Flirting with the Society Doctor (4 page)

“This is your family's beach home?”

He glanced at the lumbering three-story beige house with balconies jutting out on every level. “The East Coast one, yes. My mother had the old house torn down, and this one built a few years ago. Personally, I preferred the former one.”

They had a beach house for each coast? Had torn down their previous beach house to rebuild another? Somehow, she doubted the East Coast home had been torn down due to being rundown. Faith let that digest. Sure, Vale had money, lots of money, but the side she generally saw of him could have been just another hard-working physician, not the son of a family worth billions.

Except for the society-page photos with women hanging all over him. Those she could do without.

Vale switched off the ignition, but made no move to get out of the car. Stretching forward, his arms wrapped around the steering-wheel, he took a deep breath. “Remind me why I'm doing this wedding again.”

Wondering exactly the same thing, Faith tore her gaze away from the monstrosity where they'd be staying and
unbuckled her seat belt with shaky fingers. “Because your cousin Sharon expects you to be here.”

“And Sharon must get her way.”

Did she? Faith had never met any of Vale's family, but could only imagine that they must be used to the world bowing at their privileged Italian leather–covered feet. Just looking at the enormous house before her made her knees want to buckle. She was so out of her league.

“Must run in the family,” she mused.

“Must.” He grinned, opening the door of his car that probably cost more than triple her annual salary. “Let's go in. I'll grab our luggage later.”

First checking her appearance to make sure she wasn't committing some faux pas such as lipstick on her teeth, Faith reached for her doorhandle and was surprised when the door opened before she could.

“What are you doing?” She blinked up at Vale. Lord, the man was fast. In so many ways, a total speed demon.

“Opening your door.”

“Why?”

“I already told you why,” he said with exaggerated patience. “This weekend, you're my girl. A gentleman opens the door for his girl.”

A thousand birds took flight in her belly at once.

“No, Vale.” She spoke just as slowly as he had so there would be no misunderstanding between them. “For the record, I'm not your girl and you are not a gentleman.”

Reaching for her hand to help her out, he gave her a mock sympathetic look. “You're wasting your breath. We've already established that we Wakefields always get our way.”

True, but being here as his colleague for a working
weekend was one thing, pretending to be his girl or whatever it was he wanted from her was something completely different. Not when part of her wanted to be his girl. For real.

“And to set the record straight—” his grin was lethal “—I'm always a gentleman when it comes to the ladies.”

Stepping from the low-slung sports car, she turned to face him, determined to make him understand. “Vale, I won't—”

Tugging on her hand, he pulled her flush to him and she forgot how to breathe. The respiratory centers of her brain literally shut down and left her woozy.

“Sure you will, and you'll have fun. I promise.”

Looking into his twinkling eyes, Faith believed him. Being his girl, even for a weekend, would be fun. Only then she'd have to pay the piper the price for that fun. And, dear Lord, could she please have some oxygen in her lungs please?

“Don't look now, but we're being watched.”

She started turning toward the house, but Vale's forehead lowered to rest against hers, and, grinning, he said, “My mother and aunt are standing at the window and I told you not to look.”

“Yes, but if this isn't a working weekend, you're not my boss, are you?” she bit out, trying not to gasp for air.

He started to speak, but she rushed on.

“I'm not doing anything I don't want to do and you can't make me because I don't have to do as you say. Not away from work. And when I don't do as Your Highness commands, you're not going to say a word to this lady who has her own mind and isn't afraid to use it.” She pulled away from him, shut her car door herself,
then smiled as pretty as you please, only feeling slightly dizzy in the process, especially when he immediately recaptured her in his arms. “Because you're a gentlemen when it comes to the ladies, remember?”

V
ALE
conceded that Faith had made a great point, wondering why he was suddenly as nervous as he'd been during his first stint in the operating room, wondering why he cared so much what Faith thought of his family, why it felt so right to have her in his arms when nothing could be further than the truth.

His gaze lowered to her all-too-kissable lips. “I'm always the boss, Faith. Always.”

Eyes wide, she swallowed. “Your family is originally from Philadelphia, aren't they?”

So she wanted to change the subject? He'd let her, but he wasn't letting her go, even if she was squirming against him, trying to free herself. Actually, he should let her go because she was squirming against him and he was rapidly getting turned on. Talking about his family should cure that.

“Yes, Philadelphia is their home base, but we spend more time together here.” With his arms still wrapped around her waist, he glanced toward the house his mother had thought they'd needed a few years back. He missed the more traditional beach house she'd had torn down to make room for its too-modern, too-big replacement. She hadn't been able to bear the original beach house after his father had died, though, and Vale
had never contradicted her claims that they'd needed more room.

“These days,” he continued, “it's rare for the entire family to be together, though. Holidays and special occasions. That's about it.”

“You worked through last Christmas,” she reminded him, no longer struggling to free herself and staring at him with her amazing eyes. He'd swear he could look into her eyes for hours on end without getting bored. Not with the ever-changing gold flecks and the deep rings around her green irises.

