tasting.”
Jami’s gaze went from the cake to Grant’s lips, something far more tempting to taste. A rush of pleasure flowed through her as she recalled their kiss, the memory only to be extinguished when she remembered it had ended with him saying he shouldn’t have kissed her. Once she’d given her heart to a man who betrayed her love and left her with a legacy of pain and distrust. Never again. No matter what Grant expected to happen tonight, Jami silently declared, she wouldn’t let her guard down again. No kisses for either of them to regret.
“And if I can’t talk you into dessert,” he continued, “Maybe I can persuade you to join me for a dip in the hot tub after dinner?”
“In this?” Jami retorted, glancing down at her cocktail dress.
“Out of it would be fine with me.” Grant’s midnight gaze darkened.
“No, thank you.” She tried to sound prim and in control, though a waver lilted her words. “I want to get back to Toby as soon as possible.”
“I’m crushed,” Grant said, his eyes twinkling as if he envisioned her sans dress.
Jami laughed in spite herself. “Public skinny dipping never was my thing.”
Grant’s expression turned rueful. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
Jami gazed at Grant, realizing she was enjoying herself—and actually flirting with him. “Boys will be boys.”
“A toast,” Grant requested, lifting his champagne glass.
“To what?”
“To girls who turn into lovely women.”
With a smile, Jami clinked her glass against Grant’s, glad that no one was snapping photos of this toast. She didn’t think it was a romantic one, yet she knew her heart had captured this shared moment in time to examine and replay when Grant Carrington was no longer in her life. A pang of sadness accompanied the thought, but she shook it away and tried to concentrate on her dinner, and not her dinner companion.
“Is there something wrong with your champagne?”
“No. It’s just not my beverage of choice,” Jami replied, not about to admit why she didn’t dare drink it. She didn’t need any help getting woozy about Grant.
“Could I go get you something else? Wine? Iced tea? Milk?”
“No, thank you.” Wanting to change the subject, Jami tried to think of a topic to discuss. “Did you send that Cupid key back to your brother?”
Grant sputtered mid-sip, knocking his champagne flute over when he grabbed for his napkin.
He coughed and sputtered a moment longer, but just as Jami became alarmed and ready to offer assistance, he choked, “Why do you ask?”
“You didn’t seem too happy when he sent it to you here at the lodge, so I wondered if you’d returned the heirloom to your brother for safekeeping.”
“Then you haven’t seen the Cupid recently?” he queried, mopping the spreading beige spill from the lace tablecloth.
“No.” Jami blinked at him in surprise. “Why?”
“Just curious,” he answered, sounding more disturbed than curious. “Ah, do you go to the beach a lot?”
“The beach?” Jami noticed he seemed to relax with the change of subject, still she wondered why he got so uptight over his grandmother’s pin. “You mean the beach back home?” Grant nodded. “I thought owning a scuba and diving shop means you must like the ocean.”
“I do. I love the water.” She smiled, catching her breath as he smiled back. He was so handsome—even soggy from spilled champagne. She could do this. The evening was almost over, anyway. Their remaining dinner conversation revolved around getting to know each other better, exchanging likes and dislikes, and Jami felt a warm glow of companionship.
After Grant polished off the last crumb of her piece of cake, he invited her to sit with him in the swing on the patio. They settled into the old-fashioned swing at odds with the modern steaming, bubbling hot tub directly across from them. Chlorinated water mingled with the fresh mountain air as the evening warmth became infiltrated by the night chill. The wooden swing swished with an occasional creak as they glided forward and back. Savoring their closeness and saturated with intimate contentment, she wished the night would never end.
“It’s a beautiful night,” Jami said softly, unconsciously snuggling against his shoulder, relaxing as the swing drifted to and fro accompanied by a chorus of crickets and the rhythm of her heart.
“Beautiful,” Grant repeated, gazing into her glowing amber- gold eyes as he slid one hand up to caress the satin-smooth skin of her slender throat. The warmth of her bare flesh seeped into his fingertips, leading him on a quest to seek the tender, sensitive spot behind