His hand fell to his side. Sliding back into bat-out-of-hell mode, he charged down the stairs.
He had two days to douse his libido before he and Lori picked up Magda from the hospital. Each pound of his boots on the steps echoed his prayer that Lori would wear not one, but two shirts.
* * *
Lori wore a turtleneck. The sleeveless ribbed cotton swept all the way up to her neck like a breastplate of armor.
She tucked the shirt into her straight-cut olive pants and considered pulling on a short-sleeved silk blouse over it. Then tossed it aside. Two shirts would be too obvious. The last thing they needed was a reminder of her stupid, fruitless stripping stunt.
Magda wouldn't be released for another hour, but Lori had finished up work for the day and planned to leave early for the hospital.
Coward.
Not that she was dodging Gray or trying to skip out. She'd left a message on his answering machine for him to meet her at the hospital.
Big coward.
Okay. So she was a great big chicken, scared and flat-out embarrassed to see Gray again without an entire hospital staff acting as a distraction.
And if he followed her home after she picked up Magda? A four-year-old would make a fine chaperone. How much could he upset Lori's equilibrium with a needy child in tow?
Of course, her parents had always managed romance, even with her around. Images of them flashed through her mind like a movie reel on fast play.
Her mother and father walking hand in hand down the Champs Elysées, while Lori skipped behind. The vivid red of her mother's lipstick as she leaned to kiss Lori good-night before a night on the town. A postcard from her father of Trevi Fountain, the trip a private celebration of their thirty-fifth anniversary. Her parents had been wildly in love, still were, and everyone who saw them knew it.
What was wrong with holding out for love?
Not a thing.
An essentially pragmatic part of Lori also acknowledged she needed a different kind of love than her parents had found. As much as she loved her parents, she was realistic enough to know there wouldn't have been enough time or energy left over in their lives to care for more than one child, certainly never a child with Magda's problems.
Love was better put off for another time and place. Magda needed her.
And what did Lori need?
She needed to wear two shirts after all.
Grabbing the extra silk blouse and a welcome-home gift for Magda, Lori left her apartment. She locked the door, turned to the stairs and stopped.
Gray sat sideways on the bottom step, boot pressed to the wall across from him. His head lay back against the porch post, his eyes closed. He'd once told her that doctors cultivated a talent for snagging catnaps when and where they could. Obviously, he'd meant it.
How long had he been waiting for her? Had he shown up early in case she cut out, just as she was doing? Or had he stayed outside because he didn't want to be alone with her?
Both thoughts tilted the porch beneath her feet.
Lori eased down the stairs and nudged him with her toe. "Time to go, flyboy."
He didn't budge. Rush hour traffic crowded the one-way side street beside her driveway. A carriage tour slowed the flood. The Belgian draft horse clomped by at its own pace while a tour guide droned on about earthquake bolts on houses.
"Gray?" she whispered in his ear.
No response.
He was out so deeply, she could step right over him and leave while he snoozed, oblivious to all around him. But that wouldn't be a nice thing to do, and they'd hurt each other enough already.
Lori sank to the step above him and sat. Unable to resist the lure of his coal-black hair, she skimmed her fingers across his brow, smoothing back a lock. There wasn't much to stroke, his military cut leaving little on his head. Of course, that also left more of his face and neck for her to view and admire.
She traced her thumb over his brows, then his eyes, leaned forward and stole one last kiss for her memory cache, a quick kiss guaranteed not to wake him, then stood again.