However, looking at the two of them together, he couldn't regret his decision. Magda needed her. Lori braced a gentle hand on the child's back, soothing Magda until she could control her breathing. They were right together.
He strolled to the bed. "Hi, Magpie."
Her smile vanished. Magda's bottom lip shot out with a speed and reach his nieces and nephews would have applauded. Her mutinous glare left him with no doubt about her thoughts.
She was mad as spit. At him. Only him. Women had long memories, and he was definitely persona non grata for little Magpie.
Gray warmed the stethoscope on his palm so she could see it and understand. "I need to check your breathing."
Magda eyed the stethoscope and scooted closer to Lori.
Lori clasped Magda's little fingers. "It's okay."
Magda sat rigidly while he slid the stethoscope on her back between the part in her polka-dot hospital gown, then around front. Her breath sounds rattled in his ears. Not a good sign, but perhaps minimally better than the day before.
"How is she?"
Gray draped his stethoscope around his neck and waggled his hand. "A little improved. Why don't you give her the present while I look over her chart?"
"Shouldn't you give—" Magda's scowl in Gray's direction stopped Lori. Her hand fluttered to rest on his arm. "I'm sorry."
"Don't sweat it," he said, trying like hell to ignore Lori's touch. "As long as she gets the toy, it doesn't matter who gives it to her."
Lori's eyes narrowed. "Damn, you're good."
A wry chuckle slipped free. "Well, hon, you haven't said that to me in quite a while."
"And then you're so bad."
Gray backed up a step. "Take care of our little friend while I review her records."
He dropped into a chair by the window, propping his boot on one knee to rest his leg. He opened the chart in his lap and flipped through pages. Lori's Southern drawl poured over him as she talked to Magda, accompanying words with gestures.
Lori mimed a cup brought to her mouth as she asked Magda if she wanted a drink. The girl nodded enthusiastically, and Lori poured her a glass of ice water.
Other word plays and gestures followed until Gray realized Lori was actually communicating with Magda through a basic, but formalized sign language. Interesting. A part of her training, perhaps? What else didn't he know about this fascinating woman?
Lori lowered the rail and perched on the edge of the bed, passing Magda the bag from the store. Gray stopped turning pages.
Magda eyed the sack warily. Her hand crept toward it, then paused. She looked from Gray to Lori with such distrust he wanted to go back to Sentavo, kick some serious butt and take a long list of names.
Her tiny hand pinched the edge of the bag and lifted. She peeked inside—and smiled.
Gray felt as if he'd found a cure for the common cold. Magda yanked the Barbie out of the bag and struggled to rip open the box. Lori's head dipped as she helped Magda.
Lori's face shone with a natural beauty that stole the air from his lungs. Complete contentment radiated from her in waves he couldn't help but envy.
Gray watched the two of them and knew he'd been right in suggesting Lori become Magda's guardian. With their two dark heads so close, anyone could have mistaken them for mother and daughter. This was it. What he had to do to right the way they'd left things a year ago.
Finally he could offer her what she wanted. Through Magda, Lori would find that sense of home she seemed to need, the child she wanted. His last two weeks in Charleston could be spent helping Lori settle in with her new child.
Then he could walk away.
Fast on the heels followed the knowledge that he wouldn't be leaving her with some other man to make those babies. The thought stirred satisfaction—and guilt. Lori might imagine she was selfish for the least little wish, but he knew better.
He was the selfish one.
Chapter 7
Lori stepped through the hospital's automatic doors, Gray trailing her. The late-afternoon sun prickled along her fair skin just as apprehension and an underlying excitement prickled along her every nerve.
Magda would be coming home with her in two days. Stay objective, Lori warned herself. This was just another case. Another child. A very special child.
Cars roared and honked past in rush hour traffic, echoing the thundering of Lori's blood throbbing through her veins.
She slumped against the brick wall, gasping in drags of heavy air to steady her stuttering heart. "I can't believe I'm going to do this. I have seventy-one other kids to follow up on in the next few weeks. What am I thinking taking on a sick four-year-old full-time?"
Gray leaned beside her, his boot propped on the wall behind him. "You're thinking she'll have nowhere else to go if you don't."
"I know, I know. Meanwhile, I have to buy clothes, food, toys and a thousand other things before she's released from the hospital. Will she really be ready to go forty-eight hours from now? That seems awfully early."
"She'll be fine. A secure home where she feels loved is the best medicine at this point." He pushed away from the wall. Bracing a hand on her back, he sauntered beside her across the street toward his Explorer. "Where do you want to go first?"
"To get my car, of course."
"I, uh, meant shopping. Which mall?"
"You want to go … shopping?" Shock immobilized her. A car honked for Lori to clear the road.
Gray ushered her across, his hand still planted possessively on the small of her back. "I want to help you find what you need to settle Magda. This was my idea, after all, so I feel responsible."
Responsible? She'd wanted many things from Gray in the past, but grudging obligation hadn't made her top-ten list. "Thanks, really. But I can manage on my own. I'll be able to wrap things up at the office while she's in the hospital. I'll have the weekend to acclimate Magda. Meanwhile, I can work out the rest of the accommodations. We'll be fine."
