Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Flirting with the Society Doctor

Flirting with the Society Doctor
Janice Lynn
Vale Wakefield is a spectacular doctor, but Faith Fogarty knows his ‘for ever' factor is nil – and he'll always go for designer-clad socialites rather than colleagues in unflattering scrubs! She's spent months fighting her attraction, but now, facing a weekend as Vale's date – to a society wedding!– it's time Faith took a few risks with the delicious doctor…


Flirting with
the Society Doctor
Janice Lynn







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents
Cover (#u14aa4af6-4492-5bb5-bfb1-2c45c8d9b57c)
Title Page (#u2e3af4d2-241a-5f4b-8285-75c287459dfe)
About the Author (#u99988c1a-8047-5a38-8cec-02e3b3c1af7f)
Dedication (#u03241753-7dc5-5fdd-ae85-a61d32b7c9c2)
Chapter One (#u9ff0832f-79d2-5e51-b9b0-b9a7b7cec93b)
Chapter Two (#u307b2f57-431c-506e-bb7a-ed70d8eac1a2)
Chapter Three (#ubcc22bc9-d0a7-5788-a077-96cf49b1178b)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author
JANICE LYNN has a Masters in Nursing from Vanderbilt University, and works as a nurse practitioner in a family practice. She lives in the southern United States with her husband, their four children, their Jack Russell—appropriately named Trouble—and a lot of unnamed dust bunnies that have moved in since she started her writing career. To find out more about Janice and her writing visit www.janicelynn.com
Dear Reader
Lighthouses fascinate me. Everything about them—the way they look, their purpose, their history—all of it. However, I’d never actually seen one until I was researching for this story.
During a visit with a dear friend, we and our two full-of-personality daughters drove to the Cape May lighthouse. I remember feeling giddy at my first glimpse, and was just wowed when I was actually standing at the top, leaning against the railing, looking out over the horizon.
Like me, geeky Dr Faith Fogarty has never seen a lighthouse—not until she spends a high society weekend away from reality with hunky Dr Vale Wakefield. Faith has been enamoured of her brilliant playboy boss since before they even met in person. But while in Cape May she discovers a whole new side to herself—one she embraces. And, like the lighthouse they visit, she lets her inner light shine in the hope that Vale will find his way to her and to her miniature poodle Yoda.
Vale and Faith pass two women and their giggly daughters in the stairwell. Well, I won’t say who they are, but I’m betting you can guess. I hope you enjoy Vale and Faith’s Cape May adventure as much as I did my visit there and writing their story.
Happy reading!
Janice
To my dear writing pal, Kathleen Long. Thank you for your unfailing friendship and belief in me, all the late-night hotel room giggles at writer conferences, and for giving me my first glimpse of a lighthouse. Love you!
And to Abby Lynn and Annie Long, since Abby says this book has to be dedicated to them, too, since they helped with the Cape May research.


CHAPTER ONE
“NO WAY am I going to a wedding with you.” Faith Fogarty shook her head, knowing this time her boss had pushed her too far. “Uh-uh, no way. I won’t be lumped into the category as one of your girls.”
Glad no one seemed to be paying them the slightest attention, probably because their co-workers were all trying to look busy so as not to attract the boss’s attention, Faith retreated into the privacy of Dr. Vale Wakefield’s office, him hot on her heels.
“I’m not asking you to be one of my girls,” he pointed out, unnecessarily.
Of course he wasn’t asking her to be one of his girls. She wasn’t his type. She had a brain.
“I’m asking you to accompany me to a family gathering where I will be tortured mercilessly by my family if I don’t bring a date. They’ll try and hook me up with every single female there.” He made a gagging sound.
Having no sympathy whatsoever for one of New York City’s most sought-after eligible bachelors and top-notch neurosurgeons, Faith shrugged. “So take Lulu.”
Lulu was the willowy blonde who’d accompanied Vale to a big charity ball the previous Saturday night. Faith had read about the event, seen a photo of the model plastered to Vale’s side in the society section of the Sunday paper. An entire column had been dedicated to whether or not the exotic model would be able to get the Wakefield heir to the altar. Faith had wadded up the paper and tossed it in the trash, where such gossip belonged. Of course Vale wouldn’t marry that woman.
“To quote you, ‘Uh-uh, no way.'” Vale emphasized each word. “Do you have any idea what type of problems I’d create if I brought Lulu or any woman with me to a family gathering, much less to a wedding?” He shuddered with all the drama of a person who’d just bit into the bitterest dish. “She’d be hearing wedding bells long before we got to the ceremony. There is absolutely no way I’d take a real date to my cousin’s wedding.” His intense blue eyes narrowed with the steely purpose that put most in a tizzy. “I’m taking you.”
And that was where Faith fit into Vale’s life.
Not a real date. Not someone he would consider dating or bringing to a New York City charity ball. Not someone he would consider loving or having a real relationship with. Not that any of Vale’s relationships were real, not unless no-strings-attached sex counted.
He’d pretty much just admitted that he didn’t even see her as a woman. Great. She was a sexless brain.
Sucking in a deep breath, she shook her head. “No, thanks. Accompanying you to family functions is not in my job description.”
He grinned the devilish smile that had her heart thumping overtime whenever he flashed his pearly whites. “I could have my attorney add an addendum to your contract.”
“Forget it.” She narrowed her gaze in as menacing a glare as she could pull off when he grinned at her that way. Why couldn’t she be immune to him? After all, he was a bra-size before brain-size typical male. “I’m not going to a wedding with you.” “I’d pay you.”
As if that made one iota of difference. As a neurologist specializing in Parkinson’s disease, she earned a good salary from her job. A job that didn’t require her fending Vale off from wannabe bridezillas and well-intentioned family members.
He named a figure that made her head spin.
“No.” Fighting to keep her composure, she picked up a stack of consult requests from the long mahogany table that occupied one side of the expansive room that served as his office. One by one, she flipped through them, sorting out the more urgent cases that she wanted to discuss as possible surgical candidates with Vale.
He crossed the room, standing so close that if she’d turned toward him she’d likely bump him. She wouldn’t look, wouldn’t turn, but would he please quit staring at her?
“You might as well concede, Faith.” He put his hand on her shoulder, eliciting a thousand tiny shivers that caused tremors all the way to her very core. “In the long run I always get what I want.”
He was right. He did always get what he wanted. With women. In life. Vale Wakefield led a gilded life. One where he’d been blessed with money, looks, intelligence, gifted surgical hands, and that something more that just made him impossible not to like. Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him. Little old ladies made him cookies and cakes, for heaven’s sake.
