Seduced (2 page)

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.

“T
his 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.