Seduced
Metsy Hingle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Jim, my husband, my lover, my friend

Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Prologue

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...”

Michael Grayson could barely make out the words of the muffled prayer as the priest’s voice broke and faded in the brisk January wind.

“We commend our sister to you, Lord...”

Sister. Michael swallowed as he caught the word. He stared at the coffin. Rose petals escaped from the floral wreath positioned nearby and scattered across the ivory casket, creating bright splotches of color in the bleak New Orleans cemetery.

“Now that she has passed from this life...”

He glanced down at his seven-year-old niece. Dressed in the navy blue wool coat and white leggings he’d purchased for her a few days earlier, Summer stood dry-eyed and silent beside him. A strong gust swept over the grave site and she shivered. Michael moved behind her to block the wind.

“May she live on in your presence, oh, Lord...”

Michael shifted his gaze to the waiting tomb...the dark, lifeless crypt where Sara’s body would soon rest.

Sara. His beautiful, free-spirited, younger sister. Michael squeezed his eyes shut. Images of Sara—laughing, painting, holding baby Summer in her arms—raced across his shuttered lids like frames from a movie projector. The pictures slowed, stopping on his last memory of Sara—her face filled with defiance and fear. She’d been afraid when she’d left. For Summer, for herself, for him.

After six long years she’d come home—in a coffin. And Summer... He opened his eyes and looked down at his niece. Summer had returned a stranger—to him and to the Western world.

“In your mercy and love, forgive whatever sins she may have committed...”

The attendants moved the granite slab away from the vault entrance. Michael took a deep breath. The ache that had taken root deep inside him when the call had come from India spread.

“Grant her eternal rest, oh, Lord...”

“Uncle Mike?”

At the tug on his hand, Michael looked down into a pair of familiar green eyes—eyes identical to those that had viewed him and his family with such coldness, eyes he’d learned to hate.

“Uncle Mike,” Summer whispered again.

Michael shook his head to clear the image. Guilt surged through him as he studied the pale, heart-shaped face of his niece. She’s a Grayson, he reminded himself, dropping down on one knee. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Who’s that lady?” She pointed to a tall woman standing across from them. “She’s staring at me.”

Michael looked past the circle of mourners and sucked in an angry breath as his eyes locked with Martha Winthrop’s. Even with the dark fur hat shadowing her face, he recognized the avaricious gleam in Martha’s green eyes. Regal in her full-length ranch mink coat, she gave no indication of her sixty-eight years or the heart of ice she possessed.

“Nobody important,” Michael said, slanting a glance to the slender blond man standing beside Martha. He watched as Bradley Winthrop leaned closer and whispered something to his aunt.

“She looks important. Maybe she was a friend of my mother’s.”

“No,” Michael said, his voice sharper than he’d intended. “She’s not a friend.”

Moments later the service ended. After thanking the priest and small gathering of friends who had come to pay their respects, Michael looked one last time at the tomb. Turning away, he took Summer’s hand and headed toward the waiting limousine. When he reached the car, the chauffeur opened the rear door. “Give me a minute,” he told the dark-suited driver, and the man obediently retreated.

Stooping down, Michael brushed a tangle of dark curls behind Summer’s left ear. “Honey, you do understand that your mother’s...gone, don’t you?”

“You mean, she’s dead,” Summer said matter-of-factly.

“Yes.” Once again, he marveled at the child’s calm acceptance of her mother’s death.

“Michael.”

Michael stiffened at the sound of Martha Winthrop’s voice. Slowly he rose to his feet and drew Summer to his side.

“I was sorry to hear about Sara’s accident.”

“Were you?” Michael asked, making no attempt to hide his bitterness.

Martha’s lips tightened, etching deep lines at the corners of her mouth, but her voice was cool, controlled. “Despite what you believe, I never wished your sister any ill will.”

“No. Not as long as she stayed away from your precious son.”

“If you’ll recall, I did offer to help her before she ran off.”

“You mean you tried to buy her off! And when that didn’t work, you used threats. If I had known—”

“That’s enough, Grayson!” Bradley took a step toward Michael.

“Stop it,” Martha commanded. “You’ll frighten the child.”

Bradley stilled, but his eyes flashed dangerously. Michael could almost smell the other man’s anger.

Martha glared openly at both men before turning toward Summer. “Don’t pay any attention to them, dear,” she said gently. “I’m Martha Winthrop and you must be Summer.” She held out her gloved hand.

Summer hesitated. She looked from Martha to Michael and back again. Tentatively, she shook Martha’s hand. “You were staring at me,” she said.

A flicker of surprise crossed Martha’s face. “Yes. I suppose I was.”

“Why?”

“Probably because I was so glad to see you again.” Martha stooped down in front of Summer and touched her cheek. “You were such a little thing the last time I saw you. You’re even prettier now than I remembered.”

“You know me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know my mother, too?”

“Yes, dear.” Martha smiled. “I knew both of your parents.”

She shot Michael a triumphant look and he fought the urge to strangle the woman.

“I’m hoping now that you’ve come home, you and I can become friends. Would you like that?”

Anger and the beginnings of fear raced through Michael. He grabbed Summer’s hand. “Come on, Summer. We have to go.” He ushered her inside the car and shut the door, then turned back to Martha. “I’m warning you. Stay away from her. There’s no place in Summer’s life for you or any Winthrop.”

“I have rights, Michael,” she whispered. Her voice dropped lower. “Or need I remind you that she’s my—”

“She’s a Grayson.” Michael took a menacing step toward her. “You may have been able to frighten my sister, but I don’t scare so easily. If you come within so much as a mile of her...” He shot a glance at Bradley. “Either of you—I swear, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

Before she could respond, Michael marched over to the other side of the car and jerked open the door. He slid onto the seat beside Summer. As they pulled away from the cemetery, he looked in the side-view mirror. He recognized the determination in Martha’s expression.

Gradually the figures grew smaller in the distance as the car moved slowly down the road. Curling his hands into fists, Michael looked over at his silent niece. Don’t worry, Sara. I’ll never let her have Summer. Never.

One

How did the kid do it? Michael wondered as he stepped inside the reception area of Saint Margaret’s Grade School. How could one pint-size little girl manage to get into so much trouble?

Quickly he took in the familiar surroundings—the wall lined with file cabinets, bulletin boards crammed with colored bits of paper, an ever-changing assortment of parents and students waiting to meet with counselors and teachers. He glanced over at the closed doors leading to the offices of the principal and the school’s administrative staff.

Bracing himself, he moved across the worn, beige tile and tried to ignore the annoying hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.

The silver-haired receptionist greeted him with a smile. “Can I help you?” she asked in a voice as thick and sweet as molasses.

“I’m Michael Grayson. Sister Mary Grace is expecting me.”

“I thought I recognized you, Mr. Grayson. You were here last week to see Sister Mary Grace, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.” The truth was, he’d been to the principal’s office four times in the six weeks since he had enrolled Summer.

“I thought so,” she said, obviously pleased at her recognitive ability. “You’re little Summer’s father.”

“Uncle,” he corrected. Impatient, he looked at the closed door to the principal’s office again. “I’d appreciate your letting Sister know that I’m here.”

“Of course, but I’m afraid she’s running a bit behind schedule today. She shouldn’t be too much longer, though. You can have a seat if you’d like.” She gestured toward the row of metal chairs positioned along the wall. Two chairs were occupied by students who looked a bit green around the gills. A third seat was taken by a woman resembling Florence Henderson on the old “Brady Bunch” sitcom who was busily chatting with a pregnant brunette.

Michael eyed the two remaining seats. They looked small and uncomfortable. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just stand,” he said, feeling extremely large and decidedly out of place.

“I guess you’re here because of Summer’s problem in Mrs. Green’s class this morning,” the receptionist said.

