On His Knees

On His Knees
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He’s out to expose her… But he’s baring it all! Gorgeous Summer Love is after Tate Carson's grandfather’s billions. And New York lawyer Tate will stop at nothing to prove she’s a fraud. Not even following her to glamorous St Moritz. But he never imagined falling under her sexy spell… And now, from his luxury chalet and her penthouse suite to the slopes of the snow-encrusted Swiss Alps, she’s exposing his every carnal desire—and maybe even his heart…

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He’s out to expose her...

But he’s baring it all!

Gorgeous Summer Love is after Tate Carson’s grandfather’s billions. And New York lawyer Tate will stop at nothing to prove she’s a fraud. Not even following her to glamorous St. Moritz. But he never imagined falling under her sexy spell... And now, from his luxury chalet and her penthouse suite to the slopes of the snow-encrusted Swiss Alps, she’s exposing his every carnal desire—and maybe even his heart...

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author CATHRYN FOX is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, aunt and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie), pizza and red wine. Cathryn lives in beautiful Nova Scotia with her husband, who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. When not writing, Cathryn can be found Skyping with her son, who lives in Seattle (could he have moved any farther away?), shopping with her daughter in the city, watching a big action flick with her husband, or hanging out and laughing with friends.

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On His Knees

Cathryn Fox


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08686-8

ON HIS KNEES

© 2019 Cathryn Fox

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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To my husband, a true romantic at heart. Love you.

“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.”

My grandfather curls knotted fingers around his crystal snifter, and holds the glass up in salute. Time-ravaged lines deepen around mossy eyes as he smiles at me. “As serious as a heart attack, son,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a long pull, draining the rich, amber liquid with one easy swallow.

I push from the ebony leather chair, shocked at the real reason my granddad asked me to stop by after a long week setting up my new office. Here I thought we were going to catch up, shoot the shit, reminisce about old times after I moved my law practice from Boston to Manhattan to be closer to him. But instead I find myself alternating between sitting and standing, pacing and pausing as his unexpected request pings around inside my brain.

Change my property title and deed half my billion-dollar Manhattan estate to Summer Love.

“She’s quite the looker, this one,” Granddad says, and picks up the Polaroid picture sitting on the mahogany side table in his study, one of the many nostalgic pieces he salvaged from the bygone gentlemen’s club where he once networked. I glance at the picture in his hand. Christ, he’s been grinning at it like love-struck teenager since I arrived thirty minutes ago.

Could he really be in love—with Summer Love?

And what kind of name is that anyway?

“What do you think, son?”

What I think is she’s a third his age. For Christ’s sake, she’s young enough to be his granddaughter. What the hell is going on inside that brain of his? I shake my head, as arthritic fingers hold the photo up higher for my inspection. I glance at the Polaroid, which showcases the left half of my grandfather’s face, and Summer Love from the chin up. I study her full pouty mouth, makeup-free face, big brown doe eyes and caramel hair piled haphazardly on the top of her head. Yeah, okay, she’s gorgeous in that fresh-faced girl-next-door way—which probably opens many



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