Seduced (9 page)

She pulled down his zipper and stroked his hard length.

Michael's body stiffened and Amanda heard a guttural sound, but wasn't sure if came from him or from her.

“I want you,” he said, his voice filled with need.

Amanda stared into his eyes and for the first time in her life she knew what the term “raw hunger” meant. “And I want you.”

Michael crushed her to him, touching, exploring. “Oh, Amanda. I can't believe I'm here with you at last. All these weeks, I've wanted you so much and tonight when I saw you with Bradley...”

He kissed her again, leaving her breathless.

“I wanted to murder Winthrop when I saw the way he was looking at you.”

Amanda smiled at his possessiveness. “I think you're overreacting. I told you, we'd just met. I doubt seriously if Bradley was lusting after me.”

“Of course he was. Winthrop wanted you.
Any
man would want you,” he said while his hands and mouth continued to worship her body. “When I saw you with him and Martha tonight, when I thought you were going to help them take Summer from me...” His voice dropped lower. “They'll never win now—not with you on my side.”

Amanda went still. Suddenly the flame inside her fizzled, leaving her feeling cold and sick.

“But I don't want to waste any more time talking about the Winthrops,” Michael said, slipping his hand behind her. “I want to make love to you.”

He found the zipper at her waist and pulled the tab.

“No!” Amanda pushed him away.

“Amanda, what's wrong?” Michael started to touch her.

“Don't!” She struggled to sit up. Reaching for her dress, she pulled it up over her breasts.

Michael frowned. “What's the matter?”

How could she have been such a fool? She fumbled with the button at her neck, hurriedly fastening it. She'd half convinced herself that she was falling in love with him...and that he cared for her.

He didn't care. He was using her.

Amanda blinked once, twice, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

“Dammit, Amanda, answer me! What in the hell has gotten into you?”

“I've come to my senses. That's what.” She smoothed her skirt with as much dignity as possible and made an effort to sit up straight. “Please get dressed, Michael.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

He looked as though she'd slapped him. He came to his feet in one quick movement. Angrily, he shoved his shirt into his pants and pulled up his zipper.

“A minute ago you were on fire, begging me to make love to you. And now you're trying to tell me you've changed your mind? What kind of game are you playing?” he demanded.

Amanda tipped up her chin. “I'm not playing games. A minute ago I thought it was
me
you wanted.”

His brows furrowed. “I did want you. I still do,” he said, his confusion evident.

“No. It's not me you want—Amanda Bennett, the woman. You want Dr. Bennett, the child psychologist...someone you think can help you in your custody fight for Summer.”

She wanted him to deny it, tell her she was wrong. She could have wept at his lengthy silence, at the hard look in his eyes.

“Is that what you think?” he finally replied.

She tipped her chin a notch higher and met his gaze. “I think Martha Winthrop's suing you for custody of Summer and that you saw me as a weapon against her. That's what that scene tonight was all about, wasn't it?”

“What happened between me and the Winthrops tonight has nothing to do with you. It—”

“Wasn't it?” Amanda demanded.

“Yes,” he said, his voice clipped. “Summer's one of the reasons there's bad blood between me and the Winthrops. But you're wrong about the custody suit. Martha hasn't filed one. And I doubt seriously if she will. Oh, she might want Summer, all right, but I don't think she'll want the ugly publicity that a custody battle would generate. She won't want the Winthrop name dragged through the press.”

“Suppose you're wrong? Suppose she wants Summer badly enough that she doesn't care about the press?”

“Then we'll go to court and I'll beat her.”

“And just how do you plan to do that, Michael? Get me to testify for you? To tell the court what a fine guardian you've been?”

Michael clenched his jaw but didn't answer.

“That is what you planned, isn't it? Isn't that the reason for all the flowers? The romantic dinners?” She bit back a sob. “Isn't that the reason for the big seduction scene tonight?”

“No! Dammit. What happened between us tonight had nothing to do with Summer or the Winthrops.” He paced the room, wearing a path across the Aubusson rug.