At work she could maintain distance, keep her unwanted attraction to him safely tucked away, but at a wedding? Would he take one look at her and realize she dreamed of being the one he danced with at ballroom charities? The one warming his bed? A wedding.
Not even for Vale would she face another wedding.
She was not going to give in. He did not have to get his way with her every time he crooked his finger. This time he’d passed the limits of her endurance.
“What I want is for you to come with me to my mother’s this weekend and accompany me to Sharon’s wedding.”
Faith dropped the consults onto the table, turned to face him, anger sparking deep in her chest. Why did he just assume that she was at his beck and call 24/7? “Did it ever occur to you that I might already have plans for this weekend? That I might have a life outside work?”
Rarely was Vale caught off guard. Even more rarely did he show shock when someone actually did surprise him. But the darkening of his pupils gave clue to the fact that he truly had never given any thought that she might not live every moment in hopes of him deigning to ask her to work late, to come in over the weekend to review an important surgery case, to drop everything and go to his cousin’s wedding with only four days’ notice.
Of course, he hadn’t given any thought to her potential plans. Why would he? He didn’t find her attractive and apparently couldn’t imagine anyone else doing so. Why wouldn’t she be available at his every whim?
Which hit a bit too close to home.
Faith’s teeth ground together. Sure, she wasn’t glamorous like the women he dated. She couldn’t be even if she tried. Not with her stick-straight dishwater blond hair, plain green eyes, and too big mouth. Still, his split-second shock at the possibility that someone might want to spend time with her for non-work purposes hurt. Hurt so deeply that had she put her hand to her chest to find her life blood seeping out, it wouldn’t have surprised her.
Because whether she’d wanted to or not, she’d fallen head over heels in lust with Vale the day she’d come to work for him eighteen months ago.
Eighteen months of the sweetest mix of pleasure and pain at working so closely with him and him never seeing her as anything more than a neurologist who shared his passion for finding a cure for Parkinson’s disease. Which was for the best, really, since a one-night stand, which was all he ever seemed to do, would only destroy her career with Wakefield and Fishe Neurology, Inc.
“This isn’t up for debate. I’m not going to your cousin’s wedding.” She really wished he wasn’t standing so close. So close she could make out the darker blue rim surrounding his vivid eyes, so close she could smell the musky scent of his aftershave, so close she could press her body to his with only a step forward.
Gee, if she stripped naked, would he even notice she was a woman? Or would he just frown, tell her to get dressed, they had more brain mapping to do? That her attraction to him was simply her olfactory mucosa sensing the overly abundant androgens he emitted, causing her cortisol levels to skyrocket, and that was why she wanted to lean in and press her lips to his throat?
“You already have plans this weekend?” he pushed. Just as she should have known he would. The spoiled little rich boy in him couldn’t stand to lose, not get his way. Her fate had been sealed before the conversation had started.
“Somewhere you are supposed to be that you can’t attend with me?” His eyes pierced her, seeming to know the truth without her having to answer.
She wanted to lie, wanted to say that some gorgeous man was anxiously awaiting Friday evening so he could whisk her off her feet, wine her, dine her, make her Cortisol level go through the roof, and show her the time of her life.
“I don’t have specific plans—” unless cleaning her apartment and walking Yoda, her miniature poodle, counted “—but that isn’t the point.”
His expression brightened. “Of course it’s the point. You don’t have specific plans. I need you to accompany me to Cape May. We’ll review the latest data from Brainiac Codex while we’re there and make the weekend a working one so it won’t be an entire lost cause. It’ll be perfect.”
“No, it won’t be perfect. I do not want to go with you to a wedding in Southern New Jersey.” Neither did she want to spend her weekend reviewing the computerized brain-mapping research they were conducting. Yes, she loved her job, but she’d actually thought that with him out of town for the weekend she’d have some time to herself for once.
Why was she bothering to argue with him? Why did she think she could dissuade him when he’d set his mind to something? No one could, least of all her.
Still, she stubbornly held on to her pride. “No. No. No.”
“Don’t you like weddings?” Creases marred his forehead. “What am I saying?” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “All women like weddings.”
Maybe in his world, but not hers.
“Not this woman.”
His brow lifted and she knew she’d said the wrong thing, revealed too much. Stubborn was one thing, stupid quite another.
“Why not?” he asked, as if she’d tell him about just how many weddings she’d been to as her mother’s maid of honor. Obviously one too many as just the thought of going to another made her histamine concentration double. Any moment she’d break out in hives. She scratched an already itchy spot on her neck.
“I just don’t.” No matter how much he pried, she wasn’t going to tell him more.
He studied her a moment, then dismissed her comment as too inconsequential to be taken seriously when in opposition to his wishes.
“You’ll like this one,” he assured her. “My cousin Sharon never does anything halfway, and she’s marrying the Philadelphia Eagles’ quarterback. You’ll have fun.”
“Sure, I will. That’s why you’re so excited about going. Because of how much fun you’ll have.” Faith sighed. He wasn’t going to be dissuaded. Wasn’t going to let her off the hook. Whether she wanted to or not, she was going to be spending the weekend at Vale’s family’s beach house in Cape May, a couple hours’ drive south of the city. As his date to his media darling cousin’s wedding. The paparazzi loved Sharon Wakefield and the former beauty queen was never far from the press’s spotlight.
“Okay, you’re right.” He grinned at his admission. “Weddings aren’t my thing, but Sharon is my favorite cousin and I’m in the wedding party. It isn’t as if I can send an exorbitant gift and beg out of this one.”
“Like you usually do with family and friends’ get-togethers?” He was in the wedding party? Although the media knew of the upcoming nuptials, the exact details were very hush-hush. Faith hadn’t realized when she’d heard Vale mention his cousin’s wedding to the famous football player that he’d be wearing a tuxedo and standing near the alter. Experiencing Vale in a tuxedo was quite possibly worth whatever heartache she’d suffer at attending yet another wedding that would only serve to remind her that nothing was for ever despite promises made.
He waggled his dark brows. “You’d better believe it.”
“Fine, I’ll go.” It wasn’t as if he’d give her a choice when all was said and done. He’d be like a dog with a bone and gnaw away at her protective covering until he sank his teeth into her vulnerable center.
His perfect mouth curved into a devilish smile. “I knew you would.”
He could have at least sounded surprised, not quite so cocksure. Then again, that was Vale. Always confident. Always sure. Always a winner.
“Let’s start going through these.” She motioned to the latest data on their brain-mapping research that would hopefully lead the way to new treatment modalities for neurological disorders. “I’ve got to be in clinic at nine.”
Twenty minutes later, Vale leaned back in his chair, staring across the table at the godsend he’d hired based solely on gut instinct a year and a half ago. There hadn’t been an actual opening for another neurologist at Wakefield and Fishe Neurology, but quite frankly the young woman who’d finagled an appointment with him had impressed the hell out of him.
