Seduced

by Metsy Hingle

  “Sure.” Michael ruffled Summer’s hair, then led them through the chattering crowd back toward the amusement rides. “But I meant what I said—nothing that requires us leaving the ground. How about the carousel?”

  Amanda’s gaze sought his. Her breath caught at the heat in his eyes and she knew he was remembering their dinner in the Carousel Pavilion, too.

  “The carousel’s for babies,” Summer informed them, breaking the charged moment. “What about the bumper cars?”

  “Sorry, Shortstuff. The sign says you have to be twelve. You’ve still got a few years to go.”

  Amanda laughed at Summer’s crestfallen expression. “Don’t worry. It’ll be here before you know it.”

  Sighing dramatically, Summer rolled her big green eyes. “That’s what everyone says.”

  “Then maybe everyone’s right,” Michael told her, chucking her under the chin.

  They passed a row of booths offering an assortment of prizes. “How about some games?” Amanda suggested. “Maybe we can win another stuffed animal.”

  Several quarters and one stuffed tiger later, Summer was obviously longing for more adventure. Amanda was considering taking the little girl to ride the Ferris wheel without Michael when suddenly Summer stopped. She spun around to face them, her eyes bright with excitement. “What about the haunted house?”

  Amanda jerked to attention and stared at the large tunnel-like structure with tracks running through it. “You don’t want to go in there,” she said, making a face. “Those things aren’t any fun.”

  “Oh, but it is,” Summer assured her. “Michelle said it’s great. She’s already gone three times.”

  “It’s dark and spooky,” Amanda argued.

  Summer grinned. “I know.”

  Amanda’s stomach sank. “Suppose you got scared? You might even have nightmares later.” Nervous, Amanda hugged the small stuffed bear with both arms.

  “I won’t. I promise, Miss Amanda. Besides, everybody knows it’s only make-believe. There aren’t really any such things as ghosts or monsters. Are there, Uncle Mike?”

  “Nope. They’re just make-believe.”

  But knowing that didn’t stop Amanda’s heart from sticking in her throat at the thought of going inside.

  “And I’m not afraid of the dark,” Summer assured Amanda. “Am I, Uncle Mike?”

  “No, you’re not. You’re a very brave girl.” Michael turned his attention to Amanda. “What about you, Amanda? Are you a brave girl, too? Or are you afraid of the dark?”

  Amanda shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  But she was lying through her teeth. She hated the dark. Always had. That’s the reason she still kept a night-light burning in her bedroom. She also wasn’t particularly fond of having things jump out at her in the dark. Amanda shuddered. She’d never understood why anyone would ever allow themselves to willingly be scared witless.

  “If you’d rather not go, it’s all right,” Michael said. “I can take Summer, or we can all go on the Ferris wheel again instead.”

  Amanda’s chest tightened. Michael was petrified of the Ferris wheel. His face had gone white when they’d reached the top and he had held on to the safety bar as though his life had depended on it. Yet, he was willing to go again to spare her the haunted house.

  “You don’t have to be afraid,” Summer soothed. “It really is just make-believe. Those aren’t really ghosts and skeletons in the haunted house—just some of the bigger school kids dressed up.”

  Amanda smiled. “I know.”

  “And Uncle Mike will protect you. Won’t you, Uncle Mike?”

  “That’s right.” His eyes were dark and serious as they met Amanda’s. “Trust me, Amanda. I won’t let anything hurt you. I promise.”

  Amanda swallowed, hoping he wasn’t only talking about the haunted house.

  “What do you say?” Michael asked softly. “Are you willing to take a chance?”

  He made her want to take chances, to take risks, to be daring. He made her want to believe in dreams again, in happily-ever-afters and till-death-do-us-parts. He made her want to risk loving again. “Yes,” she whispered. But it wasn’t the carnival ride she’d just agreed to take a chance on—it was Michael.

  Squealing, Summer grabbed one of Amanda’s hands. “Let’s get in line.”

