by Cathryn Fox
“Why didn’t you just tell me about her, see if I might want to go on a date like normal people do, instead of setting up this elaborate story, and forcing me to fly to St. Moritz when I have work to do?”
“Would you have listened to me? Asked her out on a date?”
“Probably not, but—”
“Exactly.” He claps his hands loudly and hoots. “Summer wouldn’t have let me set her up either, without a little push. Probably too concerned about mixing business and pleasure. I knew that if I wanted you two to get together, I’d have to force you into it. But I also knew it’d all work out in the end. You’ve fallen for her, I can tell. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Granddad,” I say slowly. “I might have fallen for her, but now everything is all messed up.”
“Then go fix it, James.”
The phone clicks dead and I stare straight ahead, not realizing the driver has stopped in front of Raydolins.
I stare at the lobby and realize I have two choices here. One, I can leave without her ever knowing who I am, because the last thing I want to do is hurt her with the truth; or two, come clean and find a way to make her mine...forever.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Summer
CARA CALLED THE HOSPITAL, got the latest information on Henry, and I’m relieved to know he’s going to be okay. What I’m not relieved about is the way Tate found out I’m a doctor. Is he going to hate me for keeping that from him? Or will we just laugh it off? I’m not sure, but I do know we need to talk, which is why I’m heading to the lobby of my hotel, hoping he’s back at the bar by now.
The elevator stops and I step out. From across the wide expanse of marble, I catch sight of Tate rushing inside, dressed only in his work shirt, jeans and shoes. He took off so fast with Henry, he had no time to grab his winter gear. Our glances collide, and we hurry toward one another, but suddenly someone else gets to him first.
“Tate? Tate Carson—it is you. I knew I recognized you from the bar earlier. Hell of a thing to happen to that man, I hope he’s all right.” Tate looks at me over the man’s shoulders, and his face has gone pale. “How have you been? How is James? Still as sharp as ever at ninety, I bet.”
My feet stop moving, and my breath catches in my throat.
Tate Carson...is James’s grandson?
Wait, James told me his grandson was also a James, and that he’s a powerhouse lawyer. If that’s the case, why is he going by Tate, and bartending at the resort? The room spins before my eyes, and I grab the edge of a chair to hold on for the ride.
Since he didn’t go by James, or tell me he was a lawyer, there was no way I could’ve put this together. And yet, the signs were all there. Everything from the way Tate knew his way around my suite, knew how to open the latch, to the way he smoothed his hand over his tie, whether he was wearing one or not. Those things should have tipped me off, and in a sense they did, but it was too ludicrous to think they’d be related. But now, when I really look at him, the resemblance between him and James as a young man is crystal clear.
So why didn’t Tate tell me who he was? Was he slumming it with some random girl, having a little fun on his vacation? Is he even on vacation if he’s taking shifts at the bar? I am so confused.
He finally excuses himself from the man and stalks toward me. “Summer, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.
I shake my head. Honestly, I have no idea what to think.
“I never knew you were my grandfather’s doctor when I came here looking for you.”
I falter a little at that. “You came here looking for me?”
He reaches for me, but I jerk my arm free. “Yes, let me explain—”
My mind trips back. “When you picked me up and spun me that first day, it was me you were really looking for?”
“Yes.”
“You...you lied to me?”
He rakes an agitated hand through his hair. “Yeah, but I want to be honest with you. I want to tell—”
“We slept together, Tate. Or is that your real name?”
“It’s my name. James is my middle name, and that’s what my grandfather calls me, and I know your name is Summer Love—”
My head rears back. “So you knew my last name all along.” I shake my head, and strands fall from the clip.
“Yes, but I didn’t know you were my granddad’s doctor. Granddad showed me this Polaroid of the two of you.” He tugs on his hair and takes a few fast breaths. “Look, he set this all up. He was matchmaking. Some weird twisted way of trying to get us together.”
A sound gurgles in my throat. “I guess it worked, because yeah, were we ever together.” I laugh and it sounds almost manic. “Over and over again.” My stomach knots, twists, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sick.
He reaches for me again, and I shake my head no. His hand drops and he drives it into his jeans.
“He told me he wanted to sign half his estate over to you. I thought you were conning him. My mother was a gold digger...”
“And you just assumed I was, too. That’s great, Tate,” I say, doing my best to stay calm, when tears are pressing hard against the backs of my eyes. “And after you met me, you still believed it?”
“I didn’t know what to believe, but I had to do what I had to do to protect my grandfather.”
“And sleeping with me? That was to protect him? Or was that just an added benefit?” I draw in a shaky breath. “Get a little action from the bad girl gold digger from the wrong side of the tracks. Because that’s who you thought I was, right?”
He pounds his forehead. “Yes, no...”
“You’re no better than the self-entitled rich boy who lied to me, tricked me into thinking he was something else. Yeah, I’m a real cliché, but maybe that’s better than being an asshole.” I give a humorless laugh. Why did I go and fall in love with him? “You’d think I would have learned my lesson the first time, but nope.”
