Flirting with the Society Doctor (6 page)

Lord, how was she going to work with him night
after late night now that she knew his kisses tasted of ambrosia?

“Oh,” Sharon cooed, “you're in love with him, aren't you?”

Faith opened her mouth, ready to deny his cousin's claim, but nothing came out. Nothing at all, because she didn't know how she felt about Vale. Not any more. From before they'd met, she'd admired him professionally, had known she wanted to work with him, had used every resource within her repertoire to arrange an interview. When they'd met, she'd been thunderstruck by emotion so potent the magnitude had almost blinded her.

She admired Vale, professionally and personally, although she'd hesitate to admit the latter to anyone other than herself. Physically she wanted him, but what heterosexual woman wouldn't?

This weekend she had the opportunity to be with him and was too scared to accept the risk that chance would change everything between them. Bok. Bok.

Only sometimes change was inevitable, and inevitably her relationship with Vale had undergone a change she couldn't undo even if she wanted to.

Taking that chance would strip her soul bare, would let him see into her heart, and therein lay the problem.

She didn't want to give Vale that power over her future. Didn't want to become her mother, settling for whoever came along because she'd tasted love and couldn't hold on to it, forever searching to feed a hunger that couldn't be satisfied.

No, she didn't love Vale and would never, ever allow herself to be that foolish.

F
AITH
tossed and turned in the enormous bed in the giant bedroom their suitcases had been placed in. How could she sleep when eventually Vale would return? Would be sleeping in the same room? Possibly crawl between the sheets beside her if she didn't stay awake and order him to the sofa?

Although his family had been nothing but kind to her, she'd had a difficult time relaxing. How could she fit in when their conversation ran from spending the month in Europe at their favorite French resort to having their thighs liposuctioned in Beverly Hills?

Which should only serve as yet another reminder of why she shouldn't become involved with Vale this weekend. Despite how dedicated he was to his career, to finding a treatment or, better yet, a cure for Parkinson's, the reality was he moved in a different world from that she did.

A jiggle of the doorhandle had her breath catching. Vale.

Peeking through barely open eyes, she took in the outline of his sleek body in the doorframe. So beautiful. So tempting.

Softly, he closed the door, walked over to the sofa and sank down onto the leather. She could feel his gaze on
her, could feel his presence so overwhelmingly that she swore the room pulsed with him. His scent. His aura. His heartbeat.

Forcing her breathing to remain even, she closed her eyes completely, feigning sleep. She couldn't deal with him. Not tonight. Not if she didn't want to do something she might regret.

Might, because she wasn't sure.

Perhaps not doing something would be more regrettable than taking action?

She just didn't know, didn't have the experience to know, and for that reason she'd pretend to be asleep to avoid having to act.

“Faith?” he whispered, almost as if he knew she was faking.

She didn't answer and after a few moments he sighed, but didn't call her bluff.

Instead, he disappeared into the en suite bathroom, returned, and slid between the sheets. Next to her.

Would it give away that she was awake if she piled pillows between them? Or if she peeked under the covers to see what he was wearing?
Or not wearing?

She swallowed, fighting to breathe, fighting to keep her eyes closed in case he was looking at her and could see her through the sliver of moonlight breaking the darkness, fighting to keep from scooting next to him, spooning her body to his.

Because, really, if she did that while still feigning sleep, what would it hurt? She could always plead that she'd gotten cold. Which didn't explain the droplets of sweat forming between her breasts.

She bit the inside of her lower lip, forced herself to count sheep, to count the soft sounds of Vale's even breathing. That he'd crawled into bed and fallen
immediately to sleep didn't say much about her effect on him, did it? He was in bed with her for the first time ever and had immediately dozed off.

The last time she recalled taking a peek at him soft streaks of sunrise had started filtering into the room. His dark head lay against the pillow, his lashes fanned out across his cheeks, his face relaxed in sleep.

Unable to resist, she reached out, brushed her fingertip across his cheek, marveling at the smooth perfection of his skin, at how her heart raced at the contact.

Without his expression changing in the slightest to indicate he'd awakened, his hand caught hers, clasped it to him. Faith watched his face for some sign she'd woken him, but none was forthcoming. Neither was escaping his death grip, so she relaxed, cherishing the contact of their skin.

Her hand cradled in his, she finally drifted off into dream-filled sleep.

