Page 27 of On His Knees

I fix the clip in my hair as he reaches for his pants, the napkin he’d stuffed in his back pocket falling to the floor. We both glance down and I see a hotel name and room number. I look away. Goddammit, I don’t want him to see my jealousy and get the wrong idea about what I want from him. We live completely different lives and this can’t be more than a fling to me, albeit a wonderful, hot, dirty fling that will fill my thoughts for the long New York winter I’m going to go back to.

“Hey, Summer,” he says, as he bunches up the napkin and tosses it into the garbage.

“Yeah.”

“One week,” he says as he puts his palm o

n my face and draws my eyes back to his. “You and me. No one else.”

CHAPTER NINE

Tate

MY ROOM IS still dark when I roll over in my bed and reach for Summer. When my hand comes up empty, I open one eye and stare at the threatening clouds moving across my skylight. A quick check with the clock and I open my other eye. Jesus, I haven’t slept in until noon since I was a kid. I stretch out as memories of last night’s sex-a-thon, as well as this morning’s sweet, sweet lovemaking, infiltrate my brain and put a smile on my face.

Lovemaking?

What the fuck? No, it’s just sex. The best sex of my life, but sex nonetheless.

And it shouldn’t even be that.

I let out a frustrated breath as it sinks in how far I’ve strayed from my original plan. I’m supposed to be here for Granddad, not myself. I don’t know what came over me when I suggested a weeklong fling. Well yes, I do. It was Summer. Everything about her draws me in and makes it impossible for me to resist her. I can’t deny how good it is between us, and I’m starting to give up trying to.

I’m not supposed to be sleeping with her, but a fling could still work in my favor. Keeping her close might be my only chance to figure out what’s really going on. Does it make me an asshole, to use her like that? Maybe...but if she’s using Granddad, too, does it matter? Yes, it does, a small voice in me says.

I run a hand through my hair, sitting up in bed. I flew to St. Moritz for one reason, and one reason only. Protect the family from a con.

She doesn’t seem like a con.

While one part of me wants to believe that, there’s the other part that reminds me Granddad is signing half his estate over to her. James Carson may be generous but he’s also whip-smart in business and money management. He’d never just sign all that away, then give me the run around when I try to find out why—not unless he was coerced somehow...or seduced. Add that to the fact that Summer, no matter how nice she seems, is secretive. She has no social media presence and she’s been vague about her work, and who she really is. And what did she mean the other night when she said she’s not the marrying type? Does she move around a lot? Change identities or something like that? None of it makes sense to me yet, which is why I have to hang out here longer.

But I can’t get too involved, no matter how confused I’m getting about who she really is.

I glance over, see the indentation on her pillow and that’s when I remember why she’s not snuggled beside me. She had breakfast plans with her friends, and then they were heading into town to do some shopping.

I push from the bed and check my phone. Still no call from Granddad. Worry gnaws at me, but he has at-home care, so I have to assume he’s okay. That nurse would’ve called if he’d taken a turn for the worse...right? Christ, maybe I never should have come here. I think about calling my dad, to see what he knows about the situation. But I don’t want to bother him while he’s on his honeymoon. I rake my hands through my hair. It’s getting so long it’s driving me crazy. Maybe I should visit one of the barbers in town this morning and get it trimmed.

I open my messages, answer a few from my receptionist, Helen. Once done, I hit up social media. I should have asked Summer the last names of her friends, to see if I could search them. I do another Google search for Summer Love, and numerous women show up. I scroll through them again, but the girl I’ve been sleeping with is a no-show, and none of these women compare. I continue to scroll and up pops a website. I glance at the link, which has Summer’s name, followed by the word practice and what looks like a bunch of spam. I click on it anyway and jackknife up in the bed when a picture of Summer pops up. Well, technically it’s not Summer, but it is her face photoshopped onto a naked body. What the hell? She’s obviously been hacked. I can’t imagine she’d do this on purpose, but what do I really know about her, and why would she have her own website? There’s no information on the site to explain this, just the picture, I make a mental note to keep checking for updates.

I check the time on my phone again, and punch in Granddad’s number. It rings and rings and rings, then goes to voice message. I leave a message telling him he needs to call me, it’s important, then slide my finger across the screen to end the call. I jump from bed, bare naked, and make my way downstairs to the main level. The fire is burning bright, and I smile. Summer must have fed it before she left. That was thoughtful of her.

My stomach grumbles, and I’m in desperate need of coffee, so I shower quickly, dress and head outdoors. I stop to grab a bite at my favorite café before I head to the bar. I don’t really have to work, now that I’ve connected with Summer, but I guess I still have to maintain my cover. That, and with Winterfest upon us, it’s one of the busiest times of the year. Henry appreciates my help, that’s for sure.

I hurry to the bar and find it bustling. “Henry,” I say, and greet him as I go down the hallway to the staff’s lounge. I pass by the storage room and memories bombard me. I laugh. Summer has a sweet nature about her, so her seducing me here at work, well, that was quite the pleasant surprise.

I shrug out of my coat, tie a bar apron around my waist and meet Henry, Jaquelin and Luca at the long bar. “Place is packed,” I say.

Jaquelin sidles up to me. “Floor or bar?” she asks, and puts her hand on my arm, a suggestive gesture.

“Doesn’t matter. Take what you want,” I say, and already realize my mistake.

She gives me a coy grin, goes up on her toes, puts her hands on my shoulders and says, “After work, my quarters. I’ll show you what I want.”

“I, ah... I’m kind of with someone,” I say, and glance around the bar, hoping Summer isn’t witnessing this.

“I’m into sharing,” Jaquelin says.

“I like you, Jaquelin, but I’m a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy.”