Flirting with the Society Doctor (14 page)

Sometimes getting what you wanted was a pain in the kisser. Or, as in this case, a pain in the arm.

He turned to the dog-sitter who scowled at him and was telling Yoda to “get him”.

“Tell Faith I have her dog. If she wants Yoda back, she knows where to find him.”

 

Faith blinked at her neighbor. “He did what?”

When Mrs. Beasley had burst into the tiny office space she'd rented, face red, chest puffing, eyes wild, Faith had feared for the elderly woman's life.

“That handsome devil who you went away with, the one you've been moping around over, he dognapped Yoda!” Mrs. Beasley panted, her wrinkled hands fluttering against her heaving chest. “Call the police, now, so they can catch the scoundrel.”

“Sit down, Mrs. Beasley.” Sharon came over to the older woman, handed her a glass of water, and motioned to the empty chair she'd placed behind the exhausted woman. “You're going to have a stroke if you don't calm down.”

“I'm not going to have a stroke,” the woman denied, her face flushed with excitement. “We have to do something. That awful man has stolen Faith's dog.”

“Hmm, he always did want a dog, but taking yours is a bit much, even for a Wakefield,” Sharon mused from beside Faith, both of them eyeing Mrs. Beasley with concern.

The poor woman really had been frantic when she'd burst into Faith's new office a couple of blocks over from their apartment complex.

“Do you think we should call for an ambulance? You're looking a little winded, Mrs. B.”

“An ambulance?” Mrs. Beasley stared at her as if
she was daft. “We need the SWAT team, not a defibrillator.”

“It's okay,” Faith assured her neighbor, taking her pulse and respirations. Tachypneic and tachycardic. She patted her neighbor's shaky hand, motioned for Sharon to get her a blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope. “Vale won't hurt Yoda.”

At least, Faith didn't think he would.

“He might,” Mrs. Beasley cried. “Yoda could tell he was a rascally fellow and didn't like him one bit. Even if he was dashing.”

Wasn't it just like Vale to have caught Mrs. Beasley's eye even while the woman had been threatening to have him thrown into jail?

“What did Yoda do?” Faith took her blood pressure. Slightly elevated at 140/90, but not too bad considering how upset the woman was.

“Attacked him.”

Mouth agape, Faith asked, “Yoda attacked Vale?”

Mrs. Beasley nodded proudly. “Probably brought blood with the way he was attached to his leg. That'll teach him to keep banging on your door and disturbing the peace.”

Vale had been banging on her apartment door?

Faith bit the inside of her lip.

Maybe she should have answered one of his zillion calls to her cellphone, but she hadn't. She'd erased his messages without listening to them. Talking to him would accomplish nothing. Not at this point. Maybe when time had passed and she was stronger, when he didn't make her dream of things she knew better than to dream about. But not yet because her dreams were filled with him.

“That's why Vale dognapped Yoda?” She tried to
wrap her brain around how Vale had gone from beating on her apartment door to stealing her dog. “Because Yoda attacked him?”

“I've no idea why the scoundrel took Yoda.” Mrs. Beasley shuddered at what she obviously considered a harrowing experience. “He didn't ask for a ransom, just said if you wanted your dog back, you knew where to find him.”

Faith fell back into a chair, her hand going to her temple.

Yoda dognapped by her former boss.

If she wanted her baby back, she had to go to him.

She had a good mind to do as Mrs. Beasley suggested and call the police and have Vale arrested. Watching his arrogant face plastered across the nine o'clock news would please her to no end. The great Dr. Vale Wakefield, talented neurosurgeon and playboy heir to a real estate empire, arrested for stealing a
helpless
dog. Oh, the press would have a field day.

But instead of picking up her phone, she glanced at a giggling Sharon.

“This really isn't funny, you know,” she advised the woman who was quickly becoming a dear friend. “Your cousin has my dog.”

“You have to give him points for creativity. Dog-napping Yoda was quite ingenious in assuring you'd stop avoiding him.” Sharon smiled smugly. “We Wakefields are known for our resourcefulness when it comes to getting what we want.”

“You could go and get Yoda for me,” Faith suggested, knowing Sharon's answer even before the woman said a word. Despite not being willing to budge an inch where Steve was concerned, Sharon seemed quite positive Faith should give Vale a chance to prove that he really had
wanted to continue their relationship, that he'd wanted more than just a weekend fling with her, that she really was different from all the women he'd known.