She wanted to believe him, but she couldn't. She didn't dare allow herself to. She'd been a fool to deceive herself like this. And deceive herself, she had. He didn't care about her; he'd only been using her—just like Adam had used her. She hugged her arms around herself, trying to ease the pain. “I'd like you to leave, Michael.”

Michael spun around and crossed over to her. “Amanda, please. Listen to me. Don't do this to us.” He eased down beside her. “I—I care for you...very much. What happened between us tonight was very special to me. I don't want to throw it away. Don't throw
us
away.”

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, wanting desperately to believe him. But she couldn't afford to. She'd been down this road before and sworn not to travel it again. Hadn't she?

She opened her eyes. Squaring her shoulders, she tried to adapt an air of haughtiness. “Since you're so hung up on class, Michael, why not show a little? I've asked you to leave. Now please get out of my house.”

Michael's face paled. Slowly he stood. Walking over to the chair, he picked up his jacket. “You know, for a lady who makes her living poking her nose into other people's emotional problems and telling them how to fix things, you haven't done too good of a job of fixing your own.”

He hooked the black jacket on his index finger and flung it over his shoulder. “Maybe it's time you took a long hard look at yourself, Dr. Bennett. I don't know what that ex-husband of yours did to you, but maybe someday you're going to stop punishing every man who manages to get close to you for his sins. I just hope when you do, it won't be too late for us.”

* * *

The next morning Amanda had just finished trying to camouflage the effects of a night that had brought little sleep and far more tears than she'd imagined possible when her doorbell rang. Smoothing the line of her white slacks and nautical top, she walked to the door and opened it.

“Good morning, Amanda,” Martha Winthrop said breezily. “May I come in?”

Amanda hesitated a moment. “Martha, this morning's really not a good time for me. I mean, I'm not quite up to company. Could we possibly do this another time?”

“I'm sorry if I'm catching you at a bad time, dear, but this will only take a few minutes. And I'm afraid this simply can't wait.”

Although her words were apologetic, her voice lacked sincerity, Amanda thought.

Martha cast a pointed glance at Amanda's neighbor working next door in her garden. “I really do need to speak with you, Amanda, and I think it would be best if this discussion took place in private.”

Feeling she had little choice, Amanda opened the door and allowed Martha to enter.

A few minutes later, after serving them coffee, Amanda sat back on the couch. She took a sip from her cup. “Since this is obviously not a social visit, Martha, why don't we skip all the pleasantries and you tell me exactly what it is you need to speak with me about.”

“You're very direct, my dear. I like that.” Martha set down her cup. “I'll try to be equally direct. Summer Grayson's my granddaughter.”

Amanda's stomach tensed, but she remained silent. Taking another sip of coffee, she studied the other woman over the rim of her cup. In her dark navy suit and matching hat, Martha reminded her of a military commander—one who was on a perilous mission.

“Nothing to say, my dear? You don't seem surprised.”

Amanda shrugged. “I don't see where it's any of my concern whether Summer Grayson's your granddaughter or not.”

“Oh, she's my granddaughter, all right. And I'm glad to see that you're not going to try to deny it. After seeing you with Michael Grayson last night I was afraid you might.”

“Get to the point, Martha. What is it you want?”

“Why, your help, of course.”

Amanda narrowed her eyes. “My help in what?”

“In ensuring that my granddaughter is given every opportunity to grow up a happy and normal child.” Martha toyed with her gloves a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Amanda's. “You see, I know you've been counseling my granddaughter.”

Amanda nearly choked on the protest that rushed to her lips, but Martha lifted her hand. “Don't bother to deny it. I know about Summer's behavioral problems and that you've been working with her for nearly three months now. I understand she's progressing quite nicely.”

Amanda's fingers tightened on the cup. “I'd be very interested in learning how you managed access to information that's supposed to be confidential.”

Martha smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. “This is New Orleans, my dear. I'm a very important person in this town. Most people are only too happy to do small favors for me.”

