wee starling atop a silver-leafed quaking aspen. Everywhere, she saw faint touches of scarlet or gold brushing the various greens. “The leaves are starting to turn already.”
“It is early August,” Mike reminded her.
She exchanged a smile with Grant. “August often brings the hottest, stickiest part of the summer in Houston.”
“True. Made survivable by the life-saving invention of air-conditioning,” Grant added, his gaze still locked with hers.
Jami tore her gaze from Grant and scanned the area. “These mountains must turn to a glorious blaze of color in the autumn.”
“Early autumn. We have early falls and winters. Late springs.” Mike paused with a forkful of pasta in midair. “At this altitude, our summers run short and winters run long.”
“I’d like to visit Frost Lake during each season,” Jami said, inhaling the fresh, alpine air, tinged with the lake scent.
“That could be arranged,” Grant responded, his midnight gaze still lingering on her, sending a languid flush of warmth through her body.
Did Grant mean he wanted to show her the Rockies each season? Jami took a sip of her soda, studying the man. A breeze ruffled his dark blond hair where it waved off his broad forehead, and his golden bronze tan appeared deeper than ever. Though his set, chiseled features gave nothing away, his probing dark blue eyes searched hers.
“Visiting the Colorado Rockies four times a year isn’t in the cards for me,” Jami replied softly, wishing it was.
“It could be.” Grant still watched her.
“If everyone’s through chowing down,” Mike said, getting up from the table bench. “We can get back to the photo shoot.”
“Do we have to?” Toby grumbled, echoing his mother’s sentiments.
“Just a while longer, partner,” Grant sympathized, gathering plates from the table. “Then we’ll check out those frogs.”
“All right,” Toby cried, hopping to his feet on the table bench.
Jami grinned and began helping Grant clear the picnic stuff. He always seemed to know the right way to handle Toby. And she knew from experience that was no simple task.
After Mike tortured them into poses for every photo he could possibly need, he began shooting candids of the two of them playing with Toby. They’d waded into the lake with the toy boat and between all the splashing and laughter, she ended up as wet as her little boy. Her crop-top and shorts clung damply to her body, and her hair corkscrewed into wet, dark copper curls. She could taste the fishy lake water on her lips as she watched Grant spin around with Toby perched on his broad shoulders until both males landed in the water with a gigantic splash.
The cold water hit her in the face. She hoped her mascara wasn’t streaked. “Cool it, guys.”
“Why? You’re already wet,” Grant countered, dripping as he rose up from the lake with a giggling, wiggling Toby in his arms.
“Jami, wade closer to them. This is a perfect family-at-play shot.” Mike waved her toward Grant and Toby.
Though she kept a smile on her face, she swallowed a lump in her throat. This perfect family wasn’t a family at all. Just like the ad campaign photos, this was only pretend. So why did that fact hurt so much?
Rumpled, but drip-dried, Jami and Toby bid goodbye to Mike at the boat dock, then followed Grant back to the lodge, detouring from the trail to stop at a gurgling, frothing spring. Jami was surprised to recognize rhubarb and asparagus growing by the wild mint and watercress surrounding the natural mountain pool. The clear, icy spring flowed freely out of a rock outcrop and then disappeared as mysteriously a few feet away.
Grant held a finger up to his lips. “Be really quiet and maybe we’ll see squirrels or deer.”
“Do they play in the water here?” Toby whispered, excitedly gazing all around the wooded area.
“Some drink it. The water acts as an oasis, drawing animals and insects.” Grant gestured to several frogs leaping on the stones and sitting in the water. One frog’s long pink tongue darted out, unfurling to snatch a fly mid-flight.
“Cool,” Toby gasped. The frogs croaked and hopped, scattering for shelter as the boy knelt close and gazed into the water. “I see some fish and lots of bugs. What are those squirmy bitty green things with round heads and long tails?”
“Tadpoles,” Grant replied, smiling as proudly as if he invented the amphibians. “Polliwog.”
“Baby frogs,” Jami explained, used to simplifying things for a child.
“Can I keep one?”
Grant scooped a couple of polliwogs into his hand, keeping them under the water. “Sorry, slugger, but they can’t