“I flew to Philly for Christmas morning and spent the day with my family.” He pressed his palms into her low back, relishing how she molded to him, how his gut tightened with the desire to feel her naked beneath him.

“You were back home that night, working,” she gulped, staring at him as if she could read his mind and wasn't sure what to think of this change in him. Hell, he didn't know what to think of these new reactions to her either.

“How do you know I came back that night?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because, no thought whatsoever to my holiday, you called, wanting me to assist on the Parkinson's article you were writing.”

Ah, now he remembered. He'd been alone, digging through medical records, compiling data for his article, wishing Faith was there. Before he'd thought twice about the day being Christmas, he'd dialed her cell number. “You came.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her eyes taking on a far-away look. “You called, and I came running. Even on Christmas Day. My career is important to me, remember? Having
my name next to yours in a prestigious medical journal looks good on my résumé.”

Had she been with her someone special? Unwrapping presents and sitting on the sofa, watching multicolored lights flicker on the tree?

“Did I interrupt a Christmas dinner?”

Her face pinched. “Nothing that I minded having interrupted.”

“You weren't with lover-boy?”

“Who?”

“Whoever you spend your time with when you're not with me?”

“I spent Christmas Day with my mother and stepfather. Your call was a mixed blessing.”

He'd met Faith's mother once. A vivacious woman with lots of spirit who'd stopped by the clinic unexpectedly. He'd liked her instantly, but a flustered Faith had rushed her mother and her stepfather out the door within minutes of their arrival. “What's your stepfather's name? Curtis?”

Nose curling, Faith sighed. “Curtis was her previous husband. This one's name is John.”

“That's right. She remarried earlier this year. John Debellis, the stockbroker you don't like.”

“It's not that I don't like him. John's okay.” Her lips thinned to white lines and her eyes stayed on her freshly manicured hands.

He'd never seen her nails painted, missed their usual natural gleam.

“I can tell you're jumping for joy over how okay he is.”

“He's my stepfather. One of many I've had.” She shrugged. “There's no point in liking him. Within another year or two he'll have found someone new and my
mother will become involved with someone else that she'll likely go on to marry, and he'll do the same. It's the way life is.”

Just how many times had Faith's mother been married?

He would have asked, but the front door flung open and his cousin bounded down the steps, flinging herself at him full force, practically knocking Faith out of his arms.

“Vale!”

Faith squared her shoulders, stood her ground, as if bracing herself for an unpleasant experience. Immediately that unwanted protectiveness came forth in Vale. Did she think his family wouldn't accept her?

“Meet my cousin Sharon.” He set his cousin on the ground next to him, placed his hand low on Faith's back. “Don't mind her antics. She's been throwing herself at men since she was three.”

Sharon slapped his arm. “Behave. You'll give your friend the impression I'm wild.”

“You are wild,” he replied, smiling indulgently at the blonde beauty he'd spent most of his youth exploring with, despite being two years older than her. In addition to their Wakefield blue eye color, they'd shared an adventurous spirit.

“Not any more.” She flashed her ring finger in front of his face. A large, multi-faceted diamond twinkled in the sunshine.

“If Steve thinks a rock is going to make you settle down, he's in for it.”

She grinned. “What makes you think Steve wants me to settle down?”

Vale threw his head back and laughed. “Brave man.”

“Smart, scrumptious man.” Sharon turned to Faith and hugged her as enthusiastically as she'd leapt into Vale's arms.

He should have known his cousin would make Faith feel welcome. Sharon might be renowned for her outer beauty, but her real beauty came from within.

“It's so good to meet the woman Vale deems worthy of attending my wedding as his date.” Sharon plopped a kiss on Faith's pale cheek. “You must be special.”

“I'm more of a friend than date,” she immediately corrected, her posture so perfect the sternest school matron would have applauded.

He stepped forward. “What Faith is trying to say is that we're co-workers and she doesn't want anyone to think she's trying to sleep her way to the top. Particularly me.”

Red splotched her cheeks. Her gaze snapped to his and she outright glared.

Sharon burst out laughing, pulling a stiff Faith into another hug. “Oh, I like her, Vale. She's not a doormat like most of the women you hang out with. Keep her around, okay?”

Grinning, Vale followed the two women into the house.

He had every intention of keeping Faith around.

 

Vale's mother looked more like an older sister than a woman of more than fifty years. Actually, she looked like grown-up Barbie come to life, buzzing in and out of the main living area of the biggest house Faith had ever set foot in.

The Wakefields' beach home. Their second home. Or would it be their third home as they had a west coast home, too? Hadn't she read something about an estate on
the coast of Italy, too? The whole idea of having multiple homes of this magnitude made Faith's head spin.

She'd never had a single-unit home, had always lived in an apartment building or college dorm, had always lived in New York. How boring Vale must find her compared to the well-traveled women he usually spent his non-working time with.

But she wasn't going to let him push her around, or push her into a physical relationship just because she was convenient. Not when her career was at stake. Otherwise she'd be leaping into his arms with just as much exuberance as his cousin had—only Faith's motives would have been much less pure.

