Seduced (13 page)

The room was in chaos. A trail of flour covered the counter, ending in a heap of broken eggs, their yellow yolks running down the side of the cabinet. Mixing bowls and measuring cups covered in chocolate cake batter lay strewn across the counter like drunken soldiers. An electric mixer rested on its side, the beaters looking battle worn and weary.

Summer coughed and waved frantically in front of her face. “Uncle Mike, Miss Amanda's here. She's going to help us.”

Michael spun around, holding a pan of charred cupcakes in one hand with a bright yellow oven mitt.

With an apron tied haphazardly around his waist, smudges of flour on his face and chocolate cake batter splattered across his T-shirt, on his forehead and in his hair, he was the most wonderful sight she'd ever seen.

And she loved him.

Unnerved by the realization, Amanda squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Despite all her reservations and her determination not to fall in love with him, he'd somehow managed to slip past her guard and find his way into her heart.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him and wondered if he already knew what she'd just come to realize.

He squinted his eyes against the smoke billowing from the oven and the pan he was holding, and peered in her direction. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice guarded.

“Summer called me and said you needed help.” She cut a glance to the burned cupcakes he was holding. “And from the looks of things, she was right.”

“Nothing we can't handle,” he began, squaring his jaw like an indignant child. “We're doing just fi— Ouch!” Michael dropped the pan to the floor and crisp, black cupcakes flew in all directions. He jumped back, cracking his head on the upper oven door.

“Uncle Mike!”

“Michael!”

Summer and Amanda rushed to his side.

He cursed as he rubbed his head with one hand. Flinging off the oven mitt, he stuck his burned fingers into his mouth.

“Be still and let me look at your head,” Amanda ordered.

He grimaced as she examined the small knot forming on his forehead.

“Is he all right?” Summer asked anxiously.

“Oh, I think he'll live,” Amanda told her, sidestepping one of the smoldering cupcakes. “But I'm not too sure about those cupcakes.”

“Funny, Amanda. Real funny,” he said.

Amanda bit back a smile. “Summer, do you think you can find me an ice pack?”

“There's one in the bathroom.”

“Can you get it for me?”

Summer went running out of the room.

“What do you need an ice pack for?”

“For that hard head of yours.” Taking him by the arm, she led him to the sink and turned on the cold water. She stuck his burned fingers under the faucet.

He pulled his hand away.

“You're supposed to put butter on a burn,” he complained, obviously disgruntled.

Amanda stuck his hand under the water again. “Not true, and not if you want to stop it from blistering. Stay put until I get a bowl of ice for your hand.”

Muttering, Michael turned his back to her and did as he was told.

When Summer returned with the ice pack, Amanda had him seated in a recliner in the living room, his hand immersed in the bowl of ice that rested in his lap. After filling the ice pack, she placed it on his forehead.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Feeling better?”

“I never felt bad in the first place.”

Amanda arched one brow. “No? Could have fooled me. You look like you've been in heavy combat.”

When he looked up at her, she was smiling. And despite himself, Michael found himself smiling back. “Yeah, I guess I do look a little battle worn,” he admitted.

“A little?”

“All right. A lot.” Michael grinned, enjoying her teasing. “But I never claimed to be any good at baking. And that recipe didn't turn out the way it was supposed to.”

“So I noticed.”

“Uncle Mike,” Summer said, bringing in a tray of charred cupcakes. “I don't think these are right, either.” She poked at one of the cakes with her finger and the top caved in.

“I followed the directions,” he insisted, feeling a bit defensive with both Summer and Amanda looking at him. He'd never baked cupcakes before—only eaten them. But he'd tried darn hard to bake these because it seemed so important to Summer. “I did. I even improved on the recipe.”

Amanda looked down at the blackened cupcakes then back up at him. “This is improved?”

“He found some shortcuts,” Summer explained.

Michael smiled, proud of his ingenuity. “Instead of spending all that time softening the butter before mixing it with the sugar, I went ahead and melted it.”

