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“I just don’t.” No matter how much he pried, she wasn’t going to tell him more.
He studied her a moment, then dismissed her comment as too inconsequential to be taken seriously when in opposition to his wishes.
“You’ll like this one,” he assured her. “My cousin Sharon never does anything halfway, and she’s marrying the Philadelphia Eagles’ quarterback. You’ll have fun.”
“Sure, I will. That’s why you’re so excited about going. Because of how much fun you’ll have.” Faith sighed. He wasn’t going to be dissuaded. Wasn’t going to let her off the hook. Whether she wanted to or not, she was going to be spending the weekend at Vale’s family’s beach house in Cape May, a couple hours’ drive south of the city. As his date to his media darling cousin’s wedding. The paparazzi loved Sharon Wakefield and the former beauty queen was never far from the press’s spotlight.
“Okay, you’re right.” He grinned at his admission. “Weddings aren’t my thing, but Sharon is my favorite cousin and I’m in the wedding party. It isn’t as if I can send an exorbitant gift and beg out of this one.”
“Like you usually do with family and friends’ get-togethers?” He was in the wedding party? Although the media knew of the upcoming nuptials, the exact details were very hush-hush. Faith hadn’t realized when she’d heard Vale mention his cousin’s wedding to the famous football player that he’d be wearing a tuxedo and standing near the alter. Experiencing Vale in a tuxedo was quite possibly worth whatever heartache she’d suffer at attending yet another wedding that would only serve to remind her that nothing was for ever despite promises made.
He waggled his dark brows. “You’d better believe it.”
“Fine, I’ll go.” It wasn’t as if he’d give her a choice when all was said and done. He’d be like a dog with a bone and gnaw away at her protective covering until he sank his teeth into her vulnerable center.
His perfect mouth curved into a devilish smile. “I knew you would.”
He could have at least sounded surprised, not quite so cocksure. Then again, that was Vale. Always confident. Always sure. Always a winner.
“Let’s start going through these.” She motioned to the latest data on their brain-mapping research that would hopefully lead the way to new treatment modalities for neurological disorders. “I’ve got to be in clinic at nine.”
Twenty minutes later, Vale leaned back in his chair, staring across the table at the godsend he’d hired based solely on gut instinct a year and a half ago. There hadn’t been an actual opening for another neurologist at Wakefield and Fishe Neurology, but quite frankly the young woman who’d finagled an appointment with him had impressed the hell out of him.
He’d learned long ago after a few eye-opening experiences to trust his gut and his gut had said not to let this one go. He’d hired her on the spot.
Even now he could hear her stunned “Don’t you want to check my references first?”
/> He’d stared straight into her big sparkly eyes that made him think of the green apple hard candy he’d loved as a boy. Her dull framed glasses couldn’t hide their appeal or their honesty. The ugly frames still didn’t.
He’d never regretted his decision that day.
Faith was more like his right-hand man…er…woman. When he’d been awarded a grant to do research on Parkinson’s, which involved the surgical implantation of an innovative two-lead device that emitted electrical impulses at the brain stem, he’d immediately convinced Faith to come on board. In the office and with his research they were a team. Working as many hours as he did, she never disappointed him, often pointing out fresh angles to cases, looking at the facts with intelligence and with an out-of-the-box canniness that almost matched his own. More and more he relied on her insight, on her thoughts as to the best way to approach each patient.
Now he was relying on her to bail him out of an uncomfortable situation with his family. During last night’s call from his mother, letting him know just how many single females were going to be in attendance and were looking forward to meeting him, he’d immediately put a stop to her matchmaking by announcing Faith would be coming to the wedding with him.
He probably should have asked her first, but she’d never balked at any request to work late or over the weekend. True, spending the weekend at his mother’s beach house wasn’t exactly the same thing as working late.
Still, her comment about possibly having plans intrigued him in ways he couldn’t explain. Just what did Faith do in her free time?
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She glanced up, staring wide-eyed at him with an open mouth. “What does me having a boyfriend have to do with anything?”
“If there’s someone special in your life, he might take exception to us spending the weekend together. I’d be happy to reassure him your virtue is safe with me.”
Faith chewed on her lower lip, staring at him as if trying to decide on the right answer.
A flutter started in Vale’s chest, one similar to that he felt in surgery when encountering something imaging scans hadn’t picked up on. Was there someone warming his employee’s bed? Someone she went home to night after night complaining about her slave driver of a boss? Why did the thought of anyone touching her bother him?
Her eyes sparked green fire and her chin lifted, as if his question had offended her. “Whether or not there is someone special in my life, I am quite capable of keeping my personal life in order, Dr. Wakefield, and of assuring any man of mine that he has nothing to fear where you are concerned.”
Vale bit back a grin. His ever-efficient neurologist had just put him in his place. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Faith. Sometimes I forget not everyone is as dedicated to their career as I am.”
Her lips pursed. “You’ve never had cause to question my dedication to my job.”
“True. Which is why you’re coming with me this weekend. I’ll have Kay send you the itinerary for the weekend so you’ll know how to pack.”
How had Thursday evening arrived and Faith still hadn’t found time to go shopping for a new outfit? Of course, she knew how. For exactly the same reason she currently wasn’t shopping.
