Jami dashed into the outer suite to find Grant standing ramrod straight as he scowled down at his open palm. In his hand he cradled the golden Cupid key, but she couldn’t guess why he was swearing at his grandmother’s jewelry.
“Grant? Is something wrong?” she ventured, moving closer.
Startled by Jami’s presence, he swiftly closed his hand over the brooch. As if in protest, Cupid stabbed his palm, shooting a stinging pain into his flesh. “Yow!” He reopened his hand, glaring accusingly at the offending pin.
“You’d think it was alive and bit you on purpose,” Jami teased.
Grant was thankful that he wasn’t afflicted with Jami’s tendency to blush. Or he’d be scarlet at the moment. It was bad enough talking to Cupid—but to be caught in the act—and by Jami! He cleared his throat, tried nonchalantly to replace the Cupid key in the drawer, and slide the drawer shut, before turning to face her. “I, ah, stabbed myself on the pin.”
“Why were you yelling?”
“Yelling?” Grant gazed at her, hoping his face appeared as blank as his mind felt. Just how did he explain Cupid? He couldn’t tell her about the love spell theory his grandmother had sworn to be true. Or that the charm escaped a sealed envelope three times.
“You said not again,” she reminded him, tapping her foot impatiently.
“I did?” Grant saw the conflicting emotions ripple over Jami’s beautiful face and decided he needed a major distraction, before she grilled him. Too bad his brain had stalled. “That’s right I did, but it was nothing important.”
“Then why did you yell?”
Grant thought rapidly. “I, ah, stubbed my toe on the cabinet.”
“That doesn’t explain your grandmother’s brooch.” She folded her arms across her chest, obviously unaware that dirt streaked down her cheek and a twig dangled from her wild copper-red hair. Jami stared hard at him.
“Ah, I bumped into the cabinet and jarred the drawer open and that’s where the Cupid pin was.” She must think he was crazy. “I checked to make sure the brooch hadn’t gotten scratched.”
“Bumped the cabinet? I thought you stubbed your toe?” Jami pressed her lips together, shaking her head, making her tangled copper tresses bob with the attached twig waving in accompaniment.
“Right. I stubbed my toe when I bumped into the cabinet.” He didn’t do this lying thing well. His ran a finger around the collar of his sweatshirt. “We’d better get cleaned up now.”
“I’m waiting for Toby to get out of the tub.”
“You can use my shower,” Grant offered, glad she finally seemed satisfied with his explanation.
“No, thank you.” Jami smiled at him, aglow with breathtaking beauty despite her disheveled state. She pushed a lock of hair off her face, just missing the twig. “Toby should be out any minute now.”
“Jami,” Grant groaned, propelling toward her as if magnetized. He touched her cheek, warm smooth satin under his fingertips. “We have things to discuss.”
“We do?” She gazed up at him with those exotic topaz eyes, her moist, rosy lips slightly parted.
“Definitely.” Moved by a force as old as time itself and just as powerful, Grant took Jami into his arms and kissed her. She belonged in his embrace, held tight against his heart. Without her, he was no longer complete.
“Mom, where are my clothes?” Toby hollered from the doorway.
Jami and Grant sprang apart, but not before Toby witnessed their embrace. Dripping and clad in his cartoon underwear, the boy glared at them, focusing his anger on him. “Leave my mom alone!”
“Toby!” Jami gasped, her face blanching.
“Slugger, I promise everything will be okay,” Grant soothed, trying to defuse the situation.
“Don’t call me slugger.” Tears rolled down Toby’s flushed, freckled face as he spun around to run back into the bedroom, hollering over his shoulder, “You don’t keep promises. You never made me a captain for my boat!”
Jami lunged away to chase after her son, but Grant grabbed her arm. “He’ll be okay. Toby will get used to us being together.”
“Are we together?” she asked softly.
“We ought to be,” Grant replied, planting a quick, hard kiss on her lips before releasing her.
“Some place private?” Jami whispered, her fringe-lashed, sparkling amber eyes searching Grant’s face.
“Very private,” he replied, stealing one more kiss.
Jami disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Waiting a moment, Grant slipped open the drawer and picked up Cupid. If a magic spell brought Jami into his arms, then he owed Cupid a great debt. Smiling down at the golden cherub held in his palm, he murmured, “Thanks, buddy.”