Michael snapped to attention. “What problem?”

Amanda Bennett winced at the edge in his voice as she watched the exchange from the doorway.

So this is Michael Grayson.

Amanda took in the crop of dark hair, the navy jacket that spanned his wide shoulders, the large hands braced on the reception desk. One of the younger teachers had described him as a “hunk... Six foot plus of muscle and sex appeal.” Seeing him for the first time, she could understand the other woman’s reaction.

“Oh, my.” The receptionist’s face turned a bright pink. “I assumed Sister Mary Grace had told you...”

“Told me what?” he demanded.

Obviously, the “hunk” had a temper, Amanda thought, frowning. She studied the stiff lines of his body, his thunderous expression. And Gracie expected her to persuade him to allow his niece to participate in the school’s counseling program?

“I mean, I thought that was the reason you were here...because of what happened.”

He loomed over the desk and glared at the receptionist; the woman paled under his ferocious scowl.

No, Amanda decided. Michael Grayson definitely didn’t look like the kind of man one “persuaded” to do anything. In fact, she suspected he did exactly what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it.

“Why don’t you just tell me exactly what happened,” he commanded.

“I—”

“Mrs. Evans,” Amanda said, stepping forward. “I believe Sister Mary Grace can see Mr. Grayson now.”

The other woman’s shoulders slumped in obvious relief as Michael Grayson swung his angry gaze from the nervous Mrs. Evans to her. At the sight of those flashing blue eyes, Amanda immediately wondered at her wisdom in rescuing the older woman.

His gaze skimmed the length of her and suddenly Amanda felt as though her tailored lemon suit was much too daring.

Dismissing her reaction as foolish, Amanda tipped up her chin. “If you’ll come with me, Mr. Grayson, I’ll show you in to Sister Mary Grace.” Without waiting for his response, she turned and started toward the principal’s office.

To Amanda, the few yards to Gracie’s office seemed like a mile with him walking behind her. She could almost feel his eyes trained on her back, watching her movements. She tapped on the door.

“I didn’t catch your name, Miss...”

Amanda turned to look at him and swallowed when she found him so close. She fought the urge to step back. “Bennett. Amanda Bennett,” she said, her voice more breathless than she would have liked.

“Come in,” Gracie called out.

Relieved at the prospect of putting distance between them, Amanda opened the door and entered the room. Michael followed.

“Mr. Grayson.” The tiny nun came bustling from behind her desk, a flurry of energy in a religious habit.

“Sister.” Michael shook her hand.

“I see you’ve already met Amanda,” Sister Mary Grace said.

“Yes, I have.” Cutting a glance to her, Michael smiled.

The simple movement of his lips—slight though it was— softened the harsh lines of his face, warmed the coolness of those blue eyes. Amanda’s pulse skittered in response.

“And of course, you know Mrs. Green.” Sister Mary Grace gestured toward the woman seated in front of the desk.

Michael’s smile dissolved immediately. “Mrs. Green.”

Yes, Amanda decided, confirming her initial impression. Michael Grayson was definitely going to be difficult. She could only hope that if he loved his niece as much as Gracie seemed to think he did, he would listen to reason.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Sister Mary Grace motioned to the chair beside Mrs. Green’s. When the nun had resumed her own seat, Amanda slipped into the chair adjacent to the desk so that she could observe him.

“I know how busy you are, and I appreciate your coming so quickly,” Sister Mary Grace began. “I wish all of our parents were as responsive as you.”

“Anything concerning my niece is important to me, Sister. What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem, Mr. Grayson, is that your niece insists on disrupting my class,” Frances Green informed him.

“Frances, please,” Sister Mary Grace admonished.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “And just how did she manage to disrupt your class this time, Mrs. Green?”

His voice was soft. Too soft, Amanda thought, noting the rigid line of his jaw.

“Well, for starters, she pretended to go into a trance in the middle of my lesson, and then she—”

“A trance?” Michael repeated.

“Not a trance,” Amanda corrected, noting the way his fingers had tightened around the arms of the chair. “She was meditating.”

“Call it whatever you like,” Frances Green countered, her too thin shoulders stiff with indignation. “All I know is the child kept staring off into space, pretending she couldn’t hear me.”

Michael gritted his teeth. He hadn’t thought it possible to dislike the sour-faced teacher more, but he did. “Maybe she didn’t hear you,” Michael offered. He certainly wouldn’t blame Summer if she had pretended not to hear the woman.

“Oh, she could hear me, all right. Why, if it hadn’t been for Amanda...”

Amanda?

Michael moved his gaze from Mrs. Green to the blonde, trying once more to place her name and face among those staff members he’d met at the last PTA meeting. He took in the waterfall of blond hair, the trim waist and long legs. She had great legs, he thought, unable to resist looking at them again. No, Amanda Bennett hadn’t been at the PTA meeting. If she had, he would certainly have remembered her.

“...And that awful humming sound she kept making,” Mrs. Green continued.

“Mantras,” Amanda explained.

He caught the New England accent again and his curiosity escalated another notch.

“Whatever,” Mrs. Green said. “All I know is that it gave me goose bumps.”

Pulling his attention back to Mrs. Green, Michael half listened as the woman droned on. He’d heard a similar tale last week when Summer had brought the talisman to school.

Frustrated, Michael wanted to demand once again that Summer be transferred to another class. But any such demand was pointless. Frances Green was the only religion teacher for the third grade. And if he wanted Summer to remain at Saint Margaret’s—and he did—she had to take the class.

“As I’ve explained to Sister Mary Grace, I have nothing against your niece, Mr. Grayson. But these disruptions she’s causing are affecting the other students.”

“I’ll speak to Summer, Mrs. Green. You have my word, it won’t happen again,” he assured her, biting back his frustration for Summer’s sake.

“Thank you, Frances,” Sister Mary Grace said. “You can return to your students now.”

The birdlike woman stood primly. “Thank you, Sister. Amanda.” She inclined her head toward him. “Mr. Grayson.”

Michael nodded, still too irritated by the woman’s lack of empathy to even speak. Didn’t she realize what Summer had been through? The death of her mother? The adjustments she had had to make? He swallowed. Hell, he still hadn’t gotten over the loss of his sister. And he wasn’t a vulnerable seven-year-old. He glared at the teacher’s retreating back.

“Don’t be too hard on Frances,” Sister Mary Grace said after the woman had left the room. “She really is an excellent teacher, and she cares about her students.”

“I’m sure you’d be a better judge of that than I would, Sister. At any rate, I’m sorry about what happened today. It’s my fault for allowing Summer to continue the meditation at home. Obviously that was a mistake. One that I intend to rectify.”

Amanda looked at Sister Mary Grace, then back at Michael. “Forgive me, Mr. Grayson. I realize this isn’t any of my concern, but given Summer’s background, do you think it’s wise to discourage her from meditating?”

“You’re right, Miss Bennett. It isn’t any of your concern.”

He heard the nun draw in a sharp breath and Michael realized he’d gone too far. But before he could apologize, Amanda was shooting back.

“That may be, but considering all that she’s been through and the adjustments she’s having to make, your taking a hard line on her meditation now could prove damaging.”

“You seem to know a great deal about my niece, Miss Bennett,” he said, suspicious.

“She and I spent some time together after this morning’s incident. We talked for a while.”

“I see,” he said in a voice that was deliberately calm. He didn’t like the idea of Summer being questioned by anyone, particularly about her background. Questions had a way of leading to more questions. And some questions were best left unanswered. “And based on a few minutes of conversation, you think you’re in a better position to judge what’s right for my niece than I am?”

She didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. “Perhaps I am. Perhaps not. But then, I hardly think six weeks as a guardian constitutes your being an authority.”

