Seduced (10 page)

“Michael's her guardian.”

“For now. I intend to change that.”

Amanda's stomach knotted. “What about Summer? Don't you want what's best for her?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then how can you even think of taking her away from Michael? He's the only family she's ever known. It would be heartless to take her away from him.”

“Heartless?” she asked, her voice incredulous. “Hardly. Sensible is more like it. When you consider all that I can do for her, it would be foolish to leave her with her uncle.”

“But Summer adores him. It'll break her heart.”

“Don't be so melodramatic, Amanda. The child will adjust. Besides, I'm not opposed to Summer seeing her uncle—even though he refused me the same privilege.”

Fear clawed at Amanda. Fear for Summer. For Michael. “For heaven's sake, we're talking about a child, a flesh-and-blood little girl with feelings. Can't you and Michael work this out instead of fighting over her like she's...like she's some kind of prize in a contest?”

“Since you're the one on such friendly terms with Michael Grayson, why don't you ask him that question yourself? I'm through begging for a chance to know my granddaughter. From now on, I'll do my talking through the courts.”

Martha stood. She picked up her bag and her gloves. “I can see from your defense of him, that Michael's already gotten you under his spell. Just remember, my dear, Michael Grayson's a street fighter. He'll do anything and everything to win. And he doesn't care who he uses in order to get what he wants. If I were you, I'd be very careful or you're liable to find yourself tossed out on your pretty little rear when you've outlasted your usefulness.”

I
f he had any sense, he would forget about her, Michael told himself as he turned the wheel of his car and pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of Saint Margaret's.

But he couldn't. Heaven knew, he'd tried for the past six days. He'd even made an excuse and avoided meeting her after Summer's last session—not that it had done him any good. He'd still been forced to listen to Summer sing Amanda's praises.

Shoving the car door closed, he headed for the school building. Maybe he
had
overreacted, he admitted. He'd certainly been angry at the sight of Amanda with the Winthrops. What a relief it had been to discover he had been wrong and that she hadn't betrayed him.

He drew in a deep breath and released it, remembering the way Amanda had looked at him out of those big brown eyes. She'd made him feel so special, said such sweet, wonderful things to him. And when he'd kissed her and she'd ignited in his arms...

Michael shook his head, trying to blot out the memory of the taste of Amanda's lips, the feel of her soft, silken skin. But he couldn't shake that last image of her eyes filled with pain and accusation, her chin tilted proudly as she'd ordered him to leave.

He'd left there feeling like the lowest form of life.

Michael kicked a rock, his sense of guilt intensifying for not telling her the truth. But he hadn't lied to her when he'd told her he hadn't made love to her because of Summer.

He hadn't.

Of course, he also hadn't told her the real reason he had pursued her in the beginning. Still, he had been honest when he'd said that the potential custody suit had had nothing to do with his making love to her.

It hadn't. What had happened between them hadn't been planned. He'd wanted her simply for herself. And it wasn't just lust. He rubbed the tense muscles at the base of his neck as he strode down the cement walkway toward the school. The problem was, he liked her, and had meant it when he'd told her he cared about her.

And because he had begun to care about her, he was churning inside with guilt. Irritated by this new weakness in himself, Michael yanked open the door.

“Michael!” Sister Mary Grace stumbled, nearly falling as she came through the door.

Quickly, he reached out a hand to steady her. “Sister, I'm sorry. I didn't see you.”

“Obviously,” she said, adjusting the deep blue veil of her habit. She resettled the books in her arms. “I guess you're here to pick up Summer.”

“Yes.”

“I think she's still in Amanda's office.” She smiled. “Summer's really done well, hasn't she?”

“Yes, she has.”

“And Amanda tells me she won't be needing many more counseling sessions.”

“As a matter of fact, today's her last one,” Michael informed her, remembering the strained conversation when Amanda had called to advise him.

“You must be very pleased.”

But he wasn't, at least not entirely, he realized. Because now he would no longer have any excuse to see Amanda. And after the other night, he doubted if she would agree to see him again on a personal basis.

“I'm glad things worked out so well. I know you were concerned about Summer and didn't like the idea of her seeing a psychologist.”

“Yeah, but I was wrong and you were right, Sister. Summer's a different child now because of you. She's much happier than the little girl I brought in here a few months ago. I appreciate everything you've done for her.”

