Seduced (3 page)

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.”