checkers with Homer. Nell promises to tuck your son into bed afterwards and wait here in your room to keep an eye on him while we’re at dinner. She says not to worry if we run late, since she’ll bring her knitting.
Later, Grant.
Recalling the awful things she’d said to Grant, Jami let his note flutter onto the quilt. He hadn’t mentioned a word about their fight or the cocktail dress. What had Sierra told him? Jami thought of calling Sierra back, but a glance at the clock reminded her that she needed to get ready for the photo session of the candlelight dinner with Grant. Sierra wanted romance on film, but Jami was sure romance was the last thing her tantrum had put Grant in the mood for.
Jami took a fortifying breath as the exquisite, daringly cut, aquamarine silk reclaimed her attention. Oh, for some of the naïve brazen courage she had once possessed to parade the beach in a string bikini at sixteen.
Chapter 7
“Stupid contraptions.” Jami teetered on the delicate-strapped, spike-heeled sandals and tried to master walking, feeling like a child trying on Mommy’s pumps. Though pumps she wouldn’t have minded. Too bad her coral pumps didn’t match the new dress. She nearly tripped, her ankle buckling just as she reached the full-length mirror. This is exactly why I don’t wear anything higher than two-inch heels, she mentally scolded, regaining her balance.
Her glance raised from the troublesome sandals up to the mirror, where she met the answering stare of an elegant stranger. Even her hair was different with her wild mane of waves swept up in a style that allowed only a few untamed copper tendrils to escape.
Jami had spent the last five years avoiding male attention instead of seeking it. To see herself undeniably displayed in her curvy and glamorous reflection shocked her as though she’d swapped bodies with a space alien. She skimmed her palms over the silk hugging her hips and the image in the mirror duplicated the action. She blinked, and so did the sexy lady in the glass. “This really is me.”
A knock sounded on the bedroom door. “Come in,” Jami called, still staring at her own reflection.
Grant, GQ gorgeous in his Armani suit, stepped into the room and into the reflected vision. Their gazes locked in the glass. Jami’s breath caught as she suddenly saw why Sierra had selected them as the perfect couple to represent CupidKey. They appeared made for each other. Grant Carrington’s debonair, cosmopolitan Adonis complemented this seductively elegant new Jami Rhodes. A perfect match. Poster material, just as Sierra had predicted.
“Hi,” Jami breathed, still staring at into the mirror, almost afraid to turn around and discover that Cinderella had broken her glass slipper, and the magical spell along with it.
“You’re lovely,” Grant replied huskily, fidgeting with the knot of his tie.
Their eyes met again. The mirror served as neutral territory, one in which they could take one step closer. But as the heat of their attraction rippled over the reflective surface, neutrality disappeared, and awareness took its place. They were no longer merely an arranged match. No longer hidden behind the masks of Sierra’s brother-in-law and Toby’s mother. Stripped down to man and woman, male and female, they watched each other and desire kindled.
Nervously, Jami touched the sensuous silk of her gown. “Thanks for the dress.”
He moved a fraction closer. “I’m glad it fits.”
Mouth suddenly dry, Jami, too, was glad the dress fit. The feeling that she was Cinderella grew stronger. She even wore the glass slippers in the form of the shoes Grant had presented with the dress. She reluctantly turned to face him. “The sandals fit, too. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” The heat in his eyes deepened, smoldering as those gorgeous lips of his curved into a devilish smile. “I hope you’re feeling romantic tonight.”
“What?” Jami gasped, instinct nudging her to clutch the plunging neckline of her dress where Grant’s conspicuous gaze had dropped to linger upon her exposed cleavage. She avoided the panic move and straightened her spine, unintentionally jutting her bosom forward, then glared at him. “Don’t get any ideas, Carrington.”
“I meant romantic poses for the camera. Sierra expects dynamite professional shots.” His deep, playful chuckle vibrated through Jami, sorely tempting her to fling one of her spike sandals at his handsome head.
Grant pushed his cuff up to glance down at his Rolex watch. “Mike will be waiting for us down in the Garden Room. Are you ready?”