  Smiling, Michael laced his fingers with Amanda’s and then the three of them raced toward the haunted house.

  Summer spotted her friend Michelle and darted over to exchange stories. Ten minutes later when they neared the front of the line, the two girls raced back to Amanda and Michael.

  “Michelle’s mom doesn’t want to go through again. Can I ride in the car with her?” Summer asked.

  “Please, Mr. Grayson?” Michelle pleaded.

  “Sure you won’t be afraid by yourself?” Michael asked Summer.

  “Not if I know you and Miss Amanda are in the car behind us.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Grayson. I’ll look out for her,” Michelle informed him, drawing herself up to her full height of less than four feet.

  “All right. You girls go ahead. Amanda and I will be in the car right behind you.”

  Squealing, the two youngsters piled into the small yellow car and the attendant sent it on its way.

  The next car stopped in front of them. “Ready?” Michael asked.

  “Ready.” Amanda got in and Michael slipped into the seat beside her. The attendant pulled the safety bar closed and with a slight jerking motion, the car started down the track. As they neared the mouth of the dark tunnel, Amanda swallowed. Adrenaline rushed through her and she gripped the rail that rested in front of her.

  Michael eased his arm around her shoulders. “Relax,” he said, pulling her close.

  But relaxing was impossible. As they entered the tunnel, Amanda blinked. Once. Twice. She tried to adjust her eyes to the sudden darkness.

  A skeleton shot out in front of them.

  Amanda screamed and launched herself into Michael’s arms. She buried her head against his chest.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. Gathering her in his arms, he began stroking her back. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve got you.”

  “I—I’m sorry.” She lifted her head and attempted to pull back, but Michael pressed her head back down against his chest.

  His arms tightened around her. “Don’t apologize. I certainly don’t mind.” The timbre of his voice sent tremors down her spine.

  The car moved along at a snail’s pace, but Amanda kept her eyes firmly shut despite the eerie moans and groans, the screams around them.

  Michael continued to run his fingers up and down her spine in slow, soothing strokes. His lips brushed her hair. Eventually she relaxed against him, her fear slipping away.

  Conscious only of Michael, Amanda snuggled closer as the delicious sensations his touch was causing continued to build. She took a deep breath, hoping to slow her quickening pulse. Instead, she inhaled the earthy scent of leather and soap that she’d come to associate with Michael and her heart raced even faster.

  Amanda burrowed closer, feeling safe, secure.

  At the sound of a flapping noise, she eased open one eye to chance a peek. A loud shrill pierced the air as a batlike creature swooped down near her head. Amanda screamed. She clutched at Michael.

  “Hey, it’s all right. It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’ve got you,” he told her as the car inched forward, leaving the bats behind.

  “I hate bats,” she said, unable to stop her hands or her voice from shaking.

  “They’re not real, Amanda. Just bits of painted cardboard and wire.”

  “I know. But I can’t help remembering all those old vampire movies. They always did frighten me.” Amanda shuddered again involuntarily.

  Michael rubbed her arms gently.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m being foolish.”

  Michael tilted her chin up with his thumb and forefinger and she stared into his warm blue eyes. “There’s nothing wron
g with admitting our fears. We all have them. Besides,” he said, grinning, his teeth gleaming white and even in the darkness, “if there really was a Count Dracula, I don’t think I could blame him if he wanted to bite your neck.” His fingertips moved along her cheek and down her throat. “It’s such a beautiful neck.”

  Suddenly Amanda forgot about her fear of the dark and the bats. She forgot about the haunted house. She forgot about the eerie sounds and the distant screams of people inside the other cars.

  She forgot about everything but the feel of Michael’s arms wrapped loosely around her, the sensation of his fingers moving lazily up and down the arc of her neck, along the tip of her ear. She splayed her hands against his chest and felt the rapid thudding of his heart beneath her fingertips.

  “But if our old friend Dracula had any sense at all, it wouldn’t be just your neck that he’d want to taste.”