Michael frowned, wondering once more exactly who Amanda Bennett was and why she was so interested in his niece. “Obviously, Summer wasn’t the only one who confided in you.” He glanced over at the silent nun.

Before Sister Mary Grace could speak, Amanda rushed on. “I assure you, Sister only spoke to me out of concern for your niece.”

“Listen, Miss Bennett, I don’t—”

“Actually, it’s Dr. Bennett,” Amanda informed him.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Doctor?”

“Amanda’s a child psychologist,” Sister Mary Grace explained. “She works with some of the children here at the school. Naturally, I called her when Frances told me what had happened.”

“I didn’t realize Saint Margaret’s employed a child psychologist on its staff,” Michael said, making no attempt to keep the coldness from his voice.

“It doesn’t,” Amanda countered.

“Heavens, no,” Sister Mary Grace added. “Saint Margaret’s could never afford to pay for Amanda’s services. We’re simply grateful that she’s willing to give us a few afternoons each week.”

“That’s very admirable of you, Dr. Bennett.”

“Not at all,” she returned in equally cool tones. “Since I’m not yet licensed to practice in Louisiana, volunteering at Saint Margaret’s allows me to keep my feet wet while I study for the state exam. Besides, I find the work gratifying.”

“As Frances told you, Amanda was a tremendous help to us this morning,” Sister Mary Grace added. “She’s the one who brought Summer out of the meditative state.”

Michael cut her a glance. “It seems I’m in your debt, Dr. Bennett.”

“Not at all. I was glad I could help.”

“Given the circumstances, I took the liberty of discussing the problems Summer’s been having in school with Amanda,” Sister Mary Grace informed him. “I thought it might help to get a professional’s perspective. I hope you don’t mind.”

But he did mind—and very much. Forcing his voice to remain even, he said, “Sister, I know you meant well, but don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? I mean, just because Summer’s had a few problems adjusting to the school doesn’t mean she needs a child psychologist.”

“What would you consider reason enough?” Amanda asked.

Michael tensed. He could feel the muscle twitch in his left cheek. “To be honest, I can’t think of any reason Summer would need a shrink.” They certainly hadn’t helped his sister, he added silently.

Amanda bristled. She’d heard the term often enough, and there was no reason why having Michael Grayson call her by the unflattering name should bother her. But it did.

Sister Mary Grace sighed. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Grayson. I had hoped that perhaps with Amanda’s help, we would have been able to allow Summer to remain at Saint Margaret’s.”

Michael froze. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t Summer be able to continue at Saint Margaret’s?”

Amanda narrowed her eyes. What was Gracie up to? she wondered. She’d said she wanted help in convincing him to allow his niece to receive counseling. But nothing had been said about dismissing the child if their plan failed.

“Mr. Grayson...Michael,” Sister Mary Grace amended. “I had Frances Green speak to you because I wanted you to see what you’re up against. Saint Margaret’s has a rigid teaching structure bound in Catholicism. And as you know, Summer’s been exposed to a great many other cultures and beliefs—beliefs that are very much at odds with what she’s being taught here.”

“I know that, Sister. But Summer will adapt.”

Sister Mary Grace shook her head. “I don’t think so. At least, not without help.”

“You and I have discussed this before, Sister. I’m not interested in putting Summer in any kind of therapy. She doesn’t need it. All she needs is some time to adjust.”

“She needs more than time, Michael. She needs help. I know you were opposed to the idea of counseling when I first suggested it. But I had hoped that after meeting Amanda and learning that Summer could work with her, here at the school, you might reconsider.”

“I don’t have to reconsider. The answer’s no.”

“Then you leave me no alternative. I have to consider what’s best for the child and, under the circumstances, I honestly don’t believe Saint Margaret’s is good for Summer.”

Michael sat forward, his face a mask of disbelief. “What are you saying?”

Amanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Really, Gracie—”

“I’m saying that I think it would be in Summer’s best interests if you were to transfer her to another school. One that’s less structured in its teaching matter, particularly where religion is concerned.”

“Sister, you can’t mean that,” Michael said.

“I assure you I do.”

“But don’t you realize what affect this will have on Summer? She’s never known any stability. Until now, her life has been nothing but a series of moves, from one city, one village, one country to the next. If I take her out of Saint Margaret’s, it’s just one more change. There’ve already been too many.”

The anguish in his voice surprised Amanda. He seemed so strong, so defiant, not the kind of man who pleaded for anything. And yet he was pleading—for his niece’s sake. “He’s right,” Amanda told her friend. “More changes wouldn’t be good for the child.”

“Neither will more incidents like today’s.” Sister Mary Grace leaned back in her chair and fingered the silver cross that hung from the chain around her neck. She looked at Amanda then at Michael. “Of course, if you were to reconsider and allow Summer to work with Amanda, if I knew she would be receiving professional guidance that would help her to deal with these adjustments she’s having to make where the school’s curriculum is concerned, I suppose it would be okay for her to remain at Saint Margaret’s.”

Amanda flushed. “Gra—”

“Well, Michael?”

Michael scowled. He curled his hands into fists. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice. Do I?” But before Sister Mary Grace could respond, he conceded. “Never mind. What do I have to do to get Summer in the program?”

Sister Mary Grace stood, a smile spreading across her face. “Good. Then I’ll leave it to Amanda to explain the details of the program to you and to work out a schedule for Summer.”

* * *

Moments later, seated across from Amanda in the tiny office the school had designated for her use, Michael tried to squelch his irritation at having allowed a five-foot-nothing nun to outmaneuver him. It had been a long time since anyone had forced him into a corner this way. Not since the Winthrops—

Suddenly thoughts of Martha Winthrop and her demands to see Summer came back to him. Would the woman be able to use Summer’s being in therapy against him? If she could, then maybe it would be better to transfer Summer to another school.

No. He wouldn’t do that, he decided, pushing the thought aside. He’d been honest with Sister Mary Grace. Another change would be bad for Summer. He couldn’t put her through that. But what if...

“Mr. Grayson?”

Michael jerked his attention back to Amanda.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. No.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tense muscles. “Listen, do you think we could go somewhere and get a cup of coffee or something while we do this?”

Amanda eyed him warily. “I’m sorry, but I have another appointment in thirty minutes. Besides, I don’t usually conduct meetings outside of the office.”

“What about the school cafeteria?”

He read the no in her eyes, but before she could issue it, Michael added, “This hasn’t exactly been a blue-ribbon day for me. And as I’m sure Sister Mary Grace has told you, I’ve spent a lot more time in these school offices during the past few weeks than most of the kids here. Now it looks like I’m going to be spending even more. I’ll answer your questions and you can tell me about your program, but can’t we do it someplace other than this office?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Grayson, but I—”

“Michael,” he corrected. “Come on, Amanda. All I’m asking is for you to cut me some slack. What do you say?”

She hesitated. “Well, I guess it would be okay for us to go to the teachers’ lounge. It’s not usually busy at this time of the day.”

A few minutes later in the more relaxed setting, Michael had succeeded in reining in the panic that had threatened to swamp him earlier.

“As Sister Mary Grace told you, I’ve been working with a number of the students here and have attained a certain degree of success. Right now, I’m working with six other...”

Half listening as she explained the merits of the counseling program, Michael allowed the soothing sound of her voice to wash over him.

“...And while I know you’re not happy about Summer participating in the program...”

He studied Amanda, noting her cool, efficient manner, her chic clothing. Everything about the woman—from the understated but expensive jewelry to the cultured tone of her voice—screamed “class” with a capital C. So why was she wasting her time in New Orleans counseling kids for nothing instead of hobnobbing with the rich and powerful back east?

What difference did it make? As long as it would make Sister Mary Grace happy and keep Summer at Saint Margaret’s, that’s all that mattered to him. Besides, it wasn’t as if Summer really needed a shrink, he told himself. She didn’t. And who knows, maybe the lovely Dr. Bennett could actually help him later. In fact, if he did find himself in a custody battle with Martha Winthrop, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have someone with Amanda’s credentials in his corner.

