Flirting with the Society Doctor (7 page)

Convenient? “You think I want to make love to you because you're convenient?”

“Let's be real here, Vale. We've known each other for months and you've not exactly had to hold yourself back to keep from ripping my clothes off.”

He couldn't deny her claim. Yet… “You're different from the other women in my life, Faith. You have been from the beginning.”

“Because I'm one of the few women under forty you haven't jumped into bed with,” she pointed out with a snort that didn't come across as being quite natural.

“Actually…” he gestured to where they were “…I have jumped into bed with you, but that isn't the point.”

She regarded him with obvious frustration and confusion. “Just how many women have you jumped into bed with that you haven't had sex with?”

“None,” he answered immediately.

“One,” she corrected, picking up a strawberry and biting into the juicy flesh.

“Yet.” Because he was damned sure he was going to make love to her soon. Today. Never had he wanted a woman so much. But he shouldn't make love to her. Deep in the recesses of his brain, he knew he should keep his hands off Faith.

“I thought we decided to end this madness last night with the kiss on the beach? That our having sex would ruin our professional relationship?”

“Tell me, Faith, when you closed your eyes last night, did memories of that kiss fill your head as you drifted to sleep? Did you dream about me waking you with my hands on your body, my mouth on yours?”

“No.”

But she was lying. That was why she'd touched his
face, his lips. She'd been wondering what them making love would be like.

“When I came in here last night, found you in my bed, I wanted to strip you naked and make love to you. Good thing you were asleep or I might have.”

With a guilty wince, she averted her gaze. “You were drunk.”

“If I'd been drunk, we'd be having a morning after.” Stone-cold sober, it had taken all his willpower not to pull her to him and kiss away any objection she made.

“A morning after where you reminded me that sex with you means nothing?” Her brow lifted accusingly. “That I'm nothing more than a quick rumble between your sheets which I've already told you I refuse to be?”

Was that what he'd be telling Faith if they'd had sex? It was what he'd be reminding any other woman of, what he'd have stressed long before they'd got to the bedroom. Yet the thought of telling Faith that she meant nothing to him other than mutual physical satisfaction didn't sit well with his conscience.

Yet he didn't want more than mutual physical satisfaction with any woman. Not even Faith. Just look at how his few relationship attempts had ended when he'd involved more than his body. Not good and not something he'd repeat.

“I don't know the answers to your question, Faith,” he answered honestly, struggling with his conflicting desires where Faith was concerned. “Like I said, you aren't like other women.”

“Because I work for you?”

“Maybe.” He enjoyed working with her, enjoyed the sharp way her mind tackled problems, came up with innovative solutions, the way her eyes lit up when they
operated successfully, when they discovered a new abnormal neuronal pathway trend on the brain maps Brainiac Codex generated on their Parkinson patients.

“I like my job, Vale. A weekend romp with you isn't worth destroying my career or placing myself in a position where I'd be forced to relocate.”

That said it all. A weekend romp wasn't worth losing his relationship with her either. Was that why he'd let her feign sleep when he'd wanted nothing more than to spread her legs and lose himself? They'd said as much the night before but, having spent the night tormented with being so close to her yet so far away, he'd lost sight of that. Something he couldn't allow himself to do. Otherwise he'd seduce Faith before the weekend ended, and then where would they be?

Other than blissfully sexually satisfied, that was?

 

Faith could easily have felt like a fifth wheel with all the wedding activities. Between Vale's constant attention and his family including her as if she'd been a part of the family for eons, only the occasional doubt plagued her. Sharon Wakefield had been a doll, more genuine and kind than Faith would have believed possible of someone so physically flawless.

Most of the day had been planned to a T, but not long after lunch Faith had time on her hands and a heart longing to walk on the beach. She wore white Capris, a silky green top the sales clerk had said perfectly matched her eyes, and sandals she could easily kick off for a beach walk.

