Page 9 of On His Knees

“Of course. We can’t have you going outside in that dress.”

The doors open and he leads me into the exquisite lobby. Raydolins is a pretty top-notch resort, so I’d imagine the fine dining restaurant must be pricey. He puts his hand on the small of my back again and guides me across the wide expanse of marble flooring. Heat sizzles through me at his touch, and I try not to appear as flustered as I feel.

We step through the doors to the restaurant, and I take in its opulence. “Tate,” I begin quickly. “We don’t have to eat here.” Jeez, how do I say this without offending him? He wants to take me out to dinner to a nice place, but I don’t want it to empty his bank account.

“You don’t like it?” he asks.

“No, it’s beautiful, I just...” To be honest it’s a little out of my element. Deep down I’m just a simple girl from Brooklyn and I don’t want this man to think he has to wine and dine me to impress me. I’m good with a cheeseburger and Coke. I might even prefer it.

He leans into me, puts his mouth close to my ear and whispers, “If you don’t want to stay...” he says, looking and feeling far more comfortable in this swank restaurant than I do. He actually looks like he belongs here, like he wants to be here.

“No, I do,” I say. If he wants to stay, we stay.

“Anything you want, Summer. Just say the word.”

What would that word be, please?

My brain spins, buzzing like a fine wine, as his low, sexy voice travels down my body, hitting every erogenous spot along the way. I tremble. Almost violently.

Tate’s brow furrows. “Maybe we should run back upstairs and grab you a sweater.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine,” I lie. I’m far from fine because the thoughts of running upstairs with him sounds appealing. Except I don’t want to go back to my room to put more clothes on. Quite the opposite, really.

When the hostess arrives, Tate says something I can’t hear. The waitress laughs, and her face lights up in admiration. She touches Tate’s arm, and I sense the familiarity between them. I guess working here, the staff all know each other and probably hang out. Heck, they probably all live together in the staff’s quarters.

We’re led across the restaurant, and a few heads turn to Tate, give him a nod of acknowledgment. I guess he’s well known, even with some of the guests. The hostess takes us to a table with a spectacular view of the mountains, as nice as my penthouse view. I stare at Tate, and wonder how exactly he managed to arrange this.

“You’re right, you do have some pull,” I say as we’re seated.

He grins, and smooths his hand over his tie. I angle my head, the gesture so familiar to me. James does the same thing, even when he’s not wearing a tie.

“Told you,” he says, but not in a show-off way. Just then the server stops by.

“I’m Justin. I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you both off with some drinks?”

Tate turns his attention to me. “Summer, what would you like?”

“White wine, please.”

The muscles along Tate’s jaw twist, and he goes quiet, like he needs a minute to compose himself. He scrubs his chin, and the bristling of his fine hair is like silk being dragged across my nipples.

“A bottle of your best,” Tate says.

The waiter nods. “Thank you, Tate. I’ll give you a minute to look over the menu, and I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“Does everyone here know you?”

“Pretty much,” he says, and opens his menu.

I do the same, and nearly swallow my tongue when I see the prices. Even on a new doctor’s salary, these prices are a bit steep for me. Fortunately, the salmon costs the least and sounds the most appealing. I close my menu and glance at the crystal chandelier above us, take in the amazing view outside. The hill is lit up under the star-studded night sky, and off in the distance I hear children laughing. The sound brings a smile to my face.

“Something funny?” Tate asks, and I turn my attention back to him as he sets the menu down.

“No, I just... I love this view. I’ve never seen anything like it actually.”

“No? Where’s home?”

“I’m originally from Brooklyn,” I say, an invisible band tightening around my heart as my thoughts go back to the old apartment I shared with my late father. God, I miss him. If it weren’t for Amber and Cara, I’d be all alone in this world. Sure, I have my patients, but that’s not quite the same. “How about you, where do you call home?” When he arches one eyebrow, I laugh. “Right, St. Moritz.”

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