by Janice Lynn
“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.”
Yoda licked her again, obviously not caring if her make-up was doggy-kiss proof or not. Scratching the miniature poodle behind his ears, she praised him, telling him how much she was going to miss him over and over, and reminding him how much he loved visiting Mrs. Beasley.
“Come on. I guess I should go drop you there before His Highness arrives.” Cradling the dog in one arm, she gathered the diaper bag of dog goodies she’d packed him. “Let’s get you next door.”
Saying goodbye was difficult, but once inside Mrs. Beasley’s, Yoda didn’t seem to mind at all that Faith would be gone all weekend.
“No worries. He’s Miss Cupcake’s favorite guest,” the older woman promised as they walked to the door. “She and I will take good care of Yoda, and you know I can use the extra money from dog-sitting.”
Standing in the doorway, Faith leaned in and kissed Mrs. Beasley’s weathered cheek. “I know. Bye, love you.”
Closing the door, she turned to go back to her apartment and caught Vale in the hallway admiring her backside.
Vale blinked, attempting to clear his eyes.
That stunning derrière and killer legs he’d been admiring were Faith’s?
He’d known she had a decent body, he wasn’t blind, but her scrubs did nothing to accent her curves and apparently everything to hide them. Where had all that tantalizing flesh come from?
And her eyes.
He’d always liked Faith’s eyes. But without her glasses they were huge, luminous, tempting.
No, he wasn’t tempted by Faith.
Only he was.
Tempted to push her up against the apartment hallway wall, push up that nipped-at-the-waist tease of a skirt, and thrust between those long, long legs.
Where had she gotten those legs and why hadn’t he noticed before?
Okay, so he had noticed a time or two when she’d had on one of those ugly gray suits she sometimes wore that she had great calves. The kind that plumped out when she reached for a book on a high shelf. But Lord help him at the expanse of thigh on display beneath the hem of the dress she wore now.
And her shoulders.
His fingers itched to rub over her bare skin. He’d never seen her shoulders bare before. There should be laws against covering shoulders like hers. He liked what he saw beneath the stringy dress straps. He liked it a lot. Her hair was up but, unlike her work style, long, highlighted tendrils hung low, daring him to set free the caught-up strands. The style revealed the tantalizing curve of her exposed neck. He wanted to kiss her there, taste her, work his way down, sensitize every neuron in her body.
Oh, hell. He was in trouble. He couldn’t bring her to his parents’ house like this, with him on the verge of busting through his pants just from looking at her, with him practically licking his lips in anticipation of her feminine delights.
“My money bought that?”
Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth. Uncertainty marred her expression. She glanced down at the blue dress she wore, exposing those long legs that had his brain working overtime—or, more like, not working at all.
“You don’t like my dress?”
“What’s not to like? You’re gorgeous
, Faith.” The insecurity in her eyes had him scampering to put the glow back on her face. “Absolutely stunning.”
Her gaze lifted to his and a smile played at her lips. “Really?”
He laughed at her obvious fishing for a compliment.
“Best return I’ve ever gotten off a few hundred bucks.” Immediately, he could see he’d said the wrong thing. Again. And again the overwhelming need to repair the damage filled him. “Why do you hide yourself away when you were obviously meant to be admired by the world?”
But this time she didn’t light back up, just moved past him and unlocked her apartment door.
Knowing he’d unintentionally hurt her, but not sure how, he followed her into the apartment and grabbed her wrist, turning her to face him.
“I didn’t mean that the way you obviously took it. You’re a beautiful woman, Faith, always. If what I said made you think I was implying otherwise, then you’re wrong. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
Without looking his way, she shrugged. “Okay.”
Placing his finger beneath her chin, he forced her to look at him and felt his heart kick up at the swirling emotion in her green-apple-candy eyes. Had he ever seen bigger, more expressive eyes? “No, it’s not okay. I’ve hurt you.”
“I’m not some fragile ninny who needs coddling, Vale.” Her gaze lowered, settling near his throat. “We’re business colleagues going away for a working weekend at your cousin’s wedding. There’s no reason for you to explain your comment. I know I made a big change.”
Like a beautiful butterfly emerging from its cocoon. The same on the inside, yet so utterly different on the outside.
He felt humbled to have played a role in the transformation, even such a tiny role. Yet he wanted her to see what he saw—a stunning young woman.
His thumb stroked along her jaw line, caressing the soft skin, noting the pink flush spreading across her cheeks, the parting of her pouty pink lips, the way his heart beat faster in his chest when her stunned gaze met his.
Vale did something totally out of character.
He lowered his lips to hers.
Faith’s knees wobbled. Firecrackers detonated in her chest, pounding her heart against her ribcage, demanding freedom to burst into a million projectile pieces.
No way was Vale kissing her!
If a trip to the salon and an upscale dress boutique was all it had taken to get his lips on hers, why hadn’t she gone shopping months ago? Had her hair streaked with strands of gold and a trained professional paint her face?
What was she thinking? This was Vale. Her boss. She should not be letting him kiss her.
He cupped her cheeks, drawing her closer, tasting her lips with a softness that belied the tough man she knew him to be.
She stood stock still, hands at her side, sure if she moved or even breathed, the fantasy would disappear, a pleasurable vapor she’d grasped at but failed to hold on to.
For eighteen months she’d wondered what this man tasted like, what his lips would feel like against hers, and now he was kissing her. So she gave in to the desire erupting within her, kissed him back, tasted his lips, opened her mouth to let him inside and hoped he’d never let her go, that he’d never stop kissing her.