First telling Virginia that she was going to take a walk, Faith weaved her way through the flowers, chairs, and wedding regalia, to head down the path toward the water.

Once barefoot on the sand, she opted to head in the opposite direction from the one she and Vale had taken the night before. She'd had enough problems keeping her mind off him today without reminders of that kiss. A long walk on the beach would do her good, would help clear her mind so she could think straight.

“Hey, wait up.”

On hearing Vale's voice, she bit back both a sigh of appreciation and a wince at not having the much-needed break from his overwhelming appeal.

“I thought Sharon needed you?” She waited while he rolled up his pants to mid-calf, exposing the sprinkling of dark hair covering his legs. Faith gulped back another sigh, staring down at his bent head. Sunshine glistened off the natural lights in his thick locks, off the flexed muscles in his neck.

He glanced up, caught her watching him, and grinned. “Sharon can get by without me for a few minutes. She has everyone else jumping to her tune.”

“It's her wedding day. Everyone should be jumping to her tune. Besides, you don't have to entertain me 24/7,” she responded, resuming her walk along the edge of the water. “I'm a big girl and can take a walk on the beach by myself.”

“I know you can, but humor me. I've had about all the wedding I can stand and the ceremony hasn't even begun yet.”

That, Faith understood. For a few brief moments every now and again she got caught up in Sharon's excitement, forgot how much she detested weddings, but most of the time that same old pain gnawed in her belly.

“I'm no more a fan of weddings than you are.”

“Because of your mother?” He fell into step beside her.

“I suppose.” She didn't want to talk about her mother and her many weddings. Not on the beach with Vale on the day of his cousin's wedding. The only wedding Faith had agreed to attend other than her mother's. She'd refused every single invitation from friends, had pleaded out of the weddings of two med-school friends who'd asked her to be a bridesmaid. Yet Vale had convinced her to come this weekend without too much cajoling. Why was that?

“How many husbands has she had?”

Why did he always push when she wanted him to leave a subject alone?

“John's her sixth.” She stepped into the oncoming wave nipping at her feet.

“Ouch.”

“Yes, ouch.” And not the cold Atlantic water rushing around her ankles, although that had definitely bitten. “It's difficult to watch her make the same mistakes over and over.”

Having stopped beside her, he considered her answer. “They're her mistakes to make.”

“True, but you'd think she'd eventually learn.”

“Maybe she's just lonely.”

“A person doesn't have to get married to abate loneliness. She could have gotten a dog, you know.”

His expression became thoughtful and he asked a bit too casually, “Like Yoda?”

She spun toward him. “Yoda is my best friend and not because I'm lonely. Far from it.”

Had she sounded defensive? What was she saying? She
was
defensive.

“A dog is your best friend?”

“Obviously you've never had a dog or you wouldn't ask that question.” She glared at him. Of course he wouldn't understand. How could he? He'd probably never been lonely a day in his life and if he ever was, all he had to do was crook his sexy little finger and women would come running to do his bidding.

Not that she was lonely. She so wasn't.

“You're right,” he admitted, meeting her glare head on. “I've never had a dog. I always wanted one while I was growing up, but Mom's allergic to pet dander.”

“Poor little rich kid.”

One side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “I'm not going to get any sympathy from you, am I?”

“No.” She turned back, gestured to the mansion still easily visible in the distance. “That's your house, Vale. Not even your main house, but your East Coast beach house. It looks more like a modern-day castle.”

“That's my mother's house. Not mine. I live in a Manhattan condominium.”

“In a building your family owns.” She took a deep breath, gave him her pretty-as-you-please smile. “Besides, the room where we slept, that's your room.”

“How do you know?”

As if she could not know. “You're stamped all over the place.”

He chuckled. “I'm what?”

“The medical magazines, the toiletries in the bathroom.” She resumed walking away from the house. “I don't know specifically what it is, just that the room looks like you.”

“I look like a bedroom?”

