“NO WAY am I going to a wedding with you.” Faith Fogarty shook her head, knowing this time her boss had pushed her too far. “Uh-uh, no way. I won’t be lumped into the category as one of your girls.”

Glad no one seemed to be paying them the slightest attention, probably because their co-workers were all trying to look busy so as not to attract the boss’s attention, Faith retreated into the privacy of Dr. Vale Wakefield’s office, him hot on her heels.

“I’m not asking you to be one of my girls,” he pointed out, unnecessarily.

Of course he wasn’t asking her to be one of his girls. She wasn’t his type. She had a brain.

“I’m asking you to accompany me to a family gathering where I will be tortured mercilessly by my family if I don’t bring a date. They’ll try and hook me up with every single female there.” He made a gagging sound.

Having no sympathy whatsoever for one of New York City’s most sought-after eligible bachelors and top-notch neurosurgeons, Faith shrugged. “So take Lulu.”

Lulu was the willowy blonde who’d accompanied Vale to a big charity ball the previous Saturday night. Faith had read about the event, seen a photo of the model plastered to Vale’s side in the society section of the Sunday paper. An entire column had been dedicated to whether or not the exotic model would be able to get the Wakefield heir to the altar. Faith had wadded up the paper and tossed it in the trash, where such gossip belonged. Of course Vale wouldn’t marry that woman.

“To quote you, ‘Uh-uh, no way.'” Vale emphasized each word. “Do you have any idea what type of problems I’d create if I brought Lulu or any woman with me to a family gathering, much less to a wedding?” He shuddered with all the drama of a person who’d just bit into the bitterest dish. “She’d be hearing wedding bells long before we got to the

ceremony. There is absolutely no way I’d take a real date to my cousin’s wedding.” His intense blue eyes narrowed with the steely purpose that put most in a tizzy. “I’m taking you.”

And that was where Faith fit into Vale’s life.

Not a real date. Not someone he would consider dating or bringing to a New York City charity ball. Not someone he would consider loving or having a real relationship with. Not that any of Vale’s relationships were real, not unless no-strings-attached sex counted.

He’d pretty much just admitted that he didn’t even see her as a woman. Great. She was a sexless brain.

Sucking in a deep breath, she shook her head. “No, thanks.

Accompanying you to family functions is not in my job description.”

He grinned the devilish smile that had her heart thumping overtime whenever he flashed his pearly whites. “I could have my attorney add an addendum to your contract.”

“Forget it.” She narrowed her gaze in as menacing a glare as she could pull off when he grinned at her that way. Why couldn’t she be immune to him? After all, he was a bra-size before brain-size typical male. “I’m not going to a wedding with you.” “I’d pay you.”

As if that made one iota of difference. As a neurologist specializing in Parkinson’s disease, she earned a good salary from her job. A job that didn’t require her fending Vale off from wannabe bridezillas and well- intentioned family members.

He named a figure that made her head spin.

“No.” Fighting to keep her composure, she picked up a stack of consult requests from the long mahogany table that occupied one side of the expansive room that served as his office. One by one, she flipped through them, sorting out the more urgent cases that she wanted to discuss as possible surgical candidates with Vale.

He crossed the room, standing so close that if she’d turned toward him she’d likely bump him. She wouldn’t look, wouldn’t turn, but would he please quit staring at her?

“You might as well concede, Faith.” He put his hand on her shoulder, eliciting a thousand tiny shivers that caused tremors all the way to her

very core. “In the long run I always get what I want.”

He was right. He did always get what he wanted. With women. In life. Vale Wakefield led a gilded life. One where he’d been blessed with money, looks, intelligence, gifted surgical hands, and that something more that just made him impossible not to like. Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him. Little old ladies made him cookies and cakes, for heaven’s sake.

At work she could maintain distance, keep her unwanted attraction to him safely tucked away, but at a wedding? Would he take one look at her and realize she dreamed of being the one he danced with at ballroom charities? The one warming his bed? A wedding.

Not even for Vale would she face another wedding.

She was not going to give in. He did not have to get his way with her every time he crooked his finger. This time he’d passed the limits of her endurance.

“What I want is for you to come with me to my mother’s this weekend and accompany me to Sharon’s wedding.”