He’d learned long ago after a few eye-opening experiences to trust his gut and his gut had said not to let this one go. He’d hired her on the spot.
Even now he could hear her stunned “Don’t you want to check my references first?”
He’d stared straight into her big sparkly eyes that made him think of the green apple hard candy he’d loved as a boy. Her dull framed glasses couldn’t hide their appeal or their honesty. The ugly frames still didn’t.
He’d never regretted his decision that day.
Faith was more like his right-hand man … er … woman. When he’d been awarded a grant to do research on Parkinson’s, which involved the surgical implantation of an innovative two-lead device that emitted electrical impulses at the brain stem, he’d immediately convinced Faith to come on board. In the office and with his research they were a team. Working as many hours as he did, she never disappointed him, often pointing out fresh angles to cases, looking at the facts with intelligence and with an out-of-the-box canniness that almost matched his own. More and more he relied on her insight, on her thoughts as to the best way to approach each patient.
Now he was relying on her to bail him out of an uncomfortable situation with his family. During last night’s call from his mother, letting him know just how many single females were going to be in attendance and were looking forward to meeting him, he’d immediately put a stop to her matchmaking by announcing Faith would be coming to the wedding with him.
He probably should have asked her first, but she’d never balked at any request to work late or over the weekend. True, spending the weekend at his mother’s beach house wasn’t exactly the same thing as working late.
Still, her comment about possibly having plans intrigued him in ways he couldn’t explain. Just what did Faith do in her free time?
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She glanced up, staring wide-eyed at him with an open mouth. “What does me having a boyfriend have to do with anything?”
“If there’s someone special in your life, he might take exception to us spending the weekend together. I’d be happy to reassure him your virtue is safe with me.”
Faith chewed on her lower lip, staring at him as if trying to decide on the right answer.
A flutter started in Vale’s chest, one similar to that he felt in surgery when encountering something imaging scans hadn’t picked up on. Was there someone warming his employee’s bed? Someone she went home to night after night complaining about her slave driver of a boss? Why did the thought of anyone touching her bother him?
Her eyes sparked green fire and her chin lifted, as if his question had offended her. “Whether or not there is someone special in my life, I am quite capable of keeping my personal life in order, Dr. Wakefield, and of assuring any man of mine that he has nothing to fear where you are concerned.”
Vale bit back a grin. His ever-efficient neurologist had just put him in his place. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Faith. Sometimes I forget not everyone is as dedicated to their career as I am.”
Her lips pursed. “You’ve never had cause to question my dedication to my job.”
“True. Which is why you’re coming with me this weekend. I’ll have Kay send you the itinerary for the weekend so you’ll know how to pack.”
How had Thursday evening arrived and Faith still hadn’t found time to go shopping for a new outfit? Of course, she knew how. For exactly the same reason she currently wasn’t shopping.
Because she was working. Vale had seemed intent on occupying every second of her time this week. Worse than normal. To keep her from having time to come up with an excuse not to accompany him this weekend?
She, Vale, two neurosurgeons, two neurophysiologists, and a couple of research assistants working on the Parkinson project were spread out around the twenty-seat cherry table at one end of Vale’s office. Despite the long hours they’d put in every night that week, they’d barely made a dent in the pile of work to be done before they tested the hypothesis in the operating room. Although deep-brain stimulation therapies had been in use for years, with the new data from the Brainiac Codex, the hope was that the new device would relieve the tremor associated with Parkinson’s. If successful, great strides in the treatment of the debilitating disease would be made.
She wiped her hand across her face.
“Something wrong?” Vale leaned in and whispered next to her ear, his warm breath making the tiny hairs on her nape stand at attention.
She glanced his way, wondering where he drew his boundless energy from, wondering how nothing ever fazed him or made him lose his infamous control. He’d work all day, most of the night, and still have photos of himself and some beauty queen appear in the papers when he’d hit a late-night club or fancy restaurant.
“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t solve.” True. She hadn’t slept well since he’d told her she was going to Cape May. Plus, no way was she going to tell him that her mind was wandering from the data they were poring over to thinking about what she was going to wear at his cousin’s wedding. No way would she risk losing the respect she’d fought so hard to gain.
Unfortunately, he didn’t look convinced by her answer, studying her with eyes too intelligent for his own good. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She glanced at her watch. A little after seven. If they finished up within the next hour, maybe she could swing by a dress shop and pick up something new to lift her confidence at spending the weekend with Vale’s glitzy family. She looked around at the room full of researchers who were settled in for the long haul and bit back a sigh.
“Got a hot date?” “What?”
He’d spoken low, for her ears only, but her response came out as a squeak that had several pairs of eyes glancing their way and just as quickly going back to their work.
“That’s the third time in the past fifteen minutes you’ve looked at your watch,” he pointed out. “We must be keeping you from something important.”
Again Vale spoke low, but Faith’s ears burned. Was everyone trying to look as if they were ignoring them or were they truly so absorbed in their work? Marcus Fishe was the only one whose gaze lingered on them. Faith quickly looked away from Vale’s partner’s curious eyes. Although Marcus’s focus within the clinic was geared more toward issues with multiple sclerosis, he’d jumped on board with the Parkinson’s project in the hope that the brain-mapping data would lend itself to other treatments.
“My work is important.” Determined to keep her mind absorbed on her work and not on the fact she’d be spending her weekend with Vale, Faith highlighted an abnormal signal recording from the basal ganglia to the motor cortex on the patient profile. “I’ve still got to pack for this weekend, and I’d hoped to … Never mind.”
There was no reason to tell him she’d hoped to go shopping, to spend time with Yoda, to have a break from Vale to recharge herself prior to attending the wedding.
Setting his ink pen down, he continued to study her in a way that made her feel as if she’d grown an extra nose on her face. “You did get the itinerary from Kay?”
“Yes, your head nurse slash assistant is as efficient as ever.” She liked Kay, thought her brighter than many of the clinic’s more educated personnel, including a few of the neurologists and surgeons. “The itinerary seems standard. Rehearsal tomorrow night followed by dinner, Saturday pre-wedding activities, the wedding ceremony, and then the reception with champagne, dancing, and a romantic sunset at the beach.”
He snorted. “I’ll warn you not to be fooled. There’s nothing standard about my family.”
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise.”
Vale rarely spoke of his family but it was impossible not to know about them as they were constantly in the press. His cousin Sharon had won Miss Pennsylvania a few years back, had gained notoriety when she’d posed topless for an exorbitant amount of money that she had then handed over to the New York City Widows and Orphans of Firefighters Fund, and had then been promptly de-crowned. Another cousin was a congressman. Another a senator. Vale’s mother headed so many charities it was impossible for Faith to recall them all. His father had built a real estate empire prior to his death in Vale’s teens. Apparently all Wakefields were over-achievers, the one grinning at her no exception.
