Читать книгу On His Knees - Cathryn Fox - Страница 11

I GLANCE AROUND the busy bar, the thick scent of cigar and perfume clogging the air as I take in the sea of people milling about. Most are talking about the trails they skied today, or worrying about the storm that’s supposed to hit midweek. I’m hoping I’ll be out of here by then, back in Manhattan, no longer worrying about my grandfather getting taken advantage of by Summer Love.

I may have put this plan together quickly, but before following through with it, I tried calling Granddad to ask once more about Summer. Again, I didn’t get any straight answers from my grandfather, who has swung between acting like a moony teen and being purposefully evasive on this topic. This isn’t like him, and if I can’t rely on him for information, I need to get it myself.

Honestly, he’s always been a generous man, always loved younger women, but something about this whole situation just isn’t right, and I’m not so sure I can blame it entirely on his mental deterioration. I visited him last summer, before he got sick. Since getting pneumonia last month, he lost his sharpness but two days ago, when he dropped this bombshell on me, there were times when he seemed like his young self, quick with a response, his mind as bright and agile as I remembered.

Truthfully, when I was little, I thought he’d live forever, but I guess age and frailty catch up with all of us, eventually. Guilt niggles at me for up and leaving him, right after returning home. I fibbed and told him I had some urgent out-of-town business. I guess it wasn’t that much of a lie. He waved me off like he wanted me to go, telling me he was fine, that he had in-house care every day and didn’t need me fussing.

I reach into the fridge behind me and grab an imported beer, then glance at the door to the bar. I’ve been watching it for the last hour, but Summer has yet to arrive with her friends. Maybe she changed her mind and isn’t going to come. Disappointment takes up residency in my gut. Not because I want to see her again, to continue our flirting and easy banter from earlier, but because I need to get close to her, get her into my bed, prove she’s only after my Granddad for one thing. Not that I plan to carry through with the seduction. No, I just need to strip her bare and expose her for the con she really is.

I uncap a beer and slide it across the smooth mahogany bar top, before turning my attention to the next customer. As I take his order, I glance over his head to keep one eye on the door. I can definitely see what Granddad sees in Summer Love. She’s gorgeous, and has a sweet, almost innocent quality about her. It might be all an act, but dammit if that doesn’t bring out the protectiveness in a man—at least in the Carson men. Since Dad is okay with the arrangement, it sounds to me like he’s fallen for her charm, too.

I, of course, am not about to be lured in by her, not in a million years, but Jesus, when I put my arms around her, felt her soft body against mine, I almost got derailed and forgot why I’m really here. But when it comes to her, there’s a line I have no intention of crossing. Not even when she whispered the word yes, all sultry and seductive like—okay, it’s possible I imagined the sultry and seductive part. My mind drifts once again, envisioning that one word on her lips when I have her naked, beneath me in bed, my cock sliding in and out of her hot, sweet body.

Get your shit together, Tate.

You’re not here to sleep with the woman, you’re here to prove she’s not who your grandfather thinks she is. With that last thought pinging around inside my brain, and steering me back on track, I finish making a Manhattan, then glance at the door in time to see Summer enter. Her caramel hair is piled haphazardly on her head, and she’s dressed in tight jeans and a snug sweater that showcases one hell of a hot body.

My dick twitches.

I track their path to the back of the room—and I’m not the only one—to a coveted window table that just opened up. Once she and her friends are seated, I turn to Henry, the older gentleman who runs the place. The two of us go way back, to when I used to come here during my high school years. He’s much older now, a little rounder, with thinning hair. After explaining the situation to him when I arrived yesterday, he jumped at the chance to let me work the bar. Granddad was always good to Henry, was always a generous tipper, and gave Henry’s wife a damn good job managing one of the hotels. Most people around here would bend over backward for Granddad.

Would Summer bend over for me?

Shit. Don’t go there, dude.

“Hey, Henry, you want to take over the bar for a bit? I’ll take the floor.”

“Sure,” he says, and gives me an understanding nod.

I tug the cloth from my shoulder and slap it onto the counter, giving it a little scrub as I plot my next step with Summer. A drink is a great icebreaker, and since I promised her one, it gives me a reason to go to her and start up a conversation. If I could turn back time, I never would have grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. I shouldn’t have put my hands on her like that. It was a snap decision, a stupid one, because now, I can’t help but want my goddamn hands on her again. I clench down on my teeth, and whip up three strawberry daiquiris, taking a chance it’s their drink of choice, like most other snow bunnies, and set them on the tray. I wipe my hands on my apron and carry the drinks across the room.

“Hello, ladies,” I say, and all eyes turn to me. I hand Summer the first drink. “On the house, as promised.” She smiles up at me, and it messes with my equilibrium. My hands shake and the drinks on my tray wobble. I make a quick adjustment, and I’m able to rebalance before making a damn fool of myself. I hand the other drink to her blonde friend, and catch the way the men at the table beside me are staring at the three ladies, most focusing on Summer. Not that I can blame them, she’s the hottest girl in the room.

Her friend accepts the drink, and takes a sip, then nibbles on the straw. I hand the third woman a drink, and her lips twist into a grin.

“A daiquiri for copping a feel,” she says, and leans a little toward me in a conspiratorial way. “What would you give her if...you know...” She holds both hands out, and cups them. “You got an actual, full-on feel.”

“Amber,” Summer says, and whacks her friend. The slap reverberates through me, settles into my balls.