“None of this is coming out right, Summer.”
I blink repeatedly to prevent the tears from spilling. Never in a million years did I think Tate had come here with an agenda that involved me.
“No, I pretty much have it all figured out,” I say.
“I’m so sorry, Summer.”
“So am I.”
He puts his hands in and out of his pockets, and paces. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a doctor? I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.”
“No, you weren’t, and I do apologize for that. But I kept the truth about my career from you because I liked the way you looked at me. Most men are intimidated when I tell them what I do. I wasn’t being mean or malicious, Tate. Every other thing I told you was true. I was always honest and open during sex. I planned to tell you after we made love this afternoon. I mean after we fucked.” He winces at the cruelty in my voice. “But you got called into your fake job.”
“It wasn’t a fake job.”
“So the hotshot lawyer is a bartender now?”
“Why were you going to tell me, Summer?” He moves toward me, but I can’t be close to him right now, so I match his steps backward. “Why were you going to tell me this afternoon who you really were?”
“Because I thought we... Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
“I wasn’t going to sleep with you that first night. I really wasn’t. But when you seduced me, you were so sexy and beautiful, it took me to my knees.”
“Well, that’s good to know. It thrills me that you couldn’t resist my body, while you were trying to prove I was a con. That obviously changes everything, and maybe I should get on my knees for you, as a thank-you.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wait, please, none of this is coming out right.”
“No, I get it. I really do.” I look him straight in the eyes and it takes everything in me not to run to my room and cry. I square my shoulders
, collect myself. “Everything between us has been a lie. I get it.”
He angles his head, the fine lines around his face tightening when he says, “Not everything, Summer. You know that.”
My knees wobble. “I never want to see you again.” I turn and walk away, and it takes all my concentration to place one foot in front of the other. I’ll be damned if I stumble in front of him. I climb into the elevator and when the doors slide shut, I sink to the floor, a quivering mess of tears and grief as the elevator ascends.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tate
I PACE GRANDDAD’S STUDY, those astute blue eyes of his burning into my back as I walk around his desk and go to the window, a restless energy inside me that I just can’t shake. I scrub my face, the bristle scratches, and I glance down at my wrinkled dress pants and crooked tie. Christ, I’m a fucking mess.
“Stop moping,” Granddad says, the ice clinking in his glass as he takes a drink of brandy and then carefully places it back on the coaster.
“I’m not moping.” It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve returned home, and I’ve not heard a word from Summer, not that I expect her to take my calls, or come running to me with open arms. I hurt her, made her feel used, like those bullies from her youth. God, the last thing I ever meant to do was hurt her. She’s the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate woman I’ve ever met. Here I thought women like her no longer existed, and when I finally found one, I did everything wrong. I could be the poster boy for screwed-up good intentions.
“Come have a drink with me.”
“I don’t want a drink.” I look out on Sixty-Fourth Street below, search the crowd hustling down the sidewalk, their coats bundled as snow falls and dusts the ground. Many have boxes and bags as they shop for Christmas, but I’m dreading the holiday. The only one I want to kiss under the mistletoe is the one woman who hates me.
Well done, Tate. Well fucking done.
I step away from the window and stab my hands into my pockets as I walk to the bookshelf. The books bring my mind back to my years at Harvard. I scoff. Summer and I were probably there at the same time, for Christ’s sake. If only I had met her then, under different circumstances.
“I’m glad Henry is going to be okay,” Granddad says, changing the subject. “Good thing Dr. Love and her friend were there to take care of her,” he adds with a laugh.
Okay, so maybe he’s not changing the subject at all.
“Yeah, good thing,” I agree. A call from the nurse let us know there was no blockage. Henry will go on nitro as needed and after some much-needed rest, he’ll go back to work. Personally, I’d like to see him retire, but he actually loves what he does, and he treats us all like family.
Luca called me after I returned home, and he’s going to stay on and help Henry until they hire more staff; then he’s thinking about taking a trip here. I still have no idea why a man with a law degree is working behind a bar, and when it comes down to it, it’s not my business. I just know he jumped in when I needed him, and we hit it off. Upon my request, he emailed his résumé to Helen, and I think he’d be a good fit at my office.
My phone pings and I fish it from my pocket, but disappointment settles in my gut when I see it’s a text from one of my old college buddies. I swipe to dismiss it, not in the mood to talk about the upcoming reunion.
“That her?” Granddad asks, even though he knows it’s not. He just likes keeping her name on his lips and in my head.
“No,” I say.
Granddad coughs, and I eye him. He glares at me. “I’m fine,” he says, but I worry about his health so much. I love the man, despite his damn meddling, but I get why he did it. He’s been telling me for a long time now that I need to enjoy life more—because it’s short. I ignored him, so I guess he figured out a way to show me instead. And boy oh boy did he ever show me. At least Summer hasn’t totally given up on Granddad. She arranged for in-house care with a colleague, who relayed the message that Summer would return after she’d taken care of some things. She’s as pissed at Granddad as she is at me, but deep down she cares greatly about him, and in the end she’ll find forgiveness for him.
