by Metsy Hingle
At Michael’s request, Amanda lit the candles and after the children finished singing Happy Birthday, she stooped down next to Summer. “Ready to make a wish?”
Summer looked at her, the light flickering atop the cake reflecting in her green eyes. “Do all birthday wishes come true?” she asked.
“I’m not sure about all of them, but a lot of them do.”
Summer gave her a shy grin. “I hope mine comes true.” She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, then drew in a deep breath and released it.
As the children cheered, Amanda swallowed past a lump in her throat and wondered what Summer had wished for. Had she wished for the new mother she had been hoping her uncle would provide her with? Or for the mysterious grandmother she was so sure existed?
Amanda glanced over Summer’s head at Michael. His blue eyes were fixed on her face, his expression serious; that determined gleam was back in his eyes. A wave of apprehension shuddered through Amanda.
Whatever his niece had wished for, Amanda was sure of one thing. Michael would move mountains to make sure that the little girl’s wish came true.
Four
“Thank you for allowing Matthew to come to Summer’s party, Mrs. Stuart.”
“Oh, you’re most welcome, Mr. Grayson. Matthew had a wonderful time. Didn’t you, dear?”
Michael shook the young boy’s hand. While he continued to murmur polite thank-yous to the parents collecting their children, Michael’s gaze kept drifting to Amanda. She and Summer were seated at a table, chairs pulled close, their heads bent slightly, almost touching. Summer fingered the carousel music box Amanda had given her for her birthday while she listened intently to what Amanda was saying.
Carefully, Summer rewrapped the gift in its white tissue and returned it to the box on the table. Then, her green eyes glowing with happiness, she threw her arms around Amanda’s neck.
Michael swallowed, experiencing a sharp kick somewhere in the region of his heart at the scene in front of him. Here was the motherly affection Summer had been longing for, that she’d cried for when she’d told him she missed her mother, the one need his own love could never give her.
Emotion churned inside him, making him feel frustrated, helpless. He angled his gaze back to Amanda.
A pained, almost yearning expression flickered across her features momentarily, then she closed her eyes and hugged Summer to her.
Not for the first time Michael wondered what had brought that shadowed look to her eyes. Was it her ex-husband? She’d said little about her failed marriage and had seemed reluctant to discuss it at all. Michael frowned. Had she loved the other man deeply and been hurt a great deal by the divorce? Was that the reason she was so cautious? So distrustful? Was it possible she still loved her ex-husband?
Michael scowled, something dark and unfamiliar unfurling inside him at the thought of Amanda with another man, as someone else’s wife.
Whatever feelings she might still harbor for her ex-husband, he would wipe them away, Michael promised himself. She was going to be his wife. He didn’t want anyone else.
Michael studied the lines of her delicately sculptured face, the generous pink mouth.
It had to be her. No one else would do.
She was going to be his.
It was time to stop pussyfooting around, he told himself. He needed to take advantage of whatever physical attraction she felt for him and turn it into something more. He’d never taken things slow and easy in his business dealings or in his relationships with women before. He shouldn’t have done it this time, either.
As the last of her school friends approached to say their goodbyes to Summer, Amanda released her. Standing, Amanda smoothed the lines of her pale blue slacks and started in his direction.
Yes, Michael decided, he’d made a mistake in allowing Amanda to dictate the pace of their relationship. She spent far too much time thinking and analyzing. From now on, he was going to concentrate on making her feel.
His mouth eased into a grin. And he was going to thoroughly enjoy every minute of the process.
“Looks like the party was a big success,” Amanda said, stopping in front of him. “I had a lovely time. Thank you for inviting me.”
Her lips curved into a smile, yet he detected a sadness, a vulnerability that had been missing earlier. “Actually it was Summer’s idea. But if she hadn’t asked you to come, I would have,” he said tenderly.
“Yes, well, thank you again.” Averting her eyes, Amanda glanced in Summer’s direction. “I guess I’d better let you get back to Summer and her guests.”
Michael followed the direction of her gaze. Only Summer, her best friend and the little girl’s mother remained. The three of them were busily boxing up the birthday gifts. “I think they can manage without me for a few minutes. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Thanks, but it’s really not necessary. I’m parked just outside in the lot.”
“But I insist,” he said, placing his hand at her back.
After asking Michelle’s mother to keep an eye on Summer, Michael led Amanda outside. The afternoon sun peeked from behind a cloud, its rays turning her hair a pale shade of gold.
“This is my car,” she said, stopping next to a silver BMW.
After unlocking the door, Michael placed the key in her hand and closed her fingers over the metal ring. When he didn’t release her hand, Amanda looked up.
“I was afraid you might not come today,” he said softly. “I’m glad you did.”
She met his gaze squarely, but Michael didn’t miss the caution flickering in those dark eyes. “Michael, I came because of Summer.”
“I know.” He moved a step closer.
“It seemed to mean a lot to her that I be here.”
“It did. And it meant a lot to me, too.” He released her hand and gently drew his finger down her cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth and reminded him of expensive silk. He stared at her mouth, remembering how sweet she had tasted. He leaned a fraction closer, wanting to taste that sweetness again.
