Seduced (15 page)

“You know, my throat feels a little dry, too. I think I'll go with you.” Michael dug in his pocket and pulled out some bills. He handed them to Summer. “You and Michelle go ahead. Amanda and I will wait for you over by the lemonade stand.” He pointed to the yellow-and-white-striped booth. “Okay?”

“Okay,” they said in unison before running back to the line.

“You should have gone with them,” Amanda chided. “Suppose Summer gets scared or—”

Michael placed his index finger to her lips. “Summer will be fine. Besides, you're the one who looks shaken.”

She started to object, but Michael was already reaching for her hand. “Come on,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers. “Right now, I could use something cool. Let's go get that lemonade.”

* * *

Several lemonades and a few hours later, Amanda came down the stairs from Summer's bedroom. “Did she give you any trouble?” Michael asked, noting the troubled look in her eyes.

Amanda shook her head. “Once I got her into bed, she went right to sleep.”

“Good. She's had a pretty full day.” He led her into the living room and they sat down on the couch. “So have you,” he said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. He didn't know why Amanda had decided to stop running from him, he only knew that he was glad that she had. He allowed his finger the pleasure of trailing down her neck. She had the softest, most beautiful skin, he thought. He was beginning to think he could spend a lifetime touching, exploring that skin, and it still wouldn't be long enough.

Amanda caught his hand and stilled it. She looked up at him, her expression somber. “Michael, you haven't mentioned anything about Martha Winthrop. Have you heard any more from her or her attorney?”

Michael tensed. Would they never get beyond that? Sighing, he pulled back his hand. “The last time her name came up you and I ended up in a fight and I almost lost you.” Even now Amanda's accusations and the pain he had caused her bothered him. He'd been afraid he'd lost her for good. “I think it would be better if we didn't discuss Martha Winthrop at all from now on.”

“You're probably right. But I have to know. Has she sued you for custody?”

She hadn't—at least, not yet. But from what Dave had told him, the papers were being prepared. What would Amanda say if she knew that? Would she run away from him again? Convince herself he was using her?

And what chance would he have of convincing her otherwise? Especially, when in the beginning he had planned to do just that? The less she knew, the better, he decided—at least, for now. He wouldn't risk losing her again. “Forget about Martha Winthrop. She's my problem, Amanda. Not yours.”

“I realize that, but—”

“But nothing.” He'd been given a second chance with Amanda and he refused to let Martha ruin things. “I'll deal with Martha if and when the time comes. You don't need to worry about her.”

“But I am worried and you should be, too. Summer's trying to find her.”

Michael froze. His heart stopped a moment. Narrowing his eyes, he studied Amanda. She wouldn't have told Summer that Martha was her grandmother. She couldn't possibly betray him that way, he told himself. “What makes you think she's trying to find Martha? She doesn't even know the woman.”

Amanda swallowed. “She showed me an old snapshot...of her mother and a young man. A blond-haired man with green eyes. Summer's eyes.”

Phillip. Summer had a picture of Sara and Phillip? Michael could feel the blood drain from his face.

“She said it was a picture of her parents.”

His stomach churning, Michael asked, “Did she know her...?” Michael tried again, unable to bring himself to call Phillip her father. “Did she know the name of the man in the photograph?”

“I don't think so.”

A small measure of relief washed over him. “Then what makes you think she's looking for Martha?”

“Because she told me she was looking for her grandmother,” Amanda said softly. “She said Sara told her the man in the photograph was her father and that his mother, her grandmother, was a very important lady who lived in New Orleans. She asked me to help her find her.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her she would have to ask you.”

She already had, months ago, and he'd thought he had convinced her that Sara had been mistaken. And he'd foolishly thought Summer had abandoned the idea.

“No matter how I feel about the situation, I would never have told her about Martha,” Amanda informed him, her voice tinged with hurt. “Not without your permission.”

Michael pulled Amanda to him and held her close. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know.” He kissed the top of her head.

After a moment Amanda pulled back slightly. “But I still think you should tell her. You know how important family is to Summer. She has a right to know.”

What she said was true. He realized that, but he couldn't take that chance.

“Maybe if you talked to Martha, agreed to allow her to visit Summer—”

“No.”

“But suppose she takes you to court—”

“I'll deal with it.”

