Flirting with the Society Doctor / When One Night Isn't Enough (3 page)

“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.

V
ALE
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.”