Seduced. Metsy Hingle

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      Suddenly thoughts of Martha Winthrop and her demands to see Summer came back to him. Would the woman be able to use Summer’s being in therapy against him? If she could, then maybe it would be better to transfer Summer to another school.

      No. He wouldn’t do that, he decided, pushing the thought aside. He’d been honest with Sister Mary Grace. Another change would be bad for Summer. He couldn’t put her through that. But what if...

      “Mr. Grayson?”

      Michael jerked his attention back to Amanda.

      “Are you all right?”

      “Yeah. No.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tense muscles. “Listen, do you think we could go somewhere and get a cup of coffee or something while we do this?”

      Amanda eyed him warily. “I’m sorry, but I have another appointment in thirty minutes. Besides, I don’t usually conduct meetings outside of the office.”

      “What about the school cafeteria?”

      He read the no in her eyes, but before she could issue it, Michael added, “This hasn’t exactly been a blue-ribbon day for me. And as I’m sure Sister Mary Grace has told you, I’ve spent a lot more time in these school offices during the past few weeks than most of the kids here. Now it looks like I’m going to be spending even more. I’ll answer your questions and you can tell me about your program, but can’t we do it someplace other than this office?”

      “I’m sorry, Mr. Grayson, but I—”

      “Michael,” he corrected. “Come on, Amanda. All I’m asking is for you to cut me some slack. What do you say?”

      She hesitated. “Well, I guess it would be okay for us to go to the teachers’ lounge. It’s not usually busy at this time of the day.”

      A few minutes later in the more relaxed setting, Michael had succeeded in reining in the panic that had threatened to swamp him earlier.

      “As Sister Mary Grace told you, I’ve been working with a number of the students here and have attained a certain degree of success. Right now, I’m working with six other...”

      Half listening as she explained the merits of the counseling program, Michael allowed the soothing sound of her voice to wash over him.

      “...And while I know you’re not happy about Summer participating in the program...”

      He studied Amanda, noting her cool, efficient manner, her chic clothing. Everything about the woman—from the understated but expensive jewelry to the cultured tone of her voice—screamed “class” with a capital C. So why was she wasting her time in New Orleans counseling kids for nothing instead of hobnobbing with the rich and powerful back east?

      What difference did it make? As long as it would make Sister Mary Grace happy and keep Summer at Saint Margaret’s, that’s all that mattered to him. Besides, it wasn’t as if Summer really needed a shrink, he told himself. She didn’t. And who knows, maybe the lovely Dr. Bennett could actually help him later. In fact, if he did find himself in a custody battle with Martha Winthrop, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have someone with Amanda’s credentials in his corner.

      “...And while I can’t make any promises, I can assure you I’ll do my best...”

      His gaze slid from her sculptured features to her generous mouth. Colored a soft pink, her lips looked infinitely soft and inviting. He shook his head, surprised by the direction of his thoughts. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

      She shot him a puzzled look. “I said that I’d like to meet with you for a few minutes after my sessions with Summer so we can compare notes and discuss any concerns or changes in her behavior.”

      “All right.”

      “I generally schedule appointments between one-thirty and five. Is there any particular time that would be best for you?”

      “The later, the better. Summer’s in after-school care here at Saint Margaret’s. I usually pick her up a little before six.”

      “Suppose I make Summer my last appointment at, say, five o’clock on Wednesdays and Fridays. That way, she and I will be finished just before you get here and then the two of us can meet.”

      “You need to see her twice a week?” Michael asked.

      “I’d like to, at least at the start. We can always adjust the length and number of sessions later, depending on her progress.” She paused. “Is that all right with you?”

      “Yeah, I guess so. As long as you understand that these therapy sessions are just a trial thing. I mean, if they upset Summer or she doesn’t seem to be responding, then they stop—regardless of what Sister Mary Grace does.”

      “I understand.”

      After jotting down the time and date in his appointment book, Michael slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

      Maybe Amanda Bennett really would be able to help, he told himself. Heaven knew, he hadn’t been successful in erasing that haunted look that came into Summer’s eyes whenever she spoke of her mother or asked questions about her father and his family.

      “Well, then, if you don’t have any other questions, I’ll see you next week.” Amanda stood and held out her hand.

      Standing, Michael clasped her fingers in his. He paused and took in her lovely face, the graceful line of her neck, the way the yellow-and-white suit skimmed her full curves. Something stirred inside him that had nothing to do with her being a psychologist and everything to do with her being a woman and him being a man.

      When he brought his gaze back to her face, her eyes had warmed to the color of sherry. A tiny sound escaped her lips before she pulled her hand free.

      Michael hesitated, feeling a sudden reluctance to leave. “You know, despite my feelings about Summer being in therapy, I really do appreciate your helping her.” He flashed her a smile and before he realized it, he said, “In fact, if you’ll allow me to, I’d like to take you to dinner tonight to thank you. That is, if you’re free.”

      “No, I’m not,” she lied.

      “Sure. I understand.” He paused. “What about tomorrow?”

      “Sorry, I can’t.”

      “This weekend?” he persisted.

      Turning away from the glimmer of interest in his eyes and her own foolish urge to accept, Amanda picked up the folder she’d placed on the table and clutched it to her. “I appreciate the offer, but I make it a rule never to mix business with pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my next appointment should be waiting.”

      Moving past him, Amanda hurried out the door, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. The last thing she needed or wanted was a man like Michael Grayson. There was no room in her life for any man who came as part of a package deal—even one as appealing as Michael. Recalling the flicker of heat she had experienced when their eyes had met, Amanda squashed her traitorous thoughts. She’d learned her lesson the hard way. And she had no intention of repeating past mistakes.

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