Wingman Warriors - Grayson's Surrender Part 12

Magda wouldn't be released for another hour, but Lori had finished up work for the day and planned to leave early for the hospital.

Coward.

Not that she was dodging Gray or trying to skip out. She'd left a message on his answering machine for him to meet her at the hospital.

Big coward.

Okay. So she was a great big chicken, scared and flat-out embarra.s.sed to see Gray again without an entire hospital staff acting as a distraction.

And if he followed her home after she picked up Magda? A four-year-old would make a fine chaperone. How much could he upset Lori's equilibrium with a needy child in tow?

Of course, her parents had always managed romance, even with her around. Images of them flashed through her mind like a movie reel on fast play.

Her mother and father walking hand in hand down the Champs Elysees, while Lori skipped behind. The vivid red of her mother's lipstick as she leaned to kiss Lori good-night before a night on the town. A postcard from her father of Trevi Fountain, the trip a private celebration of their thirty-fifth anniversary. Her parents had been wildly in love, still were, and everyone who saw them knew it.

What was wrong with holding out for love?

Not a thing.

An essentially pragmatic part of Lori also acknowledged she needed a different kind of love than her parents had found. As much as she loved her parents, she was realistic enough to know there wouldn't have been enough time or energy left over in their lives to care for more than one child, certainly never a child with Magda's problems.

Love was better put off for another time and place. Magda needed her.

And what did Lori need?

She needed to wear two shirts after all.

Grabbing the extra silk blouse and a welcome-home gift for Magda, Lori left her apartment. She locked the door, turned to the stairs and stopped.

Gray sat sideways on the bottom step, boot pressed to the wall across from him. His head lay back against the porch post, his eyes closed. He'd once told her that doctors cultivated a talent for snagging catnaps when and where they could. Obviously, he'd meant it.

How long had he been waiting for her? Had he shown up early in case she cut out, just as she was doing? Or had he stayed outside because he didn't want to be alone with her?

Both thoughts tilted the porch beneath her feet.

Lori eased down the stairs and nudged him with her toe. "Time to go, flyboy."

He didn't budge. Rush hour traffic crowded the one-way side street beside her driveway. A carriage tour slowed the flood. The Belgian draft horse clomped by at its own pace while a tour guide droned on about earthquake bolts on houses.

"Gray?" she whispered in his ear.

No response.

He was out so deeply, she could step right over him and leave while he snoozed, oblivious to all around him. But that wouldn't be a nice thing to do, and they'd hurt each other enough already.

Lori sank to the step above him and sat. Unable to resist the lure of his coal-black hair, she skimmed her fingers across his brow, smoothing back a lock. There wasn't much to stroke, his military cut leaving little on his head. Of course, that also left more of his face and neck for her to view and admire.

She traced her thumb over his brows, then his eyes, leaned forward and stole one last kiss for her memory cache, a quick kiss guaranteed not to wake him, then stood again.

She tapped him with her toe, more firmly this time. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Time to go."

The honeyed tones of Lori's voice pulled Gray from sleep. He started, snorted, his boot dropping to the step.

"What?" He looked around, blinking his eyes to clear his groggy brain, before his gaze landed on Lori.

G.o.d, she was beautiful. Not pretty or cute or even gorgeous. Just d.a.m.ned beautiful. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, and both of those shirts couldn't stop the image of that same hair rippling around her bare skin two days prior.

Gray cleared his throat, if not his thoughts. "You all set to go?"

"Anytime you're ready."

He stood, stomping his feet and shaking his flight suit back into place. Eye level with Lori, he stared at her full, damp lips. Not wise. His gaze shot up to her eyes, her wary eyes. He'd made such a mess of things earlier, he couldn't blame her. "About before-"

"Stop! Please." She held up a hand, pausing just shy of touching him. "There's no need to say anything. You and I have the uncanny knack for making fools out of ourselves around each other. What's one more time? Chalk it up to the whole crazy hormone thing we have going and leave it at that. Keep it simple."

