Seduced

by Metsy Hingle

  “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?”

  “What are you drinking?”

  “Cappuccino. Bavarian chocolate.”

  “I’ll have the same.”

  A few moments later, Michael placed a steaming mug covered with thick white froth in front of her. “Thanks.” Amanda wrapped her hands around the heavy china mug, using the cup as an anchor.

  She wanted to run. Away from Michael, away from the way he made her feel. But she couldn’t—at least not yet. Not until she’d settled things between them. Leaning forward, she sniffed. “This smells wonderful,” she said more calmly than she felt.

  “It is. The desserts are great, too. Would you like to try one?” he asked, his voice more anxious than she’d ever heard before. “They’ve got peanut butter pie, cheesecake, almond croissants...”

  Michael didn’t generally make small talk; yet, he was doing so now, Amanda realized. Why? Was it possible he was nervous, too? For some reason, the thought helped her to relax. “No, thanks.”

  He shifted in his seat. “Listen, about those things I said the other night...I really am sorry. I was way out of line.”

  “You’ve already apologized. But to be honest, there was a lot of truth in some of the things you said. I’m sure it’s part of the reason I got so upset in the first place. Once I had calmed down, I realized that.”

  He took a swallow of his coffee, then set the cup down. “Don’t tell me you analyze yourself, too,” he joked, obviously trying to ease the tension between them.

  Warmed by the knowledge that this was difficult for him too, she attempted a smile. “Professional hazard, I guess. At any rate, you deserve an explanation. Especially after—” Amanda looked down at her coffee “—after what almost happened.”

  Michael tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet the warmth of his gaze. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. What happened between us was wonderful. Seeing you, touching you, was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I’m only sorry I ruined it for you.”

  “You didn’t. I mean, it was
my fault.” Nervous, Amanda picked up her spoon and poked at the peak of foam in her coffee. He made her feel too deeply. He made her want too many things—things that could only lead to heartache. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s why I agreed to meet you...I wanted to explain why I reacted the way I did.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything. Let’s just forget it and start over.”

  Amanda shook her head. “I can’t forget it. And I don’t want to start over. I should never have let it get started in the first place. It’s over between us, Michael. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

  Michael frowned. Sitting back, he folded his arms across his chest. “You’re right. I don’t understand. So maybe you’d better explain to me why two people who are obviously attracted to one another, who care about each other, shouldn’t be together.” He paused. “Unless, of course, I was wrong the other night and you think I’m not good enough for you.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake. I don’t give a hoot about your social or financial standing. Those things have nothing to do with it.” Where did she begin? How did she explain the scars and insecurities caused by Adam’s deception? “It’s not you. It’s me. My past is the problem, not yours.”

  “Your past?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Amanda glanced around. Satisfied they couldn’t be heard, she continued. “You know I’d been married before? That I’d had a stepdaughter?”

  “Yeah. To some attorney in Boston. A widower. The marriage didn’t work out.”

  “What you don’t know was the reason the marriage didn’t work.” Amanda took a sip of her coffee, allowing the warm chocolaty brew to slide down her throat as she dredged up the painful memories. “Adam married me, but he was never in love with me. He loved someone else.”

  Michael sat forward. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me this.”

  “Oh, but I do. It’s the only way I’ll be able to make you understand.” She drew a deep breath. “Adam lost his first wife to some kind of rare blood disease. Her death devastated him. I think if it hadn’t been for his daughter, he might have died of grief himself. Kimberly was the only thing that kept him going.”

  Michael reached out and threaded his fingers through hers, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, Amanda drew from his strength.

  “But her mother’s death affected Kimberly, too. She began having nightmares and problems in school—much like the ones Summer was having. Anyway, Adam brought her to the clinic where I worked and one of my associates began working with her.”

  Amanda stared past Michael’s shoulder at the painting on the wall, aware of the rich jewel colors yet not really seeing them. She forced herself to go back, to remember. “I met Adam one day when he came by to pick up his daughter. Kimberly was such a sad little girl, a lot like Summer. She was so filled with grief that she’d kept bottled up inside. And, just like Summer, she was an easy child to love.”

  She took another breath and continued. “Anyway, Adam and I started seeing each other. Naturally, Kimberly and I grew closer because we were spending a lot of time together. The three of us were like a family.” And she’d hoped to add to that family, until... Amanda swallowed. “Of course, Adam was grateful for my help with Kimberly. He adored her. He listened to everything she had to say. He was so attentive, so understanding.”

  “The perfect father.”

  “Yes. At least, I thought so. My own father had always been so busy traveling, attending meetings and diplomatic affairs when I was growing up, I didn’t see very much of him. I just couldn’t believe how devoted Adam was to his daughter. I didn’t think any father could be that caring.”

  “Sounds like you admired him,” Michael said.

  Amanda smiled ruefully. “Yes. I guess I did. At any rate, I fell in love with him. When he asked me to marry him, I was on top of the world. Not only was I getting him, but I was getting Kimberly, too.”

  “What happened?”