“I haven't done anything. The one you should be thanking is Amanda. She's the one responsible for the change in Summer.”

“Yeah, I guess she is.”

Sister Mary Grace smiled again, her eyes twinkling. Then she glanced at her watch. “Heavens! Look at the time. I have to run or I'm going to be late for evening prayers. Goodbye, Michael.” She started down the walkway at a rapid pace, then turned and called back over her shoulder. “Don't forget about the fair next weekend. I expect to see you and Summer both.”

“Don't worry, Sister, we'll be there.”

Michael entered the school building and walked through the empty halls, now silent except for the ticking of the wall clock. He stepped inside the reception area that had become so familiar to him during the past four months.

Four months. During that time Summer had gone from a quiet, sad-eyed little girl to a happy, smiling one. And it had been because of Amanda.

Sister Mary Grace was right. He did owe Amanda his thanks. And maybe he owed her an apology, too. Michael paused outside Amanda's office.

“But I like talking to you. Why can't I keep coming to see you?” Summer asked.

The door was slightly ajar and Michael peered through the narrow opening at the dark-haired child he'd come to love so dearly and at the woman who stirred not only his blood but some new, unfamiliar feelings of tenderness in him.

“Summer, I explained that to you already. You don't need me anymore. You're doing fine in school now...even in Mrs. Green's class. Aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“And we talked about your mother, about her dying. And you realize you don't have anything to feel guilty about. Don't you?”

“Yes.”

“You're not having any more bad dreams. Are you?”

“No.”

“And we both know you've got your uncle wrapped around your little finger.”

Summer giggled.

“So what do you need me for?”

Summer's smile faded. “I need you to be my friend,” she said softly.

“Oh, honey.” Amanda came from around the desk and knelt down in front of Summer.

Michael swallowed. Amanda looked so gentle, so loving, he thought, much the way she had Saturday night when she'd told him there was nothing common about him.

“I'll always be your friend.” She touched Summer's cheek. “Just because I'm not your counselor anymore doesn't mean we'll stop being friends.”

“Promise?”

Amanda held up her hand as though taking an oath. “Promise. Girl Scout's honor.”

Summer tilted her head to one side. “Now that you're not my counselor anymore, can I call you Amanda the way Sister Mary Grace does?”

“I think Miss Amanda would be better,” Michael said, stepping into the room.

Amanda looked up, her expression guarded as she met his eyes. She came to her feet.

“Hi, Uncle Mike.” Summer bounded out of her chair and came over to him.

“Hi yourself, Shortstuff.” Michael dropped down to the floor and gave Summer a big hug. “Sorry I'm late,” he told Amanda as she retreated behind her desk.

“No problem. Summer and I were just saying our goodbyes.” She shuffled some papers into a folder and closed it. “You do remember that today is Summer's last session?”

Slowly, Michael came to his feet. “I remember.” He willed her to look at him, but she continued to avert her gaze. “Maybe we should discuss that. I know we agreed on you working with her until the end of the school term, but it's only been a few months. Maybe we should continue with the counseling until the fall. Of course, I'd be willing to pay you for your services.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Michael. But I think you'd be wasting your money. Summer's doing fine. She really doesn't need my help any longer.”

“But we're still going to be friends,” Summer piped in. “Aren't we, Amanda?”

“Miss Amanda,” Michael corrected.

“Aren't we, Miss Amanda?” Summer repeated.

The look she gave Summer was filled with warmth and affection. “That's right,” she said softly. “We're going to be friends.”

“Then I'd say you're one lucky little girl. Because Miss Amanda's a very special lady. I don't know what we would have done without her.”

Amanda looked at him, her eyes questioning as they locked with his.

What was going on behind those deep brown eyes? he wondered. Was she remembering, too? The way it had been between them. The heat. The passion. The overpowering need to be close to one another.

“Come on, Uncle Mike.” Summer tugged at his arm. “We need to go or I'm going to be late for Michelle's slumber party.”

Amanda's cheeks colored and she looked away.

“All right, sweetheart. Why don't you get your things together while I talk to Miss Amanda for a minute?”

“Okay,” Summer said, racing toward the door. “My bag's already packed. I just have to get it from my locker.”

Once Summer had left the room, Michael turned to face her. “Amanda.”

“Yes?” she replied, but continued to avoid his gaze.