“Oh?” His eyes glittered with amusement. “What do you expect?”
Her and her big mouth.
“I just meant that you’re a highly successful man with good genes,” she whispered, casting a leery glance around the quiet group at the table. Yet again, Marcus was watching them. Great. She glared at Vale. “Surely that trait must run in the family?”
“I’ll let you decide for yourself tomorrow night.” Leaning close, he flashed a wickedly dangerous smile. “I have good genes?”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t need me to answer that. You know you do.”
“Right.” His grin widened.
Face burning, ears roaring, Faith resumed an intent study of the brain wave data she held, resisting the urge to glance at her watch again or to sneak a peek at the man sitting next to her. She could feel his gaze searing into her with the power of hot metal slicing into butter.
Two hours and several cups of coffee later, Faith rotated her neck, trying to work out the crick that had developed while studying the last patient profile for some missed detail, as they narrowed their choices on who met their study criteria for surgical implantation of the device.
So much for her shopping trip before heading home. And poor Yoda. Another late night with Mrs. Beasley. Before long her baby was going to think he lived at the elderly neighbor’s apartment rather than with Faith. Especially as the cream-colored poodle would be spending the weekend in Mrs. Beasley’s care, too.
Much later, Vale pushed the stack of patient brain-mapping profiles away from him, surprising her since they’d not made it through the rest of the stack. Although all of the others had left a little after nine, she’d already surmised she and Vale wouldn’t leave before midnight.
“I’ve had enough.” He stretched his arms above his head, drawing her gaze to how his shirt pulled taut over his chest.
She quickly glanced away, looked down at her watch. Maybe she’d have time to shop yet. She sighed. Maybe not.
The nicer dress boutiques would all be closed. Great.
She’d just wear the black cocktail dress she’d bought for last year’s Christmas party. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of wearing black to a wedding, but with its skirt flared at the hem the dress would do in a pinch and was the closest thing she had to appropriate wear for media darling Sharon Wakefield’s glamorous wedding. As far as the reception, she’d make do with whatever she could find in her rather boring closet.
“Will he still be waiting?”
She blinked at Vale. “Who?”
His blue eyes darkened. “Whoever I’ve kept you from.”
He almost sounded as if he’d intentionally kept her at the office. Actually, when the others had left and she’d started to stand, he had asked her opinion on a patient report he’d just read, ensuring she’d stay on to read the profile.
Had he intentionally kept her there? What possible reason would he have for doing so?
She took a deep breath, telling herself she was tired, imagining things, but for once gave her boss a flippant answer. “Regardless of how late you keep me, he’s always glad to see me.”
She wasn’t lying. Not really. But, seriously, she expected Yoda not to know who she was if she didn’t start spending more time with him. Thank goodness for their nightly snuggles and early morning walks.
“Maybe you should go ahead,” he suggested, his dark eyes unreadable. “I’ll finish these.”
He was staying? Telling her to go on? Was he testing her? Seeing how dedicated she was to her career?
“When you said we should call it a night, I thought you meant both of us. I don’t like the thought of leaving you here alone.”
Leaning back in his chair, he laughed. “Do you think I can’t take care of myself?”
No matter how she tried she couldn’t keep her gaze from lowering, from tracing over the strong lines of his neck, over the tanned V of skin exposed where he’d removed his tie and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons, down his broad shoulders that his tailored shirt accented, down his forearms bared where he’d rolled up his sleeves. And his hands.
Lord, how she loved his talented hands.
Tanned, strong, long-fingered, ring-free. She particularly liked that last part, although eventually he’d marry one of the beauties he bedded. Then what? Would she be able to continue working with him, knowing how she dreamt about him, knowing he belonged to someone else?
That question was one that crept into her mind from time to time, filling her with panic, filling her with the dreaded knowledge that some day she might leave Wakefield and Fishe.
She lifted her gaze back to his, was startled to look into smoky blue eyes filled with awareness.
Awareness that she’d looked at him not as his employee, not as a fellow physician, but as a woman with real needs.
What was wrong with her?
She swallowed, trying to clear her throat, trying to buy herself time while she racked her brain for something to say that would defuse the situation.
Only, she didn’t know what to say.
Regardless of how much his awareness scared her professionally, as a woman, the flicker of interest in his eyes set light to a hope that threatened to consume her very soul.

CHAPTER TWO
VALE finished his cellphone conversation with his cousin Sharon and turned toward Faith. They’d just left the hospital following a globus pallidus DBS implantation, and were walking back to Wakefield Tower, where Wakefield and Fishe occupied the entire fifty-sixth floor.
Vale was enjoying the late spring air, enjoying the hustle and bustle of the busy New York sidewalk, people from all walks of life rushing past him and Faith. Numerous vendors lined the streets, selling everything from designer sunglasses to cheap “I Love New York” T-shirts. A hot-dog street vendor called out to someone and Vale’s stomach growled in response.
“Let’s grab an early lunch before heading back,” he suggested. Quite often they’d pop into a restaurant or grab take-out so they could review a case while dining. Working with Faith made lunch more enjoyable. “Subs or Chinese?”
“Neither.” Not a single hair out of place on her tightly pulled-back hairstyle, Faith shook her head. “I can’t do lunch today.”
Mentally, he ran through her schedule. They were leaving the office early to head to Cape May so she only had a few afternoon appointments. “You aren’t scheduled for anything until one, are you?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “No, but I have other lunch plans. Sorry.”
Vale’s gut tightened. Had she made plans to meet the mysterious man in her life? The one who’d been glad to see her the night before even though Vale had managed to keep her out past eleven? Had she lain in his arms recounting the day’s events?
How had he not known she was seeing someone? Why did the fact that she was make his stomach knot?
Not because when she’d looked at him last night, he’d grown hard in response to her visual undressing. She’d liked what she’d seen and hell if he hadn’t wanted to preen under the intensity of her green gaze.
Which was all wrong. He never, ever got involved with a colleague, and particularly not one who worked for him.
Besides, she wasn’t his type.
Sex with Faith would be complicated, would come with all kinds of expectations on her part. He only had sex with uncomplicated women who knew better than to expect more from him. He’d learned long ago not to want or expect more either.
Sex?
He did not want to sleep with Faith—which was the truth. Sleep had nothing to do with what he’d found himself thinking of last night, this morning when he’d awakened.
He didn’t like being aware of her. Of waking with the scent of her perfume and sound of her laughter fresh in his mind.