“Ouch.” Amber pulls her hand back, and her other friend laughs. Summer’s face is as red as her drink when she glances up at me. Something inside me softens as dark lashes blink rapidly over big mortified eyes.

“It’s okay. I hear lots of comments working in a place like this,” I say, brushing it off to put Summer at ease.

Amber looks me over. She must like what she sees because she bobs her head and makes a lip-smacking sound. Does Summer like what she sees?

Jesus, Tate. It doesn’t matter. You’re not here to sleep with her.

Why do I have to keep reminding myself of that?

“I bet you get lots of offers for lots of things,” Amber says, pointing a finger at me, and running it up and down.

I grin, and Summer clears her throat. “Tate, this is my friend Amber. Amber is obnoxious and doesn’t have any filters.” She points to her other friend, who is still nibbling on her straw. “This is Cara. She’s the nice one.”

“Hey,” Amber says. “I’m nice, too.” Without missing a beat, she turns to me. “So this friend you were looking for earlier. Was she your girlfriend?”

Summer opens her mouth, no doubt to yell at her friend again, but I hold my hand up to stop her. I turn to Summer. “No, just a friend.”

“Well then, I’m not so certain a drink for a grope is quite enough,” Amber announces.

“You’re right,” I say. I brace one hand on the table and lean into Summer. I catch her floral scent, and breathe her in. “Have you eaten?”

She sits up a bit straighter, my offer taking her off guard. “No, not yet. But I had plans—”

“I think I’m getting a cold,” Amber says, and nudges Cara as she fakes a cough. “I think I caught it from Cara.”

Catching on quickly, Cara coughs, too, and I can’t help but grin at her friends’ antics. If the circumstances were different I would probably really like them. “We’re going to skip dinner, and just get soup delivered to our room.” Amber takes a big sip of her daiquiri. “After I finish this delicious drink of course.”

Summer is staring at her two friends like she’s going to kill them. I touch her arm, to bring her attention back around to me, and she nearly jumps out of her chair.

“Sorry,” I say. “No touching. I get it.”

“No...no, it just surprised me.”

“I get off in a few, why don’t you let me buy you dinner.”

“You don’t have to buy me anything, and we can pay for our own drinks, Tate. Seriously, today was just an accident.”

She wants to pay?

Okay, I totally didn’t expect that. Then again, Granddad’s probably set her up with a nice bank account by now.

“What if I want to?” I ask. Summer’s breath comes a little faster, as she reaches for her drink and takes a long pull from the straw. “There’s a really nice restaurant at Raydolins with a great view of the mountains and lake.”

“I’ve passed by it,” Summer says. “We’re staying at that resort,” she adds.

Of course she’s staying at Raydolins. My granddad owns it.

“We got in late two days ago, so we haven’t had too much of a chance to explore the resort or visit the shops.” She reaches into her purse, her hand rustling around for something.

“Good, I can be your tour guide. So yes to dinner?”

“Um...sure.” She glances at her watch, dropping a ten-dollar bill onto my tray. I stare at it, confused for a moment. Ah, she’s tipping me. Surprise number two. “I can meet you there at eight, but do you think we’ll get in without a reservation?” she asks, her nose crinkling.

I give her a wink. “I’ve got a few connections, and I’ll pick you up at your door.”

She holds her hands up, palms out. “You can pick me up, as long as there’s no spinning involved this time,” she says, and I laugh. I have to admit, she does have a great sense of humor. Probably has Granddad laughing all the time.

“What room are you in?”

“301.”

“Penthouse Suite,” I say.

Why the hell would Granddad put her in the one place we always stayed, and never rented out. He must be more serious about her than I ever thought. Damn, this is going to crush him. But what choice do I have? I have to protect him. He’s not just family, he means the world to me.

“You know it?” Summer asks.

I nod, and push a rebellious lock of hair from my forehead. I’m normally clean cut, and it’s driving me crazy. I really should have visited the barber before I bolted to the airport. Then again, I guess the disheveled look works better with my ruse. “I know it.”

“Summer’s friend owns it,” Cara informs me.

I nod. “Like I said before, nice friend.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not her boyfriend, or anything,” Amber says and aims a wink Summer’s way, as if to say, not yet.

“After dinner, maybe we can hit the slopes?” I say, banking my anger and putting myself back together.

“Once on the hill today is enough for me.”

I glance outside, take in all the hiking trails. “Okay, I’m sure I can find something else for us to do.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Amber says, laughing.

Summer shakes her head at me. “Ignore her, please.”

Please.

What is it about her saying that one word that gets to my dick? I look at her lush mouth and for a brief second, I envision it wrapped around my thickening cock. Goddammit, the vision is ridiculously hot.

“Can I get you ladies anything else?”

Summer smiles up at me again. “No, thank you for the drinks. You didn’t have to do this, but I really appreciate it.”

I nod and walk away, thinking about all the other things I could give her that she just might appreciate.

Stop it, Tate.

I step back to the bar. Henry has a thin sheen of moisture on his forehead, and his breath is a little more labored as he gestures with his chin, and lowers his voice. “That her?”

“Yeah.” Worried that he’s been working too hard, I grab the glasses from the dishwasher and stack them on the bar, taking over for him.

Henry shakes his head. “Your grandfather must be having a midlife crisis.”

“If that’s the case than I guess he’s going to live to one hundred and eighty.”

He laughs. “At least he has good taste.”

“That he does.”

And therein lies the problem. Summer is breathtakingly beautiful, a girl I plan to expose, except suddenly exposing her—her clothes, that clip in her hair, her inhibitions—is playing out all kinds of wrong in my head.