Fuming, Amanda said, “Well, since I'm not from New Orleans, how important you are doesn't mean a thing to me.”

“It will, if you're hoping to practice here someday.”

Amanda gritted her teeth and wondered what her mother could have possibly found in common with this woman. “If that's supposed to be a threat, I think I'll choose to ignore it.”

“That wouldn't be wise.”

“Maybe not, but it's my decision. Is that all?”

“No, it isn't. I want my granddaughter, Amanda. And I intend to get custody of her. I'd like you to help me.”

“What makes you think I can help you?”

“Because you're her psychologist. And as I'm sure Michael Grayson's already surmised, since you've worked with the child, your testimony would mean a lot in a courtroom.”

Amanda fought to remain calm while inside she was seething at the woman's audacity. “Even if I were in a position to help you, which I don't believe I am, what makes you think I would?”

“Because if what your mother told me about you is true, you're a trained psychologist and a good one. You'll do what's best for the child.”

“Which means recommending that
you
be appointed her legal guardian?”

“Of course. After all, I
am
her grandmother. And despite the circumstances of her birth, she is a Winthrop. She deserves her heritage. I assure you, I can offer the child a great deal more than that foolish uncle of hers.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that, Martha. Michael Grayson happens to be a fine man,” Amanda said, angry at the other woman's disdain. She could easily see where Michael had learned such prejudices if Martha Winthrop were any example of what passed for society in New Orleans. “He loves Summer a great deal and is doing a wonderful job with her.”

“Then why does she need a child psychologist?”

“She doesn't—at least, not anymore. She only needed someone to help her work through the pain of losing her mother. And that certainly wasn't Michael's fault.”

“No, it wasn't.” Martha's lips thinned. “It was Sara's fault for taking my grandchild and running away with her.”

Amanda set down her cup. “As I understand it, you weren't all that anxious to welcome her into your home to begin with. Luckily she had a brother who cared enough to stand by her when your son wouldn't.”

Some of the starch seemed to go out of the older woman. She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Yes. That was a dreadful mistake. One I truly regret. But, Bernard, my late husband, wouldn't hear of Phillip marrying the girl.”

“Why not?”

“It just didn't seem right for our Phillip to marry the daughter of a former employee.”

“Employee? Sara's father worked for you?”

“Why, yes. Didn't Michael tell you? His father worked for our construction company. There was an accident on one of the job sites, a piece of equipment malfunctioned or something, and Michael's father was killed.”

Stunned by the revelation, Amanda remained silent as Martha continued.

“The man's wife, poor thing, went completely to pieces. Suffered some kind of breakdown, even tried to kill herself. Bradley and Michael were around the same age...and Bradley always did have a tendency to take up with the children of our employees. I guess that's why he knew some of the Grayson kids' friends. Anyway, Bradley said the kids used to call the poor soul Crazy Alice or Mad Alice or something like that because she was always pretending her husband was still alive, that he was coming home. But then, we all know how cruel kids can be sometimes.”

Amanda's heart twisted as she remembered the look on Michael's face when Bradley had referred to Crazy Alice. She could easily imagine how difficult those taunts had been for the proud boy Michael would have been.

“Anyway, my Bernard was dead set against Phillip marrying the girl and I wasn't exactly wild about the idea myself.”

“Phillip was a grown man. He should have stood up to you and his father.”

Martha shook her head. Her eyes misted. “Not my Phillip. He hated confrontation. He was such a quiet boy. He liked music and art. That's what attracted him to the Grayson girl in the first place. I never dreamed I'd lose him and Bernard both so suddenly.”

“Is that when you decided you wanted Summer?”

“I've always wanted my grandchild,” she said firmly. Martha's eyes flashed and she wiped away any trace of tears. “Sara knew that. That's why she took Summer and ran away. And it's also the reason she would never stay in any one place very long. Because she knew I'd find her and my granddaughter. But she's gone now and Summer's back. I want my grandchild, Amanda. And I mean to have her.”