He frowned. "Yeah, I guess."

Lori picked at her overblouse and smiled. "See, two shirts. I'm armored and ready to resist your incredible appeal."

He'd always liked her open approach to life. No games or hidden agendas or wallowing in complaints, just face life head-on. His smile kicked in. "That's my girl."

But she wasn't and they both knew it. Their smiles faded. Gray stepped to the walkway. "Let's get moving. There's a little girl waiting to come home."

An hour later Gray drove back to Lori's apartment, Magda buckled into a car seat in the back of his car. Lori sat beside her talking softly and pointing to different landmarks as they drove past. Magda babbled a phrase in her own language, her new Winnie the Pooh clutched tightly.

At Lori's apartment, Gray unloaded Magda's tote bag of pajamas and the other toys she'd collected while in the hospital. Lori walked ahead up the stairs, Magda perched on her hip. They made a postcard-perfect picture, so why wasn't he happy yet?

The little girl's hair had been trimmed and smoothed into a new elfin do, loose curls fluffing around her face. She could have been mistaken for a boy, except Lori had outfitted her in plenty of pink. The pink overalls patterned with flowers and hearts left no doubts about Magda's gender.

She was a darn cute kid, even when she plastered that tiny scowl across her face every time she looked at him. As if in synch with his thoughts, Magda blasted a glare over Lori's shoulder, a dare that seemed to say, Try and pull me loose this time, buster.

He smiled an apology he hoped she understood, but likely didn't. While he'd rather not be glowered at as if he'd killed the Easter Bunny, Gray couldn't help but applaud Magda's s.p.u.n.k after all she'd been through. She would need it to adjust to a new culture, new language and a load of other challenges. Lucky for her she had one h.e.l.l of an advocate in Lori.

At the door Lori attempted to juggle Magda and dig out her keys, but the child wouldn't loosen her grip to be put down. "Can you take her?"

"Like she'd go for that. Give me the keys." Gray unlocked the door and shoved it open.

He followed them in while Magda frowned her next message. Hey! You better not live here, too.

Gray kept trailing them inside.

Magda eyed the door as if encouraging him to use it, now.

"No can do, kiddo," Gray muttered. "I'm planning to hang out for a while."

Lori turned. "What?"

"Nothing. I'll put this in her room while you show her around."

"Sure. Thanks."

Gray found himself walking faster to Magda's room. He placed the miniature suitcase by the dollhouse, then shifted restlessly from foot to foot while he waited. He'd brought them home. Shouldn't he be itching to leave?

But he wanted to be there when she saw the Barbie house. He wanted to find out if she would squeal like his niece Jessica or dance around the room like his nephew Trey.

He wanted to discover if Lori sang bedtime songs like his mom did. His father had sung along, too, before he'd left for Vietnam. Funny how he'd forgotten that. Of course, his younger brother and sister wouldn't remember at all. Gray shrugged off the kink in his neck along with the memories that had put it there and focused on Lori.

Nothing wrong with pitching in during the transition, just like he'd planned. The more he helped Lori bond with Magda, the easier it would be when he left Charleston A childish cough sounded from the hall. Gray turned and found Lori silhouetted in the doorway, Magda's hand clutched in hers. Chocolate and cookie crumbs stained the corner of Magda's mouth.

She stared at the dollhouse with wide eyes. She glanced at Gray standing beside it, and her mouth quirked to the side. Wanna get outta my way, big guy?

Lori urged her forward. "Come on, Magda. It's yours." Her cocoa-colored eyes darted to the Big Wheel parked in the corner as if considering it for an alternative, given its distance from Gray. Then her gaze skated right back to the house.

Taking pity on the kid, Gray stepped away and sat on the edge of the bed. Magda let go of Lori's hand and sprinted forward, Lori strolling behind. The little girl dropped cross-legged in front of the house and pulled one doll after another from the basket.