Faith dropped the consults onto the table, turned to face him, anger sparking deep in her chest. Why did he just assume that she was at his beck and call 24/7? “Did it ever occur to you that I might already have plans for this weekend? That I might have a life outside work?”

Rarely was Vale caught off guard. Even more rarely did he show shock when someone actually did surprise him. But the darkening of his pupils gave clue to the fact that he truly had never given any thought that she might not live every moment in hopes of him deigning to ask her to work late, to come in over the weekend to review an important surgery case, to drop everything and go to his cousin’s wedding with only four days’ notice.

Of course, he hadn’t given any thought to her potential plans. Why would he? He didn’t find her attractive and apparently couldn’t imagine anyone else doing so. Why wouldn’t she be available at his every whim?

Which hit a bit too close to home.

Faith’s teeth ground together. Sure, she wasn’t glamorous like the women he dated. She couldn’t be even if she tried. Not with her stick-

straight dishwater blond hair, plain green eyes, and too big mouth. Still, his split-second shock at the possibility that someone might want to spend time with her for non-work purposes hurt. Hurt so deeply that had she put her hand to her chest to find her life blood seeping out, it wouldn’t have surprised her.

Because whether she’d wanted to or not, she’d fallen head over heels in lust with Vale the day she’d come to work for him eighteen months ago.

Eighteen months of the sweetest mix of pleasure and pain at working so closely with him and him never seeing her as anything more than a neurologist who shared his passion for finding a cure for Parkinson’s disease. Which was for the best, really, since a one-night stand, which was all he ever seemed to do, would only destroy her career with Wakefield and Fishe Neurology, Inc.

“This isn’t up for debate. I’m not going to your cousin’s wedding.” She really wished he wasn’t standing so close. So close she could make out the darker blue rim surrounding his vivid eyes, so close she could smell the musky scent of his aftershave, so close she could press her body to his with only a step forward.

Gee, if she stripped naked, would he even notice she was a woman? Or would he just frown, tell her to get dressed, they had more brain mapping to do? That her attraction to him was simply her olfactory mucosa sensing the overly abundant androgens he emitted, causing her cortisol levels to skyrocket, and that was why she wanted to lean in and press her lips to his throat?

“You already have plans this weekend?” he pushed. Just as she should have known he would. The spoiled little rich boy in him couldn’t stand to lose, not get his way. Her fate had been sealed before the conversation had started.

“Somewhere you are supposed to be that you can’t attend with me?” His eyes pierced her, seeming to know the truth without her having to answer.

She wanted to lie, wanted to say that some gorgeous man was anxiously awaiting Friday evening so he could whisk her off her feet, wine her, dine her, make her Cortisol level go through the roof, and show

her the time of her life.

“I don’t have specific plans—” unless cleaning her apartment and walking Yoda, her miniature poodle, counted “—but that isn’t the point.”

His expression brightened. “Of course it’s the point. You don’t have specific plans. I need you to accompany me to Cape May. We’ll review the latest data from Brainiac Codex while we’re there and make the weekend a working one so it won’t be an entire lost cause. It’ll be perfect.”

“No, it won’t be perfect. I do not want to go with you to a wedding in Southern New Jersey.” Neither did she want to spend her weekend reviewing the computerized brain-mapping research they were conducting. Yes, she loved her job, but she’d actually thought that with him out of town for the weekend she’d have some time to herself for once.

Why was she bothering to argue with him? Why did she think she could dissuade him when he’d set his mind to something? No one could, least of all her.

Still, she stubbornly held on to her pride. “No. No. No.”

“Don’t you like weddings?” Creases marred his forehead. “What am I saying?” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “All women like weddings.”

Maybe in his world, but not hers. “Not this woman.”

His brow lifted and she knew she’d said the wrong thing, revealed too much. Stubborn was one thing, stupid quite another.

“Why not?” he asked, as if she’d tell him about just how many weddings she’d been to as her mother’s maid of honor. Obviously one too many as just the thought of going to another made her histamine concentration double. Any moment she’d break out in hives. She scratched an already itchy spot on her neck.

“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.

