Seduced. Metsy Hingle
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she wanted most and the one thing Martha Winthrop with all her money and influence couldn’t buy—a family. And what court would remove a child from a loving, two-parent home and opt for one with only a rich, elderly widow?
None, he’d told himself.
All he had to do was find a wife. The plan was simple. At least, he had thought so, until Summer had quickly dismissed each potential candidate he’d brought before her.
The only exception had been Amanda. She had been the only woman Summer seemed to truly like.
Shoving the letter back into his coat pocket, Michael started the engine and backed out of the parking lot. Amanda was perfect. Not only was she beautiful, smart and interesting to be with, but she genuinely cared for his niece.
And she was attracted to him.
The feeling was mutual, he admitted. Moving the car into the line of traffic, he laughed out loud, the sound echoing inside the empty car. Who was he kidding? He’d been attracted to Amanda from the beginning. Over the past two months those feelings had only grown stronger...and they’d had nothing at all to do with Summer.
He wanted Amanda, period.
Michael’s lips curved into a self-mocking smile. What red-blooded male wouldn’t want her? With her pale blond hair and creamy skin, that long, sleek body, she looked more like a princess than a psychologist.
Granted, he was no prince. But he’d come a long way from the sixteen-year-old punk who’d lived on the wrong side of the tracks. Twenty years and a successful business could change a lot of things.
But it can’t change who you are or who you have been, a small voice inside him whispered. Switching to the left lane, Michael frowned. He and his sister had both learned that no amount of money or success could make up for lack of the proper bloodlines. If he’d ever doubted it, the Winthrops had driven that point home when Sara had gotten pregnant.
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