Deep down she cares about you, too, Tate.
Does that mean she’ll ever find a way to forgive me, too? Do I dare hope?
“She’s a real looker, isn’t she?” He holds up that beloved Polaroid he has of her and smiles at it.
“What were you thinking?” I ask, for the hundredth time. “Why didn’t you just introduce us like normal people do?”
“Where’s the fun in that, and you know you wouldn’t have given her the time of day outside the sack. I know what you’re like, son. You’ve got quite the reputation.”
I cringe. Jesus, I am so not about to talk about my bedroom exploits with my grandfather.
“This one’s a keeper though.”
I tug at my hair as I drop to the arm of the chair across from Granddad. “Yeah, well I screwed that up, didn’t I?”
Grandad’s head lifts slowly, and one corner of his mouth turns up in a coy grin. “You think it’s too late?”
I shake my head and smooth down my tie. “Of course it’s too late.”
“The man I raised isn’t one to give up so easily. Where the hell is he right now?” He laughs and says, “Maybe he froze his balls off in the Alps.”
Weary, I say, “I’m still that same man, Granddad, and my balls are just fine.” I take a breath, and try not to think about the day I froze them in the polar bear plunge and how Summer warmed them up afterward.
He waves gnarled fingers at me. “Then go get her, already.”
“She hates me. Thinks I’m an ass.”
“An ass, huh? Then that’s where you start.”
I glance at Granddad, and he has the sparkle in his eye again. What the hell is he up to now?
“You know what you have to do, son.”
I think about that. Honest to God, I’ve been miserable without Summer. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, and what I was to her was—an ass.
A total fucking ass.
My brain comes to a resounding halt and I pull myself up to my full six feet. That’s it. Grandad is right.
That’s where I start.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Summer
IT’S BEEN TWO LONG, grueling weeks since I returned home from the Swiss Alps. Life is back to normal, but I swear I’ll never be normal again. I fell in love with a millionaire, one who was pretending to be something else. Okay, I get that I kept my identity a secret, but that’s different, right?
Don’t go soft now, Summer. He hurt you.
I push away from my desk and think about something else. I glance at the stack of files that need sorting. Friday afternoons at the clinic always seem to be the busiest time of the week for some reason. No wonder I’m drained by now, as we’re about to close up. I guess the elderly want their checkups, so they can go into the weekend worry-free. Unable to help myself, my thoughts roam to James and my heart pinches. He’s called a few times but I’m not ready to speak to him after what he did. I’d never leave him high and dry though. My colleague is still caring for him until I’m ready to face him again. I just pray his grandson is nowhere around when I make my house calls.
I spin in my chair, ready to call it a night. I have a good book and a bottle of wine waiting for me when I get home. A sudden pang of loneliness hits. Dammit. How will I ever find my normal again after Tate Carson? I miss him. Goddammit, I love him. Heartache sets my chest on fire and I try to breathe past it, try not to think about all the fun things we did in St. Moritz. Despite myself, a smile tugs at my mouth when I remember the polar bear plunge. I glance at the brown envelope holding Tate’s badge for Most Entertaining. They gave it to me upon checkout and for some reason I can’t seem to throw the damn thing out.
My mind goes to the rope game we played, th
e way our bodies touched and teased, to the first night he took me in his chalet. Or rather James’s chalet. My lips tingle, remembering his sweet kisses, the mellow mood we were in when we made love in my suite after the hot tub. Warmth moves through me. Was I too hasty in walking away?
Forget him already.
I close my eyes, and memories of the kind, sexy, hot bartender play out like a slide show. He said not everything was a lie, but how can I believe that? Oh, maybe because of the way he touched me, cared for me and worshipped my body. Desire and need like that can’t be faked, right? When he took me that final night, he needed to brand me as much as I needed him to do it. How could any of that be a lie?
Have I made a horrible, horrible mistake? Letting past hurts haunt me, lumping Tate in with the likes of those cruel boys. Do I think he was as vicious? No, I don’t. More important, do I think he meant to hurt me? Maybe at first, when he thought I was something I wasn’t...but later on, after we’d gotten to know each other, no, I don’t think he would purposely hurt me.
Should I have given him another chance? When it comes right down to it, he was trying to protect his family, and that’s admirable. Can I really hold that against him?
The truth is, Tate fucked up. But so did I. I mislead him about my identity. Is an omission the same as lying? Maybe it is. It certainly might be to the lawyer in him.
I pinch my eyes shut, unsure of my next move. But there is one thing I do know, Tate and I need to have a conversation.
“Oh. My God!” my receptionist shrieks from the other room.
Fearing there’s someone in need of medical attention, I bolt from my seat and hurry into the waiting area.
“What?” I ask, when I find her backing away from the window, her jaw slack.
My stomach flips as I follow her gaze. I slap my hand over my mouth, when I see Tate’s face pressed against the glass. No wonder he frightened Tamara.
Making of fool of himself, he waves at us, and I take note of what he’s wearing—the same costume I forced him to wear in St. Moritz.