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Oh, my. She’d just had sex. With Vale. Amazing, glorious sex. With Vale. Vale. Vale. Vale, who some crazy woman had once used and obviously hurt.
She snuck another glance at him.
“Let’s dance,” he suggested, tugging her toward the dance floor and into his arms as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. As if her mind wasn’t racing in a hundred different directions.
She didn’t argue, could barely find words to speak at all.
Her first sexual experience hadn’t exactly been a romantic coupling but, wow, she and Vale had lit fires.
Fires that still burned low in the pit of her stomach.
Relishing being back in his arms, she let him guide her onto the dance floor, memories assailing her. They’d danced before, at the office’s New Year’s party. That had been the first time Faith had been in his arms. She’d floated home that night, positive the year was going to be her best ever.
The second time had been after she’d helped perform her first DBS two-lead implantation as Vale’s second. He’d been so proud he’d popped a bottle of champagne that evening, poured her a glass, and he’d toasted her. Just he and she over a working dinner where they discussed the surgery and ways they could improve technique and efficiency.
Always she’d been aware of wanting him, of how desirable he was, of how he made her so aware he was a man and she was a woman. Looking back, she had to wonder about Vale.
Had the chemistry between them been building from the moment they’d met? Had he felt it all along too? Or had it truly just been that they had been thrown together by circumstances this weekend and otherwise what they’d shared would never have happened? That he never would have seen her as anything more than a surgeon in his employ?
“Faith?” he whispered next to her ear, startling her back to reality.
“Hmm?”
“Let’s forget about what happened.”
Any hope that what they’d shared had been special to him died.
“Okay.” What else could she say? No, I don’t want to forget what we just shared because it was amazing and I want to experience it again? True, but not appropriate when he was obviously not feeling the same and trying to back out of the corner he’d landed in. “We’ll forget what happened.”
But she knew she would never forget Vale making love to her. Not ever. Not even when she’d pray to forget in the hope of finding inner peace.
“What I mean…” his hands moved over her back, settling on her shoulders “…is that I want us to have fun tonight, to enjoy each other’s company and not focus on what we did.”
“Fun. Right.”
He tilted her chin. “Are you saying I’m no fun?”
She stared into his blue eyes. Maybe he was right. Maybe they did need to forget about what they’d done, even if only for a short while.
“Who, you? The original Mr. Workaholic?” she attempted to tease, but knew her eyes were filled with longing, confusion.
“Hey.” He pulled her close, and instantly she was taken back to what they were supposed to be forgetting, “I’ve barely cracked a patient profile all weekend.”
“True, but you’ve been busy.”
“Spending time with you this weekend has been immensely enjoyable.”
His body pressed so tightly against hers was immensely enjoyable, too. She couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I concede your point.”
The music changed to another slow song and Vale kissed the top of her head, weakening her knees. “Before the night is over, you’ll be conceding much more, Faith, because I’m going to make love to you again.”
Hadn’t they just said they were going to forget what they’d done? Knees knocking, she met his gaze, saw the desire that still burned there, and understood fully what he’d meant. He didn’t want the fear of what they’d done and how it would color the future affecting the rest of their weekend together. Their wonderful, magical weekend where they would have fun and enjoy each moment as a man and woman who wanted each other and were free to explore that desire.
And although it went against logic, against what was deeply ingrained in her psyche, Faith’s smile widened and she relaxed in his arms with the knowledge that somehow everything really would be okay. She leaned her head against his shoulder, joyful at the feel of his lips at her temple, and let her imagination run wild with thoughts of acceding to Vale’s every sexual whim.
Senator Evans’s son couldn’t be more than seven or eight, but the kid had more energy than a power plant. Unfortunately that worked to his disadvantage when he raced around the reception tent and knocked over a large vase filled with flowers, causing him to let out a blood-curdling scream as the arrangement tumbled down on him.
At the commotion, Vale stopped in mid-sentence in his conversation with the lead singer of an up-and-coming rock band he’d been talking to and rushed to where the boy cried.
