Читать книгу On His Knees - Cathryn Fox - Страница 11

“HERE GOES NOTHING,” I say, unable to hide the nervous edge in my voice as I look at the towering ski hill and wonder how I’ll get down it without breaking my damn neck.

“It’s just the bunny hill,” Amber says, as she tugs at her glove with her teeth, adjusting it around the cuff of her coat. “You’ll be fine. You did great during the lessons.” She nudges me to set me into motion, and I nearly tip over in my sturdy ski boots. Oh yeah, hurtling down the mountain on two waxed-up sheets of plastic is going to be so much fun, especially when I can’t even stand in my damn boots. Amber points to the ground. “Now get those skis on so we can catch up to Cara.”

I glance up to see Cara skiing toward the gondola, and resist the urge to throw my pole at her as she effortlessly glides across the snow. I love my girlfriends, I really do. They both grew up in the Hamptons and were best friends when I met them at Harvard. They brought me into their small circle when I arrived alone and nervous my freshman year—my first time being away from my father, and our Brooklyn apartment—and we’ve all been tight ever since. I’d do anything for them, which is why I’m currently standing at the foot of a very big ski hill in St. Moritz, one tumble away from concussion...or worse.

I glance around at all the other mountains. “Can we go tobogganing instead?”

“No,” Amber says, then slips her booted feet into her skis and snaps them in place.

“Why did I let you two talk me into this when I could be relaxing on a Caribbean beach?” I mumble as my breath turns to fog in front of my face.

Amber laughs. “Because our entire trip here was free.” She winks at me. “Compliments of your boyfriend.”

“James is not my boyfriend,” I say, and plant one hand on my hip, even though I know she’s teasing. It’s just that James is generous, and exceptionally good to me, always trying to lavish me with gifts and trips to show his gratitude for my care. Odd really, considering he’d gone through a slew of doctors, firing them for one reason or another. He took an instant liking to me, but I flatly refused this trip when he suggested it. My God, I still have so much to do to build my practice, and my new website was recently hacked. I cringe to think of the picture on display, that of my face sitting on top of a fake—naked—body. How mortifying. Thankfully Dan, the guy I hired to fix it, was able to wipe all the info from my site until he can get the picture down, so future clients won’t associate me with it. I should be home dealing with all those things. Then again, I can answer Dan’s questions from here as easily as I can from New York. So when James pushed, and pushed—even at ninety, the man is damn stubborn, his mind still sharp as a scalpel—and the girls begged me to say yes to this trip of a lifetime, I finally caved. I’ve been under so much stress lately—trying to build my practice, working part-time at the geriatric clinic and taking on private patient care for the extra money—that getting away was just what the doctor ordered, and since I’m the doctor...

“He’s my patient,” I say and stop to consider his ill health. I hated to leave him, especially after his last bout of pneumonia, but he assured me his grandson James was moving back home and would be there to care for him in my absence. Still, I asked a colleague to check in on him once a day.

“I know, I know, now come on. Let’s go pop your cherry. Like sex, skiing is fun once you get used to it.” Laughing, she takes off toward Cara, who is waving us over from the gondola line. I glance over my shoulder and consider sneaking back to the lounge. It’s only ten in the morning, but hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right? I exhale a defeated sigh, about to join my friends for my death ride, but stop when out of my peripheral vision I catch a movement, the shadow of a man running toward me. Catching me completely off guard, he grabs me from behind, and lifts me clear off the ground.

“Ohmigod,” I cry out as strong arms tighten around my waist, practically squeezing the air from my lungs. “What do you...” My words die an abrupt death when he spins me around, going faster and faster until I’m dizzy and completely disoriented. My brain wobbles inside my head, and I briefly close my eyes as he laughs, his breath warming the side of my face.

“About time you got here,” he says.

What the hell?

When he finally stops twirling me, and my feet are on solid ground again, I slowly turn around, my breath catching in my throat when I come face-to-face with the hottest guy I’ve ever set eyes on.

“I...um...think...”

