Flirting with the Society Doctor

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.”

His brow rose. “Yoda?”

“My dog.”

“You have a dog?”

“Yes, a miniature poodle.”

“A miniature poodle?” His nose curled with unpleasantness. “Not much in the way of protection.”

“You’d be surprised. Yoda might be small but he has the heart of a lion.”

He smirked. “You’re not one of those women who puts clothes and bows and such on her pet, are you?” Faith didn’t answer.

He burst out laughing. “You are, aren’t you? My little miss organized neurologist plays dress-up with her dog.”

She took a deep breath. “Yoda happens to like his Darth Poodle pajamas.”

Vale snorted. “May the force be with him, because he’s going to need all the help he can get when the other dogs who still have theirs get through with him.”

“Yeah, well, other than Miss Cupcakes, Mrs. Beasley’s female Chihuahua, Yoda doesn’t spend a lot of time around other dogs. He’d like to, but I’m always at work and Mrs. Beasley’s idea of a walk is to the end of the block and back for potty breaks.”

He glanced toward her. “I’m sensing some latent resentment. Are you telling me you’re working too many hours?”

“I am working too many hours.” What was wrong with her? Why was she telling him this? Eighteen months she’d busted her butt without a single word of complaint. Eighteen months she’d gone above and beyond whatever needed to be done just to impress him.

What had they highlighted her hair with? Truth serum?

Or was his kiss what had loosened her tongue?

“Which is why we should forget the Parkinson project for the weekend and just enjoy ourselves. The rest will be good for both of us, will have our minds refreshed when we return on Sunday,” he mused, not looking at her. “Too bad we didn’t bring Yoda with us. He might have gotten a chance to show off his fancy duds on the beach.”

Faith’s gaze narrowed in his direction, not that he noticed as he was watching traffic and not her. “Quit making fun of my dog.”

“If you put clothes on your dog, you have to expect him to be made fun of. By real men and real dogs.”

“I expect no such thing and Yoda is a real dog. The best dog. The sweaters are to keep him warm.”

“And here I thought that’s what fur was for.” He shot a horrified look her way. “You didn’t shave him, did you?”

“No.” Taking an exasperated breath, she shook her head, pursed her lips at him. “I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work.”

He had the audacity to glance at her, all innocence and good looks. “What isn’t going to work?”

As if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

“What you’re doing.”

“Which is?”

“Trying to get me flustered about the dog so that I will forget to make my case regarding this not being a working weekend.” She fixed him with a determined glare. “This is a working weekend, Vale.”

Changing lanes on the parkway, he passed a slower car. “What’s wrong with us just having some fun?”

Was he kidding? “The only reason I’m here is because this is a working weekend.”

“That’s not true. I asked you to accompany me this weekend because my mother was determined to parade every single female at the wedding in front of me in the hope I’ll not be able to resist making a walk down a long aisle to a short-noosed rope.” He pulled off the parkway, zipped through the EZ Pass lane at the toll booth, and headed toward downtown Cape May. “With you by my side, she’ll leave me alone. I can spend time with my family without having to call out the National Guard.”