  “We got married. I moved into his home, became a mother to his daughter.” But she hadn’t become Adam’s wife, she added silently. “Things had gotten off to a shaky start after the wedding. I thought we needed to start somewhere fresh. But instead of finding a new home like I’d wanted to, Adam convinced me it was better for us to stay in the home he’d shared with his first wife. He said it would be better for Kimberly. She felt secure there and he didn’t want to uproot her. Of course, he promised me that we’d find a new house later when Kimberly could handle the change.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No,” she agreed quietly. “Later, I realized it was Adam who couldn’t bring himself to leave the house—not Kimberly. Of course, redecorating was out of the question. Everything had to remain just the way it was. The placement of the furniture, his dead wife’s portrait in the living room.” Amanda’s voice broke. “Her photographs in our bedroom.”

  Amanda closed her eyes a moment, recalling what a failure she’d felt in that particular room. “The house was a shrine to his first wife. You have no idea what that’s like—to be jealous of a dead woman. I guess it was Adam’s way of keeping her alive. I was his wife, but she was always the woman he loved...the woman he remained faithful to throughout our marriage.”

  Michael narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”

  Her mouth suddenly dry, Amanda struggled past the lump in her throat. “Adam was impotent,” she finally said. She dropped her gaze, unwilling to meet the pity and questions she knew she would find in his eyes. “He had been since his first wife’s death.”

  And with the admission, all the old self-doubts returned in force.

  If she’d been more of a woman...

  If she’d been able to make him want her...

  “But surely before you were married... I mean, didn’t the two of you ever...”

  “No, we didn’t. It...it wasn’t like it is with you and me. I thought he had waited because he loved me.”

  “And, of course, he didn’t bother to tell you about his problem before you married him.” His voice was hard.

  “No. And then...”

  Michael muttered a curse.

  Chancing a look at him, Amanda was surprised at the depth of anger burning in his blue eyes. “It wasn’t his fault entirely. He simply didn’t love me. He was still in love with his first wife.”

  “Then he should never have married you.”

  “No, he shouldn’t have,” Amanda agreed. She met his gaze evenly. “But he wanted a mother for his daughter.”

  Michael stilled. “Is that what he told you?”

  “Eventually. When I threatened to leave him unless he agreed to counseling, he finally admitted that he ‘cared for me.’” Amanda tossed Michael’s own words back at him. She looked him directly in the eye and wondered if he had any idea how much it had hurt her to hear him say those same words. “He told me he’d made a mistake. That we should never have married. He apologized, and admitted he’d done it for Kimberly—because she needed a mother.”

  Some emotion flitted across his face, but was gone before Amanda had any chance to guess at what it was. She had no trouble identifying the anger radiating from each line of his body. “And obviously you’ve decided I’m like him.”

  “I think you both had similar needs. Adam pretended to be in love with me because he needed a mother for his daughter. You pretended to be interested in me because you saw me as a means to help you retain custody of your niece.”

  Michael’s eyes flashed furiously. He leaned closer and said through gritted teeth, “First off, I never pretended to be interested in you. I am interested. I have been from the first moment I saw you in that cramped little school office at Saint Margaret’s.”

  Amanda’s heartbeat quickened at his thunderous expression, but she remained silent.

  “Second...” He ticked off another finger. “I’m not in love with another woman, living or otherwise. And if I were, I wouldn’t be here with you.

  “And you can take my word for it, Amanda, I’m no
t impotent. In fact, you came pretty darn close to finding that out for yourself the other night.”

  Color rushed to her cheeks, but Amanda forced herself to remain firm. She refused to allow herself to be used again. “Are you going to tell me that you wouldn’t ask me to help you if there’s a custody battle for Summer?”

  “Of course, I’d ask you to help me. And if Summer started having problems again, I’d ask for your help then, too. But that doesn’t have anything to do with my making love to you. I want you. And believe me, it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Summer.”

  He sounded so angry and self-righteous, she could almost believe him. Or maybe she simply wanted to believe him. And therein lay the danger.

  “What do you say, Amanda? Will you give us another chance?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I can’t, Michael. I’m sorry.”

  Michael swore. “That ex-husband of yours really did a number on you, didn’t he? Wake up and look in the mirror, Amanda. You’re a beautiful, sensuous woman. You can turn a guy on by just walking into a room. Hell, just smelling your perfume, remembering how you tasted, the way you felt in my arms, makes me ache for you.”

  He looked at her so hungrily Amanda felt singed by the intensity of his gaze. Still, she couldn’t speak.

  “I get hard just at the thought of making love to you.”

  Amanda squirmed in her seat, grateful that this particular corner of the coffeehouse was nearly empty.

  “And judging by your response last Saturday, you’re not exactly indifferent to me.”

  “But it’s not what I want. You’re not what I want. I want safe. And you’re not safe, Michael.”

  “Life’s not safe. Every time you walk out of your front door, you take a chance. You don’t know whether or not you’ll make it back home that night. That you won’t be hit by a car or shot by a mugger.”

  “Those are unavoidable risks. You’re not.”

  A muscle ticked angrily in his cheek. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you. I want you, Amanda. And I don’t usually give up on something I want...especially when I’m convinced you want the same thing. And you do want me, Amanda, only you’re too afraid to take what you want.” His voice dropped even lower. “I’m not.”