“Maybe if I—”

“I said, I'll handle it, Amanda. Alone. The last thing I need is for you to accuse me of using you again. I'm not going to give you another excuse to run away.”

Amanda remained quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she slipped her arms around his neck. “Does it look like I'm running away?” She gave him a smile so filled with love that he felt as though he'd been punched in the gut.

“Maybe you should be,” he said before lowering his head and tasting her lips. But it was already too late, he realized, deepening the kiss. Now that he'd had a taste of her, knew what it was like to hold her in his arms, to hear her laughter, he wouldn't, couldn't, let her go.

At the sound of the doorbell, Michael released her. As he went to answer it, Amanda leaned her head back against the couch. She touched her swollen lips with unsteady fingertips, disappointed and at the same time grateful for the interruption. She'd never considered herself a particularly sensual being, yet with Michael she seemed to lose control.

“Amanda, this is Elsie Winters, my next-door neighbor,” Michael said, entering the room. “Elsie, this is Amanda Bennett.”

“Hello, Amanda. I've heard so much about you.”

Amanda stood to greet the elderly brunette with laughing dark eyes. “How do you do?” she said, accepting the outstretched hand.

“Why, you're just as pretty as Summer said you were. She talks about you all the time,” she went on. “I'm glad I finally got to meet you.”

“The pleasure's mine, Ms. Winters.”

“Elsie, dear. Call me Elsie. I feel as though I know you already.”

“I called Elsie earlier and asked her if she'd keep an eye on Summer while I brought you home,” Michael explained.

“You didn't have to do that,” Amanda said. “I could have taken a taxi.”

“Nonsense,” Elsie told her. “You two run along. I'm just going to watch a little TV.” Sitting down in the easy chair, she picked up the television remote control. Elsie clicked on the power button and a toothpaste commercial filled the screen.

“Nice meeting you, Ms.—Elsie.”

“You, too, dear.”

Michael put his arm around Amanda's shoulders and urged her toward the door. “I won't be long, Elsie.”

“Take your time,” Elsie mumbled as she kicked back in the chair and flipped the station to the Saturday night movie.

When they turned onto her street a short time later, Amanda said, “I like your neighbor. She seems nice.”

“She is.” He pulled up in front of her house and shut off the engine, then turned to her. “But her timing's lousy.”

Amanda could feel the color rising to her cheeks, realizing just how involved she and Michael had been when Elsie had rung the bell. What would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted?

“I had a wonderful time today.”

“So did I,” she murmured.

“I never did get around to thanking you for rescuing me with those cupcakes.”

“Yes, you did—several times. But I'm the one who should thank you. I had a terrific time. I'm glad I went.”

“So am I.” He took a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his index finger. Pausing, he looked her directly in the eyes. “Why did you come today? What made you change your mind?”

Amanda's heart pounded in her chest. “Summer,” she said. And because I love you, she added silently.

“You're pretty fond of her, aren't you?”

“Yes,” she answered softly. “I am.”

“And what about her uncle? Are you fond of him, too?”

Amanda's throat grew thick and she struggled to swallow past the sudden lump. “Michael, I—”

“Because I'm nuts about you, Amanda.” He pulled her close. “These past few days, not seeing you, talking to you...I was going crazy. You're all I could think about...the way you looked, the way you smelled, the way you felt in my arms. When I turned around in the kitchen today and saw you...” He took a deep breath. “And tonight when I kissed you...” He slid his fingers into her hair. Cupping her head, he brought her mouth a fraction from his.

Amanda moaned deep in her throat. She lifted her face for his kiss, needing the closeness as much as he.

His mouth devoured hers. And this time when he kissed her there was no gentleness, no teasing—only hunger, hot and demanding and raw.

He lifted his head slightly, his breath coming in quick, deep gasps. “Let's go inside,” he said before slipping out of the car.

She heard the urgency in his voice, saw the need that mirrored her own. The realization thrilled her and frightened her at same time. Amanda shook her head, trying to clear the fuzziness as Michael helped her from the car.

When they reached her door, Amanda hesitated, suddenly afraid. She was in love with him and she was afraid—afraid of loving again, of opening herself up, of being hurt.

“Amanda?”

But would love be enough? Would it be worth the risk? “Michael, I—” She swallowed and tried to explain. “Don't you have to get back to Summer?”