“I’m allowed to take a non-working lunch break.” Shoving her glasses up the straight slant of her pert little nose, she looked as exasperated as she sounded.
“You should have told me. I’d planned to review the information we compiled last night prior to making a final decision on the initial patients to receive the procedure.” Why was she being so evasive? Who was she having lunch with? The mystery man? Perhaps they weren’t having lunch at all? “Cancel your plans.”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes, surprising him. Faith never argued with him, never went against his wishes, never made lunch plans. She ate lunch with him. The only time they didn’t share a working lunch was if he made other plans.
Glancing at her watch with a disgusted look, her shoulders fell a notch, slamming him with unaccustomed guilt rather than the satisfaction that should have come with knowing he was about to get his way. And what was with her and looking at her watch the past two days? Faith wasn’t a clock-watcher.
“Fine.” She exhaled deeply, “I was fooling myself that I had time to get my hair done and find a dress for the wedding in an hour anyway.”
Vale stopped walking, standing perfectly still on the sidewalk as throngs of people continued to bustle around them without missing a beat. He stared at Faith, and decided that, yes, like he was often told, he really was a selfish jerk. Here Faith was going to his cousin’s wedding, spending the weekend working and protecting him from his family’s matchmaking, and he hadn’t given one thought to the fact that she might want to have her hair done or buy a new outfit. He hadn’t given one thought that Faith was a woman with normal female urges, like desiring new outfits for social events.
Then again, during the entire time he’d known Faith, she hadn’t acted like other women. Why should he have thought this weekend would be any different? If he’d thought about what she’d wear, he would have said scrubs or maybe a hyper-masculine gray suit and a hairstyle any librarian would be proud of.
“What time is your appointment?”
She didn’t glance up. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll cancel.”
But beneath the clear lenses of her glasses, her eyes had grown shiny and his sense of guilt gnawed at his belly, threatening to give him an ulcer if he didn’t make amends. What was the aura about her that made him want to make her happy?
“Why did you leave your appointment until so late? Surely you could have shopped for a dress earlier in the week?”
Her mouth dropped and if glares were bullets he’d be six feet under. “Did you really just ask me that when you’ve had me at the office every night this week until after ten?” Realizing what she’d said, her jaw dropped even lower. “Not that I mind,” she recanted. “I like my job. It’s just … well …” She fumbled, taking a deep breath. “I don’t have anything appropriate to wear to the wedding and I’ve been thinking about getting my hair cut anyway. I thought prior to the wedding would be as good a time as any.”
His gaze immediately went to her hair. She always kept her hair pulled tightly into the professional bun. He couldn’t recall ever having seen her hair down. Odd, considering how long they’d known each other.
What did she look like with her hair down?
He was struck with the need to know, the need to see her dark blond locks loose. Would the strands barely brush her shoulders or would they cascade down her back?
“Get your hair done.” He ran his gaze over the sleeked-back strands nestled at her nape. “But not short, okay?”
He wasn’t sure why he added the last. The length of her hair was none of his business. If she wanted to go bald, other than their patients’ reactions, he had no right to say a word.
“I probably wouldn’t have had time anyway, Vale. Thinking I did was wishful thinking.”
He’d give her time. He owed her that much. She was saving him from his family’s matchmaking.
“I’ll see your patients.”
Her face flushing, she shook her head, eyeing him as if he must be running a fever. “That won’t be necessary.” But it was necessary.
“Look, Faith, I’m a slave driver. There’s no question of that.” He raked his fingers through his hair, wondering why the spring air that had felt so good moment’s earlier now cut into him. “But you’re right. Your lunches are your own, even if I do monopolize them. Go. Get your hair done however you want. Buy yourself a new dress.”
“But—”
“Actually,” he withdrew his wallet from his back pocket. “Take the rest of the afternoon off and buy yourself a dress for tonight, too. On me.”
Her face pale, she stared at the cash in his hand. “I can’t take your money.”
“Sure you can,” he teased. “You do every pay period.”
“That’s different.” Her lips pursed. “I’ve earned my paycheck. This is different.”
“Look, it’s my fault you need new clothes and to have your hair done. It’s only fair I pay.” He shoved the cash into her palm, closed her hand around the money. How his fingers lingered, how he wanted to hold her hand for real, surprised him. He forced his smile to stay in place despite his unhappiness with his wayward fingers, despite his confusion over what the hell was going on with his reactions to Faith.
“Go,” he ordered. “Have fun, and I’ll pick you up from your place.”
“Yep, Yoda,” Faith agreed with the yapping dog bouncing around at her feet while she studied her new image in the mirror, “I barely recognize myself, too.”
She couldn’t believe the difference a decent hair cut, highlighting, and facial could make. A fairy godmother waving a magic wand and singing “Bippity-boppity-boo” couldn’t have conjured a more drastic transformation.
Faith hadn’t had time over the past few years to worry about her appearance. Instead she’d focused on studying for boards and becoming the best neurologist she could be. Then she’d landed a dream job with Wakefield and Fishe straight out of school, an opportunity of a lifetime she wouldn’t screw up.
So, no, her appearance hadn’t been a priority in eons, if ever, but, wow, an afternoon of pampering could sure make a huge difference in the way a girl looked and felt about herself.
Or maybe it was the contacts burning her eyes that only made her think she was seeing such a difference.
She’d worn disposable lenses during high school and as an undergraduate, but during medical school she’d gone almost exclusively to her glasses. She’d bought the contacts at her check-up a couple of weeks ago during lunch when Vale had been in a meeting with Marcus. But she hadn’t taken time to even pull them out of her handbag. When the make-up artist at the salon had complained about Faith’s glasses, she’d surprised him by producing the sealed vials containing the lenses.
Then there were the clothes. Clothes as in plural.
She hadn’t wanted to spend Vale’s money, had felt guilty taking the cash. She could have found a way to slip the money back to him over the weekend. Perhaps she still would as she still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of him paying for her shopping trip even if, in a way, he was right. It was his fault she’d needed a new dress. She certainly wouldn’t have gone shopping if he hadn’t pressed her into accompanying him.
She hadn’t just bought a new dress. She’d bought three. And new underwear that made her feel delectably feminine and a bit of a siren at heart. Really, would she like the black thigh highs and garter belt quite so much otherwise?
Then there was the daring bikini she’d let the sales clerk talk her into, even though she’d never have the nerve to wear the deep red triangles in public.
She’d also bought a few semi-casual outfits. She wasn’t really sure what Saturday’s schedule would require, but she felt prepared for whatever came up. Of course, she’d had to drag out the largest of her suitcases to fit in all her purchases, but that was a small price to pay for being prepared.