Because she was working. Vale had seemed intent on occupying every second of her time this week. Worse than normal. To keep her from having time to come up with an excuse not to accompany him this weekend?

She, Vale, two neurosurgeons, two neurophysiologists, and a couple of

research assistants working on the Parkinson project were spread out around the twenty-seat cherry table at one end of Vale’s office. Despite the long hours they’d put in every night that week, they’d barely made a dent in the pile of work to be done before they tested the hypothesis in the operating room. Although deep-brain stimulation therapies had been in use for years, with the new data from the Brainiac Codex, the hope was that the new device would relieve the tremor associated with Parkinson’s. If successful, great strides in the treatment of the debilitating disease would be made.

She wiped her hand across her face.

“Something wrong?” Vale leaned in and whispered next to her ear, his warm breath making the tiny hairs on her nape stand at attention.

She glanced his way, wondering where he drew his boundless energy from, wondering how nothing ever fazed him or made him lose his infamous control. He’d work all day, most of the night, and still have photos of himself and some beauty queen appear in the papers when he’d hit a late-night club or fancy restaurant.

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t solve.” True. She hadn’t slept well since he’d told her she was going to Cape May. Plus, no way was she going to tell him that her mind was wandering from the data they were poring over to thinking about what she was going to wear at his cousin’s wedding. No way would she risk losing the respect she’d fought so hard to gain.

Unfortunately, he didn’t look convinced by her answer, studying her with eyes too intelligent for his own good. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She glanced at her watch. A little after seven. If they finished up within the next hour, maybe she could swing by a dress shop and pick up something new to lift her confidence at spending the weekend with Vale’s glitzy family. She looked around at the room full of researchers who were settled in for the long haul and bit back a sigh.

“Got a hot date?” “What?”

He’d spoken low, for her ears only, but her response came out as a squeak that had several pairs of eyes glancing their way and just as quickly going back to their work.

“That’s the third time in the past fifteen minutes you’ve looked at your watch,” he pointed out. “We must be keeping you from something important.”

Again Vale spoke low, but Faith’s ears burned. Was everyone trying to look as if they were ignoring them or were they truly so absorbed in their work? Marcus Fishe was the only one whose gaze lingered on them. Faith quickly looked away from Vale’s partner’s curious eyes. Although Marcus’s focus within the clinic was geared more toward issues with multiple sclerosis, he’d jumped on board with the Parkinson’s project in the hope that the brain-mapping data would lend itself to other treatments.

“My work is important.” Determined to keep her mind absorbed on her work and not on the fact she’d be spending her weekend with Vale, Faith highlighted an abnormal signal recording from the basal ganglia to the motor cortex on the patient profile. “I’ve still got to pack for this weekend, and I’d hoped to … Never mind.”

There was no reason to tell him she’d hoped to go shopping, to spend time with Yoda, to have a break from Vale to recharge herself prior to attending the wedding.

Setting his ink pen down, he continued to study her in a way that made her feel as if she’d grown an extra nose on her face. “You did get the itinerary from Kay?”

“Yes, your head nurse slash assistant is as efficient as ever.” She liked Kay, thought her brighter than many of the clinic’s more educated personnel, including a few of the neurologists and surgeons. “The itinerary seems standard. Rehearsal tomorrow night followed by dinner, Saturday pre-wedding activities, the wedding ceremony, and then the reception with champagne, dancing, and a romantic sunset at the beach.”

He snorted. “I’ll warn you not to be fooled. There’s nothing standard about my family.”

“I wouldn’t expect otherwise.”

Vale rarely spoke of his family but it was impossible not to know about them as they were constantly in the press. His cousin Sharon had won Miss Pennsylvania a few years back, had gained notoriety when

she’d posed topless for an exorbitant amount of money that she had then handed over to the New York City Widows and Orphans of Firefighters Fund, and had then been promptly de-crowned. Another cousin was a congressman. Another a senator. Vale’s mother headed so many charities it was impossible for Faith to recall them all. His father had built a real estate empire prior to his death in Vale’s teens. Apparently all Wakefields were over-achievers, the one grinning at her no exception.

“Oh?” His eyes glittered with amusement. “What do you expect?” Her and her big mouth.