Michael frowned. “Summer's fine. What's the matter?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She took a deep breath and tried again. “I can't think straight. And everything's been happening so fast.”

“Not from where I'm standing. This thing between us has been there from the beginning.”

“I know,” she admitted. “It's just that I'm not sure I'm ready for us to...to become...”

“The word you're looking for is ‘lovers.'”

She looked up at him, fearing she would find anger at her retreating tactics.

She found understanding instead. “It's nothing to be ashamed of,” he told her. “Maybe for you everything does seem sudden. But not for me. I've known from the first time I set eyes on you that I wanted you, how good things could be between us. I've made love to you a thousand times in my dreams.” He stroked her cheek tenderly. His eyes were filled with such longing it took her breath away. “I guess I'll just have to dream a little longer.”

“Thank you for understanding,” she whispered. She loved him; she wanted him, yet... Once they became lovers there would be no turning back.

“Just remember, love, I'm not a patient man. Don't ask me to wait too long.”

M
ichael had lied to her. He
was
a patient man. Far more patient than she'd ever dreamed he would be. Far more patient than she was.

After weeks of tantalizing, breath-stealing kisses that ended at her front door, she'd been reduced to a mass of frustrated longings. Enough was enough. She was tired of waiting.

Amanda checked on the chicken and spaghetti. Satisfied, she returned to the dining room and dimmed the lights, then stood back to survey the table set intimately for two. She was through denying her feelings. She loved Michael. And she wanted him. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Now that she'd put everything into perspective, she realized Michael couldn't use her—not unless she allowed him to.

And she
wouldn't.
Sighing, Amanda thought of all those silent lectures she'd given herself, all the time she'd wasted steeling herself for proclamations of love and pleas to testify on his behalf at a custody hearing.

All her fears had been for nothing. And from his silence, she could only assume Michael had been right. Martha had decided not to follow through on her threat to sue for custody of Summer.

But Summer and Martha weren't her problem right now—Michael was. Adjusting one of the silver candle holders, Amanda smoothed the lacy tablecloth, then walked over to the stereo and turned it on.

After spending every free moment together for the past three weeks, she was more than ready to progress to the next stage in their relationship—becoming lovers. She'd made that much obvious.

So why had he backed off?

The soft sounds of a Righteous Brothers' melody filled the room as Amanda recalled the heated look in his eyes when he'd kissed her the previous night, the feel of his hard, muscled body pressed next to her own.

Amanda shuddered. He still wanted her. Of that much she was sure. And as far as she was concerned, they'd waited long enough. Tonight, if everything worked according to plan, she and Michael would become lovers.

The doorbell rang and Amanda's heart fluttered. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed the floral skirt of her strapless cotton dress and forced herself to take slow, measured steps.

“Hi,” she said, opening the door.

“Hello.” Standing in the doorway with his jacket hooked over one shoulder, Michael's eyes gleamed appreciatively as they swept over the soft pastel fabric that hugged her breasts and flared out at the waist. “All set?”

“Not quite,” Amanda replied. “Why don't you come in for a minute and have a drink?” She stepped back, gesturing for him to enter.

Michael glanced at his watch. “We'll have to make it a quick one.” He tossed his jacket onto a chair. “Our dinner reservation's for eight.”

“Not anymore.”

Michael turned around and arched his brow in question.

“I canceled the reservation,” she explained, amazed at how calm she sounded. “I thought we'd have dinner here instead.” Heart pounding, she walked into the living room.

Suddenly nervous, she stopped in front of the plate-glass window and watched the sun complete its descent. She could hear Michael come up behind her, smell the scent of his after-shave. A shiver of excitement ran through her and she touched the glass, feeling the sun's heat beneath her fingertips.

“Amanda?”

Turning, she smiled at him before moving beside the silver stand and ice bucket. She lifted the bottle of chilled champagne. “I'm afraid I've never quite gotten the hang of opening these things. Would you mind?”

Taking the bottle from her, Michael studied the expensive label a moment before looking up. “Are we celebrating something?”

Amanda smiled. They were celebrating the next stage of their affair. “You might say that.”

He inserted the corkscrew into the bottle and began twisting it. “Are you going to let me in on what it is we're celebrating?”

“Oh, you'll find out soon enough.”

Michael gave the opener a final twist then pulled. The cork shot out with a pop. And champagne, white and frothy, bubbled over the bottle's rim.

