fingers intimately moving over hers, startling Jami into the realization that she’d been fumbling with the catch on her own seatbelt for several minutes.
She jerked her fingers from his as if stung. “I can do it.”
Her buckle clicked into place, while Grant gazed at her in puzzlement. “What’s with you? I’m not some evil beast ready to devour you.”
Jami stared at the man beside her. He probably had a string of conquests and expected to add her to the list. The way Doug had. She trembled, remembering the heartbreak she had felt upon discovering the babysitter was just one of the many affairs her husband had had during their brief marriage. Well, she’d never repeat that mistake again.
“Are you cold, or scared of flying?”
“Neither.” She felt embarrassed as she read concern, not ridicule, in Grant’s expression.
“The plane’s about to take off.” He studied her face. “Will you be all right?”
“Fine. I’m not afraid of flying or the takeoff.”
He leaned so close, she inhaled the scent of his expensive aftershave and could feel his warm, minty breath on her cheek. Her insides somersaulted at his sheer male attack on her senses as she heard the roar of the jet engines escalate. “I hope Toby won’t be scared.”
“Your kid’s doing great. He’ll be fascinated to watch the world miniaturize and drop away.” Grant cinched his own seatbelt. “Has he flown before?”
“When he was a baby,” Jami replied as the airliner rolled, then raced to a thundering liftoff while Toby stayed glued to the window.
“Wow, Mom, this is cool.”
“It is.” Jami smiled, glad she’d brought him along. It was a good idea, no matter what anyone said. She felt a change in pressure as the plane banked and then leveled. The seatbelt signed pinged off.
“Have you been to the Rockies before?” Grant asked.
“I really haven’t traveled out of Texas much.”
“Then it’s about time you did.”
Ignoring the bait, Jami fussed over Toby for a moment, then stole a side-glance at the magnificent profile of her Cupid match. How did he stir her emotions so easily? All kinds of emotions. She couldn’t wait until this plane ride was over. She couldn’t wait until this trip was over. She didn’t dare spend a week alone with Grant Carrington.
She’d been immune to men since her divorce. Until now. Admittedly, Grant was a sexy hunk, whose ultra-civilized designer suit couldn’t mask the uncivilized edge of the man beneath. Or hide the raw masculinity of the long, lanky Texan. His hair was a sun-streaked, dark, burnished gold. And his uncompromising square jaw proclaimed the arrogant, take-charge personality Jami so resented; yet he had easy charm at the same time.
With a flick of his midnight gaze, he caught her scrutiny. She grabbed a magazine from the pocket in the seat ahead and pretended sudden interest. Yes, she reflected as her heart thumped erratically, she needed her child to shield her from this alarming attraction to Lady Killer Carrington.
Chapter 2
Jami, restless as her son, waited a short distance behind the passengers crowding around the baggage pickup. As she watched Grant grab their suitcases, then move forward to snare a stylish gray tweed bag, she wondered how long before Toby put his mark on Grant’s fancy gear. Hopefully, they’d make it to the lodge without incident. Toby did tend to mess up nice things, and fabrics were especially endangered in his presence.
Using a stain stick, she scrubbed at the chocolate fingerprints marring her cotton sundress with limited results. As Grant joined them, a bright flash blinded Jami, accompanied by a disembodied voice, “Hi, I’m Mike Peterson, the photographer on assignment for CupidKey.”
A groan escaped Jami’s lips as she regained her vision to focus on a buzz-headed, angular youth wearing jeans, a T-shirt, wire-rimmed glasses, and an elaborate camera dangling from his neck.
“Nice to meet you, Mike,” Grant replied, already shaking the eager young man’s hand.
“You gonna take pictures of us all the time?” Toby crossly asked, echoing his mother’s distress.
“Not all the time,” Mike answered with a face-splitting grin.
“Good.” Toby scuffed the toe of his sneakers against the high-polished, grooved tile floor of the airport.
Grant chuckled, and Jami found herself laughing along with him.
“Hey.” Toby’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “Sometimes a guy doesn’t want his picture taken,” he defended, pale beneath his freckles.
Reading his exhausted face, Jami’s mother instincts kicked in and she gathered her son in a hug. “You’re tired, honey. We’ll be at the lodge soon, and you can take a nap before dinner.”