by Janice Lynn
“Fine, take me to court,” she said flippantly, not backing down from her position. “I’m sure any judge will release me under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that. You know exactly what circumstances I’m referring to.”
“Our sleeping together?”
She smiled, as pretty as you please. “What else?”
“You’re being ridiculous, Faith. You can’t quit because we slept together.”
“No, you’re the one who’s ridiculous, Vale.” His name came out a sarcastic slur. “Sleeping with you has apparently destroyed my career. Was I that bad in the sack?”
That bad? Shouldn’t he be the one asking that question? He’d wanted to continue sleeping with her. She’d been the one to say no. “That’s enough, Faith.”
“No, it’s not enough. Do you want to know what’s enough? Me putting up with you ignoring me after what we shared. Me crying night after night, trying to figure out what I did wrong that weekend when the truth is I didn’t do anything wrong. You did, you pompous jerk!”
He winced. He’d known she was hurting, that he’d hurt her by backing away from their friendship, but when he wanted her so badly, how could he spend time with her and not end up seducing her? She needed to realize that they were worth pursuing and not because he’d charmed his way between her delectable thighs.
His pride had come into play as well. He’d wanted her to admit she’d been wrong to push him away, that he’d been right to say he wanted to continue beyond their weekend together. Had he pushed her away for ever instead?
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“I don’t want your pity or your apologies.”
“What is it you want, Faith? I told you I still wanted you, that I wanted to explore what was happening between us. You were the one to say no. What would you have me do to make things right between us?”
She studied him for several seconds, then lowered her arms to her sides in a defeated gesture. “There’s nothing you can do, Vale. It’s too late.”
He realized that now, realized that the moment he’d kissed her it had been too late to salvage their professional relationship.
Maybe he’d handled her rejection of him all wrong. But he hadn’t been thinking clearly, still wasn’t thinking clearly.
Faith was leaving him.
No, not him, she was leaving the clinic.
Hell, same difference. Either way, she would no longer be a part of his life.
If she refused to acknowledge that they’d had a chance for something special to develop between them, then maybe her leaving was for the best.
Maybe that was the only way for either of them to forget the weekend in Cape May.
“You win, Faith,” he said in a low voice. “You’re an excellent neurologist and the clinic will be taking a hard hit to lose you. Still, you can leave if that’s what you want, but you know I don’t want you to go. Not personally and not professionally.”
He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay, to say they could pick up where they’d left off. But they’d just end up back at this same point. Why delay the inevitable? Faith didn’t want the same things he did.
“What you want is irrelevant to me, Vale. Totally irrelevant.”
Had she still been screaming at him, he might have put her words down to emotional stress. But Faith wasn’t screaming. She spoke with a calmness that chilled him. Almost as if she’d read his thoughts and was answering, assuring him that she didn’t want him beyond the physical—and for once that wasn’t enough.
“You don’t mean that.”
Surprise filled her eyes, and when she met his gaze, she shone with confidence. “Actually, I do. Goodbye, Vale. I’ll send for my things.”
“Faith.” He grabbed her shoulder, refusing to let her pass, cursing himself for not being strong enough to let her go without one last desperate appeal for her to stay. “Don’t go like this.”
“Is there a better way for me to go? Some way you’d prefer? Maybe if I came into your office and told you I’d accepted an offer from another clinic so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty over our liaison? Would that make you feel better? Would that free you from your guilt?”
He winced. Was that what the twinge in his chest was? Guilt? Guilt that he’d taken her virginity? Guilt that he couldn’t look at her without wanting to strip her naked?
She was right. He did feel guilty. Guilt he clung to, because if what he was feeling wasn’t guilt, then he’d have to find another label. Guilt was so much easier to deal with than the alternative.
“Do you have another offer, Faith? Is that what this is really about?”
First raking her gaze over him with cool disregard and a touch of disappointment, she nodded. “Yes, Vale, that’s exactly what this is about. I’m leaving you for another clinic.”
Blindly, chin high, shoulders straight, heart breaking, Faith made her way through the hallway leading away from her office, away from Vale. She kept her composure until the ladies’ restroom door swung shut behind her.
Then sobs hit her in full force.
She shook. She ached. She sank against the inside of a stall and cried till her eyes throbbed.
What was wrong with her? She’d cried more in the past three weeks than she had her entire life. No man was worth this. Hadn’t she watched her mother shed useless tears? Had she learned nothing at all from years of witnessing her mother’s mistakes? From having lived through her father leaving?
“Faith?” a female voice asked from outside the stall. “Are you okay? What am I saying? Of course, you aren’t okay. Can I come in? That is, well, maybe you could just come out of the stall instead?”
“Sharon?” Faith swiped at her eyes beneath her glasses, wishing she hadn’t put on make-up that morning as she likely had raccoon eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard your fight with Vale,” the woman admitted, compassion filling her voice.
Great. Faith didn’t need Sharon feeling sorry for her.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she continued. “I thought of some things I’d forgotten to mention at lunch so I came back. I was outside your door, heard my name, and did exactly what I shouldn’t have done. Eavesdropped.”
Faith took a deep breath, hating that she hiccupped, hating that when she opened the stall door there was no way could she hide how pitifully she’d been crying. “I’m sorry you had to hear my argument with Vale.”
“Why? You were wonderful.”
Faith blinked, sure she’d misheard. She opened the stall to stare in shock through the tear-induced fog of her glasses at Vale’s cousin. “I was?”