  Hearing the deep, husky tone of his voice, Amanda’s own throat felt suddenly tight. She peered up at him. Surrounded by darkness, his face was all that filled her vision. “It wouldn’t?” she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the firm line of his jaw, his full sensuous mouth.

  “No.” He drew his finger down her cheek and slowly across her mouth. “If he had any sense, he’d want to taste these lips.”

  “Michael,” she whispered, arching her body toward him, wanting, needing his kiss, his love.

  He needed no further invitation.

  His mouth closed over hers, gently tasting, teasing. Amanda parted her lips, welcoming his tongue. She traced his lips with her own tongue and Michael groaned, sending a shiver of excitement through her.

  When he took possession of her mouth a second time, his lips were harder, hungrier, hotter. Amanda felt as though she were on a roller coaster, zipping faster and faster along unsteady tracks toward some dangerously high cliff.

  She clung to him. Her fingers curled into tight fists, crumpling his shirt, before she slid her arms up and encircled his neck.

  Michael deepened the kiss. Then suddenly, without warning, she found herself plunging downward at breakneck speed. But she no longer cared. All that mattered was that they were together, locked in one another’s arms.

  When the car slammed through the swinging doors out into the waning sunlight, Amanda opened her eyes. Her breath came in short, quick gasps and it took a moment before she realized where she was. Once she did, she started to move away, but Michael held her beside him for a second longer before easing his hold and helping her out of the car.

  “Wasn’t that fun?” Summer asked, racing over to them with her friend, Michelle.

  “I certainly enjoyed myself. What about you, Amanda?” His eyes caressed her face.

  “Yes,” she replied breathlessly, her legs still weak. Dear Lord, how could she have lost control that way? she wondered as she retrieved her stuffed bear from the floor of the car.

  “Were you scared?” Summer asked her.

  “A little,” she admitted. She smoothed back her hair with unsteady fingers. But it wasn’t the dark that had shaken her. It was Michael. Being in his arms was more dangerous and exciting than the wildest of rides.

  “But Uncle Mike took care of you,” Summer said proudly.

  “Yes.”

  “I told you he would.”

  “Yes, you did.” But no one had warned her that Michael would kiss her senseless and turn her life upside down.

  “Since Miss Amanda’s not afraid anymore, can we ride it again?” Summer asked her uncle.

  “Please, Mr. Grayson.” Michelle dragged out the words, pleading.

  Michael turned to Amanda and smiled. “What do you say? Want to try it again?” Amanda caught the note of amusement in his voice and the hungry gleam in his eye.

  Did he have any idea how affected she’d been by that kiss? She couldn’t go through that again—not here. A school fair was no place for the kind of kiss they had just shared. “Why don’t you and the girls go ahead? I’m a little thirsty. I think I’ll get something to drink.”

  “You know, my throat feels a little dry, too. I think I’ll go with you.” Michael dug in his pocket and pulled out some bills. He handed them to Summer. “You and Michelle go ahead. Amanda and I will wait for you over by the lemonade stand.” He pointed to the yellow-and-white-striped booth. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” they said in unison before running back to the line.

  “You should have gone with them,” Amanda chided. “Suppose Summer gets scared or—”

  Michael placed his index finger to her lips. “Summer will be fine. Besides, you’re the one who looks shaken.”

  She started to object, but Michael was already reaching for her hand. “Come on,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers. “Right now, I could use something cool. Let’s go get that lemonade.”

  * * *

  Several lemonades and a few hours later, Amanda came down the stairs from Summer’s bedroom. “Did she give you any trouble?” Michael asked, noting the troubled look in her eyes.

  Amanda shook her head. “Once I got her into bed, she went right to sleep.”

  “Good. She’s had a pretty full day.” He led her into the living room and they sat down on the couch. “So have you,” he said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. He didn’t know why Amanda had decided to stop running from him, he only knew that he was glad that she had. He allowed his finger the pleasure of trailing down her neck. She had the softest, most beautiful skin, he thought. He was beginning to think he could spend a lifetime touching, exploring that skin, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

  Amanda caught his hand and stilled it. She looked up at him, her expression somber. “Michael, you haven’t mentioned anything about Martha Winthrop. Have you heard any more from her or her attorney?”