“...And while I can’t make any promises, I can assure you I’ll do my best...”

His gaze slid from her sculptured features to her generous mouth. Colored a soft pink, her lips looked infinitely soft and inviting. He shook his head, surprised by the direction of his thoughts. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

She shot him a puzzled look. “I said that I’d like to meet with you for a few minutes after my sessions with Summer so we can compare notes and discuss any concerns or changes in her behavior.”

“All right.”

“I generally schedule appointments between one-thirty and five. Is there any particular time that would be best for you?”

“The later, the better. Summer’s in after-school care here at Saint Margaret’s. I usually pick her up a little before six.”

“Suppose I make Summer my last appointment at, say, five o’clock on Wednesdays and Fridays. That way, she and I will be finished just before you get here and then the two of us can meet.”

“You need to see her twice a week?” Michael asked.

“I’d like to, at least at the start. We can always adjust the length and number of sessions later, depending on her progress.” She paused. “Is that all right with you?”

“Yeah, I guess so. As long as you understand that these therapy sessions are just a trial thing. I mean, if they upset Summer or she doesn’t seem to be responding, then they stop—regardless of what Sister Mary Grace does.”

“I understand.”

After jotting down the time and date in his appointment book, Michael slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Maybe Amanda Bennett really would be able to help, he told himself. Heaven knew, he hadn’t been successful in erasing that haunted look that came into Summer’s eyes whenever she spoke of her mother or asked questions about her father and his family.

“Well, then, if you don’t have any other questions, I’ll see you next week.” Amanda stood and held out her hand.

Standing, Michael clasped her fingers in his. He paused and took in her lovely face, the graceful line of her neck, the way the yellow-and-white suit skimmed her full curves. Something stirred inside him that had nothing to do with her being a psychologist and everything to do with her being a woman and him being a man.

When he brought his gaze back to her face, her eyes had warmed to the color of sherry. A tiny sound escaped her lips before she pulled her hand free.

Michael hesitated, feeling a sudden reluctance to leave. “You know, despite my feelings about Summer being in therapy, I really do appreciate your helping her.” He flashed her a smile and before he realized it, he said, “In fact, if you’ll allow me to, I’d like to take you to dinner tonight to thank you. That is, if you’re free.”

“No, I’m not,” she lied.

“Sure. I understand.” He paused. “What about tomorrow?”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“This weekend?” he persisted.

Turning away from the glimmer of interest in his eyes and her own foolish urge to accept, Amanda picked up the folder she’d placed on the table and clutched it to her. “I appreciate the offer, but I make it a rule never to mix business with pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my next appointment should be waiting.”

Moving past him, Amanda hurried out the door, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. The last thing she needed or wanted was a man like Michael Grayson. There was no room in her life for any man who came as part of a package deal—even one as appealing as Michael. Recalling the flicker of heat she had experienced when their eyes had met, Amanda squashed her traitorous thoughts. She’d learned her lesson the hard way. And she had no intention of repeating past mistakes.

Two

“This isn’t working, Amanda.” Michael paced the length of the small school office. “It’s been almost two months and Summer’s still having the same problems. I’m pulling her out of the therapy program.”

Amanda’s heart lurched as she stared at Michael’s stiff back. Despite all her silent lectures and resolutions not to become involved, both the man and the child had become important to her. “Michael, you can’t do that. Not now. Not when she’s starting to make progress.”

He spun around, pinning her with steely blue eyes. “Progress? You call going into another trance in the middle of class ‘progress’? We’re right back where we started.”

“She’s had a minor setback. That’s all. And I’ve already explained to you and Sister Mary Grace what happened.”

“I know,” he said, his voice weary. “But Summer can’t keep tuning the world out every time she gets upset about something.”

“She won’t,” Amanda assured him. “Try to understand. A confrontation with a teacher can be traumatic for any seven-year-old, but given one with Summer’s background... Meditating was her way of dealing with the situation.”

At his silence, Amanda pressed on. “Give it a little more time. Let me work with her—at least until the end of the school term. Two more months, that’s all I’m asking for. That isn’t very long.”

“It is to me.”

His eyes caught hers and held. Amanda saw clearly how much frustration their relationship and the restraints she’d placed on it had caused him. Had caused them both, she admitted.

In two short months Michael Grayson had managed to confuse her, tempt her, and make her question her resolve not to become involved with him. The fact that she’d agreed to meet him this evening after the rest of the staff had gone instead of waiting until the next day was only proof of just how involved she had become.

Knowing that she had broken her own rule and allowed their innocent conferences to become something more only added to her dismay.

“No, Amanda. I don’t see any point in putting Summer...or us through any more of these sessions.” He shoved his thick black hair away from his eyes. It fell stubbornly across his brow once again. “It’s just not worth it.”

The words were hard-edged—like the man himself, Amanda thought, studying the strong lines of his face, the firm set of his jaw.

She tried again. “What about Summer? Have you thought about how this is going to affect her?”

“Of course I have,” he said, his voice gruff. “She’s always been my first concern.”

It was true, Amanda acknowledged silently. His devotion to his niece had been one of the things that had attracted her to him.

“Believe me, if the therapy was working, I’d stick with it regardless of how I felt about you. But it isn’t. And seeing you, being with you week after week, trying to keep things between us on a professional level has been hell. I’m used to going after what I want, Amanda.” His gaze slid from her eyes to her lips. “And I want you.”

“Michael, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you that even when I’m not with you, I think about you? The way you look. The way you smell.”

Amanda closed her eyes a moment and tried to slow the thudding of her heart.

“It’s true. And I’m tired of you making excuses to keep me at arm’s length.”

“I’m not making excuses. I’m your niece’s doctor.”

Michael placed his hands flat on her desk and leaned forward, crowding her, filling her entire line of vision. “You’re also a woman. There’s no reason for us not to see each other if we want to.”

“Michael, please. I’ve already explained. It would be unethical for us to...to become involved.”

“You think we’re not already involved?” he asked, his voice incredulous. “Are you going to deny that there’s something between us? That you haven’t felt this...this chemistry growing between us, pulling us together?”

Unable to deny his accusations, Amanda remained silent. It was true. She was attracted to him, had been from the moment she’d glimpsed the kind, caring man hidden behind the rough-edged persona he presented to the world. It was the gentle Michael who had somehow managed to sneak beneath her defenses.

“I’ve got news for you, sweetheart. Whether you admit it or not, we’re involved. And as for those ethics you’re so worried about, it’s not a problem anymore. Because as of right now, you’re no longer Summer’s doctor.”

Amanda swallowed. Perhaps it was best this way. If she would no longer be working with Summer, she would no longer be forced to see Michael. And if she didn’t see him, talk to him, maybe these...these feelings he had awakened in her would wane.

Striving for some emotional distance, she tried to make her voice cool. “Very well, then. But if you change your mind and decide you want Summer to see another psychologist, there are several I can recommend.” She reached for her Rolodex file.

Michael caught her wrist. “Dammit, Amanda. Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? I’m not interested in another psychologist.”

Amanda stared into his stormy eyes and tried to ignore the effect of his nearness.

“What happened with Summer today is only part of the reason I’m calling the therapy quits. The other reason is us. I want there to be an ‘us.’

“I’m through playing games. Either we see each other as two consenting adults, or we don’t see each other at all.” Releasing her wrist, he cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What’s it going to be? Yes or no?”

The word no stuck in her throat, lingered on the tip of her tongue.

She couldn’t say it.

She did want to see Michael, to be with him. She’d been drawn to him from the start, had been surprised by the strength of that initial attraction. Even now, she couldn’t explain it. Since her disastrous marriage to Adam, few men had been able to make her pulse race.

