Gray stood on the balcony outside Magda's room, stars winking encouragement overhead. A night breeze stirred the muggy humidity, yet offered little relief for the sweat beading his brow.
Slowly he unfastened his service coat. His gaze traveled the length of the balcony, past Magda's room, then to Lori's further down…
He jerked his eyes and his thoughts right back. Talk first. Hopefully making love after. But no way would he let them fall into their old trap of using sex to avoid difficult conversations.
Lori's voice drifted from Magda's room through the open French doors as she tucked her daughter into bed for the night.
Her daughter. Gray smiled.
Even if Judge Tradd had decided in favor of the fickle-minded couple, Gray had no doubts that Lori could have won Magda in the long run once she'd had a chance to gather more testimony. But now she didn't have to.
Magda's caseworker had told them later the judge had admitted to being swayed by Gray's grandstanding. His hurried calls and a quick change into his uniform had helped. And helping Lori felt damned good.
Except she didn't need him anymore, not really. Lori rarely needed anyone.
But did she still want him in her life?
He wanted her in his, with a fierceness that made the past year's frustration seem like a cake walk. He rehearsed his proposal for the fiftieth time, swiping away the perspiration on his brow. He shrugged out of his uniform coat, the silver wings glinting in the overhead light.
Gray ran his fingers over the ribbons, then up to his wings. He'd flown a lot of hours and worked hard for that star over them. Damned hard. He'd once thought those pilot wings meant everything to him.
Now he knew better.
His world was in the room beside him. Lori and Magda. If he had to give up those wings to keep them, then he would do it. Nothing was worth risking losing them again.
So easily he could envision a lifetime of nights like this. Except he would be reading the bedtime story with Lori, singing Magda a song.
Gray draped his jacket over the balcony railing, smoothing out the wrinkles with one slow sweep, then pivoted to face his future.
Lori stood framed in the French doors, one silky shirttail hanging loose from her skirt. Sticky, chocolate fingerprints dotted her shoulder. Wisps of hair escaped her braid, caressing her face.
Mussed, maternal, and so unbelievably beautiful she stole his breath. He knew without question, she always would.
Lori stared at Gray, the porch light cascading down his coal-black hair, glimmering in his bottle green eyes. Eyes that met hers with resolution, determination and—dare she hope—love.
She pulled Magda's doors closed behind her and joined him by the wooden rail. An ocean breeze ruffled the muggy air along with his close-shorn hair. He tugged his tie free, smoothing it over his jacket before he loosened the top two buttons on his shirt. "Mind if we sit?"
"Sounds great. It's been a long day."
He ignored the rocker and lowered himself to the planked floor. His leather shoes squeaked as he sat with his back against the house. He opened his arms to her and waited. "Please."
Slowly Lori sat between his knees, the warmth of the boards nothing in comparison to the heat of Gray's thighs on either side of her. Sitting straight and stiff in his arms seemed ridiculous after all they'd shared.
After all he'd said.
She relaxed against his chest, his starched shirt rasping against her silk. Had he meant it in the courtroom? A last fragment of insecurity whispered, trying to shake her with doubts that he'd only spoken to help her keep Magda.
This was about so much more than Magda.
He raised his arm beside Lori's face and pointed, the scent of dry cleaner starch oddly arousing. "That grouping of stars there. Cassiopeia. They always rise in the east, set in the west, without fail anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere. No matter what porch we sit on, we'll be able to see them."
"We?" She held herself still, didn't dare turn.
He answered without hesitation. "You, me, Magda … any other kids we add to the mix."
Wary expectancy tingled over her. He'd mentioned marriage before, and again in the courtroom when she'd been in danger of losing Magda.
This was different. Real, somehow. "Is that a proposal?"