But why give him a chance to prove that when doing so would only lead to pain down the road? Horrible pain because he wouldn't stick around and then where would she be?

“No way.” Sharon shook her head. “Yoda is your dog. You know he has no taste and gnaws at my shoes. If you want the mangy mutt back, you'll have to go and get him. Personally, I say good riddance.”

But the amused gleam in Sharon's eyes told she was teasing. Mostly. Yoda had yet to be completely forgiven for destroying an Italian shoe he'd mistaken for an expensive chew toy.

Vale wanted to talk to her. They'd talk. But she didn't have anything different to tell him from what she'd said two weeks ago. Not really.

Of course there were all the things she hadn't said that last day. Like how much she missed the time they'd spent together. How much she missed consulting with him, laughing with him, just being with him. How much she missed how it had felt to lie in his arms and breathe in his masculine scent.

No, she hadn't told him any of those things and being away from the office for two weeks hadn't helped matters, had perhaps made things worse.

She missed Vale. Horribly. With all her heart.

Wherein lay the problem.

The truth was that Vale had stolen much more than her dog.

And as much as she'd like to think staying away from him would help prevent her from hurting, she wasn't so sure anything could help her from the devastation of
being without Vale. Which made her no better than her mother. Destined to move through life searching for an elusive feeling she'd known once and desperately strove to find again.

“Fine,” she told the two women anxiously waiting to hear her plans. “I'll go and get my dog.”

F
AITH
hadn't been inside Wakefield and Fishe since the day she'd quit her dream job. Marcus Fishe had come to her, tried to get her to tell him what had happened, had probably already figured out the truth.

In the end, Vale's partner said he hated to lose her, that the clinic would provide a generous severance package, see to it all her patients were taken care of with minimal disruption, and that he understood her need to move on. He hadn't really, though. No one in the neurology profession would.

Wakefield and Fishe was
the
place to work.

Faith greeted the Wakefield Tower night security guard, who smiled and had obviously been told to expect her as he waved her in, no questions asked even though he had to know she no longer worked in the building.

Vale was here. Waiting on her. Forcing her to talk to him.

What was left to say? She'd already said more than she probably should have on the day she'd lost her temper and quit.

Apparently, he hadn't said all he'd wanted to say. To get her dog back, she'd listen to whatever he needed to get off his chest.

But, really, what was the point? He should be grateful
she'd walked away rather than stick around mooning over him, because she'd had enough of him ignoring her just because she'd said no to continuing their affair.

When she stepped onto the fifty-sixth floor, her breath caught as she took in the scope of Wakefield and Fishe's reception area. She'd loved working here, loved working with Vale.

But that was in the past, and this wasn't a time for recriminations. She'd moved beyond that, was putting the pieces of her life back together, with Sharon's friendship and silent financial partnership in planning for her own neurology clinic.

She didn't need a man in her life.

The office was unusually quiet for only a little after 8:00 p.m. Had Vale sent everyone home at a decent hour for once?

Part of her wanted to go to her office, to see what had happened to the room she'd happily occupied for a year and a half of her life. The best year and a half of her life? But she wasn't here for reminiscing either. She was here for her dog. Nothing else.

Forcing one high-heeled foot in front of the other (Sharon had insisted she deck herself out), she made a beeline for Vale's office and didn't bother knocking. He knew she was there. The security guard would have alerted him the moment she stepped into the elevator.

He sat at his desk, pretending to read a document. She knew he was pretending, didn't know why he bothered.

He looked wonderful, a sight for sore eyes. Why did just seeing him undo what little progress she'd made over the past two weeks on putting him behind her?

Who was she kidding? She hadn't made any progress on getting over Vale. Perhaps she never would.

His gaze lifted to hers, studied her with his intense blue eyes. “You came.”

Had he for one moment thought she wouldn't?

“You have my dog. I want him back.” She used a tone of voice she hoped warned she wasn't to be messed with.

His gaze flickered to his desk, lingered a moment on nothing in particular, before meeting hers again. “Sit down, Faith.”

Why was he torturing them this way? She'd stepped out of the picture and planned to stay out of the picture. He should be thanking his lucky stars she hadn't made a stink about the Cape May weekend.