“Michael.” She said his name in a breathless way that sounded like part protest and part plea.
With effort, he checked the urge to pull her close. Now wasn’t the time, he told himself. A public parking lot in broad daylight was not where he wanted to be when he kissed her again.
Dropping his hand to his side, he opened her car door. Amanda slid onto the seat.
Still holding the door handle with one hand, he braced his other hand along the edge of the car roof just over the driver’s seat and leaned forward. His eyes sought hers. “Have dinner with me tonight?” he asked, not wanting to wait until next week to see her again.
“I can’t.”
“Tomorrow night, then?”
Amanda shook her head, her expression impossibly sad. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” She started the engine.
Straightening, Michael closed her car door, then stood back, surprised by the strength of his disappointment. He had genuinely wanted to be with her, he admitted, and once more she had run away.
As he watched the small silver car disappear into traffic, a new restlessness stirred within him. They were going to be together, he vowed silently. She was going to be his. And soon.
Ignoring the voice deep inside him that questioned these new feelings of possessiveness Amanda aroused in him, Michael turned and strode back to the Pizza Palace.
Thirty minutes later Michael’s thoughts were still filled with Amanda as he and Summer headed for home.
“What’s the matter, Uncle Mike? Didn’t you have a good time at my party?” Summer asked.
Michael cut a glance to his right. “Sure, pumpkin. I had a great time. What about you?”
Summer’s mouth split into a wide grin. “It was the best birthday I ever had.”
“I’m glad,” he said, ruffling her hair.
“I only wish...” Her smile slipped a notch.
“What is it, honey? What were you wishing for?”
Summer
shrugged. “I was just wishing my mom were still alive...that she could have been there to see all the stuff I got.”
“I know, sweetheart. So do I.” Michael’s chest tightened at the thought of his sister. Sara should have been there for her daughter’s birthday, and she would have been were it not for the Winthrops.
“But I’m glad Dr. Bennett came,” Summer said, brightening a little. “She’s very nice.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Did you see the music box she gave me?”
Michael nodded, grateful that some of the child’s earlier excitement seemed to return.
“It’s a carousel. It was Dr. Bennett’s when she was a little girl. Her grandmother gave it to her. It plays a real pretty song. Dr. Bennett said it’s a love song and...”
Surprised that Amanda had given Summer a childhood keepsake, Michael was moved by her generosity. “You know, honey, it was very nice of Dr. Bennett to give you the carousel, but I bet it has a lot of sentimental value for her if it was a gift from her grandmother. Maybe you should offer to return it.”
Summer’s expression fell. “But, Uncle Mike, she wanted me to have it. She said so. Besides, she has lots of others.”
Michael arched a brow in question.
“It’s true. She told me so. She collects them.”
“She collects music boxes?”
“Mmm-hmm. Carousel ones. She said carousels are her weak...her weak...”
“Her weakness?” Michael offered.
“Yes.” Summer grinned. “She likes them. That’s why she goes to the Carousel House at the park all the time. She even has a favorite horse.”
So, Amanda was fond of carousels, Michael thought, surprised and yet pleased at the thought of her being whimsical about painted horses. He tucked the information away.
“Do you think we could go see the Carousel House? Dr. Bennett said it’s beautiful.”
“Sure. Why not.”
“When can we go?” Summer asked.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Yes!” Summer practically jumped up and down in her seat.
And perhaps while he was there, he would figure out some way to break through Amanda’s defenses. Because, as Dave had warned him, time was running out.
* * *
Dinner tonight. Seven o’clock. I won’t take no for an answer.
Amanda Bennett stared at the note once more and the bold, arrogant strokes that formed the name Michael. She looked up at the exquisite vase of flowers that had accompanied the card. Unable to resist, she reached out and fingered the delicate petal of one violet.
Brilliant purple, red and yellow blooms spilled from the crystal vase sitting on her coffee table, creating a wild, untamed effect. Something about the reckless, undisciplined explosion of color appealed to her.
It also reminded her of Michael.
Disturbed by how often the man had been invading her thoughts lately, Amanda frowned. She ran her fingertips along the edges of the card. Since Summer’s birthday party, he’d been relentless, asking her out, sending flowers, balloons and nonsensical gifts. Even Gracie had commented, without bothering to hide her amusement, at Michael’s visits and calls to the school office.
Amanda thought for a moment of the way he had been looking at her during their consultation meeting the day before. There had been such an intensity in his expression, a deep hunger in his navy eyes, every female fiber in her had responded to the sexual pull. She’d found herself wanting him to kiss her again, to hold her in his arms.
She was a romantic idiot, Amanda chided herself, hating herself for weakening. She tore the card in two and tossed it on the table. Turning her back to the flowers, she crossed the room and flipped on the stereo, filling the room with the sounds of Brahms. She would not go out with him again, she vowed as she dropped down onto the couch. Michael Grayson was going to have to take no for an answer.