Amanda held out two tulip-shaped glasses. “I've been cooking all afternoon. I hope you're hungry.”

“Starved.”

“Good. We're having spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti's one of my favorites.” He filled the two strawberry-garnished glasses.

“I hope you don't mind the change in plans, but I really didn't want to be around other people tonight.”

Michael paused a moment; his eyes burrowed into hers. “Since when have you become antisocial?” He took one of the glasses.

“Since I decided I wanted to be alone with you.” She lifted her glass. “Shall we make a toast?”

“By all means. But since I'm not exactly sure what it is we're celebrating, why don't you do the honors?”

“All right. How about...to lovers.”

Michael's eyes heated, darkening to the color of sapphires. He studied her mouth for what seemed like an eternity, then slid his gaze down her neck, her bare shoulders, to the tops of her breasts. Finally he brought his gaze back to hers. “To lovers,” he said, tapping his glass to hers.

Heat curled inside her, spreading through her stomach, down between her thighs. Her heart thudded wildly. Watching Michael over the rim of her glass, Amanda sipped the champagne slowly. Feeling daring, she removed the strawberry from her glass and dipped it into the champagne. “Did you know strawberries enhance the flavor of champagne?” she asked.

“Is that so?”

She licked the tip of the ripe berry, then dipped it again. “Mmm-hmm. Something to do with the mingling of juices.”

Michael stood frozen. Not a muscle moved—except for his eyes. His eyes devoured her mouth.

Amanda bit into the strawberry and savored the unique blend of fruit and wine. She licked her lips, catching the drops of juice and champagne with her tongue. When she met his eyes again, her heart leapt to her throat. She'd heard the term “naked desire” before but never had she seen it—and never had she expected it to be directed at her.

Encouraged by his response, Amanda set down her glass and took a step toward him. She lifted the piece of strawberry to his lips. “Would you like a taste?”

Michael caught her wrist and guided her hand to his mouth. She shivered as his tongue flicked across her fingertips. Still holding her wrist, he chewed the bit of fruit slowly, never once taking his eyes from her. “You're right, it does taste better this way.” One by one, he licked the tips of her fingers, grazing the sensitized flesh with his teeth.

Her body trembling, Amanda leaned into him. “Michael,” she whispered, wanting him, needing him. She caressed his cheek, his jaw. Reaching for his tie, she pulled it free.

Blood ran through his veins hot and thick as lava. Setting down his glass, Michael caught both of her wrists. “Do you know what you're doing?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

“Yes.” Impatient to feel him, to touch him, she pulled her hands free and began loosening the buttons of his shirt.

“Amanda...” He imprisoned her hands once more, feeling the thread of control he'd been exercising for weeks begin to fray.

Amanda looked up into his eyes. “Please, Michael, don't make me wait any longer. Make love to me.”

Michael stiffened. Silently he cursed his own weakness. He'd realized weeks ago that he wanted more than a casual affair with Amanda and that possessing her body would never be enough. That's why he'd taken his time, tried not to rush her. He wanted her love. He wanted her trust.

At the dark look in his eyes, the stiff line of his jaw, Amanda's resolve weakened. Had she made a mistake? Did Michael not want her?

Michael noted the flash of doubt creep into her eyes and his thin thread of control snapped. He pulled her into his arms. “Be sure this is what you want, Amanda. Because once you're mine, I'll never let you go.”

“It's what I want,” she murmured, relief rushing through her. She slid her hands up his chest, around his neck, and lifted her mouth for his kiss. “You're what I want.”

Groaning, Michael took possession of her mouth. He thrust his tongue between her lips and savored the sweetness that had tempted and tormented him for months.

Amanda met his hunger, giving reign to her own desires. When he released her mouth, she whimpered. She pressed her body against him, wanting, needing to be closer still.

Michael shuddered at the soft, feminine sounds she was making. His own breathing grew ragged as he fought for some semblance of control.

A thrill of pleasure spread through her at Michael's response. She kissed his jaw, his throat, while her fingers worked at the remaining buttons of his shirt. Pulling the fabric free of his pants, Amanda spread the shirt open and ran her fingers in the thicket of chest hair. She brought her mouth to the warm, tanned skin and tasted the flesh she'd exposed.

Michael groaned. “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?”

