Grayson's Surrender

But then her body wasn't as smart as her heart.



They couldn't build a relationship on great sex alone. Heaven knew they'd tried. And failed.



She didn't bother knocking his hand aside. She simply stood so it fell away. "Goodbye, Gray."



Lori shoved away from the seat just as Bronco returned. She clenched her jaw rather than speak words that wouldn't change a thing. Like Gray said, the damage was already done. Just how much damage, she didn't want to consider until she'd slept at least eighteen hours straight and faced the morning alone.



Bronco lumbered into his seat, glancing from Gray to Lori and back again. "Yeah right, you two are history."



* * *



Gray hefted his bag and loped down the hatch steps. Lights flooded the Charleston Air Force Base runway, haloing a neon umbrella in the evening dark.



It was over.



The children would complete in-processing and meet their new families. He would go back to his work with patients and regular missions.



Two days ago that might have been enough. But seeing Lori again had started something akin to a spark on a parachute. Would his feet find ground before the whole damned thing burst into flames?



His best bet would be to haul out, fast.



Except he couldn't dodge the sensation he was forgetting something. A glance around the flight line didn't ease the feeling. Buses crowded the tarmac to transport the children. An NGO worker directed human traffic flow.



No Lori.



Past time to hit the road, he reminded himself.



Hanging out with Lori any longer would only leave him more frustrated. And he was mighty frustrated already. Just a by-product of a year without sex, of course. Not because he'd spent thirty hours wanting Lori and her peach-scented body wrapped around him.



He forced his eyes front and walked toward the crew bus. Noises meshed around him—engine whines and barked commands blended with children crying. Other children hung limp, sleeping against an adult shoulder while military personnel boarded them on the buses.



No Lori and her little Magpie.



Keep walking. His job was done. He needed sleep and a bandage for his leg. No need to risk starting something with her that he wouldn't have time to finish before he moved.



Gray stared up into the bus and resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He and Lori didn't need more goodbyes. She would have her hands full transferring the kids, especially the one screaming up a blue streak. It sounded as if someone needed sleep as much as he did.



An image of Lori sagging against the copilot's seat flashed to mind. Beautiful, drowsy, exhausted.



Another spark flamed on his mental parachute.



She always pushed herself harder than a normal person. Lori's job wouldn't be complete until the last kid had a safe place to sleep.



Gray planted a hand on the bus and hung his head. Three deep breaths later he turned around. What was one more hour without shut-eye? She'd needed so much more from him than he could give a year ago. He could give her this now, an hour to help out and speed the in-processing.



His eyes scanned the bustling tarmac for Lori.



Shrieks beyond a small crowd increased. Lori would be there, of course, fixing the problem. Gray dodged and wove until he found her cradling a screaming Magda.



Little Magpie had found her voice.



A military nurse in fatigues gripped Magda's shoulders, attempting to lift her from Lori's arms. Like a spider monkey, Magda held tight and cried gulping sobs. Her bandanna-clad head nestled firmly in the crook of Lori's neck. The Barbie clutched in Magda's fist tangled in Lori's unraveling braid.



Gray plowed forward. "Lori. Lori!"



She turned, wisps of hair flying around her face. Pure exhaustion lined her face. Unshed tears clouded her eyes as her gaze met his. Gratitude mingled with those tears.



His whole damned parachute went up in flames.



Fatigue fell away. He wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon. Gray dropped a hand on Magda's head. "Problem?"



"She doesn't want to go." Lori's voice quivered. "And I can't make her understand."



That tiny quiver slayed him, coming from a woman who never lost control. His hand fell from Magda's head to the small of Lori's back. She felt too soft and warm under his palm. "She may never understand, and she shouldn't have to, but you're going to have to let her go eventually."



"I know." One blink would have set those tears free. She didn't blink.



Lori would go down with a fight.



Damn but he wanted to fight this battle for her. "You paved the way for me all day. Maybe I can ease this one along for you."



She swallowed heavily, still didn't blink. "Thank you."



Gray ducked eye level with Magda. "Hey, Magpie."



Her little muscles bulged as her arms locked around Lori's neck. But she stopped crying. Wide brown eyes looked at him with a wary hope that sliced right through him.



Couldn't he fly combat instead? Perform an appendectomy or two? Either would be easier.



Gray cupped Magda's head as he mumbled reassuring words she wouldn't understand. Slowly her grip slackened. He talked, his hands sliding around to grip Magda's waist.



Tiny arms and legs vice-gripped Lori.



Lori trembled. Gray wasn't feeling all that steady, either. Carefully he pried Magda free one arm at a time. The child was so small, so damned delicate with fever heating her fragile body.



Magda grabbed a fistful of Lori's hair. "No!"



A hoarse laugh tore at his chest. "Fine time to talk, little one."



Lori's trembling turned into teeth-chattering shaking. "Maybe I should ride over in the bus with her."



Then Lori would get off the bus, following Magda until her tired body fell over.



The best he could do for Lori and Magda was to make the separation quick, like jerking off a Band-Aid, except no way in hell would this one be painless. "It's not going to be any easier an hour from now, if you can even last that long. You're dead on your feet now. Let go, honey."