His mother had rushed them inside, thrust drinks into their hands, and directed them to the living room that was double the size of Faith's entire apartment. Long rectangular windows along every wall boasted panoramic views of the sun going down over the Atlantic. Absolutely breathtaking. Absolutely terrifying. She was so out of her league.

“We're so glad Vale brought you this weekend, Faith.” His mother leaned in to give her a quick air kiss. Diamonds the size of Texas sparkled on Virginia Wakefield's manicured fingers. “Be sure to let me know if you need another drink. Or if you forgot anything from home. I always keep extra bare essentials.”

Guilt swam through her at the warm reception Vale's family greeted her with since she was there under what she considered false pretenses. She'd been so leery of their wealth and figured her lack thereof would be an insurmountable barrier, but they'd been nothing but kind to her from the moment Vale's exuberant cousin had jumped him.

“I had your luggage put in your room. Faith's, too.”

“Yes, Mom,” Vale intoned as his mother flitted toward Sharon's younger sister, Angela.

Faith turned to him. Her luggage was in his room? She supposed that asking for a separate room would raise a few eyebrows. Obviously the women he brought home slept in his room. But she was not one of his women and had no intention of losing her brain this weekend.

Her heart, well, she planned to keep that closely guarded as well because falling for him would be way too easy when he already occupied so much of her thoughts.

Her suitcase was in his room.

She wanted to say something, but bit her tongue. She'd put him on the floor, because if he thought they were sleeping in the same bed, he had another think coming.

Since arriving, he'd been unusually quiet. Unusually attentive. Probably in an effort to convince his family they were truly involved so they wouldn't start up with the matchmaking.

“Seeing you with your family almost makes you seem like an ordinary man.” Right, because ordinary men drank Cristal from real crystal while walking on gleaming marble floors with million-dollar paintings hanging on the walls. It was enough to make a girl's neuron synapses fuse.

“I don't want you to think I'm ordinary.”

She almost snorted. As if.

“No one would ever think you're ordinary, Vale,” she assured in a purposely condescending tone.

His lips twitched in amusement. “You have a sharp tongue, Faith Fogarty.”

“That's why you hired me,” she reminded him. “My sharp tongue and sharper wit.”

Vale threw his head back and laughed. Reaching out, he took her hand into his and lifted it to his mouth. “You might just be right about that.”

What was he doing?

Why wasn't she stopping him?

Why were her knees trembling?

Why was every cell in her body going berserk, wanting to get closer and closer to him?

“Come on. Let's head outdoors,” Sharon called, rushing everyone out the elaborate glass French doors that led onto a patio boasting a sparkling blue pool and hot tub, along with privacy created by the sand dunes behind the back yard.

A large white marquee had been set up along the back side of the property where the wedding reception would take place. On the opposite side, white chairs had been lined up in neat rows facing a gazebo where the bride and groom would stand, their attendants on the sides.

Still reeling from Vale's attention, Faith sat in one of the chairs near the middle and watched as Sharon ordered everyone around like a five-star general.

Thirty minutes later, Faith watched Vale take his place yet again two spots down from the groom, watched as they ran through the events one last time. He was bored but humoring his family and as much as she wanted him to be enough of a distraction to fully occupy her mind, for once he wasn't.

Sitting was pure torture. Being there was pure torture in so many ways. Each time the wedding march started, bile sloshed in her stomach, burning her throat, making her clench and unclench her fingers.

She detested weddings.

Had from the very first one she'd attended.

That had been the moment she'd had to admit to herself that her father wouldn't be coming home ever again. That she'd never have her happy family back.

That her father had truly abandoned her and her mother.

That her mother had moved on and so should she. And although her mother moved on, time and again, Faith never had.

Next to Faith, Virginia clapped her hands and sighed, apparently not suffering from a similar distaste for weddings.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Everything is just perfect.”

Perfect, because that's what weddings were.

Gag. Gag. Gag. Faith resisted the urge to put her finger in her mouth and stimulate her glossophayngeal and vagus nerves. Instead, she glanced back toward Vale.

He'd been looking at her, an odd expression on his face. Not a bad expression, more a quizzical one. Then he smiled, dimples digging into his cheeks, tiny crinkles forming at the corners of his brilliant eyes.

Faith no longer wanted to gag. Instead she fought drooling. Vale Wakefield was one gorgeous man.

He winked and for the first time since they'd come outside she felt a smile tugging at her lips. How could he do that? Take her from misery to better with a mere wink?

“He really likes you.”

Reality kicked in as she turned to Vale's mother and was once again slammed with guilt, her stomach roiling at the tumultuous ups and downs her emotions were taking. Deceiving this gracious woman just felt wrong. “We work well together.”

“Of course, you do, dear.” Virginia patted her arm and smiled graciously. “You must or he never would have invited you here. I'm so pleased that he did.”

A man setting up the dance floor beneath the pulled-back sides of the tent caught Vale's mother's eyes and, with another quick pat and smile, she went off to direct the worker.

“Enjoying yourself?” Vale asked, coming up behind her, pulling her from the chair and wrapping his arms around her waist.