Michael Grayson had.

And somewhere along the way those innocent coffees they had shared after her sessions with Summer had turned into something more...something that both frightened and excited her at the same time. Somewhere along the way, she had grown to care for him.

She looked at his handsome face and silently chastised herself. How had she ever believed she could work with him, be with him, and keep her emotional distance? Hadn’t she already proved she was a sucker for his type—a man who came as part of a package deal?

“Well, Amanda?” Michael’s eyes searched hers.

She couldn’t risk another mistake. The last one had cost her far too much. “I’m sorry, Michael. I can’t.”

An odd expression—something that resembled panic—crossed his face; but it disappeared so quickly, Amanda wondered if she’d imagined it.

His jaw hardened. Slowly he pulled back. Walking over to the chair, he picked up his sport coat, hooked it on his finger and slung it across one shoulder.

“Funny, I never pegged you for a coward. Despite all that blue blood and those oh-so-perfect manners, I thought you were a pretty gutsy lady. Guess you’re not quite the woman I thought you were. My mistake.” He started toward the door.

Suddenly she felt confused, unsure of herself. A sinking sensation washed over her at the prospect of him walking out of her life. “Michael, wait!”

He paused at the door and looked back at her.

“I—” She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

His expression wary, Michael retraced his steps across the room. He tossed his jacket on the chair and folded his arms across his chest. And waited.

Nervous, Amanda smoothed the skirt of her suit. Squaring her shoulders, she used all the poise she’d acquired as a diplomat’s daughter to meet his gaze. “You’re right,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “I’ve been using professional ethics as an excuse when my reasons are personal.”

His expression softened. “Whatever it is, we can work it out. Just talk to me. Tell me what it is you’re afraid of.”

He made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t. There were too many risks. Amanda shook her head. “There’s really no point.” Releasing a sigh, she continued. “Try to understand. I never meant for anything to happen between us. I don’t want to become any more involved with you than I already am. I know from past experience that it...that we won’t work.”

Myriad emotions crossed Michael’s face. “You know, you’re not the only one with personal demons, Amanda. Maybe I’m letting some of my own demons cause me to overreact just as you have.”

He sat down on the edge of her desk and toyed with the sleek silver pen that lay beside her appointment book. “Maybe you’re right, maybe pulling Summer out of therapy now isn’t the right thing to do.” His gaze tangled with hers.

“Then you’ll let her stay in the program?”

“I’m willing to discuss the possibility.” He set down the pen. “But later. Right now, I have to get home. I left Summer with a sitter. I didn’t want her sitting in the hall while you and I discussed her.”

Amanda wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. While her head told her to get him out of her life, her heart told her another story. Hooking a length of her hair behind one ear, she opened her appointment book. “When did you want to meet?”

“Friday.”

She flipped the page and frowned. “It’ll take some rescheduling, but I could see you at—”

“Seven o’clock. Over dinner.”

Amanda looked up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I thought you wanted a chance to convince me to let Summer stay in the program?”

“I do.”

“Then convince me on Friday.” He shot her a slow, sexy smile that Amanda knew was meant to ease the tension, but didn’t. “Come on. It’s only dinner.”

He was right. It was only dinner, she told herself. How much harm could there be in having dinner? “All right. Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Michael, I don’t think—”

“Try not to think so much,” he said, leaning forward. “Sometimes it’s better to just let yourself feel.”

Gently he brushed his lips against hers. The contact was light, tender, a nonthreatening kiss. Yet the feel of his mouth, warm and firm against her own, sparked a fire inside her that seeped to her core.

Stifling the urge to pull her into his arms, Michael lifted his head. He looked into her brown eyes, all soft and dreamy, and checked the need to taste her lips again.

Slowly her dazed expression began to fade. “About Friday,” she whispered.

He caught the note of doubt in her voice and refused to give her a chance to change her mind. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something casual.” Easing off the desk, he retrieved his jacket and slipped out the door.

Standing outside the office, Michael drew a steadying breath. For a moment he’d been sure he’d blown it. He hadn’t meant to issue her an ultimatum; and he certainly hadn’t meant to kiss her. But the sight of that pretty pink mouth telling him no again, shooting holes in all his plans, had been too much.

As he headed for the exit, his thoughts were filled with Amanda. A slow burning began in the lower part of his body as he recalled the warmth of her lips, the sweet hesitation of her response.

He stepped out into the waning sunlight and started for the parking lot. He’d enjoyed that kiss—a lot more than he had bargained for. And for a few crazy moments he’d been tempted to shelve his plans.

He couldn’t. Too much was at stake.

Frowning, Michael slipped inside the black sedan and removed the letter from his coat pocket. As he scanned the legal jargon once more, he thought back to that day six weeks ago when he’d decided to take his attorney’s advice.

Find yourself a wife, Dave had said. Summer needs a mother. You always said you were going to get married someday. Why not do it now?

It had made perfect, logical sense. By taking a wife, he could give Summer the one thing she wanted most and the one thing Martha Winthrop with all her money and influence couldn’t buy—a family. And what court would remove a child from a loving, two-parent home and opt for one with only a rich, elderly widow?

None, he’d told himself.

All he had to do was find a wife. The plan was simple. At least, he had thought so, until Summer had quickly dismissed each potential candidate he’d brought before her.

The only exception had been Amanda. She had been the only woman Summer seemed to truly like.

Shoving the letter back into his coat pocket, Michael started the engine and backed out of the parking lot. Amanda was perfect. Not only was she beautiful, smart and interesting to be with, but she genuinely cared for his niece.

And she was attracted to him.

The feeling was mutual, he admitted. Moving the car into the line of traffic, he laughed out loud, the sound echoing inside the empty car. Who was he kidding? He’d been attracted to Amanda from the beginning. Over the past two months those feelings had only grown stronger...and they’d had nothing at all to do with Summer.

He wanted Amanda, period.

Michael’s lips curved into a self-mocking smile. What red-blooded male wouldn’t want her? With her pale blond hair and creamy skin, that long, sleek body, she looked more like a princess than a psychologist.

Granted, he was no prince. But he’d come a long way from the sixteen-year-old punk who’d lived on the wrong side of the tracks. Twenty years and a successful business could change a lot of things.

But it can’t change who you are or who you have been, a small voice inside him whispered. Switching to the left lane, Michael frowned. He and his sister had both learned that no amount of money or success could make up for lack of the proper bloodlines. If he’d ever doubted it, the Winthrops had driven that point home when Sara had gotten pregnant.

Michael’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel as all the bitter memories came back. He would protect Summer from them no matter what the cost—even if it meant using Amanda.

Guilt pricked at his conscience as he remembered the sad look in Amanda’s velvety brown eyes.

He shoved it aside. He had no choice. He had to make Amanda fall in love with him and convince her to marry him.

And he had to do it soon because time was running out.

* * *

Amanda glanced around the cozy little restaurant, noting the candlelight, the soft music. The place Michael had chosen was charming, intimate, and threatened to sweep her resistance away. She would have preferred bright lights and noisy chatter. Absently, she traced the red-and-white squares of the tablecloth with her fingertip while Michael ordered a bottle of wine.

“I hope you like Italian food,” he said.

She looked up and Michael flashed her a sexy grin that made her mouth dry. Tearing her gaze from his lips, she took a sip of water. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Good. I thought about taking you to one of the more popular places in the Quarter, but I figured you’d probably been to most of them already and I wanted to take you someplace different.”

Chiding herself for being so susceptible to him, Amanda was grateful when the waiter arrived with the wine. Anxious to put things back on a business footing, she said, “I hope you’ve given some more consideration to allowing Summer to continue with the counseling program.”

“I have. Summer thinks quite a lot of you.” He took a slow sip of his wine. “So do I,” he said softly.

