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.