"Oh." She laughed and slumped back against the seat. "I must be punch drunk from lack of sleep. You were right not to let me drive. It's downtown on Broad Street."
"Great locale." And a long drive. He shuffled aside his own pressing need to fall facedown on his bed.
Alone. He rushed the thought before Freudian slips and double entendres could bite him on the libido again.
Slower and slower Lori twisted the end of her braid. "It's a fixer upper, but worth the elbow grease. I'm happy with it."
Happy. She'd moved on, carved out a great life for herself. Time to yank himself out of limbo. He raised the windows and slid the Explorer into drive.
Lori started fading before he reached the base's front gate. Traffic was sporadic and light, not many drivers other than truckers venturing out after twelve on a weeknight.
Gray blasted the air conditioner on his face to keep himself alert and Lori awake. "And you're happy with the job?"
"Yeah. I love it. I just hope the new southeast division makes it through its probationary period. Placing these children without a hitch will go a long way in buying us some security."
They'd never discussed her work much in the past, although her dedication was obvious. Her life-threatening sprint on the flight line went beyond dedication. "What made you switch jobs?"
"Working for the Department of Social Services was starting to wear on me. I tried to focus on the kids I helped, but there are just too many loopholes in the system. Children don't always end up where they should. Every time I had to return a child to a home my instincts told me wasn't safe, it tore me up inside." She crooked her arm against the window to pillow her head. "Maybe I'm being selfish. But there's more immediate gratification in this job, finding homes for these children, even being a foster parent in a pinch. These kids give me so much. I never forget a face." Her smile faded.
Magda might as well have been sitting in the back seat, because her tear-streaked face all but hovered between them. "You're the last person I would call selfish."
"Thanks, Gray," she whispered, "but maybe you just don't know me all that well."
Highway streetlights whipped past in bursts and fading flashes. His grip tightened around the steering wheel. "So have you found the guy who does know you?"
The question fell out of Gray's mouth before he could think to stop it. He turned another air-conditioning vent on his face because he must be groggier than he thought he was to have let that one slip.
Still he waited for her answer, not sure what he wanted it to be. After two mile markers of silence, he glanced at her. She lay limp against the door, her lashes against her cheeks, her br**sts gliding in the even rise and fall of deep slumber. He'd always enjoyed watching her sleep.
Gray jerked his gaze back to the road before he landed in more than a ditch. The turnoff to his North Charleston apartment approached, Lori's place still at least a half hour away. He blinked past the grit in his eyes and stifled a yawn.
He looked at the road sign again. Without giving himself time to change his mind, he turned at his exit. She could sleep in the guest room. He would take her home in the morning.
Unlike Lori, he'd never had any problem being selfish.
Pulling into his driveway, he stared at the complex of brick apartments from Lori's perspective, trying to see it as a home rather than a place to park his stuff. It offered direct access to the pool, gym and hot tub, nothing spectacular but serviceable, with minimal upkeep when he left for long deployments.
Nevertheless he wouldn't miss it when the packers loaded his furniture in two weeks. And the woman beside him…?
Gray stretched his neck from side to side, clearing his mind so he could get them both into the apartment.
"Lori," he called softly. When she didn't stir, he nudged her shoulder. "Lori, we're here, at my apartment."
He added the last and waited for the explosion. Nothing. Gray shook her shoulder—her soft, delicate shoulder.
She shifted away from the window and rested her cheek on his hand. She nuzzled him with a sleepy moan that sent his thoughts of sleep on a direct flight out the window.
He considered his memory to be top-notch, but no way in hell could he have remembered just how satiny her skin felt against his. She mumbled, nuzzling him again.
And kissed his wrist.
Forget waking her up. Gray yanked his hand away. He would carry her to his first-floor apartment.
Her other hand crept up his arm to cup his face. "Hey, baby." Her Southern drawl floated on the air, husky and not quite awake. "We're here already, huh?"
Gray stifled a groan. Apparently, he'd also forgotten how deeply she slept. "Wake up, Lori."
"Don't want to." Her head lolled to rest on his chest as her arms looped around his neck. "You're a great pillow, cuddly and warm."