Heart pounding, Amanda reached for her wineglass.

As though sensing her uneasiness, Michael leaned back in his seat. He gave her a considering look. “You know, I’ve been curious. What made you decide to become a psychologist?”

Relieved by the change in subject, Amanda released her pent-up breath and tried to relax. “I guess you’ve probably heard that my father’s an ambassador?”

Michael nodded.

“Well, as an ambassador’s daughter, I got to attend a lot of receptions, ribbon cuttings, that sort of thing. Pretty boring stuff for a child.” Amanda smiled weakly, remembering how lonely she had been. “And because of my father’s position, it was important that I not do or say the wrong thing.”

“Did you? Ever say or do something you shouldn’t have?” Michael asked.

“Not unless you count the time I asked one of the Arab emirs why he needed three wives. Of course, I was only seven at the time,” Amanda said, grinning.

Michael laughed, the sound rich and full of life. Then slowly the smile slipped from his lips. His deep blue eyes moved over her face like a caress. “I bet you were a beauty even then.”

“Hardly. I had skinny legs and two missing front teeth,” she quipped, unnerved by the sudden tension. “Anyway, I became good at studying people. When it was time for me to go to college, I decided to major in psychology. Gracie—Sister Mary Grace,” she amended, “was one of my teachers. Since I liked working with kids, she encouraged me to specialize in child psychology.”

Michael reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I, for one, am glad you followed her advice.”

Warmed by his approval, Amanda studied him under the soft light. His hair, a dark, rich ebony, fell at an angle across his forehead and brushed the back collar of his shirt. Struck by the urge to smooth it with her fingertips, she shifted her gaze to his face.

At the look in his eyes, her pulse quickened. It had been a long time since any man had looked at her with such desire. And even longer, she admitted, since she had felt any response.

Shaken, Amanda pulled her hand free as the waiter served their salads.

“Since you like kids so much, I’m surprised you don’t have any of your own.”

Amanda’s chest tightened. She had wanted children, had been thrilled to gain a stepdaughter when she’d married Adam. She had even hoped to fill their home with more children. But that had been before she’d discovered Adam’s secret, before she’d suffered the humiliation of his deception. “Things don’t always work out the way we plan,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“No, they don’t.” An odd expression crossed his face, then quickly disappeared. “Do you see much of your ex-husband’s daughter since the divorce?”

“Kimberly and I—” Amanda paused, her fork in midair. “How did you know I had a stepdaughter?”

“Sister Mary Grace mentioned it.”

Surprised, Amanda set down her fork. She narrowed her eyes. “Why on earth would she do that?”

Michael shrugged. “I was asking her about you and I guess it sort of came up in the conversation.”

“I see,” Amanda said, growing irritated. Dear friend or not, she wished she could get her hands around Gracie’s neck.

“Don’t be upset with Sister. I was the one asking the questions.”

“Did it ever occur to you to ask me?”

“I did,” he said, a slight edge in his voice. “But if you’ll recall, you weren’t exactly forthcoming.”

“So you decided to ask Sister Mary Grace?”

“Yes,” he replied evenly. “I told you, I believe in going after what I want.”

And he wanted her, Amanda finished silently. “What else did the dear Sister tell you?” she asked, too annoyed by the thought of him learning the details of her personal life to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“That you’ve been divorced about eighteen months, are disgusted with men in general, and that if my interest in you is genuine, I should be prepared for a tough battle.” Michael flashed her a disarming grin. “She also said it was going to take a lot more than a handsome face and sexy smile to break through that Boston reserve of yours.”

Amanda wanted to crawl under the table. “I can’t believe she said that. She’s a nun for heaven’s sake.”

“Yeah. Surprised me, too. I think she was trying to scare me off.” Michael chuckled and shot her a considering look. “But as you can see, I don’t frighten easily.”

“Obviously,” Amanda said, feeling exposed and vulnerable, and hating it.

“All I wanted was to get to know you better,” he said gently. “I never meant to upset you.”

“I’m not upset, just embarrassed.” His sincerity touched her.

“There’s no need to be.” He gave her a disarming smile. “What do you say we call a truce and enjoy dinner? I promise Antonio’s manicotti is the best in the city.”

Amanda nodded her acquiesence.

Three hours later she was glad she had agreed to the truce. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much in one evening—or had so much fun. And playing putt-putt, no less.

Smiling, Amanda leaned her head back against the seat of the car and listened to the soft melody playing on the radio as they headed for her home.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Michael offered.

She shifted her gaze to him. “Only a penny?” she teased, feeling lighthearted. “The way you were trying to get me to bet on the outcome of that last game, I would have thought you were a much bigger gambler.”

Michael chuckled. The sound was warm, intimate, inside the confines of the car. “How about a quarter, then?”

Amanda laughed. “Now that’s what I call a big spender.”

Exiting the interstate, Michael pulled the car to a stop at the red light. He turned to Amanda. The smile disappeared from his lips as he reached over and traced his thumb along the line of her jaw. “What’s really going on inside that pretty head of yours?”

“I was thinking about what a nice time I had.” Amanda swallowed, acutely aware of how close he was. In the darkness of the car, with only the dim light of the street lamp, his eyes reminded her of polished gems.

“Glad you came?”

“Yes,” Amanda whispered. “I am.”

“Me, too.” He moved his thumb across her lower lip.

Amanda’s heart pounded as he leaned closer. Frightened, excited, she closed her eyes and lifted her mouth.

A horn sounded behind them and Amanda pulled back.

Muttering, Michael yanked the gear shift, sending the car jerking forward. “Sorry,” he mumbled as they sped down the dark street.

While he maneuvered the car through the city, Amanda studied the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his mouth. Feelings, long buried, stirred to life inside her. She recalled how those lips had felt—warm and hungry against her own. Realizing where her thoughts had drifted, she turned to stare out the window.

A few minutes later Michael pulled the car to a stop in front of her cottage and shut off the engine.

“Amanda?”

Pulling her gaze from the pink-and-white azaleas that lined the walkway to her home, she looked up. Michael stood in front of her, holding the door open.

Michael held her hand as she stepped out onto the driveway.

After closing the door, he pressed his hand to the small of her back and steered her toward the house.

It was a simple gesture of courtesy. Yet his touch made her nervous, edgy, acutely aware that she was a woman and he was a man. When they stepped into the alcove of her doorway, she wanted to race inside and bolt the door against him and the things he was making her feel.

“I had a great time tonight.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her mouth. His fingertips caressed her cheek. “When can I see you again?”

He was so close, she could see the faint shadow along his jaw that would demand a razor’s edge in the morning. The night seemed to close in around her. The sweet scent of gardenias faded and was replaced with the scent of woods, of earth. Of Michael.

Michael sucked in his breath. “Amanda, don’t look at me like that.”

She looked up and saw her own hunger mirrored in his eyes. “Like what?”

“Like you want me,” he said in a voice husky with desire. Extending his arms on either side of her head, he placed his palms flat against the door, trapping her within his embrace. “Like you want to touch me. Taste me.” His gaze fell to her mouth. “The way I want to touch and taste you.”

Knees weak, Amanda leaned back, grateful for the solid door. As Michael lowered his head, she braced her hands against his chest, intent on pushing him away.

She leaned toward him instead.

And then his mouth touched hers.

His kiss was just as she remembered it. Gentle, coaxing, a slow brushing of lips against lips. He took her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled, slowly explored its shape with his tongue.

Unable to stop herself, Amanda touched the tip of her tongue to his.

Michael shuddered. His heart beat like a drum against her fingertips and she strained closer. When his tongue began another slow foray of her mouth, Amanda’s control broke. She curled her fingers into his shirt, crumpling the soft cotton in her fists.

