palm, closed her hand around the money. How his fingers lingered, how he wanted to hold her hand for real, surprised him. He forced his smile to stay in place despite his unhappiness with his wayward fingers, despite his confusion over what the hell was going on with his reactions to Faith.
âGo,â he ordered. âHave fun, and Iâll pick you up from your place.â
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âYep, Yoda,â Faith agreed with the yapping dog bouncing around at her feet while she studied her new image in the mirror, âI barely recognize myself, too.â
She couldnât believe the difference a decent hair cut, highlighting, and facial could make. A fairy godmother waving a magic wand and singing âBippity-boppity-booâ couldnât have conjured a more drastic transformation.
Faith hadnât had time over the past few years to worry about her appearance. Instead sheâd focused on studying for boards and becoming the best neurologist she could be. Then sheâd landed a dream job with Wakefield and Fishe straight out of school, an opportunity of a lifetime she wouldnât screw up.
So, no, her appearance hadnât been a priority in eons, if ever, but, wow, an afternoon of pampering could sure make a huge difference in the way a girl looked and felt about herself.
Or maybe it was the contacts burning her eyes that only made her think she was seeing such a difference.
Sheâd worn disposable lenses during high school and as an undergraduate, but during medical school sheâd gone almost exclusively to her glasses. Sheâd bought the contacts at her check-up a couple of weeks ago during lunch when Vale had been in a meeting with Marcus. But she hadnât taken time to even pull them out of herhandbag. When the make-up artist at the salon had complained about Faithâs glasses, sheâd surprised him by producing the sealed vials containing the lenses.
Then there were the clothes.
Clothes as in plural.
She hadnât wanted to spend Valeâs money, had felt guilty taking the cash. She could have found a way to slip the money back to him over the weekend. Perhaps she still would as she still wasnât comfortable with the thought of him paying for her shopping trip even if, in a way, he was right. It was his fault sheâd needed a new dress. She certainly wouldnât have gone shopping if he hadnât pressed her into accompanying him.
She hadnât just bought a new dress. Sheâd bought three. And new underwear that made her feel delectably feminine and a bit of a siren at heart. Really, would she like the black thigh highs and garter belt quite so much otherwise?
Then there was the daring bikini sheâd let the sales clerk talk her into, even though sheâd never have the nerve to wear the deep red triangles in public.
Sheâd also bought a few semi-casual outfits. She wasnât really sure what Saturdayâs schedule would require, but she felt prepared for whatever came up. Of course, sheâd had to drag out the largest of her suitcases to fit in all her purchases, but that was a small price to pay for being prepared.
Then again, maybe sheâd gone overboard and Vale would read her make-over as a desperate plea for him to notice her as he had the night before.
Was her make-over a desperate plea for him to notice her?
She winced. No, if he hadnât noticed her for the woman she was on the inside, she certainly didnât wanthim to notice her for changes to her outer appearance. Not that the changes were that glamorous, anyway. Not in comparison to the supermodels usually draped across Valeâs arms. Regardless, Vale wasnât interested in investing time with a woman. He got what he wanted and moved on. Next.
What he wanted from her was a working weekend where she played decoy to his motherâs matchmaking.
Still, sheâd be lying if she said she wasnât eager to see his reaction when she opened her apartment