Metsy Hingle - Seduced

“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.