expose his Batman pajamas and crawled toward the foot of the bed waving his comic book. “Can you tell me what this word is?”

“Be glad to.” Grant bent down to put his head close to the boy’s.

Toby tapped the word quasar in a dialogue balloon above a cartoon spaceman. “What’s this?”

“Quasar,” Grant replied, pronouncing it phonetically. “I think it’s a giant pulsing star—or sun.” He put his thumb in place to mark the page, then flipped through the comic book. “Can you really read this? You’re awfully young.”

“I can’t read all the words, but I can read all the pictures,” Toby answered proudly with his endearing lopsided grin.

“That’s great,” Grant said, truly impressed since one glance at the comic showed it written to a fourth or fifth grade level. “Can you read me some of it?”

“Sure.” Toby pulled Grant onto the bed beside him, then climbed onto his lap. “I always sit on Mom’s lap when we read to each other. She says kids shouldn’t depend on school for learning, we can learn lots on our own.”

“Your mother’s a very smart lady,” Grant said, wondering what that same smart lady would say when she found him in her bedroom. The child’s closeness felt warm and trusting and brought a lump to his throat. Still, he was enjoying this exchange with Toby. After all, it would help him interact with children when his brothers supplied him with nieces and nephews. And from a few hints Ty had dropped about Sierra, that might not be too far into the future.

“Yeah, my mom is smart and pretty, too,” Toby announced, flipping to the front page of his comic book. “But she won’t ever get married again, she told me.”

“Why not?” Grant didn’t like the strange sense of discouragement the child’s words evoked.

“Because me and Mom don’t need anybody but each other. She’ll always have time for me. She promised.” Toby blinked serious brown eyes up at Grant as if expecting the man to challenge his statement.

“Of course your mother will always make time for you.” Grant didn’t understand the correlation of Toby’s reasoning. “Whether she remarries or not.”

“She’s not. Ever.” Toby sounded determined.

The bathroom door opened and Jami stepped out, seductive and delightful all wrapped in a pink, frayed terry cloth bathrobe. Hand flying to her open mouth and amber eyes wide, she gasped, “Oh, Grant!”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” he said, scooting Toby off his lap, then rising to his feet. “I just came to tell you that the hot tub mess is cleaned up. From what I can tell, there will be no problem getting it fully functional again tomorrow morning.”

“Good.” Jami cinched the sash of her robe tighter and stepped backward, watching Grant as if he would pounce on her at any moment. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy devouring her. She was sexy and adorable, her hair curled into damp tendrils of darkened copper around her angel face, her rosy lips parted, and her moist skin slick satin.

“Will you join me in my room a minute?”

“Uh, I guess.”

Two minutes later, she entered his doorway. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He whipped the open bottle of champagne and two glasses from behind his back. “I think we deserve one last toast.”

“Oh?”

He poured the champagne into the crystal flutes and offered her one. “Here’s to keeping Toby away from the hot tub...” He paused, his lips curling into a grin. “And out of hot water.”

Jami laughed and took a quick sip, then she put her glass aside. “Thanks, but we’d better say good night.”

“Wait. I also wanted to invite the two of you to go camping with me tomorrow. Just an overnighter, not too far,” Grant added, wondering where that invitation had come from and how those words had tumbled out of his mouth. He hadn’t even been considering a camping trip. He thought of the Cupid charm hidden in the drawer under his shirt just waiting to pounce, then shook the crazy idea away. It was only a brooch, after all.

“Camping trip?” Jami repeated, brows raised in puzzlement as she backed several steps through the open doorway into her room.

“I’ve never gone camping!” Toby cried, bouncing on the bed with excitement. “Please, Mom, please?”

“I’ll take care of the tents, sleeping bags and all the camping gear.” Now that camping with Jami and Toby had gotten into Grant’s head, he really did want to take them. “It’d be the perfect opportunity to show Toby an old-fashioned adventure. I have great memories of camping with my dad and brothers back home.” He frowned. Jami had appeared to be softening, but his last statement seemed to make her tense again.