With the sun streaming into the room through the magnificent windows, Faith woke very aware that she was in Vale's king-size bed that smelled of his spicy aftershave.

She opened her eyes, startled to find the bed empty.

Only the imprint on the pillow next to hers told the tale that he'd shared the bed, that she wasn't imagining his musky scent. Unable to resist, she reached out, touched where his head had lain, calling herself every kind of stupid.

She'd touched him during the night. Had he woken up and known of her foolishness? God, she hoped not.

Slowly, she became more aware of her surroundings. She'd been too restless the night before to fully appreciate the bedroom suite.

Double glass doors led out onto a balcony that ran the length of the room. Pale blue walls with clean lines were broken only by the huge windows and a gorgeous seaside painting. Wow. A panoramic view of the ocean took her breath, easily visible even while lying in the bed. A two-sided glass fireplace divided the room, separating a living area with a sofa and television from the bed area. A couple of medical magazines cluttered the solid mahogany end table. To the far end of the living area a desk with a state-of-the-art computer was set up. A yellow legal pad had notes scribbled on the top page in Vale's distinctive penmanship. Had he worked this morning before leaving the room?

This wasn't a guest suite. This was Vale's room. If she walked to the closet, his clothes would be hanging there. Those had been his personal items in the en suite bathroom, which was bigger than her entire apartment, and not because he'd brought them from home. No wonder he hadn't carried more than his small overnight bag, so sharply contrasting with her large suitcase. He hadn't had to.

But what she didn't see in the room was Vale. Where was he? Had he wakened, taken one look at her, and been frightened away? Probably, she mused. As much as she'd tossed and turned prior to his arrival in the bed, she imagined her hair was every which way.

Stretching, Faith decided she'd get up, shower, and go in search of her host. Only before she'd so much as lowered her arms the door opened and Vale entered, carrying a tray full of breakfast goodies that had her stomach growling in appreciation.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he greeted her, fully dressed in khaki slacks that hugged his narrow hips, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up on his
tanned forearms and a sexy V exposing where the top two buttons were undone at his neck.

He'd been the one out partying all night so it was totally unfair that he looked marvelous, and she suddenly recalled the fact she'd just woken up, looked horrendous with not a speck of her new make-up, and her hair wild as Friday evening rush-hour traffic.

She winced, fighting the urge to try to tame the messy strands about her head. No doubt she looked like Medusa with hair snaking about her head in every direction.

“Good morning, yourself.” She scooted up in the bed, only to become conscious of her pajamas. During her shopping spree she hadn't considered sleepwear, had never dreamed she and Vale would be thrown into the same room by his mother. She didn't expect her fuzzy
Star Wars
pajama bottoms and T-shirt top to start any fires.

Hold up. Did she want to start fires? Hadn't she told herself time and again while lying in his bed last night that she needed to keep distance between them this weekend if she didn't want to destroy her career? If she made love with Vale, no way could she continue to work with him when he moved on to another woman. To do so would be torture of the cruelest kind.

She considered herself a modern woman, but she didn't do casual sex. She didn't do sex at all.

She flopped back on her pillow with a sleepy sigh.

“Not a morning person?” he teased, placing the tray on the bed. “I brought you breakfast.”

She glanced down at the tray. Fresh fruit, yogurt, bagels with peanut butter, juice, milk, a pot of coffee, and…she lifted a metal lid off a plate…eggs, bacon, sausage links, and toast with butter and jelly.

“You don't really expect me to eat all this?”

His gaze raked down her bare arms, instantly covering her with goose-bumps of awareness.
She was in his bed
. Could he see how her nipples strained toward him? She hoped not.

“Wouldn't hurt you if you did,” he assured her, “but I thought you might share.”

Not waiting for her to respond, he climbed into the bed beside her. Faith grabbed for the tray, certain the contents would topple, but it didn't budge. What kind of mattress was this anyway? A very expensive one, she decided, trying to ignore Vale's long frame stretched out beside her, fluffing pillows behind his back. Trying to ignore that now every cell in her body strained toward him as if she were metal and he the most powerful of magnets.

Mr. Magnetism pulled back a plastic wrap and spread cream cheese on a bagel, offering the pastry to her. “Have fun with the girls last night?”

Reaching for the bagel, she nodded. “You have a lovely family, Vale.”

“Lovely?” He curled his nose, preparing a plate of food for himself. “They've snookered you.”