“I just meant that you’re a highly successful man with good genes,” she whispered, casting a leery glance around the quiet group at the table. Yet again, Marcus was watching them. Great. She glared at Vale. “Surely that trait must run in the family?”

“I’ll let you decide for yourself tomorrow night.” Leaning close, he flashed a wickedly dangerous smile. “I have good genes?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t need me to answer that. You know you do.”

“Right.” His grin widened.

Face burning, ears roaring, Faith resumed an intent study of the brain wave data she held, resisting the urge to glance at her watch again or to sneak a peek at the man sitting next to her. She could feel his gaze searing into her with the power of hot metal slicing into butter.

Two hours and several cups of coffee later, Faith rotated her neck, trying to work out the crick that had developed while studying the last patient profile for some missed detail, as they narrowed their choices on who met their study criteria for surgical implantation of the device.

So much for her shopping trip before heading home. And poor Yoda. Another late night with Mrs. Beasley. Before long her baby was going to think he lived at the elderly neighbor’s apartment rather than with Faith. Especially as the cream-colored poodle would be spending the weekend in Mrs. Beasley’s care, too.

Much later, Vale pushed the stack of patient brain-mapping profiles away from him, surprising her since they’d not made it through the rest of the stack. Although all of the others had left a little after nine, she’d

already surmised she and Vale wouldn’t leave before midnight.

“I’ve had enough.” He stretched his arms above his head, drawing her gaze to how his shirt pulled taut over his chest.

She quickly glanced away, looked down at her watch. Maybe she’d have time to shop yet. She sighed. Maybe not.

The nicer dress boutiques would all be closed. Great.

She’d just wear the black cocktail dress she’d bought for last year’s Christmas party. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of wearing black to a wedding, but with its skirt flared at the hem the dress would do in a pinch and was the closest thing she had to appropriate wear for media darling Sharon Wakefield’s glamorous wedding. As far as the reception, she’d make do with whatever she could find in her rather boring closet.

“Will he still be waiting?” She blinked at Vale. “Who?”

His blue eyes darkened. “Whoever I’ve kept you from.”

He almost sounded as if he’d intentionally kept her at the office. Actually, when the others had left and she’d started to stand, he had asked her opinion on a patient report he’d just read, ensuring she’d stay on to read the profile.

Had he intentionally kept her there? What possible reason would he have for doing so?

She took a deep breath, telling herself she was tired, imagining things, but for once gave her boss a flippant answer. “Regardless of how late you keep me, he’s always glad to see me.”

She wasn’t lying. Not really. But, seriously, she expected Yoda not to know who she was if she didn’t start spending more time with him. Thank goodness for their nightly snuggles and early morning walks.

“Maybe you should go ahead,” he suggested, his dark eyes unreadable. “I’ll finish these.”

He was staying? Telling her to go on? Was he testing her? Seeing how dedicated she was to her career?

“When you said we should call it a night, I thought you meant both of us. I don’t like the thought of leaving you here alone.”

Leaning back in his chair, he laughed. “Do you think I can’t take care of myself?”

No matter how she tried she couldn’t keep her gaze from lowering, from tracing over the strong lines of his neck, over the tanned V of skin exposed where he’d removed his tie and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons, down his broad shoulders that his tailored shirt accented, down his forearms bared where he’d rolled up his sleeves. And his hands.

Lord, how she loved his talented hands.

Tanned, strong, long-fingered, ring-free. She particularly liked that last part, although eventually he’d marry one of the beauties he bedded. Then what? Would she be able to continue working with him, knowing how she dreamt about him, knowing he belonged to someone else?

That question was one that crept into her mind from time to time, filling her with panic, filling her with the dreaded knowledge that some day she might leave Wakefield and Fishe.

She lifted her gaze back to his, was startled to look into smoky blue eyes filled with awareness.

Awareness that she’d looked at him not as his employee, not as a fellow physician, but as a woman with real needs.

What was wrong with her?

She swallowed, trying to clear her throat, trying to buy herself time while she racked her brain for something to say that would defuse the situation.

Only, she didn’t know what to say.

Regardless of how much his awareness scared her professionally, as a woman, the flicker of interest in his eyes set light to a hope that threatened to consume her very soul.