I struggle to find my words when he steps back, and blinks thick lashes over gorgeous blue eyes that could melt the panties right off my hips, despite the cold temperatures here in the Swiss Alps.

“You’re not—” he begins, his brow furrowing as he gives a hard shake of his head.

Shocked, intrigued...aroused—despite my spinning brain—I work to focus in on the six feet of pure testosterone standing before me. A wide smile splits his lips, showcasing perfect white teeth as he grabs a fistful of hair, and takes another measured step back to give me space. My gaze slides downward, lingering over broad shoulders that fill out his ski jacket nicely, to jeans that cradle his package to perfection. I study the curved outline of an impressive bulge. I’ve not been with many men, but my guess is this guy won the man lottery in more ways than one.

Stop staring at his crotch, already.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. My gaze jerks back to his as he holds his hands up, palms out, a nonverbal gesture that communicates his mistake. “I thought you were someone else.”

Still wobbly from the spin, I widen my feet to brace myself, and reach for something to hold on to before I face plant in the snow—in front of the hottest guy on the planet. I stumble a bit, and once again his arms are around me, invading my personal space and securing me to his firm body. Only this time we’re face-to-face. And oh, what an incredible face he has.

I lift my chin until we’re eye to eye. Damn I wish I was the someone he was looking for. “Sorry to disappoint you,” I say, surprised I can form a coherent thought as my lust-hazed mind struggles to work.

“Who says I’m disappointed?” he asks, his rich, low baritone curling through my body and arousing all my neglected girly parts. I take him in, my shaky gaze going from unruly dark hair that I want to run my fingers through, to a sculpted jaw covered in a light dusting of stubble—stubble that would leave burn marks on my naked body, if I ever found myself beneath him in bed.

And oh, how I want to.

His grin is back, doing the most ridiculous things to the needy juncture between my legs, when he says, “I’m Tate, by the way.”

Tate. The perfect name for the epitome of male perfection. As I think about that, wind gusts around us, blowing my hair across my face. I catch a few strands in my mouth. I sputter a bit, and swat at them with gloved fingers. How attractive must that look to him? Ugh.

He holds his hand up again and cocks his head. “Mind if I...”

Our gazes latch, hold, and the air around us charges with enough electricity to keep the gondolas running in a black out—for a month straight. I take a breath, work to keep it together, but everything about this man reminds me I’m a woman with needs, which shatters my ability to present composed.

“Please,” I say quietly. He pauses for a split second, like that one word means something entirely different, then he’s back in the moment, his rough fingertips brushing my cheek, lingering a second too long, before he pulls the strands free and tucks them into my hat.

Come on, knees. Keep it together. Just because six feet of sex-in-ski-jacket is touching you, doesn’t mean you have to weaken.

“I... I’m...”

Okay, Summer. You’re a Harvard educated physician. Find your words, already.

He angles his head, those astute blue eyes moving over my face, assessing me, as my body flushes. Heat curls through me and climbs up my neck. No doubt turning my cheeks a darker shade of pink. Will he think my flesh is wind-burnt, or will he realize it’s my body’s way of telling me it needs to get laid? Right now. By him.

I inhale, and little lightning bolts of electricity zing though my body when I catch his scent. Sun. Outdoors. One hundred percent hot male. Every bone in my body wants him. I honestly can’t ever remember reacting so strongly to the opposite sex before, but this guy, holy hell, he has me rethinking my stance on one-night stands. Or maybe one-week stands. Something tells me one night wouldn’t be enough to sample everything he has to offer. My mind races, the vision of him warming my currently chilled body beneath the sheets stirs the desire within me. I hadn’t planned to have a vacation fling when I arrived here two days ago, but now...

“Summer,” I say on a breathless whisper.

Tate frowns, and glances at the snow-covered hill. Then he turns back to me and gives me a look that suggests I’m a snow bunny with little going on upstairs. “Could have fooled me.”

