Grayson's Surrender (Wingmen Warriors 1)

"Oh, God, don't cry, honey. Everybody's fine. No one got hurt today." He brushed his thumb along her cheek, absorbing a lone tear.

"That's not why I'm crying."

"I'm not worth it."

Her chin tipped up. "I know that."

"Of course you do."

Unable to resist, not that he'd ever had much luck resisting Lori, Gray skimmed his lips over hers, kissed her once, then again. A nice safe twelve or so inches separated them. He couldn't get closer or any more intimate, not with a sleeping kid on his shoulder.

Adrenaline letdown in the aftermath of his hazardous flight left him susceptible. He wanted those warm sheets and Lori's soft arms around him. All those moments when he'd thought he might never see her, kiss her, touch her again hammered down on him.

Too much emotion. He needed to pass off the sleeping kid and get away from the temptation of Lori and those welcoming daisies arched over her door.

Easing his face away, he nipped her full lower lip one last time and stared into her stormy eyes. "Come with me tomorrow. I have a reason, something I want you to see." He would come up with something by morning. "I know I've asked a lot. But do this one last thing for me."

No answer had been this important since his first pilot training check ride. His fingers worked a massage on her scalp, a silent plea for her to relax and trust him. A smart woman wouldn't.

"Okay."

Relief made speech tough. Thankful Lori had checked her brain at the door for once, he passed over the sleeping child. He should have offered to carry Magda inside, but he needed to keep his feet firmly on the other side of Lori's threshold since he was already on shaky ground around her. "I'll pick the two of you up around noon."

"I'll be waiting with both my shirts."

Apparently her brain had checked back in, and just in time. Intelligent thought seemed to be in short supply for him. If he didn't pull it together before he picked her up in the morning, he might do something they would both regret. If he hadn't already.

* * *

What in the world could Gray want to show her? They crossed yet another bridge over the intercoastal waterway to his parents' seaside condo.

He'd been so serious the night before, so unlike himself. She couldn't resist his invitation. After spending the entire party with her stomach in an uproar over the possibility that Gray could have been hurt, could have—

Blinking quickly, she focused on the glittering ocean.

She simply couldn't walk away. Not yet.

Beach music pulsed low, Gray humming if not singing. Magda drummed her feet against her car seat in time as she stuffed French fries into her mouth, a Happy Meal box on her lap. Gray had detoured to buy it for her even when Lori insisted Magda could wait. The stubborn man had pulled into the drive through anyway and bought himself a Big Mac, too.

Used to winning, more comfortable being in charge, she found his quiet mulishness an odd challenge. Funny how she'd been so focused on the playful exterior a year ago, she'd missed deeper implications of his determination. His resolution no doubt had carried him through in achieving two such ambitious career goals.

What else hadn't she noticed about him?

Like the annoying way he kept popping his knuckles and flexing his feet. Why couldn't he have worn long pants instead of those khaki shorts? Muscles bulged along his bare calf with each flexing stretch. "Could you stop that, please?"

"What?"

She stared pointedly at his cracking fist and feet.

His hand paused midcrack. He straightened his fingers and shrugged, his untucked plaid shirt rippling over his broad shoulders. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just working out the bends."

"The bends?"

His fist curled, finishing off the popping in the silence as Gray stared at her legs.

"Eyes on the road, Major." She tugged her silky sun-dress over her knees. Why in the world had she worn a dress to a picnic? She'd convinced herself she would be cooler, ignoring the fact that Gray had told her countless times how he liked seeing her legs bared by a dress.

His hands clenched and unclenched again around the steering wheel. What was he doing? Murmurs of residual panic still taunted her. "Gray? Are you okay? What are the bends?"