Yet he didn't look as if he felt lucky.

He looked as if he was nervous. Which was insane. Vale didn't scare easily, if at all.

Yet, he did look nervous. From the way his gaze darted around to the way he fidgeted with the papers on his desk.

What was she doing? Looking for excuses for Vale's behavior? There were no excuses for how they'd ruined their relationship.

“This isn't a social visit, Vale. Give me my dog.”

He stood up, towering above her and making her believe she'd imagined whatever vulnerability she'd thought she'd seen in him. He wasn't vulnerable. He was a Wakefield. One who didn't care who he hurt, just so long as he got what he wanted.

And for whatever reason, he'd thought he wanted to continue their affair and she'd thwarted his plans. That had to be what this was about.

“Not until you listen to me.”

Faith plopped down in the chair in front of his desk,
crossing her legs and staring at him as if he were a bug under a microscope. “Fine.” She attempted to sound bored. “Get to talking because I've a lot of things to do. Places to go, people to see, you know the routine.”

 

Vale raked his gaze over Faith. She was wearing make-up, no glasses, and was dressed in feminine clothes that accented the body he craved. Her hair was down, brushing over her shoulders, teasing him with its multifaceted golden colors, teasing him with memories of his fingers clenched in the soft strands when he'd made love to her.

He'd never seen anyone more beautiful.

But, truthfully, what she was wearing didn't matter. Just that she was there.

“I've missed you.”

“Having trouble finding someone else to handle your calls?” she snipped, picking an invisible speck off her short skirt.

Had she purposely worn the skirt to distract him with those long legs of hers? Had she known he'd take one look and start remembering what having those legs wrapped around his waist felt like?

He moved around his desk, sat on the corner, staring at her. “You didn't quit because of fielding calls on mutual patients.”

She didn't answer, just examined her fingernails. When she looked up, their gazes met.

Enough was enough. If they were going to get anywhere one of them had to take a leap into uncharted waters. He'd never considered himself to be a coward, but he'd prefer her to go first, to admit that she missed him, missed not only their previous relationship but also
the closeness they'd developed during Sharon's wedding weekend.

Not that he expected her to. Not after what he'd done.

He'd hurt her with his high-handedness.

As much as he hated it, he'd have to grovel if he wanted her forgiveness.

“I'm sorry for what happened the day you quit.”

Her gaze snapped to his, but otherwise she just sat, long legs crossed, not saying a word. But her fingernails curled into her palms. She wasn't as immune to what he was saying as she acted.

“I was wrong to ask you to stay away from Sharon. I wasn't thinking clearly and hadn't been for a few weeks.”

“Agreed.” Again, she went for bored, but those fingers remained dug into her palms. “Can I go now?”

“No, you can't go.” He stood up, unable to remain perched on the edge of the desk. “I don't want you to ever go, Faith. I want you back.”

She jumped to her feet, her heels putting her at mere inches beneath his eye level. “You can't have me back.”

Her eyes glittered almost violently. Her hands had fisted at her sides. Her chin had lifted in the most stubborn of tilts. He'd never wanted her more.

“I refuse to accept that as your final answer. I will have you back, Faith. One way or another, you will be mine again.”

“My final answer?” Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head at him. “This isn't some game where you get to toy with me until I change my mind. I'm not coming back to the clinic. Or any clinic. I'm opening my own practice.”

The pride in her voice raised his admiration for her. Faith was a survivor, a woman who could make her own way in the world. No surprise there. He'd always recognized that she was a rare jewel. Had instantly recognized that he wanted her on his side. He just hadn't meant to come to depend upon her quite so much. To the point that he truly had wanted her at his side on each and every patient consult. At his side all the time.

“If you won't come back to me, I'll come to you, Faith.”

“What?” she asked, clearly confused. No wonder. He himself certainly wouldn't have understood fifteen seconds before.

“Hire me,” he urged, knowing exactly what he had to do, what he was willing to do to have Faith back in his life. “I have excellent references, am willing to work cheap, and haven't lost my clinical skills.” He hesitated, took a strand of her hair between his fingers, wanting to take hold of so much more. “Actually, the only thing I've lost that's ever mattered to me is you.”