"I'm sure you will." Gray stopped by the passenger door. "Where do you want to go shopping first?"
Something else she'd forgotten about Gray. He was a mule. Stubborn. Stubborn. Stubborn. While easygoing most of the time, he could simultaneously smile and dig those boot heels in deeper than oak tree roots. "You really want to go shopping?"
"With you. Yes, I do."
The thrust of his jaw convinced her. But why? "Do you want to pick up some early Christmas gifts for your nieces and nephews?"
"Sure. It beats fighting the crowds later."
"Yeah. I guess so." But a guy shopping months ahead of time? Not a chance. He was holding back, and she didn't like it. At least they'd always been straight with each other. As he reached to open her door, she grabbed his wrist. "Cut it out, Gray."
"What?"
"This isn't going to get you an invitation back into my bed."
He slid a slow look down to her hand still on his arm. Humidity and longing weighted the air until it became almost impossible to breathe. She jerked away.
Gray regarded her through a lazy blink. "I didn't ask for one."
"Yeah, right. Why else would a man offer to spend an afternoon perusing the latest styles at Baby Gap?"
"Because I want to help. Honey, we never played games in the past. Why would I do that now?" His eyes deepened to those jewel tones that never failed to send shivers down her spine, regardless of the summer heat. "If I wanted back in your bed, you would know."
Her pulse double-timed like the hummingbird speeding through a nearby flower bed. She couldn't stop herself from asking, "And you don't want me anymore?"
He flattened his palm on the car beside her. Those glittering eyes cruised her mouth, her neck, sweeping a leisurely ride down to the curve of her hip. "I've never lied to you, and I don't intend to start now. Hell, yes. I want you." His gaze snapped back to meet hers. "I'm just not interested in having my ego trounced again."
Sympathy melted her heart like butter over a warm roll. She'd forgotten how fast he could level her defenses with his honesty.
Reality chilled her emotions, and she toughened up.
He may have been hurt by the breakup, but it would take shoes a lot bigger than her size-eights to trample Gray's pilot-doctor ego. The man had confidence to spare. They may not have played games in the past, but he was up to something today. She just couldn't figure out what. Tenacious curiosity compelled her to let him come along so she could unravel his agenda. Surely she wasn't letting him come because some small corner of her heart whispered a hope that he might find domestic, family responsibilities weren't so scary after all. "Fine. You can carry packages for me. If you think you can handle it."
He spread his arms wide. "Bring it on, hon. How much stuff can one kid need?"
"Geez, Lori! How much does one kid need?" Gray opened the back hatch of his Explorer. With lightning-fast hands, he caught boxes and bags before they avalanched onto her narrow, gravel driveway.
Church bells chimed the hour, clanging through Gray's pounding head. Those church murals had the concept of hell all wrong. Rather than fiery flames, the artists should have depicted a day at the mall with a woman.
Did Lori really need his advice on whether the kid would look better in pink or purple? Capri pants or short overalls? And what the hell were Capri pants, anyway?
But he'd gritted his teeth, smiled and voted for purple Capri pants because they were in the hand closest to the cash register. A good omen. Right?
After changing her mind no less than four times, Lori had bought the pink overalls.
Gray's leg burned. His head felt like someone had bashed it with a sledgehammer. And if he had to look at Lori's Madonna beauty glow one more time, he was going to toss her over his shoulder and head straight for the nearest bed.
She caught a stray outfit fluttering out of a bag and smiled as she shook out the pink, flowered overalls.
Glowing like an afterburner and she wasn't even pregnant.
Gray's head fell to rest on the back of his car. Who needed a bed? Any flat surface would suffice.
Instead of finding a bed, he would get the car unpacked and toys assembled, fast, then run like crazy back to his apartment. Where fresh reminders of Lori could bombard him from every corner.
Gray swiped his wrist over his damp brow. Shade from the towering magnolias didn't offer nearly enough relief from the hundred-degree day or his thoughts. "Come on, Lori. Let's cart this up to your place."
He hefted out a box for a riding toy and lumbered through the courtyard toward the white stucco house. Like many historical homes in Charleston, the floors had been sectioned off into office and apartment spaces.
Lush ferns, dogwoods and Palmetto trees encircled the stone patio and walkway in reckless landscaping. Black wrought-iron furniture grouped around a trickling fountain topped with a stone pineapple. A book lay open and facedown on a small table, empty glass beside it. Wild abandon and peace intertwining. Like Lori.
Three treks up and down the stairs later, Gray followed her up the narrow outdoor stairway for the final time. Thank God he held the last of the loot, a Barbie dream house. Only a few more steps to watch the tormenting sway of Lori's hips.
First the mall. Now this. Penance stunk.
Wooden steps along the side of the house creaked beneath his boots. Lori's hair swayed loose and flowing down her back. He diverted his eyes.
Twenty-three endless steps later, he reached her second-story apartment. A clump of dried daisies arced over the door. Welcoming, homey, like Lori.
Man, he was in trouble.
No time to choke now, pal. He charged inside.
As if dodging land mines, Gray sidestepped the pile of packages littering the entryway. "Where do you want me to put this?"