“No,” I say. “That’s my name.” I don’t bother telling him my last name. While on vacation, I just want to be Summer, not Doctor Love. Ironic really, since Doctor Love can’t find love. But seriously, when guys find out I’m a doctor, it somehow intimidates them, scares them off. Just once in my life I want a guy to look at me as a woman—the way Tate is looking at me right now. Although there is something about him, something confident and powerful that says he wouldn’t be intimidated by anyone or anything. A fine shiver moves through my blood and settles deep in my core at that thought.

He takes my gloved hand in his bare one, and shakes it. “I know it’s probably a little late for a proper introduction,” he says, that sexy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth again.

I lift my chin. “You mean because of the groping?”

He laughs, and the sound awakens all my dormant parts. “I’m not sure I’d call it groping.”

“Then what would you call it?” I ask, surprised at my flirting. I was never very good at it.

He looks up to the left, like he’s thinking, then gives me a wink. “Maybe copping a feel?”

This time I laugh, but then I mentally kick myself for missing my chance to cop my own feel when he had his arms around me.

“I really am sorry.” He frowns. “I shouldn’t have touched you.” The sincerity edging his voice relaxes me.

“Don’t worry.” I give a wave of my hand to dismiss the incident. “I’m not going to report you.” Not only because it was an honest mistake, but because I damn well liked it.

He blows out a relieved breath. “Good. I need this job.” He lets go of my hand, and it falls to my side.

I glance at him again, admire his too longish hair, and athletic frame. “Ski instructor?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, I would have thought...” My words fall off as I let my gaze travel the length of his long, hard body. What would it feel like to have all two hundred pounds of him on top of me, or better yet, beneath me?

“Would have thought what?” he asks, his voice snapping me back to the present. God, girl, get it together. You’re acting like a sex-starved idiot. While that description might be fitting after meeting Tate, I certainly don’t have to act it.

“You’re just so fit and athletic.” Head tilted, I hold my hand out, wave it down the length of him. “I mean you look like a professional. Not that I know what a professional skier looks like,” I say. “This is my first time on a slope.” I glance toward the bunny hill, catch sight off all the children conquering it. “Those kids are going to put me to shame. Honestly, I don’t even really like heights. Couldn’t even look out the window during the plane ride.”

Okay, Summer, stop rambling.

“You’ve never skied before?”

I shake my head. “You seem surprised.”

“It’s just that...” His eyes narrow as they move down my body, a slow inspection that sparks something low and needy in my stomach. “You’re so fit and—”

“You can’t tell that,” I blurt out, and glance at my puffy white coat and snow pants. “I look like a big marshmallow.”

He grins, takes a small step closer, his scent once again surrounding me as blue eyes lance mine. “I love marshmallows.”

Omg, he’s flirting with me, too.

“And I would have thought you were a ripper, given your top-of-the-line gear,” he says.

“Ripper?”

“Ski slang for an accomplished skier.” He nods toward my clothes. “You’re dressed like one.”

I frown at the skis, boots, poles and clothes I’m wearing. They were in the penthouse suite waiting for me when I arrived, compliments of my generous patient. “A friend bought them for me.”

“Nice friend.”

“Very nice,” I say, and glance around. “So where’s this friend you were looking for?” Before I can stop myself, my gaze goes to his left finger. He’s smiling when my eyes move back to his, totally aware I was checking on his marital status.

Subtle, Summer. Real subtle.

He glances around. “I guess she’s not here yet.” With a nod he gestures toward my friends, who are staring at us. “Looks like your friends are waiting for you.”

I let out a slow breath. “They may have to get used to waiting for me this week.”

He grins, then says, “Listen, I really am sorry about grabbing you. Why don’t I make it up to you?”

The needy girl in me perks up, ready to suggest all kinds of ways he can make it up to me.

“I work the bar at Diamond’s Peak.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Just across the road. Come on by tonight, let me hook you and your friends up with a drink. It’s the least I can do.”

The least.

I twist to see my two friends grinning. “I, ah, should probably go. My friends.”

He holds his hands up, like he’s ready to grab me again if I should fall.

Oh, how I want to fall.

“No more dizziness?” he asks.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie. The truth is, after being in his arms, being subjected to that sexy, panty-melting grin of his, I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay again.