“And you?” she asked, popping a bite of the bagel into her mouth. “Did you have fun with the boys, doing all those wild bachelor party things men do?”

She'd meant her question to be teasing, casual, but when he turned to her there was nothing teasing in his eyes, nothing casual in the way her heart mimicked a space-shuttle launch.

“I'd rather have been with you.”

 

Vale watched Faith's eyes darken to a deep green at his admission. He wasn't accustomed to things spouting
out of his mouth that he hadn't planned to say. But his words were true.

He would much rather have been here with Faith than at Steve's bachelor party.

Several of the groom's football buddies had apparently thrown him a huge bachelor party in Philadelphia the weekend before so last night's had been more about tradition than one last yahoo on the town.

The entire time Vale had wondered what Faith was doing, how she was getting on with his family.

He wondered that a lot these days. He'd be sitting at home and would glance at his watch and wonder if she'd still be awake and, if so, what she was doing. Sometimes he wondered if Faith wasn't why he worked so many hours, just so he'd have an excuse to see her.

Which was crazy. If he wanted to see her outside work, all he had to do was ask her out.

But something in the way her green eyes darkened and her bagel stopped halfway to her mouth told him maybe that wasn't all he had to do.

Which was perhaps why he'd never asked her out.

That and the fact she had a bright career ahead of her at the clinic and didn't need personal issues muddying the waters. He didn't need personal issues muddying the waters. Other women were disposable in his life, but he enjoyed working with Faith. Enjoyed the constant she provided.

“Was Steve's party not a success?” Her gaze didn't quite meet his.

“Bachelor parties aren't my thing.” Did she have any idea how beautiful she was this morning? He'd wondered about her hair—now he knew. The long tousled-from-sleep golden strands looked like extensions of the
sunbeams streaming in through the windows, casting a halo around her angelic face.

Her eyes were huge, her lips full, her face naturally classic. He'd never wanted to brush his fingers over a woman's skin more. Never wanted to tangle his fingers in a woman's hair more. Never wanted to kiss a woman more.

Never wanted to be inside a woman more.

Which was why he should climb out of the bed just as he'd done after lying next to her for a couple of hours, unable to sleep for the temptation of her sweet vanilla fragrance and warm body. He'd not slept a wink and had known he wasn't going to with her lying next to him. Still, he'd lain next to her, knowing she was feigning sleep and wondering why she bothered, wondered why he himself bothered. Had she thought he'd force her into something she didn't want? That he'd seduce his way beneath those awful fuzzy pajamas she wore?

When she'd touched his face, he'd thought he imagined the light touch and had instinctively clasped her hand. Lying in his bed, holding Faith's hand, had felt right, but had left him throbbing with need. After she'd gone to sleep properly, he'd risen, logged into his computer, and gotten some work done, all the while distracted by Faith in his bed and by how much he wanted to wake her with his mouth, his hands, his body over hers, moving in hers.

“Is there anything about weddings you like?” she asked, apparently oblivious to where his thoughts had gone. Or purposely ignoring that he was likely looking at her as if he'd like to have her for breakfast.

“Open bar?”

“Besides the free booze?” She popped the torn-off piece of bagel into her mouth and he envied the food.

“The cake?” Why was he imagining that pink tongue of hers licking frosting from her lips? His tongue cleaning a spot she missed?

Her gaze met his. “Be serious.”

“I am.” He seriously wanted to push her back on his bed and settle between her thighs and
seriously
make her orgasm over and over.

“No, you're not.”

She thought not? He shrugged. “I imagine the honeymoons aren't bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “You would think that.”

“You asked.” He picked up a strawberry and placed the fruit on her plump lips.

Her pupils dilated as she stared at him with a “What are you doing?” expression, but she took a bite of the berry, wiping at the juice that covered her lips. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” His pants shrunk around him, restraining him. What would she do if he really did push her back on the bed, stripped those hideous pajamas off her, and ran his tongue over her, tracing a path to her core and dipping inside?

“What are you doing, Vale?”

His gaze shot to hers, saw the uncertainty shining in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“This.” She spread her arm toward the tray. “I'm your colleague, not your girlfriend. You shouldn't be serving me breakfast in bed or feeding me strawberries. This is crazy.”

“This weekend, for all intents and purposes, you are my girl.”

“Vale…” She took a deep breath, swallowed. “I won't be used just because I'm convenient.”