“And we put in extra chocolate squares so it would taste real chocolaty,” Summer added.

Amanda picked up one of the cupcakes, examining where the batter had mushroomed over the top of the paper cup before burning. “I guess you decided to make them extra large, too.”

Michael's smile slipped a little as he looked at the pitiful results of his morning's work. “I filled them up with batter just like you're supposed to. Something must be wrong with the oven.”

“Of course, the oven,” Amanda said solemnly, her lips twitching at the corners.

Summer looked at the cupcakes. “They don't look like the ones Michelle's mom made.” Leaning forward, she sniffed at the cupcakes and crinkled her nose. “And they don't smell like Mrs. Darcy's, either.”

“I know,” Michael said.

Summer turned to Amanda, her shoulders drooped. “I said I'd bring chocolate cupcakes to the fair.”

“It's all right, honey,” Amanda soothed.

“Do you know how to make cupcakes like Mrs. Darcy's?” she asked, her expression filled with hope.

Amanda smoothed Summer's bangs away from her face. “I don't know if mine will taste as good as Mrs. Darcy's, but I think I can come up with something passable.”

“You can bake?” Michael asked.

“You don't have to sound so surprised.”

“I'm not. It's just that I hadn't envisioned you spending much time in the kitchen.”

“I don't usually have much reason to. And, I admit, I'm not nearly as ambitious as you are. I use a cake mix.”

“Does that mean you'll make some cupcakes for me to take to the fair?” Summer asked.

“If your uncle doesn't have any objections.” She cut a glance toward him, her eyes questioning.

He shrugged. “It's okay with me.” Michael paused, remembering how things had ended between them the previous week. Was that the only reason she'd come? To help Summer? “Sure you want to do this? I wouldn't want you to feel like you were being used.”

He heard the tiny catch in her breath, saw the flash in her eyes before she looked away. “I don't.”

“Amanda's my friend, Uncle Mike.” Summer took hold of her hand. “That's why she came.”

“What about us, Amanda? Are we friends, too?” Michael asked.

She shifted as though uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “We can be, if you want us to be,” she returned, her voice serious, her eyes questioning.

He wanted a great deal more than simple friendship from Amanda. And it had nothing to do with Summer. He'd discovered that much two days ago when he realized he would no longer need her as his wife to ensure Summer remained in his custody.

And if the flush staining her neck and cheeks as she and Summer headed for the kitchen was anything to go by, she wanted a lot more than friendship, too.

Leaning back in his chair, Michael smiled. He'd been waiting for the right moment to approach her again. But, thanks to Summer, his waiting was over.

His sweet little minx of a niece had given him a second chance with Amanda. And this time, he was going to do his best not to blow it.

* * *

Michael stood at the doorway and watched Amanda move around his kitchen, laughing and working with Summer. He'd been pleased to see how quickly she'd taken over, directing him and Summer easily until she had restored the place to order.

He smiled, enjoying the sight of her face flushed with excitement. With her long blond hair caught up in a ponytail and one of his aprons wrapped around her tiny waist, she was a far cry from the Boston socialite or the cool Dr. Amanda Bennett he'd first met. She looked like a woman, a beautiful, contented woman.

And he wanted her to be his.

“Uncle Mike.” Summer spotted him standing at the door. “Come see,” she said excitedly, motioning for him to enter.

He walked into the room and moved beside his niece.

“Don't they look great?” Summer asked as she held up a tray of beautifully frosted chocolate cupcakes.

“Sure do.” He scooped a fingerful of frosting off the top of one and stuck it in his mouth. “Hmm. Taste good, too. How about a sample?”

Summer looked at Amanda. “Can he have one?”

“Oh, I think we can spare one,” Amanda said, smiling. She turned on the dishwasher, then walked across the kitchen and moved next to Summer. “But no more for you, missy,” She tapped the tip of Summer's nose. “You've already had two.”

“Two?” Michael arched his brow. Taking one of the cupcakes from Summer's tray, he peeled back the paper.

