"What?"
"This isn't going to get you an invitation back into my bed."
He slid a slow look down to her hand still on his arm. Humidity and longing weighted the air until it became almost impossible to breathe. She jerked away.
Gray regarded her through a lazy blink. "I didn't ask for one."
"Yeah, right. Why else would a man offer to spend an afternoon perusing the latest styles at Baby Gap?"
"Because I want to help. Honey, we never played games in the past. Why would I do that now?" His eyes deepened to those jewel tones that never failed to send shivers down her spine, regardless of the summer heat. "If I wanted back in your bed, you would know."
Her pulse double-timed like the hummingbird speeding through a nearby flower bed. She couldn't stop herself from asking, "And you don't want me anymore?"
He flattened his palm on the car beside her. Those glittering eyes cruised her mouth, her neck, sweeping a leisurely ride down to the curve of her hip. "I've never lied to you, and I don't intend to start now. Hell, yes. I want you." His gaze snapped back to meet hers. "I'm just not interested in having my ego trounced again."
Sympathy melted her heart like butter over a warm roll. She'd forgotten how fast he could level her defenses with his honesty.
Reality chilled her emotions, and she toughened up.
He may have been hurt by the breakup, but it would take shoes a lot bigger than her size-eights to trample Gray's pilot-doctor ego. The man had confidence to spare. They may not have played games in the past, but he was up to something today. She just couldn't figure out what. Tenacious curiosity compelled her to let him come along so she could unravel his agenda. Surely she wasn't letting him come because some small corner of her heart whispered a hope that he might find domestic, family responsibilities weren't so scary after all. "Fine. You can carry packages for me. If you think you can handle it."
He spread his arms wide. "Bring it on, hon. How much stuff can one kid need?"
* * *
"Geez, Lori! How much does one kid need?" Gray opened the back hatch of his Explorer. With lightning-fast hands, he caught boxes and bags before they avalanched onto her narrow, gravel driveway.
Church bells chimed the hour, clanging through Gray's pounding head. Those church murals had the concept of hell all wrong. Rather than fiery flames, the artists should have depicted a day at the mall with a woman.
Did Lori really need his advice on whether the kid would look better in pink or purple? Capri pants or short overalls? And what the hell were Capri pants, anyway?
But he'd gritted his teeth, smiled and voted for purple Capri pants because they were in the hand closest to the cash register. A good omen. Right?
After changing her mind no less than four times, Lori had bought the pink overalls.
Gray's leg burned. His head felt like someone had bashed it with a sledgehammer. And if he had to look at Lori's Madonna beauty glow one more time, he was going to toss her over his shoulder and head straight for the nearest bed.
She caught a stray outfit fluttering out of a bag and smiled as she shook out the pink, flowered overalls.
Glowing like an afterburner and she wasn't even pregnant.
Gray's head fell to rest on the back of his car. Who needed a bed? Any flat surface would suffice.
Instead of finding a bed, he would get the car unpacked and toys assembled, fast, then run like crazy back to his apartment. Where fresh reminders of Lori could bombard him from every corner.
Gray swiped his wrist over his damp brow. Shade from the towering magnolias didn't offer nearly enough relief from the hundred-degree day or his thoughts. "Come on, Lori. Let's cart this up to your place."
He hefted out a box for a riding toy and lumbered through the courtyard toward the white stucco house. Like many historical homes in Charleston, the floors had been sectioned off into office and apartment spaces.
Lush ferns, dogwoods and Palmetto trees encircled the stone patio and walkway in reckless landscaping. Black wrought-iron furniture grouped around a trickling fountain topped with a stone pineapple. A book lay open and facedown on a small table, empty glass beside it. Wild abandon and peace intertwining. Like Lori.
Three treks up and down the stairs later, Gray followed her up the narrow outdoor stairway for the final time. Thank God he held the last of the loot, a Barbie dream house. Only a few more steps to watch the tormenting sway of Lori's hips.
First the mall. Now this. Penance stunk.
Wooden steps along the side of the house creaked beneath his boots. Lori's hair swayed loose and flowing down her back. He diverted his eyes.
Twenty-three endless steps later, he reached her second-story apartment. A clump of dried daisies arced over the door. Welcoming, homey, like Lori.