Grayson's Surrender (Wingmen Warriors 1)

He lurched off the gurney.

Gray and Lori both caught him in midair.

Lori took control and cradled the screeching child. "Hang on. I'll have him settled in a second."

She tucked her chin on top of his head and swayed from side to side, humming reassurance. The oddly domestic scenario wrapped around her and squeezed with suffocating force.

Life wasn't playing fair today, either.

The baby's shrieks dwindled to hiccuping sobs. Gray scratched his jaw. "Just sit on the gurney. Hold him, but turn him to face me and I'll finish up."

Lori hitched onto the edge, a difficult maneuver with at least twenty pounds of baby crawling to snuggle closer. Gray braced her elbow and balanced, lifting until she perched in front of him. His hand dropped away a second too fast.

Her elbow burned.

Gray selected an instrument from the tray. "I need to check his ears. Hold his arms for me." Gray flipped the light off and on in front of Ladislov's face. "See, pal. Just an otoscope. Nothing scary, right?"

Ladislov thrust his bottom lip out mutinously and wriggled. Lori clasped the tiny hands in hers, her arms locked around little Ladislov. Gray canted toward her. He wheeled the chair forward until he was abreast with her legs.

No way in hell was she inching her knees apart for him to slide nearer. Lori angled forward.

In a horrifying flash, she realized just how close little Ladislov's ear was to her breast.

Before she could adjust the child into a different position, Gray leaned the rest of the way and slid the otoscope into the boy's ear. He peered inside. A scant two inches of air separated her breast from Gray's cheek. If she moved even the least bit…

Uncomfortable as hell, Lori held herself very still.

Ladislov wasn't as accommodating. He twisted. Squirmed. Tried to slide free.

Gray bobbed his head, keeping the instrument in place. "Hang tough, buddy," he mumbled words the child had no hope of understanding. "Almost through with this one. There's just so much wax, I've gotta…"

Gray's wrist brushed Lori's breast. Heat flooded her.

"Please, little guy." She whispered a tight plea. "Hold still."

Gray froze. His face tipped, and he peered up at her, his green eyes deepening to a glittering emerald. His brow lifted before he returned to make short order of the other ear.

With the heel of his boot, he pushed, rolling away. Far away. Not far enough. "All set."

Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled. "He's okay?"

Gray scribbled in the boy's thin chart. "Just a minor ear infection, a little fever and congestion. His ears might be uncomfortable when the plane descends, but nothing dangerous. I'll start him on antibiotics now. He'll feel better before we land." Gray passed the chart to one of the technicians and filled an eyedropper with pink, syrupy medicine. He reached for the boy. "Time to drink up, pal."

Lori passed Ladislov to Gray and couldn't stifle the taunting whisper in her mind. She'd once thought this man would be the father of her children. Now she knew with certainty this was the only child she would ever give Grayson Clark.

Damn his too charming soul.

* * *

Gray watched Lori pass over yet another newborn, her elegant hand bracing the little behind until he rested snuggly in a loadmaster's arms. She looked so damned right with a child. Why didn't she find some great guy and work on increasing the world population?

Sweat dribbled down Gray's forehead, stinging his eyes. He swiped his wrist over his brow. The hangar had turned into a furnace.

He whipped a red bandanna from the zippered thigh pocket of his flight suit. Three quick yanks and he'd knotted the do-rag around his head. "Bring on the next batch."

With inherent dancer-like grace, Lori knelt in front of a boy. She looked too good, even after being tugged, spit up on—clung to. Way too beautiful.

So much for his bright idea they should work together. He'd only wanted to prove to the crew … to himself … that he could be with her and remain unaffected.