Oh, yeah, she looked at him and saw a big bed. With their naked bodies twined together. He looked like sex.
Sex she couldn't have. Not with him, and she'd never wanted sex with anyone else. Why did he have to be the one to make her body come alive? Why him? A rich playboy who was her boss and frustrated her so much?

“Let's change the subject,” she ground out, wanting to hit him for the mess he'd made of her emotions. She'd been able to keep her attraction to him neatly tucked away until this weekend.

Why had he had to push her into coming when she'd known she shouldn't?

 

Faith hadn't thought it possible that she'd doze off when Vale had ordered her to lie down for a nap—a nap!—while he showered. But her lack of sleep from the night before and the beach air must have been working on her because when she opened her eyes after what she'd thought had only been a few minutes, he had finished showering and was gone.

He'd left a note on the bedside table, saying he'd see her at the wedding but wouldn't likely come back to the room prior to the ceremony.

She glanced at her watch. Wow. She'd slept for almost two hours. She'd better get started or she'd be late.

Donning the dress she'd instantly known was “the one” when she'd seen it in the shop, she zipped the side zipper, loving the body-hugging shape of the emerald-colored dress with its flounced hemline.

Usually she dressed to blend in with her surroundings. As a woman competing in what many still considered a man's world, she'd always felt the need to tamp down her sexuality. Not today.

Today, she wanted to feel all woman.

Today, she did feel all woman.

Because of Vale and the way he kept looking at her.

She still wanted to pinch herself that he wanted her, that she was the one holding back on them having a weekend fling.

She had no doubt he was telling the truth when he said he wanted to have sex with her. Part of her thrilled that even that was possible after a year and a half of him seeing her as a sexless colleague.

But she knew his attraction was circumstantial. That he'd want to sleep with any halfway attractive woman he'd brought with him this weekend. It wasn't her specifically he wanted. Just that he was a highly sexual man and she was a young, healthy woman. Of course his hormones would be kicking in. She didn't fool herself that him wanting her could possibly mean more.

If she even slightly let herself believe him wanting her meant more, she'd be a goner.

Imitating the style the hairdresser had done the day before, Faith loosely piled her hair on top of her head, securing the strands with a rhinestone comb. She brushed make-up across her cheekbones, accented her eyes, painted and glossed her lips until she looked like a perpetual pouter.

When she'd finished, she stood back, surveying her handiwork. Not bad. Not enough to erase the first scary image of her that morning that was probably forever imprinted on Vale's brain, but not bad.

She made her way down one of the matching curved staircases, careful not to disturb the white silk ribbon and flowers tied to the handrail.

People were everywhere. Caterers, wedding guests, more family members and friends she only recognized
from having seen their photos in magazines. What was she, Faith Fogarty, doing here in this paparazzi orgy?

Following the trail of people, she made her way to the back of the house, reminding herself with each step that she was a successful neurologist and she was here because Vale wanted her here. The patio area had been decorated with hundreds of white flowers and miles of white silk ribbon. Beyond the gated pool, a pristine white carpet ran the length of the rows of chairs to where the gazebo had been laced with white gardenias, vivid green leaves, and ribbon. The sun slowly beginning its descent toward the ocean provided the perfect backdrop.

If she wasn't so anti-weddings, she might think Sharon's wedding beautiful. Oh, who was she kidding? This was a beautiful wedding. Just as her mother's weddings had all been beautiful.

Just that, like the beauty of the sunset, none of the marriages lasted.

Where was the beauty of putting all your hopes and dreams in another person only to have those hopes and dreams trampled on?

Would Sharon's wedding last? With her mega-wealth and role as former Miss Pennsylvania, she was a celebrity, just as her professional footballer husband was. The odds were against them even before they made their vows.

“You look absolutely stunning but, then, my son has superb taste,” Vale's mother interrupted her thoughts, meeting Faith at the back of the chairs. “Come with me. The family is sitting up front.”