“I wanted?” Jami demanded in a fierce whisper, trying to remember to smile at the same time. How dare this arrogant man imagine she wanted this date with him? “I’m doing this as a favor to Sierra.”
“Sure,” Grant drawled, eyeing her skeptically. “An all-expense-paid vacation for you as a favor to her? That’s hard to believe.”
“Believe it, Carrington.”
They stepped off the escalator and reached the security screening.
“Cool, like going into outer space,” Toby cried.
He snuck a glance at Mr. Carrington, hoping the guy wouldn’t cause problems for him or his mom. He and Mom didn’t need anybody but each other.
Jet engines rumbled, vibrating across the massive airliner as Jami tugged Toby along behind Grant toward their seats.
“We’re here,” Grant said, directing them to three seats on the right side of the narrow aisle.
“May I sit by the window? Please, Mom?” Toby begged, his freckled face alight with excitement.
Jami glanced at Grant. He nodded, a smile curving those wicked lips of his. “Sure.”
“Great.” Toby scooted into the seat by the thick airplane window. That left Jami no choice but to take the middle seat. She leaned toward her son to help him unstrap his backpack and slide it off onto his lap. “Please put your backpack under the seat, Toby.”
“Here, I’ll stash the bags away.” Grant whipped the pack out of Toby’s hands and crammed it, along with Jami’s tote, into the overhead compartment.
“Thanks, mister,” Toby said with a lopsided grin.
“Call me Grant.”
“Sure,” the boy agreed, eyes glowing as he tested the name, “Grant.”
“I wanted my tote,” Jami grumbled as Grant settled his big, powerful body into the seat beside her.
“Why? It’s easier to stash now. You still have your handbag.” Grant awkwardly folded his long legs, trying to fit them in the not-generous-enough space between the seats.
“That’s not the point,” Jami said quietly as Toby stared out the window, completely absorbed in watching gray-uniformed personnel load luggage. “You might have asked if I needed my tote before you stuck it out of my reach.”
Grant’s gaze seemed to shoot straight through her. Even in the plane’s garish artificial light, she was mesmerized by the velvety midnight blue of his eyes. His pupils flared inky black as she stared at him. Her breath caught. She’d never seen a man with such beautiful eyes. She found herself unable to look away until he spoke again, breaking the spell. “I can get it down for you when you want it. Do you need it now?”
“No. I guess not.” Jami quickly turned away and busied herself buckling her son’s seatbelt. Toby wiggled as she drew the belt over his tummy and snapped it securely.
“That’s no place to keep your boarding passes.” Grant plucked the protruding ticket packet from the side slot of Jami’s handbag. “You’ll never make it back home if you lose your return tickets.”
“Hey.” Jami tried to snatch the tickets back. “Give me those.”
“No. I’ll take care of them.”
“You can’t take charge of us, even if you are related to Sierra.” Jami whispered to keep Toby from hearing. Not difficult since her son avidly gazed out the thick glass toward a huge silver plane parked next to theirs and the luggage crew scrambling on the tarmac below.
“I am in charge, so relax,” Grant smoothly admonished, adding his ticket to the two he had lifted from Jami.
“Not of me,” she countered, “or my son.”
“Temper, Red.” The infuriating man chuckled, amusement lighting his dark blue eyes. “If you’re any kind of friend to Sierra, try to act happy, Jami Rhodes.” Grant leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. “We never know when our photograph’s being taken.”
“Cut that out.”
“What?” Toby asked, his attention diverting to them.
“Nothing,” Jami muttered.
“Ah.” Grant clasped his hands together. “Another crisis averted.”
Recognizing his subtle sarcasm, Jami chose to ignore it, instead letting her thoughts wander. She hated the way Grant Carrington stirred her emotions. Emotions she had suppressed for five long years—since the day she had left Doug. Raw memories still ripped at her confidence and ricocheted misery through her as she recalled that horrible afternoon when she had returned home early.
Jami closed her eyes, gritting her teeth against old wounds, denying the tears pricking at her eyelids. As she had entered their one bedroom apartment, she had heard Toby in his crib crying and rushed into the bedroom. There, she found Doug in bed with their twenty-year-old babysitter. The memory stabbed so vividly, a pained gasp escaped Jami’s lips.