Satisfied by her decision, Amanda tried to relax. She stretched out on the soft cushions. Hugging one of the pillows to her chest, she promised herself she wouldn’t think about him anymore. But as her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep, it was Michael who filled her thoughts.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to the sound of Michael’s voice calling her name, to the feel of his fingers touching her cheek.
Amanda sat up with a start, wondering if she were still dreaming.
“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Michael,” she managed, her heartbeat quickening at the sight of him sitting in the chair next to her. She clutched the pillow to her. “What are you doing here?”
“Watching you sleep.”
Quickly Amanda glanced around the room to assure herself she was indeed at home. She was. But Michael was here, too. She sat up straighter. “How did you get in here? The doors were locked.”
“Any ten-year-old with a hairpin could have opened your front door. When you didn’t answer, I went to the window. I saw you on the couch. You were tossing and turning so much I was worried you might be ill, so I let myself in.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “For some reason, you’ve never struck me as a woman who napped during the day.”
She wasn’t, but obviously the week of restless nights brought on by Michael’s pursuit of her, had taken its toll.
“Of course, one look at your face and I realized you were only dreaming. Then you settled down and looked so peaceful, I hated to wake you.”
His voice sounded almost tender, Amanda thought as she returned the pillow she’d been clutching to the couch.
“But I knew if I let you sleep any longer, we’d be late.”
“Late?” Amanda blinked. “Late for what?”
“For dinner,” he said matter-of-factly. “Didn’t you get my note? I sent one with the flowers.”
Fighting back the guilty flush that climbed her cheeks, Amanda’s eyes darted to the torn note lying on the table.
“I see that you did.” He frowned. His gaze moved from the torn note back to her. “Evidently you weren’t planning to go.”
Amanda stood and smoothed the folds of her khaki-colored skirt. She looked into his eyes, disturbed by the emotion she saw in their blue depths. “No, I wasn’t.”
Standing, Michael moved over to the table and picked up the discarded note. The white oxford shirt stretched across his stiff back, the muscles bunched and tensed in his neck and shoulders. He crumpled the invitation in his fist, then dropped it beside the vase. His anger was palatable; yet when he turned, his face was inscrutable.
“I’ll make you a deal, Amanda. Have dinner with me tonight and when the evening’s over, if you still insist you don’t want to see me again, that you feel nothing for me, then I promise to walk out of your life and never bother you again.”
He crossed over to her and looked into her eyes. “One evening is all I’m asking, then you call the shots. What have you got to lose?”
Plenty, Amanda thought fifteen minutes later as Michael led her down the path of oak trees into City Park. The branches of the ancient oaks, draped in Spanish moss, swayed slightly in the evening breeze. “Michael, what are we doing here?” Her voice was a loud whisper in the silence.
“Going to dinner,” he said. He pushed open the wrought-iron gate.
Amanda stepped into the garden entrance and the sweet, familiar scent of jasmine greeted her, bringing a smile to her lips. Even in the dying light of day, she could make out the interlacing of brick walks, the gnarled branches of the huge trees. She’d covered every inch of these gardens on her visits to the park’s Carousel Pavilion. Twisted shapes and shadows from the trees played in the thickening darkness; but instead of fear she felt only the comfort of old friends. Still, she protested, “Michael, I don’t think we should be here. We’ll get in trouble.”
He chuckled. “What makes you think that?”
“Because the park’s closed,” she pointed out the obvious. She had visited the place often enough to know it wasn’t open to the public after five and that they
were trespassing.
“To the rest of the city, maybe. But not to us. I told you, we’re having dinner here.”
“I don’t remember there being any restaurants here.”
“That’s because there aren’t any.” They moved down the tree-laden walkway lit only by the last of the fading sun and an occasional safety light. They stopped in front of the entrance to Story Land, the children’s amusement area, now silent except for the faint rustle of leaves and the scurrying of squirrels in the huge oaks.
“Come on,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “There’s something I want you to see.”
The sun had completed its descent, casting shadows and a soft pink hue across the amusement rides. Strange, Amanda thought, to be here under the cloak of darkness without the laughter and squeals of children, without the noise and music.
Michael stopped. “This is what I wanted you to see,” he said gently, pointing to the Carousel Pavilion.
The warmth of his breath tickled her ear, causing her pulse to race. Taking a steadying breath, Amanda took in the sight of the large white structure poised majestically against the dark canvas of night. Soft golden light spilled from the doors and stained-glass windows that encircled the house, delineating its three-tiered copper roof and twelve-sided shape. Although she’d been here dozens of times, never had she seen the Pavilion at night. “It’s beautiful,” she said, but found the word inadequate to describe the picture before her.
He gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “Summer told me how much you liked this place.”
Liked? She loved the Carousel Pavilion...had from the first moment she’d seen it. It had always seemed such a magical place, a place where one could almost believe dreams and fairy tales really did come true.
“I thought you might enjoy seeing it at night.”
Amanda swallowed, moved by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”
After a moment Michael said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. Come on.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s go eat.”
“But where?”
“Inside,” he said, urging her toward the Pavilion.