“Amanda, look at me. Please.”

She looked at him then, her expression wary, troubled. “What is it you want, Michael?”

He smiled at her, wishing he could ease this tension between them. “To thank you. For everything you've done for Summer...for me.”

“You're welcome. But Summer deserves most of the credit. She's a terrific little girl and she's worked very hard.”

“But she couldn't have done it without you.” He paused a moment, then continued. “I meant what I said, Amanda. I don't know what we would have done without you.”

“Somehow, I think you'd have managed just fine.”

“Do you? I'm not so sure.” At the sound of running feet in the hall, Michael glanced at the door. Suddenly he felt nervous. “Look. About what happened the other night—”

“Forget it.”

“I don't want to forget it. I owe you an apology and—”

“You don't owe me anything. We both made a mistake. We should never have gone out together in the first place.” She began picking up files and placing them in a stack on her desk.

“Dammit, Amanda. Will you stop fidgeting and let me finish?”

Amanda froze. Slowly, she set down the report in her hands. “I do not fidget,” she said, tilting her chin slightly.

Michael bit back the urge to smile at her indignant expression. “All right, you don't fidget. But will you at least stay still long enough for me to tell you how sorry I am for the way things turned out the other night?”

She stood stiffly, saying nothing.

“I mean, I said some pretty lousy things about you, about your marriage. I had no right to take my frustrations and anger out on you. I'm truly sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now, if you'll excuse me...”

Michael sat on the corner of her desk. “I don't want things to end between us like this, Amanda. Give me a chance to make it up to you. Have dinner with me tonight?”

“I can't,” she said quickly. “I have a big exam to study for.”

“What about coffee, then? We could grab a cup whenever you take a break. I know a great little place we can go to, an old-fashioned coffeehouse that serves great desserts and the best cappuccino in the city. It's only about ten minutes from your place.”

“Michael, this really isn't necessary. I've already accepted your apology. Let's leave it at that.”

“I can't leave things the way they are between us, not without at least explaining why I acted the way I did.”

“Uncle Mike?” Summer stood at the door, book bag in hand. “I'm ready.”

“Be right there, honey.” He turned back to Amanda. “Have coffee with me. Give me a chance to explain. If you still don't want to see me after we've talked, I'll leave you alone.”

Amanda hesitated.

“Please.”

“All right,” she said. “Where should I meet you?”

Relief rushed through him. “I'll pick you up.”

“No. I'll meet you there—at nine. What's the name of this place?”

“But—”

“Uncle Mike. I'm gonna be late.” Summer shifted from one foot to the other. “We have to go.”

He glanced from Summer to Amanda. “Okay.” He scribbled the name and address on a piece of paper and handed it to her. “I'll see you at nine.”

* * *

At nine o'clock Amanda stood at the entrance to the coffeehouse and wondered if she had made a mistake in coming. She'd agreed to meet Michael to convince him things were over between them. Yet she'd barely been able to look him in the eye earlier without thinking of what happened or had almost happened between them last Saturday.

Last Saturday. She fought the rush of color climbing her cheeks as she remembered her wanton response to him. Never in her life had she acted so rashly.

And never in her life had any man made her feel so much like a woman.

How was she going to convince him that things were over between them when the mere thought of sitting across from him made her stomach flutter?

She would simply be honest, she told herself. Explain to him that a relationship with him held too many complications, posed too many risks—risks she wasn't willing to take.

Bracing herself, Amanda pushed open the door and stepped inside the coffeehouse. The lights were soft, but not dark. A guitarist strummed gentle folk songs from a seat in the center of the room. Amanda scanned the cluster of tables, searching for the familiar dark head.

Be honest with him, she coached herself silently. Explain that she liked him, was attracted to him, but it would be a mistake for them to become involved any further.

And after she had warned him about Martha, she would leave. Then maybe she would be able to put Michael Grayson and this myriad of feelings he inspired behind her and get on with her life.

Amanda glanced to her right and spotted him seated at a corner table staring into a cup of coffee. He looked tired, she thought, noting the trace of shadows beneath his eyes as she drew near.

She stopped in front of him. “Hello, Michael.”

He looked up. “Amanda.” He came to his feet at once. “I was afraid you might change your mind.” He pulled out a chair for her.

“I considered it,” she admitted, sitting down.

“I'm glad you didn't. What can I get you to drink?”