Toby leapt off the bed and scampered to his mother, throwing his arms around her as she stooped to his level. “Please, Mom? Can we?”

Grant watched mother and son with the oddest emotions swirling inside him. When had he begun to feel so protective and possessive about the lovely redhead and her boy? “We could go after lunch tomorrow. Across the lake there’s a great spot where Ralph and I used to camp.”

“Camping in the mountains? Outside? Overnight?” Jami pondered in an unsteady voice as she hugged Toby, then unlatched her son’s arms and stood back up to meet Grant’s gaze. “With you?”

“You aren’t afraid to go camping, are you?” Grant teased, deciding on a new approach. “Which frightens you most? Me or the bears?”

“Bears?” Toby raced back to Grant, tugging on his hand to draw attention down to him. “Will we see bears?”

Grant laughed. “I doubt it, slugger. They prefer the uninhabited side of the mountain where people don’t bother them.”

“Thank goodness.” Jami exhaled. She hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath at thought of camping with Grant. Her eyes strayed to her pajama-clad son. With Toby along, she should be safe enough, even with a dangerous womanizer like Grant Carrington. Shouldn’t she?

“I’ve always wanted to go camping. Please, Mom, say yes?” Toby requested, gazing pleadingly at his mother. How could she resist such sweet appeal?

“Please say yes,” Grant coaxed, his low sexy drawl uniting his persuasion with her son’s. “Just one night. What can it hurt? Our vacation is more than half over, and before you know it, you’ll be back home in Houston and Frost Lake will be only a memory.”

Only a memory. The words echoed in Jami’s head as she gazed back at Grant. Soon he would be just a memory, too. Why not enjoy the moment? “I guess we could go camping with you.”

“Whoopee!” Toby leapt up into Grant’s arms.

Startled, Grant caught the child midair and they bounced onto the bed together laughing. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, partner?”

“I guess.” Toby climbed off the long, tall Texan and crawled under the covers, not losing his grin. “We get to go camping, huh?”

“We do.” Grant shot a sheepish glance at Jami and removed himself from her bed. “So get your rest tonight.”

Jami bent to tuck the sheet under Toby’s chin and kiss his forehead. “Grant’s right, tiger. You get to sleep.”

“I’ll say goodnight to both of you.” Grant stood watching them, then moved toward the doorway as Jami picked up the comic book from the floor and dimmed the overhead light.

“Good night, Grant.” Jami faced him, wondering why he had invited them camping. Did he really enjoy their company or was theirs just better than the alternatives available at the lodge? He couldn’t have ulterior motives with Toby along. Could he?

Grant returned her gaze, his dark midnight blue eyes searching her face as if seeking answers of his own. “You okay about the camping trip?”

Jami shrugged, conscious of her ratty old bathrobe and her nakedness beneath. “Why not? It makes Toby happy.”

“I’d like to make you happy,” Grant said softly, his hand on the doorknob as he pulled it closed.

The door clicked shut, removing him from view. She knew he hadn’t expected an answer from her. In fact, Jami had a haunting suspicion that Grant Carrington was just as confused as she was about their relationship.

Restless and unable to sleep, it was near midnight when Jami wandered to the bedroom window overlooking the gardens. Thinking she heard voices, she pushed the curtain aside and quietly cracked open the window, peering out into the moonlit darkness. Rustling leaves cast night shadows below where two people stood close together. Lovers? Who?

As the couple moved apart, a shaft of moonlight revealed the unmistakable waxen skin and ebony hair of Raven McGuire gazing up at a broad-shouldered, golden-haired man who could only be Grant Carrington. Jami’s stomach knotted, she bit her lip, and her mouth grew dry. Eyes adjusting to the night, she watched Raven move again toward Grant, while it appeared he took a step back. The woman touched his arm in an intimate manner.

Jami spun away from the window, unwilling to witness more. Why did the scene bother her? Raven was a beautiful woman, and Grant had every right to arrange midnight assignations with whomever he pleased. Cupid match or not, Jami had to admit she had no real claim on the man. Nor did she want one.