“I was the tester and I helped frost them, too,” Summer explained proudly.

“Tester, huh?” Michael bit into the cupcake, finishing off the sweet chocolate cake in two bites. He swallowed. “If you guys hadn't banned me from the kitchen, I'd have tested them for you.” He licked the chocolate frosting and crumbs from his fingertips. “That was really good.”

“And they taste even better than Mrs. Darcy's,” Summer added, her eyes shining.

Michael licked the last of the chocolate frosting from his lips. “That good, huh? Maybe I should test another one just to make sure.”

He reached for a second cupcake, but Amanda slapped his hand away and laughed. “I don't think that'll be necessary,” she said, smiling at him. “Summer, you'd better box these up now or they may not make it to the fair.”

“Okay.” Summer hurried over to the table to pack up her precious cupcakes.

“Don't you want to know if I think your cupcakes taste as good as Mrs. Darcy's?” Michael teased.

“Not really.” She moved over to the counter and picked up a large mixing bowl. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up to store it in the cabinet.

“Let me get that,” Michael said, moving behind her. He'd only meant to help, but then his legs accidentally touched the back of her legs and his fingers brushed hers as they both slid the bowl onto the shelf.

All the lightness and teasing of a few moments ago deserted him instantly. And the memories came flooding back. The way she'd felt in his arms. The sweet taste of her lips...

Amanda snatched her hand away. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a shaky whisper.

His hands drifted down and settled on either side of the counter, trapping her within the circle of his arms.

Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes dark and shiny as they met his. Michael leaned closer. “Amanda...”

“All finished,” Summer said.

Michael shook his head to clear it, then dropped his hands to his sides.

Grinning from ear to ear, Summer carried the large box of cupcakes over to them. “Can we go now?”

“Heavens, look at the time,” Amanda said, glancing at her wristwatch. “It's after two. You two had better get going if you want to get these to the fair by three.”

“We've got plenty of time,” Michael assured her. “I've already showered and changed. And you sent Summer up to change when she finished with the frosting, remember?”

He took the box from Summer and placed it on the counter, then turned back to his niece. “Summer, don't you have something you want to say to Amanda?”

“Thank you,” Summer said.

“You're welcome.”

Summer wrapped her arms around Amanda's waist and hugged her. “I wish you could stay here with us all the time. I love you.”

Dropping to her knees, Amanda hugged Summer close. She blinked, her eyes glistening with tears as she whispered, “I love you, too.”

Michael swallowed, moved by the affection between the child he'd come to love and the woman who had stolen his heart. This is how it would be if they were a family, he thought. The three of them—Summer, Amanda and him.

Summer pulled back from Amanda. “Will you come with us to the fair?”

“Oh, honey, I don't think so.” At Summer's crestfallen expression, she added, “But I'm planning to go later this afternoon. Maybe I'll see you there.”

But if that skittish look in her eyes meant anything, she would be careful to avoid him. “Have you already made other plans?” Michael asked as casually as he could.

“No.”

“Then why not come with us?”

“I couldn't. You're ready to go now and look at the way I'm dressed,” she protested.

Michael ran his gaze over her, taking in the white oxford shirt with its sleeves rolled up past her elbows and tucked into the worn, faded jeans that molded her trim hips and long legs. He smiled at the sight of the sensible white tennis shoes before moving back up to her face. Flawless and free of makeup, her skin looked like ivory silk, her eyes the color of dark topaz. “You look beautiful to me.” And she did. Beautiful on the inside and outside.

“Please come with us.” Summer tugged at her hand.

Amanda hesitated and Michael sensed her indecision. He wanted her with him...with them. The three of them belonged together. He'd been a fool to even think he could have walked away from her. He couldn't. And he wasn't going to let her walk away from him—not without a fight. “I'd like you to come, too, Amanda. Will you?”

“All right,” she said, giving in. “But I'm at least going to change clothes. I'm not going anywhere with chocolate cake batter smeared all over me.”