  Michael tensed. Would they never get beyond that? Sighing, he pulled back his hand. “The last time her name came up you and I ended up in a fight and I almost lost you.” Even now Amanda’s accusations and the pain he had caused her bothered him. He’d been afraid he’d lost her for good. “I think it would be better if we didn’t discuss Martha Winthrop at all from now on.”

  “You’re probably right. But I have to know. Has she sued you for custody?”

  She hadn’t—at least, not yet. But from what Dave had told him, the papers were being prepared. What would Amanda say if she knew that? Would she run away from him again? Convince herself he was using her?

  And what chance would he have of convincing her otherwise? Especially, when in the beginning he had planned to do just that? The less she knew, the better, he decided—at least, for now. He wouldn’t risk losing her again. “Forget about Martha Winthrop. She’s my problem, Amanda. Not yours.”

  “I realize that, but—”

  “But nothing.” He’d been given a second chance with Amanda and he refused to let Martha ruin things. “I’ll deal with Martha if and when the time comes. You don’t need to worry about her.”

  “But I am worried and you should be, too. Summer’s trying to find her.”

  Michael froze. His heart stopped a moment. Narrowing his eyes, he studied Amanda. She wouldn’t have told Summer that Martha was her grandmother. She couldn’t possibly betray him that way, he told himself. “What makes you think she’s trying to find Martha? She doesn’t even know the woman.”

  Amanda swallowed. “She showed me an old snapshot...of her mother and a young man. A blond-haired man with green eyes. Summer’s eyes.”

  Phillip. Summer had a picture of Sara and Phillip? Michael could feel the blood drain from his face.

  “She said it was a picture of her parents.”

  His stomach churning, Michael asked, “Did she know her...?” Michael tried again, unable to bring himself to call Phillip her father. “Did she know the name of the man in the photograph?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  A small measure of relief washed over him. “Then what makes you think she’s looking for Martha?”

  “Because s
he told me she was looking for her grandmother,” Amanda said softly. “She said Sara told her the man in the photograph was her father and that his mother, her grandmother, was a very important lady who lived in New Orleans. She asked me to help her find her.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her she would have to ask you.”

  She already had, months ago, and he’d thought he had convinced her that Sara had been mistaken. And he’d foolishly thought Summer had abandoned the idea.

  “No matter how I feel about the situation, I would never have told her about Martha,” Amanda informed him, her voice tinged with hurt. “Not without your permission.”

  Michael pulled Amanda to him and held her close. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know.” He kissed the top of her head.

  After a moment Amanda pulled back slightly. “But I still think you should tell her. You know how important family is to Summer. She has a right to know.”

  What she said was true. He realized that, but he couldn’t take that chance.

  “Maybe if you talked to Martha, agreed to allow her to visit Summer—”

  “No.”

  “But suppose she takes you to court—”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Maybe if I—”

  “I said, I’ll handle it, Amanda. Alone. The last thing I need is for you to accuse me of using you again. I’m not going to give you another excuse to run away.”

  Amanda remained quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she slipped her arms around his neck. “Does it look like I’m running away?” She gave him a smile so filled with love that he felt as though he’d been punched in the gut.

  “Maybe you should be,” he said before lowering his head and tasting her lips. But it was already too late, he realized, deepening the kiss. Now that he’d had a taste of her, knew what it was like to hold her in his arms, to hear her laughter, he wouldn’t, couldn’t, let her go.

  At the sound of the doorbell, Michael released her. As he went to answer it, Amanda leaned her head back against the couch. She touched her swollen lips with unsteady fingertips, disappointed and at the same time grateful for the interruption. She’d never considered herself a particularly sensual being, yet with Michael she seemed to lose control.