When Amanda’s tongue darted into his mouth, Michael thought he would explode. This time there was no hesitancy. This time there was fire; this time there was passion.

He crushed her to him, tangled his fingers in her silky hair.

A whimper escaped her lips, making his body burn anew. Not since he’d been a teenager had he responded so wildly to a kiss. Not since he’d been a young man had he wanted something so much. Never in his life had that something been a woman.

Until now.

This doesn’t mean anything, Amanda told herself as she leaned against him. It was simply a matter of chemistry...of proximity.

It was more than that. And she knew it. Suddenly frightened by the realization, Amanda pushed at his chest.

Easing his hold, Michael drew away slightly. He looked into her eyes, smoky and warm with desire.

“Michael.”

“Shh.” He dropped another kiss on her lips. The sight of Amanda’s beautiful face flushed, her mouth swollen from his kisses, caused his body to ache even more. He pulled her back into his arms.

“No,” she whispered, panic seizing her. Kissing Michael had been insanity on her part. “This was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he insisted, hearing the alarm in her voice and not understanding it. He stroked her hair, wanting to reassure her.

Amanda heard the denial in his voice, saw the yearning in his eyes. She stepped back, out of his arms. Taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs with fresh air, trying to clear her senses. How could she have done this? Let things get so out of hand?

“Don’t push me away, Amanda.”

“Please, Michael. It was just a kiss,” she said, deliberately sounding flip. “Let’s not make it into more than it was.”

Michael stiffened. Just a kiss? He dropped his hands to his sides. It was a hell of a lot more than a simple kiss and they both knew it.

“Thank you for dinner,” she continued primly as though nothing had happened. But Michael heard the slight catch in her voice, saw the tremor of her lips.

“We’ll have to do it again—soon.” He edged a little closer and experienced a small measure of satisfaction at the flash of panic that clouded her brown eyes.

Just as quickly, she schooled her expression and retrieved her keys from her purse.

Michael took them from her fingers. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open.

“Well, thanks again,” she murmured politely.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in for a nightcap?” he baited, irritated with her for denying there was something between them and with himself for caring.

Amanda shot him a look that would, no doubt, quell a lesser man. “No, I’m not,” she said in those crisp, clear tones that had made him peg her as a New Englander the first time he’d met her.

Michael bit down on his anger at her rejection. “Then next time,” he managed.

“There won’t be any next time,” she said, tipping up her chin.

The haughtiness of her tone caused something to snap inside him. Before he could stop himself, Michael reached for her. Cupping the back of her head, he pulled her to him. “I promise you there will be a next time, Amanda. Tonight was only the beginning.”

Three

Amanda glanced at the small, crystal clock sitting on her desk. Four-twenty. The knot in her stomach tightened. Only ten more minutes before Michael arrived.

Unable to concentrate, she closed the file folder she had been studying and, walking across the room, she gazed out the window to the school playground at the dozen or so children who had remained for after-school care.

Hearing a squeal of laughter, Amanda smiled as she spotted Summer—her long, dark braids flying behind her while she raced across the yard engaged in a game of tag.

She wasn’t at all the same child she had been when they had started working together ten weeks ago, Amanda thought. Sad and withdrawn, it had been so heartening to gain the little girl’s trust, to help her sort through her confusion and pain at her mother’s death. Of course, Michael’s love and attention had made her job easier by far.

Michael.

Amanda cursed herself for thinking of him again. It was pointless to think about him.

Instead she focused on Summer’s smiling face, and her heartstrings tugged once more. She was going to miss the child. But there was nothing she could do. And considering the outcome of her last encounter with Michael, perhaps it was for the best. She certainly couldn’t risk another evening like the previous Friday’s.

Amanda touched her lips, recalling all too vividly how that evening had ended. Longing, hot and demanding, flickered through her as she remembered the feel of Michael’s lips, the warmth of his breath, the hardness of his body against her own. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought back a groan as she recalled her own wanton response.

“Amanda?”

She tensed at the sound of Michael’s voice. She wasn’t ready to face him—not yet, not when the memory of his kiss was so fresh.

“The secretary did say four-thirty, didn’t she?”

Attempting to school her expression, Amanda turned around slowly. “Yes. Please, come in.”

When he closed the door and stepped inside, the room seemed somehow smaller. “You can sit down, if you’d like.” She gestured toward the chair across from her desk.

He cut across the room in swift, easy strides, stopping in front of her. “I tried to reach you all weekend,” he said softly, his eyes searching hers.

“I know. I got your messages.” All five messages. And because the temptation to pick up the telephone and talk to him had been so strong, she had deliberately spent her weekend working in the garden and stalking the city’s shopping centers. She’d tried on clothes she neither needed nor wanted only to return home empty-handed and exhausted. When the calls had persisted, she had taken herself off to a movie.

“Why didn’t you return my calls?”

Amanda met his questioning gaze. “I thought it best not to.”

“Better for whom?” he asked, frowning.

“For me. And possibly for you, too.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, a slight edge in his voice. “On both counts. There’s something good between us, Amanda, and you know it. What are you so afraid of?”

You, she wanted to shout. The things you make me feel, the things you make me want. The risks you make me want to take.

Instead she simply said, “I told you before, my reasons for not going out with you are personal. I have no desire to explain those reasons to you and I doubt that you’d understand them even if I did. The problem is me, Michael—not you. But, believe me, I’m serious when I tell you you’re wasting your time. There can’t ever be anything between us.”

“What about last Friday?” he demanded. “Are you going to tell me it didn’t mean anything to you? That it was nothing?”

“Last Friday was very special.” For a few short hours she had been able to put the past and its painful scars behind her. But despite the explosive chemistry and her growing feelings for him, Michael was still a man with a child—a child very much in need of a mother. She wouldn’t take a chance on being used again.

“I had a lovely time, but it was still a mistake. A relationship with you would mean too many complications and I don’t want or need any more complications in my life. Please accept that.”

“I can’t.” His jaw clenched; a muscle ticked angrily in his cheek. “And I’m not going to let you accept it, either. I won’t let you throw us away, Amanda.”

Amanda tipped up her chin. “You don’t have a choice. I have no intention of going out with you again and now that Summer’s no longer in therapy, there’s no reason for us to see each other at all.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong.” His lips smoothed into a slow, knowing smile. “We will be seeing each other. You see, I’m giving you the two months with Summer that you asked for. I’m not taking her out of your program. In fact, I’ve already told her she can stay. So, you and I will be seeing each other—a lot—at least for the next couple of months.”

“But I thought...” Surprised and unsettled by his change in attitude, Amanda turned away. “When Summer didn’t show up for her appointment yesterday, I assumed you’d withdrawn her from the program.”

“Then you assumed wrong.”

She had been so sure she wouldn’t have to see him again after today. Now she would be faced with not only seeing him but with dealing with the memories and desires he sparked in her.

“Don’t you remember me telling you last week that Summer had a dental appointment and wouldn’t be able to come on Monday?”

Vaguely, Amanda recalled the words, but at the time she’d been so disturbed by the way he’d been looking at her that she had failed to write it down.

“Did you really think I’d just pull her out of the program without telling you first? Especially after you tried so hard to convince me to let her stay?” His voice held a wealth of disappointment.

That was exactly what she had thought. And it had made her decision not to see him again easier somehow.

“You don’t have to bother answering that. It’s obvious what you thought.” He took a deep breath and released it. “For the record, you were right. Summer does need help. Help that I can’t give her. I was a fool to even consider pulling her out of the program. She needs you, Amanda. I need you. Will you help me?”

She wanted to refuse him.

She couldn’t, not when he was looking at her with such warmth in his eyes.

“All right,” Amanda answered, her voice thick. “I’ll keep working with Summer until the end of the school term—but on one condition. We keep our relationship strictly professional. Agreed?”