“Is that the problem, Vale? I walked out on you?” She pulled free of his touch, just as he'd known she would. “Let me remind you of how things really went down. You pushed me so far away I had no choice but to walk. For three weeks you ignored that I even existed, treating me like I didn't exist. Maybe I'd been spoiled by you including me in so many of your cases, but to suddenly be cut out for no reason other than that I refused to continue to have sex with you was wrong.”

She was right, but how could he explain the way he'd felt when he'd looked into her eyes in the lighthouse and known the weekend wasn't nearly enough time with her? The way he'd felt when she'd told him she didn't want to continue their relationship?

“I couldn't be near you without wanting you, Faith.”

She shoved against his chest, her hands sending shock waves through him. “You were around me for months and months without wanting me. You just want what you think you can't have,” she continued, practically in his face. “Typical man.”

“Don't fool yourself into believing that I can't have you if I wanted you, Faith,” he warned, pride kicking in. “We both know that if I touched you right now you'd go up in flames.”

“You're wrong.” But she was lying. “You're a player who couldn't hold on to his new toy quite as long as he'd have liked. We both know if we'd pursued this you would have grown bored before long.”

Vale shifted his jaw, reminding himself not to lose his temper, wondering why she was the only person able to push him beyond the point of reason. “I never made you promises or told you I was some great catch, but I was sincere when I told you I wanted us to continue what we'd started.”

“Your point is?” She quirked her brow at him, obviously having already lost her temper. “Shall I remind you that I left? That I understood you never made me any promises?”

“I don't need reminding, Faith. I know you left me.” For two weeks he'd been able to think of little else. Faith had left him. He missed her. He wanted her back. Whatever the cost. “Shall I remind you that I'm the one fighting to have you back in my life?”

She stared blankly at him.

“I'm serious about the job, Faith. Sharon did tell me your plans, so perhaps you no longer want to work here.” He shrugged. “If you won't come back to Wakefield and Fishe, I'll come to work for you.”

She studied him with suspicious green eyes. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Have you not listened to anything I've said? I miss you. I want you in my life. If not as my lover, then as my friend, my co-worker. Whatever you're willing to give me, I'll take.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed. “Why are you doing this to me, Vale? I was here for eighteen months and you never noticed me. Why now, when I'm moving on, putting the pieces of my life together in a way I believe I can be happy about? Just leave me alone, please. I don't want to be hurt by you and we both know we'd never work out in the long run.”

With her eyes squeezed shut, she looked so vulnerable. Part of him wanted to just step away, to let her be. But the truth was he
had
noticed her. Maybe he hadn't realized just how much he'd noticed her, how much he'd come to expect to spend his days with her, but he had noticed her.

Maybe he hadn't been willing to admit just how much he'd expected her to be a part of his life because then he would have had to examine why that was so.

The thought of losing her though had him examining all kinds of things he'd prefer not to.

“I can't leave you alone, Faith,” he answered honestly, causing her eyes to flutter open.

“Why not?”

“Because I'm not me when you're not here.”

Her gaze lifted to his. “Explain.”

If only he could. “Nothing works the same when you're not with me. I don't work the same. It's like I get up on the wrong side of the bed and my days go downhill from there.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “What are you saying? That I'm your lucky mojo or something?”

He shook his head. “It isn't that.”

“Then what is it?” she demanded, losing patience with him again. “Tell me why I'm here, Vale. Why you dognapped my defenseless dog.”

Defenseless, his hind end.

“I need you here, Faith. I need you with me.”

“I thought you were willing to come to work for my clinic,” she countered.

“Is that an offer?”

“No.” But he saw the wall she'd built around her crack, knew he was starting to get through to her, and that made him all the more determined to lay everything on the line, to make her see reason.

“I think about you all the time,” he admitted, chipping away at the crack, wanting to completely tear down the wall she'd built around herself. “When I wake up, when I go to sleep, all in between. I think about you.”

She took a step back, bumping against his desk. “Guilt does strange things to a person's conscience.”

“It's not guilt I feel for you, Faith.”

As if she couldn't stand, she sat on the edge of his desk. “What do you feel?”

“This.” He took her hand into his and kissed each fingertip. “This is what I feel, Faith.”

She trembled. “That's just sex.”

He shook his head. “I can get sex from anyone, Faith. I don't need sex, but I do need you.
You
.”

Her lip disappeared between her teeth. “You need me?”

“As much as the air I breathe. Quit shutting me out of your life.”