Tiny explosions ripped through her one after another in the wake of his tongue thrusting into her mouth.
He was no longer cupping her face but her bottom, pulling her fully against his hard body.
He was hard. Amazingly, eye-wideningly… Oh, my!
As much as Faith wanted to spread her arms wide and welcome him, to take whatever he would offer her, she had to stop him before she completely lost her mind and became one of the many women to move in and out of his life.
Before he realized just how much she wanted him. Because Vale only wanted one thing from women. She had to think of her career.
She pushed against his chest. “Stop.”
He lifted his head, his lids half covering his desire-laden eyes. He wanted her. He had kissed her, wanted her, might have carried her to her sofa and made heart-pounding, thigh-slapping love to her if she hadn’t told him to stop.
Her head spun. Her eyes blurred. Her equilibrium shifted.
Regret that she’d stopped him filled her, making her wish she’d dragged him into her bedroom rather than push him away. But make-over or not, she wasn’t one of his playthings. She was his employee, a physician with plans to have a phenomenal career within his neuro clinic, and not by sleeping her way to the top.
Although with her lack of experience, sleeping with Vale might get her sacked instead of promoted.
“Why did you do that?” Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she stepped back, wishing she wasn’t shaking, wishing she didn’t want to beg him to kiss her again. She had to take control of the situation prior to him figuring out just how much she wanted to jump back into his arms.
“You needed to be kissed.”
If he thought his hot kisses had left her any less in need of being kissed, he was wrong.
All he’d managed to do was to show her what she’d been missing, what she now knew she desperately wanted. His kisses.
Determined to salvage her pride, she frowned, wishing he wasn’t still touching her. “Says who?”
He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “Says me.”
A shiver whipped through her body, prickling her flesh. “Even if I did need to be kissed, that’s not your place. I told you on the day I agreed to this trip with you—I won’t be lumped into the category of one of your girls.”
He seemed to consider her comment a moment. “You’re wrong, Faith. Kissing you is exactly my place. This weekend, you are my girl.”
CHAPTER THREE
OF ALL the arrogant comments Faith had ever heard!
She was not Vale’s girl. Just because she’d agreed to a working weekend to save him from his family’s matchmaking, that did not make her his property and certainly not one of the arm decorations he paraded around New York’s social scene.
She snuck a glance at his powerful profile. Staring straight ahead, watching traffic as he drove to Cape May, he looked exactly the same as he always had. Same sun-kissed light brown hair, same sparkling blue eyes that could pierce a person’s soul with their intensity, same handsome face. Same calm presence, completely untouched by the kiss they’d shared.
He was whistling, for goodness’ sake. An upbeat melody that was slowly driving her insane.
Urgh. He frustrated her. Infuriated her. He’d kissed her. Taken notice of the fact that she was of the opposite sex and kissed her. A toe-curling, thigh-melting, neuron synapse-searing, honest-to-goodness kiss.
Yes, she’d been the one to stop him, because she’d had to. But she’d wanted him to take her into his arms, tell her he’d been a fool not to see what was right beneath his nose, and could she ever forgive him?
Okay, so that was pure fantasy and not the kind of thing that happened in reality. But men like Vale kissing her didn’t happen in her reality either.
At least, nothing like that had ever happened before.
“You’re staring a hole through my head.”
How did he know that when he hadn’t glanced away from the traffic on the New Jersey Parkway?
“Impossible.”
As if she hadn’t just taken a shot at him, he grinned. “I meant figuratively, not literally.”
“I knew that,” she pointed out, determined not to let him get the upper hand. “I was referring to your hard-headedness making staring a hole through your head impossible in any shape, form, or fashion. Figuratively or literally.”
He laughed, a husky male sound that warmed her insides. “Point taken.”
Eyes narrowed, she twisted in her seat to more easily look at him. “Are you mocking me?”
She’d swear his lips twitched with amusement. What was so funny? He’d kissed her and turned her world upside down and now he was laughing at her? If he hadn’t been driving, she’d…she’d…well, she
’d have come up with some horrendous punishment, if her life wasn’t literally in his hands.
“Relax, Faith.” He glanced away from the road long enough to meet her gaze. “Maybe we shouldn’t have brought the patient profiles with us.”
“Why not?”
“This isn’t going to be a working weekend after all.”
She wouldn’t gulp. Not even if she really, really needed to gulp.
“Why?” She gulped.
“Because I’ve been working you too hard, and you need to relax, have a little fun.”
“I have fun.” She didn’t want him thinking she was a dull Jane. Even if she was a dull Jane who worked most of the time and spent too much of her precious little spare time working even more so as to impress him when next they met.
“With whomever you were kissing goodbye in apartment 907?”
Mrs. Beasley? She started to laugh, but then realized he was serious, had made note of her neighbor’s apartment number, and, most surprising, sounded a tad bit jealous.
Was it possible? Could a make-over and one kiss have him feeling possessive? Oh, what was she thinking? He was probably just worried that if she had a life she wouldn’t be at his beck and call for work. Just look at how he’d reacted to her making lunch plans that didn’t involve work.
“Apartment 907 is my neighbor.”
“And you tell this neighbor you love him?”
He’d heard that? And why was he using his annoyed voice on her? She glared at him in silence. Even with only being able to see his profile, she could see his expression harden.
“It’s a simple question, Faith. No harm in answering.”
Oh, enough was enough.
“My neighbor is a seventy-year-old sweetheart who dog-sits for me while I’m at work. I was dropping off Yoda, not telling a man I loved him. Not that it’s any of your business if I was.”