Hands clasped loosely between his knees, Gray watched. Couldn't stop. He'd built the house that made her happy. Her tiny smile brought a rush that rivaled the first time he'd mastered a barrel roll in pilot training.

Magda lined up her dolls on the floor, a cough rumbling in her chest. Lori sat on the floor and pulled Magda onto her lap. Magda smiled up at her, pressed two fingers to her lips and gestured forward.

"You're welcome," Lori said to Magda, then grinned at Gray. "That was sign language for thank-you. When I visited her in the hospital, I taught her some basic signs. There's a whole movement out there for teaching sign language to babies. It's supposed to lessen their frustration until they can talk in formalized language. The same premise works with international children who don't speak English language yet. She's picking it up so quickly. I think she's really smart."

Gray stifled a grin at Lori's maternal pride, predictable and sweet. "I'm sure she is."

Lori licked her thumb and reached to swipe cookie crumbs from Magda's cheek. "I should have offered her something healthier like a cheese stick or an apple, but I just wanted everything to be perfect for her."

"One cookie won't kill her."

"Is that your official diagnosis, Doc?"

"Yes, ma'am. Give this kid a cookie a day."

"With milk."

"You bet." Conversation fizzling, Gray waited. For what? He didn't know.

Silence echoed through the room, broken only by the toll of church bells, a car horn, a cough from Magda.

Lori smoothed a hand over Magda's tufting hair and smiled a polite dismissal at Gray. "You probably have things to do, work or something. You can go now."

Magda chose just that moment to glance up. Yeah. The door's that way.

Gray took in the two of them, their faces so close together, so right, and knew he wasn't needed. His mission was over for the day. Magda and Lori were settled, not that it seemed to make leaving any easier.

He shoved to his feet. "She's allowed quiet play at home for the next five days. She can play with other kids out in public after that."

"Thank you. I've already got a sitter lined up to help with the times I can't work up here."

"Watch for fever, chest pain, worsening cough."

"Gray, I have the instructions from her pediatrician."

"I'll stop in tomorrow to listen to her chest."

Her eyes flashed as if she might argue, then the flame died. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Be careful that she doesn't get too worn-out."

"I'm going to help her into PJs in a minute." Lori rested her cheek on top of Magda's head. "We'll be fine. We're going to eat supper and watch a video. A little Disney should go a long way toward keeping her still and starting her English lessons."

"That sounds great."

Gray waited for an invitation to join them. He enjoyed a Disney flick as much as the next guy. The family's designated Disney dude, he'd sat through Cinderella three times when his niece Jessica was stuck in bed with the chicken pox.

Propping a boot on the bed rail, he waited through another cycle of cars pa.s.sing beneath the window.

Lori didn't ask, just plucked at her shirt and held her foster daughter in her lap. Hair flowing around them both, Lori tucked Magda closer into the perfect mother-daughter picture. A picture that by his own choice didn't include him. "Well, enjoy your video."

"We will."

"Call me if you need anything."

"We'll manage."

Magda clutched a handful of Lori's hair possessively, her tiny jaw thrust stubbornly.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Just in case, call me, okay?"

"Okay."

He knew she wouldn't Lori never really needed anyone. The thought of being free should have made him happy, but somehow it fell short of the target.

Chapter 9.

"Gray!" Lori's panicked voice vibrated through the phone. "I need you!"

"What's wrong?" Dreams of whiskey-brown hair and long legs fell away as Gray jackknifed up in the bed.

"She's crying and coughing and she can't sleep and I don't know what to do for her. G.o.d, Gray, what was I thinking? I can't handle a sick kid who doesn't even speak enough English to tell me how she feels. They'll have to find someone else before the hearing next month. I can't do this. I really-"

"Calm down. It's going to be fine." Although, if it had Lori fl.u.s.tered, it must be pretty d.a.m.n bad. Gray's gut fisted. "Does she have a fever?"

"Ninety-nine point six."