"Okay." Lori's voice trembled almost as much as her hands.



Gently as he could, he pulled Magda from Lori's arms. "Come on, kiddo."



The Barbie snagged in Lori's hair, extending her unraveling braid in a link between the woman and child until finally the roped hair fell lank against Lori.



"No!" Magda cried again, arms extended.



Lori lurched forward, her arms reaching to yank Magda back. Gray sidestepped and passed the child to a waiting nurse. Pivoting quickly, he caught Lori against his chest. "Hang tough. You'll only make it worse if you take her back now."



For the first time in a year, he held Lori, fitting her to him with a familiarity that should have sent them both running in the opposite direction. She stood stiff and shaking against him. Her hair caressed his chin, teased his nose with hints of peaches and tears.



He dealt with people in pain every day. He wouldn't call himself callous, but doctors had to develop a level of objectivity to survive.



Objectivity wasn't even an option.



Over Lori's head he could only watch the nurse carry Magda to the bus. She stared back at him over the nurse's shoulder, brown eyes wide with betrayal as she cried out her lone English word. "No! No!"



Lori squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face to Gray's neck. Cupping the back of her head as he had Magda's, he swallowed heavily and tried to calm Lori with mumbled words, soothing strokes. Inadequate offerings.



Lori's trembling built, and Gray held tighter until her first sob broke through, harsh and full. His arms tightened around her. He'd never seen her cry. Not even during their last fight before she'd left him.



He threaded his fingers through her hair and tipped his head back to stare up into the night sky. The stars seemed to wink back at him. Not a chance of escaping here, pal.



"Let me go." She twisted in his arms.



He held strong, afraid she might dart out onto the busy flight line. "In a minute. You're tired and—"



"If you call me hysterical, I'll rip your head off. Just let me go." She cried, kicked his shin, cried some more.



He winced at the jab to his leg from her foot and sucker punch to his gut from her tears. But he kept smoothing his hand over her hair until Magda's cries waned with the retreating bus.



Lori thumped a fist against his shoulder with only half the force she could have. "Damn you. Damn your bandannas and Beatles. And damn you for making me miss your smiles all over again."



Her drumming fist slowed. Her words pounded through him with double the power as she sagged in his arms.



The activity on the flight line dwindled to a hum in his ears. She simply lay against him—peaches, sweat and softness.



He stroked back flyaway strands of her hair. "It's gonna be okay, honey."



"God, Gray, I wish for once it really could be that simple." Her breath mingled with his.



"Her new family will be spoiling her rotten by morning. With any luck, she's young enough to forget."



If only he could say the same for himself. Gray knew without question he would never forget the disillusionment he'd seen in Magda's eyes. A look too much like the one he'd found in his father's eyes years ago.



Gray's arms tightened. He stared down at Lori's beautiful mouth and needed to make her smile more than he needed to sleep. And he needed sleep mighty damned bad.



"Don't think about Magda crying. Think about her in her new room."



"In her new home."



"That's right. She'll have a home and a family."



"Home and family." Lori shivered in spite of the muggy night air. "It's more than a lot of people can claim, I guess."



"Yes, it is." He wanted to drop a kiss on her head, but settled for resting his forehead against her silky hair.



She swayed against him, and Gray realized he would have to drive her home. Lori wasn't in any condition to climb behind the wheel. She needed him, even in a small way, and that shouldn't have mattered as much as it did.



"Magda will be settled by morning."



"She deserves so much more."



And so did Lori.



"I'm sorry." For wanting Lori when sex was the last thing they needed. For not being able to give her that home and family.



For knowing he was no closer to being the kind of man she needed than he'd been a year ago.



What did he plan to do when time came to say goodbye again? He couldn't leave things the way they were. That hadn't worked for the past twelve months, and he didn't expect it to be any different now.



Before he left Charleston, he needed to fix things between them, make some kind of peace. He'd allowed the questions, the unresolved issues, the tension to hang between them too long.



He needed a game plan, but solutions weren't coming any faster now than they had a year ago. And he only had two and a half weeks to find the answer.



Chapter 4



Hadn't she learned anything in a year? Lori scavenged inside herself for the resolve to step out of Gray's arms, but couldn't find the energy. Magda's sobs echoed in Lori's weary brain until she fought the urge to cry again. More tears wouldn't fix anything, heaven knew, because she'd cried buckets over Grayson Clark a year ago.



How easy it would be to let herself go slack and sleep where she stood on the flight line, secure in knowing Gray's arms would support her for a few moments longer.



She wasn't sure how long she did just that, slump against his broad chest and breathe in his bay rum, sweat and strength. Maybe she did drift into a twilight nap. She'd always been able to drop off easily, a talent cultivated from childhood years sleeping in hotels or apartments while partiers dodged around her.



Reality intruded, not through flight-line noises but in the strange quiet. She elbowed free from Gray's embrace and found the tarmac almost empty. A lone truck waited, engine humming, headlights cutting the night while a uniformed driver waited inside.