Flirting with the Society Doctor / When One Night Isn't Enough (2 page)

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.