Then again, maybe she’d gone overboard and Vale would read her make-over as a desperate plea for him to notice her as he had the night before.
Was her make-over a desperate plea for him to notice her?
She winced. No, if he hadn’t noticed her for the woman she was on the inside, she certainly didn’t want him to notice her for changes to her outer appearance. Not that the changes were that glamorous, anyway. Not in comparison to the supermodels usually draped across Vale’s arms. Regardless, Vale wasn’t interested in investing time with a woman. He got what he wanted and moved on. Next.
What he wanted from her was a working weekend where she played decoy to his mother’s matchmaking.
Still, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t eager to see his reaction when she opened her apartment door. Quite simply she didn’t look like the same woman he’d walked to the salon. And had it been her imagination or had he touched her hand a half dozen times spreading wildfires up her arm?
She bent and picked up Yoda. “Hey, boy, are you going to miss me? Hmm, are you?” She rubbed her nose to the dog’s, laughing when he licked her. “Now quit that before you mess up my make-up.” At the dog’s head quirk, she laughed again. “I know, I know, I’ve never cared before, but tonight’s special and I suspect this make-up isn’t doggy-kisses proof.”
Yoda licked her again, obviously not caring if her makeup was doggy-kiss proof or not. Scratching the miniature poodle behind his ears, she praised him, telling him how much she was going to miss him over and over, and reminding him how much he loved visiting Mrs. Beasley.
“Come on. I guess I should go drop you there before His Highness arrives.” Cradling the dog in one arm, she gathered the diaper bag of dog goodies she’d packed him. “Let’s get you next door.”
Saying goodbye was difficult, but once inside Mrs. Beasley’s, Yoda didn’t seem to mind at all that Faith would be gone all weekend.
“No worries. He’s Miss Cupcake’s favorite guest,” the older woman promised as they walked to the door. “She and I will take good care of Yoda, and you know I can use the extra money from dog-sitting.”
Standing in the doorway, Faith leaned in and kissed Mrs. Beasley’s weathered cheek. “I know. Bye, love you.”
Closing the door, she turned to go back to her apartment and caught Vale in the hallway admiring her backside.
Vale blinked, attempting to clear his eyes.
That stunning derrière and killer legs he’d been admiring were Faith’s?
He’d known she had a decent body, he wasn’t blind, but her scrubs did nothing to accent her curves and apparently everything to hide them. Where had all that tantalizing flesh come from?
And her eyes.
He’d always liked Faith’s eyes. But without her glasses they were huge, luminous, tempting. No, he wasn’t tempted by Faith. Only he was.
Tempted to push her up against the apartment hallway wall, push up that nipped-at-the-waist tease of a skirt, and thrust between those long, long legs.
Where had she gotten those legs and why hadn’t he noticed before?
Okay, so he had noticed a time or two when she’d had on one of those ugly gray suits she sometimes wore that she had great calves. The kind that plumped out when she reached for a book on a high shelf. But Lord help him at the expanse of thigh on display beneath the hem of the dress she wore now.
And her shoulders.
His fingers itched to rub over her bare skin. He’d never seen her shoulders bare before. There should be laws against covering shoulders like hers. He liked what he saw beneath the stringy dress straps. He liked it a lot. Her hair was up but, unlike her work style, long, highlighted tendrils hung low, daring him to set free the caught-up strands. The style revealed the tantalizing curve of her exposed neck. He wanted to kiss her there, taste her, work his way down, sensitize every neuron in her body.
Oh, hell. He was in trouble. He couldn’t bring her to his parents’ house like this, with him on the verge of busting through his pants just from looking at her, with him practically licking his lips in anticipation of her feminine delights.
“My money bought that?”
Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth. Uncertainty marred her expression. She glanced down at the blue dress she wore, exposing those long legs that had his brain working overtime—or, more like, not working at all.
“You don’t like my dress?”
“What’s not to like? You’re gorgeous, Faith.” The insecurity in her eyes had him scampering to put the glow back on her face. “Absolutely stunning.”
Her gaze lifted to his and a smile played at her lips.
“Really?”
He laughed at her obvious fishing for a compliment.
“Best return I’ve ever gotten off a few hundred bucks.” Immediately, he could see he’d said the wrong thing. Again. And again the overwhelming need to repair the damage filled him. “Why do you hide yourself away when you were obviously meant to be admired by the world?”
But this time she didn’t light back up, just moved past him and unlocked her apartment door.
Knowing he’d unintentionally hurt her, but not sure how, he followed her into the apartment and grabbed her wrist, turning her to face him.
“I didn’t mean that the way you obviously took it. You’re a beautiful woman, Faith, always. If what I said made you think I was implying otherwise, then you’re wrong. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
Without looking his way, she shrugged. “Okay.”
Placing his finger beneath her chin, he forced her to look at him and felt his heart kick up at the swirling emotion in her green-apple-candy eyes. Had he ever seen bigger, more expressive eyes? “No, it’s not okay. I’ve hurt you.”
“I’m not some fragile ninny who needs coddling, Vale.” Her gaze lowered, settling near his throat. “We’re business colleagues going away for a working weekend at your cousin’s wedding. There’s no reason for you to explain your comment. I know I made a big change.”
Like a beautiful butterfly emerging from its cocoon. The same on the inside, yet so utterly different on the outside.
He felt humbled to have played a role in the transformation, even such a tiny role. Yet he wanted her to see what he saw—a stunning young woman.
His thumb stroked along her jaw line, caressing the soft skin, noting the pink flush spreading across her cheeks, the parting of her pouty pink lips, the way his heart beat faster in his chest when her stunned gaze met his.
Vale did something totally out of character.
He lowered his lips to hers.
Faith’s knees wobbled. Firecrackers detonated in her chest, pounding her heart against her ribcage, demanding freedom to burst into a million projectile pieces.
No way was Vale kissing her!
If a trip to the salon and an upscale dress boutique was all it had taken to get his lips on hers, why hadn’t she gone shopping months ago? Had her hair streaked with strands of gold and a trained professional paint her face?
What was she thinking? This was Vale. Her boss. She should not be letting him kiss her.
He cupped her cheeks, drawing her closer, tasting her lips with a softness that belied the tough man she knew him to be.
She stood stock still, hands at her side, sure if she moved or even breathed, the fantasy would disappear, a pleasurable vapor she’d grasped at but failed to hold on to.
For eighteen months she’d wondered what this man tasted like, what his lips would feel like against hers, and now he was kissing her. So she gave in to the desire erupting within her, kissed him back, tasted his lips, opened her mouth to let him inside and hoped he’d never let her go, that he’d never stop kissing her.
Tiny explosions ripped through her one after another in the wake of his tongue thrusting into her mouth.
