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 voice 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.
“I didn’t know women still blushed in this day and age,” he said, his smile crinkling tiny lines at the corners of those striking midnight eyes.
Sometimes, she swore she got lost in his gaze. Jami cleared her throat, forcing her eyes from his as she confessed, “I hate blushing.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s charming.”
Jami blinked up at him, wondering when anyone had ever termed something she did as charming.
“I certainly didn’t expect my Cupid date to be a woman like you,” Grant said, watching her brush a wayward curl off her cheek.
“I never intended to be a Cupid date.”
“So why are you here?” His curiosity was a living thing eating at him.
“I owe Sierra. She was the only one who stood by me during my divorce.” Jami’s voice strengthened. “We’ve been friends since we were kids.”
“The divorce was painful?” he asked softly, disturbed by the way she avoided his gaze. How could any man let such a woman go? Grant shook his head.
“Very. I’ll never trust a man again.”
“All men aren’t the same,” he replied, offended that she painted him with the same brush as her ex-husband. “And you can’t claim women are any better.”
“Dogs are more faithful than men.” Tension radiated in the stiff line of her spine and the way her chin jutted up in defiance.
“But not near as much fun,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Is that why you accepted this Cupid invitation?”
“You’re kidding. I accepted this trip to bail my brother out.” Grant let his gaze rake over Jami, noting the nervous way she chewed her lower lip. Her action was very sexy, and he felt a surge of desire tighten his loins. “So I guess neither one of us wants to be here.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“Since we are here, let’s make the best of it.” Grant let a seductive nuance color his words as he trailed his fingers along her wrist, feeling the erratic beat of her pulse and the warm silk of her flesh.
“It’s obvious you aren’t one of Cupid’s clients,” she retorted.