Grayson's Surrender (Wingmen Warriors 1)

"Doc," Magda parroted.

Gray grinned and ruffled Magda's hair. She ducked from his touch and patted her hair back in place. Lori offered him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry."

"No problem. Let's just focus on finding out what's wrong with her. At least I know where to start looking." Gray placed his hand on her belly, palpated lightly and frowned. Magda flinched, doubling over. He rested his stethoscope over her stomach. His eyes widened. "Uh, oh." Magda coughed. Groaned. Gagged.

"Lori, move!" Gray scooped the little girl up and ran full-out to the bathroom, positioning her head over the toilet howl with only seconds to spare.

Lori trailed after them helplessly.

Gray held the back of Magda's neck and looked at Lori. "Not pneumonia this time. She's just got an old-fashioned case of the stomach flu."

"Stomach flu." Relief diffused the tension from her, and she slumped against the bathroom door. Adrenaline gushed through her in waves, leaving her with an absurd urge to laugh.

So much for concerns about late-night passion and mood-setting moments. If Magda's green pallor was any indication, Lori had a long night ahead of her and romance wasn't even an option.

* * *

Four hours and countless loads of laundry later, Lori sagged onto the floor beside Magda's bed. She leaned her head against the mattress with a weary sigh.

She needn't have worried about ending up in some unexpected, mind-numbing clench with Gray. They'd both been too busy taking turns cleaning up after Magda.

It was a miracle there weren't more only children in the world. How did parents ever find the energy necessary for the sex to make another baby?

Who'd have thought taking care of one sick kid could suck the life right out of a person? They hadn't even been dealing with anything life threatening. Just a simple stomach flu like the one going around the base.

Lori watched Gray as he strode through the bedroom door. Thank God she'd had his help.

Doubts slunk in with insidious force. How was she ever going to manage alone? How easy it would be to succumb to the temptation of calling for his help over the next month. A dangerous mix of alarm and anticipation fizzed within her.

Gray dropped down beside her, having just changed into clean workout clothes from his car. "Any noise from our little patient?"

"Nope. She" s sleeping, for a while at least."

"Probably worn-out."

"She's not the only one."

Propped open, the French doors ushered night breezes and sounds inside, clearing away the dank, sick-room odor and replacing it with a tantalizing intimacy. Bells chimed four times, the distant rush of waves echoing from the harbor a few blocks over.

Lori shifted toward Gray. "I didn't even think to ask. You're not on call are you?"

"Not until Sunday."

"Oh, good. Thank you for coming. I know I don't have any right to ask—"

"I want to help. I've told you that already."

And he had helped, so much. His steady calm and frequent smiles had lent her a confidence she needed. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You would have managed."

Maybe, but his smiles had helped more than he could know. More than she wanted him to know. "I don't really have that much experience with kids. I never had younger cousins around, never baby-sat."

"I guess not, with moving so much."

"I feel like such a fraud. What do I know about taking care of a child long-term?"

"You've been a foster parent. You have training."