He was no longer cupping her face but her bottom, pulling her fully against his hard body.
He was hard. Amazingly, eye-wideningly … Oh, my!
As much as Faith wanted to spread her arms wide and welcome him, to take whatever he would offer her, she had to stop him before she completely lost her mind and became one of the many women to move in and out of his life.
Before he realized just how much she wanted him. Because Vale only wanted one thing from women. She had to think of her career.
She pushed against his chest. “Stop.”
He lifted his head, his lids half covering his desire-laden eyes. He wanted her. He had kissed her, wanted her, might have carried her to her sofa and made heart-pounding, thigh-slapping love to her if she hadn’t told him to stop.
Her head spun. Her eyes blurred. Her equilibrium shifted.
Regret that she’d stopped him filled her, making her wish she’d dragged him into her bedroom rather than push him away. But make-over or not, she wasn’t one of his playthings. She was his employee, a physician with plans to have a phenomenal career within his neuro clinic, and not by sleeping her way to the top.
Although with her lack of experience, sleeping with Vale might get her sacked instead of promoted.
“Why did you do that?” Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she stepped back, wishing she wasn’t shaking, wishing she didn’t want to beg him to kiss her again. She had to take control of the situation prior to him figuring out just how much she wanted to jump back into his arms.
“You needed to be kissed.”
If he thought his hot kisses had left her any less in need of being kissed, he was wrong.
All he’d managed to do was to show her what she’d been missing, what she now knew she desperately wanted. His kisses.
Determined to salvage her pride, she frowned, wishing he wasn’t still touching her. “Says who?”
He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “Says me.”
A shiver whipped through her body, prickling her flesh. “Even if I did need to be kissed, that’s not your place. I told you on the day I agreed to this trip with you—I won’t be lumped into the category of one of your girls.”
He seemed to consider her comment a moment. “You’re wrong, Faith. Kissing you is exactly my place. This weekend, you are my girl.”

CHAPTER THREE
OF ALL the arrogant comments Faith had ever heard!
She was not Vale’s girl. Just because she’d agreed to a working weekend to save him from his family’s matchmaking, that did not make her his property and certainly not one of the arm decorations he paraded around New York’s social scene.
She snuck a glance at his powerful profile. Staring straight ahead, watching traffic as he drove to Cape May, he looked exactly the same as he always had. Same sun-kissed light brown hair, same sparkling blue eyes that could pierce a person’s soul with their intensity, same handsome face. Same calm presence, completely untouched by the kiss they’d shared.
He was whistling, for goodness’ sake. An upbeat melody that was slowly driving her insane.
Urgh. He frustrated her. Infuriated her. He’d kissed her. Taken notice of the fact that she was of the opposite sex and kissed her. A toe-curling, thigh-melting, neuron synapse-searing, honest-to-goodness kiss.
Yes, she’d been the one to stop him, because she’d had to. But she’d wanted him to take her into his arms, tell her he’d been a fool not to see what was right beneath his nose, and could she ever forgive him?
Okay, so that was pure fantasy and not the kind of thing that happened in reality. But men like Vale kissing her didn’t happen in her reality either.
At least, nothing like that had ever happened before.
“You’re staring a hole through my head.”
How did he know that when he hadn’t glanced away from the traffic on the New Jersey Parkway?
“Impossible.”
As if she hadn’t just taken a shot at him, he grinned. “I meant figuratively, not literally.”
“I knew that,” she pointed out, determined not to let him get the upper hand. “I was referring to your hard-headedness making staring a hole through your head impossible in any shape, form, or fashion. Figuratively or literally.”
He laughed, a husky male sound that warmed her insides. “Point taken.”
Eyes narrowed, she twisted in her seat to more easily look at him. “Are you mocking me?”
She’d swear his lips twitched with amusement. What was so funny? He’d kissed her and turned her world upside down and now he was laughing at her? If he hadn’t been driving, she’d … she’d … well, she’d have come up with some horrendous punishment, if her life wasn’t literally in his hands.
“Relax, Faith.” He glanced away from the road long enough to meet her gaze. “Maybe we shouldn’t have brought the patient profiles with us.”
“Why not?”
“This isn’t going to be a working weekend after all.” She wouldn’t gulp. Not even if she really, really needed to gulp.
“Why?” She gulped.
“Because I’ve been working you too hard, and you need to relax, have a little fun.”
“I have fun.” She didn’t want him thinking she was a dull Jane. Even if she was a dull Jane who worked most of the time and spent too much of her precious little spare time working even more so as to impress him when next they met.
“With whomever you were kissing goodbye in apartment 907?”
Mrs. Beasley? She started to laugh, but then realized he was serious, had made note of her neighbor’s apartment number, and, most surprising, sounded a tad bit jealous.
Was it possible? Could a make-over and one kiss have him feeling possessive? Oh, what was she thinking? He was probably just worried that if she had a life she wouldn’t be at his beck and call for work. Just look at how he’d reacted to her making lunch plans that didn’t involve work.
“Apartment 907 is my neighbor.”
“And you tell this neighbor you love him?”
He’d heard that? And why was he using his annoyed voice on her? She glared at him in silence. Even with only being able to see his profile, she could see his expression harden.
“It’s a simple question, Faith. No harm in answering.” Oh, enough was enough.
“My neighbor is a seventy-year-old sweetheart who dog-sits for me while I’m at work. I was dropping off Yoda, not telling a man I loved him. Not that it’s any of your business if I was.”
His brow rose. “Yoda?”
“My dog.”
“You have a dog?”
“Yes, a miniature poodle.”
“A miniature poodle?” His nose curled with unpleasantness. “Not much in the way of protection.”
“You’d be surprised. Yoda might be small but he has the heart of a lion.”
He smirked. “You’re not one of those women who puts clothes and bows and such on her pet, are you?” Faith didn’t answer.
He burst out laughing. “You are, aren’t you? My little miss organized neurologist plays dress-up with her dog.”
She took a deep breath. “Yoda happens to like his Darth Poodle pajamas.”
Vale snorted. “May the force be with him, because he’s going to need all the help he can get when the other dogs who still have theirs get through with him.”
“Yeah, well, other than Miss Cupcakes, Mrs. Beasley’s female Chihuahua, Yoda doesn’t spend a lot of time around other dogs. He’d like to, but I’m always at work and Mrs. Beasley’s idea of a walk is to the end of the block and back for potty breaks.”
He glanced toward her. “I’m sensing some latent resentment. Are you telling me you’re working too many hours?”
“I am working too many hours.” What was wrong with her? Why was she telling him this? Eighteen months she’d busted her butt without a single word of complaint. Eighteen months she’d gone above and beyond whatever needed to be done just to impress him.