When he didn’t respond, Amanda gave him a stern look that she usually reserved for the children. “I want your promise, Michael.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t give it to you. If I did, I’d only end up breaking it. And I make it a point never to go back on my word.”

Feeling trapped, Amanda walked back to the window and stared out at the playground. She was committed to Summer and didn’t want to abandon her now. She felt a responsibility to the little girl. But what about herself? Was she strong enough to resist the emotional threat Michael represented?

She sensed him come up behind her, her body suddenly alert at his nearness.

“Amanda?” He touched her shoulder and turned her to face him.

He was so close, she could smell the woodsy scent of his cologne, see the sprinkling of gray at his temples.

“Why are you doing this to us?” His eyes held hers. “Is it because of the things you’ve heard about me? About my family?”

Amanda flushed. “Of course not.”

“Then why won’t you even give us a chance?”

“Amanda?” A quick, one-two tap followed at the door. “Do you still have the fi—” Sister Mary Grace stopped and stared from the doorway. She looked from Amanda to Michael and back again. “Excuse me,” she said, and started to retreat from the room.

“Gra—Sister, wait.” Quickly, Amanda pulled away and moved past Michael. Embarrassed, she could have cringed at the sight they must have made. What must Gracie be thinking after practically catching her in Michael’s arms? “Did you want to see me about something?” she asked, trying to muster as much dignity as she could under the circumstances.

“Nothing that can’t wait until later. I didn’t realize you had someone with you.” Turning toward Michael, she said, “Forgive me for interrupting. You two go ahead and finish your, um, discussion. I can speak to Amanda later.”

“No!” Amanda cried out as Sister Mary Grace started to leave. She swallowed and then continued more calmly, “Mr. Grayson and I are finished. He was just leaving.”

Sister Mary Grace arched one brow; the look she gave Amanda left her with little doubt that the nun didn’t believe her.

“It’s okay, Sister.” Michael moved toward the door. “Amanda’s right. We are finished—for now.”

Amanda caught the warning in his voice, but refused to meet his gaze.

“Sister.” He inclined his head toward the nun, then turned to Amanda. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Amanda repeated, and could have kicked herself at the anxious sound of her voice.

“After Summer’s appointment,” he informed her. “She is still scheduled for Wednesday, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“See you then.”

Once Michael had closed the door, Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. Returning to her desk, she sat down and directed her attention back to her friend. “Now, what was it you needed?” she asked, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel.

“What was that all about?” Sister Mary Grace asked as she claimed the chair in front of Amanda’s desk.

Ignorning the bright gleam in her friend’s eyes, Amanda returned evenly, “Michael came by to tell me he’s decided to allow Summer to remain in the therapy program.”

“Why, that’s excellent news. I mean, I know he was having some doubts about the program’s effectiveness. I’m glad to see you were able to bring him around.”

Sister Mary Grace adjusted the wire-rimmed spectacles on her nose, then met Amanda’s eyes. “But something tells me his niece isn’t the only reason Michael Grayson came to see you.”

Amanda shot her friend a stony look.

The tiny nun grinned. “Come on, Mandy. The man hasn’t exactly made his interest in you a secret. And I kind of got the impression that you liked him, too.”

“Gracie.” Amanda made no attempt to hide her displeasure.

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t interfere, but you’re my friend. I’m only trying to help.”

“How? By encouraging him? Telling him personal things about me? How could you do that?”

Sister Mary Grace’s smile faded. Her rosy cheeks paled slightly. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

At the nun’s stricken expression, Amanda immediately regretted her flare of temper. “I know you didn’t, and I’m sorry for biting your head off. But don’t you see? Encouraging him was the worst thing you could do.”

“Why? What’s wrong with a nice, young man showing an interest in you?”

“Everything—if that man’s Michael Grayson. You of all people should know I could never become involved with a man like him.”

Sister Mary Grace frowned. “What do you mean, ‘a man like him’? From everything I’ve seen, and from what you’ve told me yourself, he’s a fine, honorable man.”

“He is. But for someone else. Not me.”

“Any why not you?” Sister Grace asked in that impervious tone that Amanda had always found so frustrating.

“Because he has a child.”

Sister Mary Grace narrowed her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest. “As far as I know, Michael Grayson doesn’t have any children,” she said in that no-nonsense voice of hers. “In fact, according to the information he gave the school when he registered Summer, he’s never even been married.”

“Quit fencing, Gracie. You know perfectly well what I mean. He has Summer.”

“So? She’s his niece.”

“Yes, but for all intents and purposes, she’s his child. He’s the one raising her.”

“And doing a fine job of it, too. So, what’s the problem?”

Frustrated, Amanda glared at her friend. “You know what the problem is. He has a seven-year-old child who needs a mother. You saw what happened in Mrs. Green’s class last week when they started talking about the Mother’s Day project. The poor thing was completely distraught.”

“Yes, I saw. And I also saw how much you care about that little girl. That was a wonderful thing you did, agreeing to go to the Mother Daughter Luncheon with her next month.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have.” It had been a foolish thing to do, given her own history. But then, it had broken her heart to see Summer so despondent.

Sister Mary Grace patted her hand. “Of course, you should have.”

“I’ve been down this road before, Gracie. I know where it leads and all the traps it can hold. I don’t want to be used again. And I’m not going to put myself in a position where I can be used again—by Michael Grayson or anyone else.”

Sister Mary Grace rose. She came around the desk and put her arms around Amanda’s shoulders. “Mandy, Mandy,” she soothed. “When are you going to stop punishing yourself for someone else’s mistakes?”

“I’m not. I’m protecting myself.”

“That’s a lot of malarkey and you know it. You don’t give yourself or anyone else a chance. You set up obstacles the minute any man shows an interest in you.”

“That’s not true.”

Sister Mary Grace pulled back and looked at Amanda. “Isn’t it?”

Was Gracie right? Was she setting up obstacles? True, Summer did chatter endlessly about getting a new mother someday; but the little girl spoke almost just as often about finding some imaginary grandmother, as well.

On the other hand, Michael had been decidedly quiet on both subjects—even when she had expressed her concern about Summer’s preoccupation with them. In fact, Michael had given no indication that he even thought he needed a wife—let alone was looking for one.

But then, neither had Adam—at least not until after he had courted her, had played to her foolish dreams, had made her believe he loved her, made her fall in love with him. And when it had been too late, when she had married him and moved into his home, she had found out the truth.

Sister Mary Grace’s expression softened. “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that Michael’s interest in you could be motivated by nothing more than the simple fact that he likes you? You’re a lovely woman, Amanda. Isn’t it just possible, he finds you attractive?”

Remembering the heat in his eyes, the hunger of his kiss, Amanda didn’t doubt that Michael found her attractive. She thought of the way his body had hardened at her response. Not even Adam, master actor that he was, had made her feel so desired, so much like a woman. But then, she had been naive and trusting.

She wasn’t anymore.

“Why not give him the benefit of the doubt? What have you got to lose?”

Everything. Her heart, what was left of her pride. “I can’t, Gracie. There are too many risks involved. And I’m through taking risks.”

“Not even for love?”

“Especially not for love. The price is too high.” And one she was unwilling to pay.

* * *

Propping the telephone between his shoulder and ear, Michael kicked the door to his bedroom shut and listened to the worried voice of his attorney, Dave Jennings.

“Come on, Mike, be reasonable. Let me set up a meeting with old lady Winthrop and her attorney and try to work something out.”

“There’s nothing to work out. I told you, Martha Winthrop gave up any rights she might have had when that son of hers turned his back on my sister. If it hadn’t been for her, Sara never would have run away in the first place. She wouldn’t have been on that damn mountain, wouldn’t have...” His voice broke; he choked back the pain thoughts of his sister’s death caused and hardened his resolve. “I’ll never

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