Amanda looked up at him out of dark, smoky eyes. She traced his mouth with her tongue. “The same thing you're doing to me, I hope.”

Her boldness was the final straw. Desire, held carefully in check, exploded inside him. Slowly and with a thoroughness that brought both pleasure and pain, Michael kissed her lips, her chin, her neck, the sweet silken skin of her shoulders. He drew his finger over the tip of one breast, feeling the bud harden under his touch. When she arched her body toward him, he pulled her back into his arms.

Amanda ran her fingers down his back, along his buttocks, and Michael made a guttural sound that caused her pulse to scatter even more. He kissed her again, devouring her mouth, her very senses. When he cupped her and cradled her against his desire, Amanda cried out, “Michael, please.”

Michael tore his mouth from hers. “Where's your bedroom?” he asked, his voice tight with need.

“No,” she managed to say through love-drugged senses. “Make love to me here. Now.”

Michael eased down her zipper and her dress pooled at her feet. She stepped out of the circle of flowers and kicked it aside. Moonlight spilled through the window, bathing her in its glow. For a moment Michael could only stare. Standing before him in only a wisp of lavender lace and sheer hose, she looked like a goddess. Her breasts, the color of rich cream, were full, firm, and begging to be kissed. Unable to resist, he bent his head and tasted one dark rosy tip.

Amanda gasped as waves of pleasure shot through her. Reaching for his belt, she unfastened it quickly and fumbled with his zipper.

Capturing her hands, Michael brought them to his mouth. Slowly, gently, he kissed her knuckles. “I want you,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “So much that a day hasn't gone by that I haven't closed my eyes and wished I could bury myself inside you. And it's taking every ounce of control I have left not to take you this very minute. Standing up.”

Amanda's knees grew weak at the urgency in his voice. Pulling her hands free, she reached for him and closed her fingers around his hard length. “Then take me. Here. Now.”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut a moment and drew a steadying breath. “Heaven help me. I want to. But I've waited a long time for tonight and I'm not going to rush it.” He swallowed as the need inside him grew. “I'm going to savor every moment of making you mine.” And when he was finished, she would belong to him forever.

He kissed her lips. Slowly, thoroughly. “So beautiful. So perfect,” he murmured. He kissed and licked and nibbled at her ears, her neck, her shoulders, setting off trails of sensation wherever he touched. Arms locked around one another, they sank to the carpet.

Amanda tugged at the waistband of his slacks, but Michael caught her hands and pinned them over her head. “Patience, love,” he whispered as he continued the torment to her senses.

Sweat broke out across his brow, but Michael strained to hold his desire in check. He loved her, wanted her, but her pleasure was more important than his.

Just when she thought she would go mad from wanting, Michael's mouth closed over the tip of her breast. Amanda moaned, writhing under the exquisite sensations.

Releasing her hands, he filled his palms with her breasts and kissed his way down her rib cage to the soft indentation of her navel.

Amanda whimpered.

He soothed her with another kiss as he unhooked the stocking from her garter belt. He removed the silk from first one leg, then the next, slowly kissing the skin as he exposed it. Once he had kissed the soles of both feet and discarded the scraps of lace, he worked his way upward again.

Michael paused at the nest of blond silk that shielded her and fought the urge to make her his now. He wanted to make it perfect for her, for them. Forcing himself to go slowly, he kicked off his shoes, then shed his slacks and briefs. He reached for the glass of champagne. Staring into her eyes, glazed with passion, Michael poured a few drops of the wine in her navel, then lowered his head.

Amanda gasped. Her head moved from side to side as Michael's tongue licked and caressed her. “Please, Michael,” she pleaded, half mad with longing.

“Not yet, love. Not yet.”

Michael dipped his fingers into the champagne then stroked the lips of her femininity.

Amanda cried out and arched her hips toward him. He stroked her again, slowly torturing and pleasuring her.

As she watched, Michael brought his fingers to his mouth, then licked their tips. “
You
enhance the flavor of champagne,” he told her before lowering his head once more and tasting her honeyed sweetness.

“Michael.” Amanda shuddered as wave after wave washed over her, sending her hurtling into a wind-tossed sea of sensation. Helpless against the onslaught, she clung to Michael, pulling him with her into the tempest.

Already weak with desire, Amanda's soft, hungry noises drove Michael over the edge. Lifting his head, he moved between her legs and drove into her warmth.