What had they highlighted her hair with? Truth serum?
Or was his kiss what had loosened her tongue?
“Which is why we should forget the Parkinson project for the weekend and just enjoy ourselves. The rest will be good for both of us, will have our minds refreshed when we return on Sunday,” he mused, not looking at her. “Too bad we didn’t bring Yoda with us. He might have gotten a chance to show off his fancy duds on the beach.”
Faith’s gaze narrowed in his direction, not that he noticed as he was watching traffic and not her. “Quit making fun of my dog.”
“If you put clothes on your dog, you have to expect him to be made fun of. By real men and real dogs.”
“I expect no such thing and Yoda is a real dog. The best dog. The sweaters are to keep him warm.”
“And here I thought that’s what fur was for.” He shot a horrified look her way. “You didn’t shave him, did you?”
“No.” Taking an exasperated breath, she shook her head, pursed her lips at him. “I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work.”
He had the audacity to glance at her, all innocence and good looks. “What isn’t going to work?”
As if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
“What you’re doing.”
“Which is?”
“Trying to get me flustered about the dog so that I will forget to make my case regarding this not being a working weekend.” She fixed him with a determined glare. “This is a working weekend, Vale.”
Changing lanes on the parkway, he passed a slower car. “What’s wrong with us just having some fun?”
Was he kidding? “The only reason I’m here is because this is a working weekend.”
“That’s not true. I asked you to accompany me this weekend because my mother was determined to parade every single female at the wedding in front of me in the hope I’ll not be able to resist making a walk down a long aisle to a short-noosed rope.” He pulled off the parkway, zipped through the EZ Pass lane at the toll booth, and headed toward downtown Cape May. “With you by my side, she’ll leave me alone. I can spend time with my family without having to call out the National Guard.”
The National Guard? Did he expect such a rush of female would-be suitors? Casting another quick look at him, she decided that, yes, he probably did and rightly so. Forget his money, power and prestige, Dr. Vale Wakefield was still the finest catch in New York.
For the weekend she was to defend his bachelorhood? Where was the 1-800 hotline to the National Guard? She’d be the one needing reinforcements.
“She won’t buy that I’m anything more than a colleague.”
Vale shot her a quick look. “Why wouldn’t she?”
Should she list the reasons? Write him a thesis perhaps? “I’m not your type.”
“Obviously, you are.” And obviously he found her comment amusing since he chuckled.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You like tall, willowy women with IQs lower than their bust sizes,” she reminded him.
“I kissed you,” he parried.
As if those three little words explained everything.
She bit her lower lip. “Why did you?”
“I wanted to.”
He’d wanted to. Pleasure bubbled inside her like just uncorked champagne, overflowing with rich, foamy giddiness, intoxicating her senses.
She was drugged. Drugged by the insanity being around a man as potent as Vale caused. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to feel this way. Not about him or any man.
“What about what I wanted?”
“Are you saying you didn’t want me to kiss you? Because I don’t believe you.” His expression said, Yeah, right. Tell me another one.
“I stopped you,” she reminded him, chin high.
“Not until after a good bit of tongue thrusting and spit swapping had taken place. Face it, Faith, you wanted me to kiss you as much as I wanted to kiss you.”
“Eww.” Ignoring his second sentence, she wrinkled her nose at his coarse words. “Don’t be gross, Vale.”
“I was making a point.”
“Grossing me out is more like it.”
They came to a stop at a traffic light and he turned to face her, his eyes boring into her soul. “Kissing me grossed you out?”
With his gaze fixed on her, she couldn’t lie to him. Not even when that was what she really wanted to do. Instead she blurted out the embarrassing facts in the most revealing of ways.
“Kissing you didn’t gross me out.” Except at the abandoned way she’d kissed him back when she knew better.
“What did kissing me do?” His voice was husky, confident, as if he knew exactly what his kisses did to women.
Of course he knew what his kisses did to women. Just as she knew.
Kissing Vale made women crazy, fanatical, addicted. She knew that. She’d watched his effect on women, knew the dangers of being near him in any capacity not business-related.
Vale didn’t mix business and pleasure. He just didn’t. Not ever.
Only he had by kissing her.
“Kissing you made me think I’m crazy for agreeing to this when I had the opportunity to spend a weekend relaxing at home because you’d have been otherwise occupied, not calling me to meet you at the office for yet more work.”
His eyes narrowed into deep blue slits. “You don’t like working with me?”
“I love my job, but someday I do hope to have a life outside work.”
“What kind of life?”
Why on earth had she started this conversation? Or had he started it? Either way, she wanted out.
“The usual,” she said dryly, grateful they’d moved beyond what his kisses did to her, but hoping he’d let their new subject drop.
“What usual?”
Of course he wouldn’t. Not the great Dr. Vale Wakefield, New York’s most eligible bachelor.
“You know,” she admitted reluctantly. “A house in some smarmy little suburb that I can call my own. A yard for Yoda to dig holes in. A neighborhood where I can take him for long walks.”
His brows drew together in a deep furrow, his lips tight with displeasure. “That’s your idea of the usual? What about marriage? Children? That usual?”
Maybe that was usual for some women. To Faith there was nothing usual about marriage or having children. Not in the marriages she’d witnessed. And, although she was mightily attracted to Vale, she didn’t kid herself that it was anything more than that. Men didn’t stick around. Even men who promised to, and Vale wasn’t the type to make such promises to begin with.
“Women who want to make it in a high-powered career shouldn’t reveal to the boss that they also want to have a family,” she answered in the hope of steering him in a direction other than the truth. “Not if they want to be taken seriously.”
“You think I’d penalize you if you said you wanted a family?”
“I think you’re more likely to advance someone who didn’t have to take time off for maternity leave and pediatric visits.” Dear Lord, someone really had slipped her some truth serum. She couldn’t shut up. “My career is important to me. I told you that from the beginning.”
“Yes, you were quite vocal that day.”
Why did the way he spoke make her think he was mocking her?
“Laugh if you want to, but I’m serious.” She shrugged. “After I’ve achieved my career goals I’ll think about marriage.”
Not that she’d want marriage ever. She was more than happy with Yoda. Her dog would never leave her for another woman—except perhaps Mrs. Beasley and her cutie pie Miss Cupcake.
He seemed to digest her comment. “After you’ve achieved your career goals you plan to marry and have kids?”
“After I achieve my career goals …” tired of the picking apart of her life goals, she gestured toward the green light that had changed at some point during their conversation, but neither had noticed “… I’ll make plans for the rest of my life.”
Faith had already decided she wasn’t going to allow herself to be intimidated by the Wakefield family fortune. She just wasn’t.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/janice-lynn/flirting-with-the-society-doctor/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.