“Absolutely,” Sharon replied. Reaching for a tissue and Faith’s glasses, she took it upon herself to blot away Faith’s tears. “I’ve never heard anyone put Vale in his place that way. Never. Even most of the family are a little scared of him.” Sharon stepped back, surveyed her clean-up job of Faith’s face, and smiled. “You and I are going to be great friends.”
Faith’s head was spinning. “But—”
“No buts.” Sharon opened her purse, dug around until she pulled out a zippered pouch. Removing liquid concealer, she squirted a pearl-size drop on her fingertip. “Look up,” she ordered, dabbing beneath Faith’s eyes, then smoothing out the make-up to her satisfaction. “Any woman who can stand up to my cousin and leave him speechless has my complete admiration.”
The reality of what she’d done sank in. “Oh, God, I just quit my job.”
“But you said you were going to a different clinic,” Sharon pointed out, confusion marring her flawless complexion as she handed Faith a new tube of lipstick. “That’s my favorite color, by the way. I always carry extras, just in case I lose one.”
Vale’s cousin carried extra tubes of the same shade of lipstick? Taking the lipstick, she read the label. Pouty Pink Passion.
“I lied,” she admitted, peeling the plastic seal away and
opening the tube to stare at the color. Not bad.
“Oh,” Sharon said, her mouth forming a perfect circle and creases lining her forehead. “But you’re still a brain doctor, right?”
Smoothing the lipstick onto her lips, rubbing her lips together to smooth out the cream, Faith nodded. “Yes, I’m still a neurologist. Just an unemployed one.”
So why wasn’t she freaking out? Why was she standing next to a bathroom stall, putting on make-up while chatting with Sharon Wakefield Woodard as if they were discussing the weather?
“Great!” Sharon clapped her hands in glee. “You’ll work for yourself, start your own clinic, and be my doctor. Goodness knows, I need my head examined for getting married.”
Faith’s Pouty Passion Pink–covered lower lip dropped open. “I can’t start my own clinic.”
“Why not?” Sharon asked, so matter-of-factly that Faith stopped and asked herself the same question.
Why did she have to work for someone else? Let them decide her fate? Sure, prestige came with working for a clinic of Wakefield and Fishe’s caliber, but prestige could be earned.
Then reality sank in again. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t have the money to start a clinic and get it off the ground.”
“Hello…” Sharon rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do. I’m loaded and Vale is always telling me I need to make good investments, to find something to do with my life.” She giggled with excitement. “I could work for you. Be your silent partner, even! This is the perfect solution for us both, Faith.”
Stunned by Sharon’s generosity and by her good humor when they were talking about Faith leaving her cousin’s clinic, she shook her head. “I appreciate your offer, but I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It wouldn’t be ethical for me to accept money from my former employer’s family.”
“Ethics schmethics. We’re talking about your future here and I’m offering you a way to really get under Vale’s skin. The correct response is, ‘Yes, ma’am, Miss Wakefield.’” Sharon held up her hand. “Don’t even remind me that my legal last name is Woodard, because I want no part of Steve right now.”
Faith stared at the crazy woman standing in the opening of the stall. “I don’t want to get under Vale’s skin.”
“Yes,” Vale’s cousin assured her, looking way too confident for a woman who had yo-yoed during their lunch between bawling her eyes out and professing that she wanted to castrate her soon-to-be ex-husband. “You do. Every woman wants to get under the skin of the man she loves.” She gave a knowing smile. “Why else do you think I’m making Steve pay for his sins?”
Not quite believing her ears, Faith ventured a guess. “To get under Steve’s skin?”
“Darned right.” Sharon put her manicured hand on her hip and straightened her shoulders with determination. “He’ll think twice before he ever cheats again.”
Faith hadn’t believed Vale when he’d commented on his family being crazy, had only believed they were the lovable, generous souls she’d met in Cape May. Now she knew he’d been on to something. Sharon was certifiable. Perhaps she herself was too, because a slow smile spread across her face and her future suddenly didn’t look nearly so bleak.
Two weeks had passed since Faith had walked out of Vale’s office. She wouldn’t talk to him. Not that Vale blamed her, but the entire situation grew more and more ridiculous. How had he ended up on Steve’s side rather than his cousin’s in an argument that shouldn’t have been happening in the first place?
Sharon wouldn’t return his calls. Faith wouldn’t return his calls.
He rapped his knuckles against her apartment door yet again. Apparently, she wouldn’t answer the door at her apartment either.
Unfortunately an angry little lady had opened her apartment door and threatened to call the police if he didn’t leave.
“I need to talk to Faith,” he explained, frustrated that he’d been the one pushed away, he’d been the one left behind, yet here he was at her apartment door and yet again she was ignoring him.
When a tiny dog launched past the woman and attached itself to his ankle, Vale was the one yelping in frustration and pain. The dog might be small but his teeth were sharp and sank into Vale’s flesh with unerring ease.
“Don’t hurt him,” the woman squealed, coming after the beast Vale was trying to shake free without permanently mangling his leg in the process.
“Don’t hurt him?” Vale snorted, dancing around in effort to dislodge the dog. “What about me? This mutt is vicious.”
“Yoda, get back here,” the older woman called to the dog Vale had managed to free from his flesh but which was still latched on to his pants with tenacious determination.
Then what the woman had said sank in as surely as the dog’s teeth had.
“Yoda?” He glanced behind her. Sure enough. Apartment 907. The angry lady was Faith’s dog-sitter. “This is Faith’s dog.”
Vale smiled a devilish smile, knowing he wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not Faith took his calls or answered the door. She’d be calling him before the day ended.
Bending down, he scooped the dog into his arms, prepared for the pain that was sure to come in doing so. He wasn’t disappointed.
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.