Читать книгу Seduced - Metsy Hingle - Страница 6

How did the kid do it? Michael wondered as he stepped inside the reception area of Saint Margaret’s Grade School. How could one pint-size little girl manage to get into so much trouble?

Quickly he took in the familiar surroundings—the wall lined with file cabinets, bulletin boards crammed with colored bits of paper, an ever-changing assortment of parents and students waiting to meet with counselors and teachers. He glanced over at the closed doors leading to the offices of the principal and the school’s administrative staff.

Bracing himself, he moved across the worn, beige tile and tried to ignore the annoying hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.

The silver-haired receptionist greeted him with a smile. “Can I help you?” she asked in a voice as thick and sweet as molasses.

“I’m Michael Grayson. Sister Mary Grace is expecting me.”

“I thought I recognized you, Mr. Grayson. You were here last week to see Sister Mary Grace, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.” The truth was, he’d been to the principal’s office four times in the six weeks since he had enrolled Summer.

“I thought so,” she said, obviously pleased at her recognitive ability. “You’re little Summer’s father.”

“Uncle,” he corrected. Impatient, he looked at the closed door to the principal’s office again. “I’d appreciate your letting Sister know that I’m here.”

“Of course, but I’m afraid she’s running a bit behind schedule today. She shouldn’t be too much longer, though. You can have a seat if you’d like.” She gestured toward the row of metal chairs positioned along the wall. Two chairs were occupied by students who looked a bit green around the gills. A third seat was taken by a woman resembling Florence Henderson on the old “Brady Bunch” sitcom who was busily chatting with a pregnant brunette.

Michael eyed the two remaining seats. They looked small and uncomfortable. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just stand,” he said, feeling extremely large and decidedly out of place.

“I guess you’re here because of Summer’s problem in Mrs. Green’s class this morning,” the receptionist said.

Michael snapped to attention. “What problem?”

Amanda Bennett winced at the edge in his voice as she watched the exchange from the doorway.

So this is Michael Grayson.

Amanda took in the crop of dark hair, the navy jacket that spanned his wide shoulders, the large hands braced on the reception desk. One of the younger teachers had described him as a “hunk... Six foot plus of muscle and sex appeal.” Seeing him for the first time, she could understand the other woman’s reaction.

“Oh, my.” The receptionist’s face turned a bright pink. “I assumed Sister Mary Grace had told you...”

“Told me what?” he demanded.

Obviously, the “hunk” had a temper, Amanda thought, frowning. She studied the stiff lines of his body, his thunderous expression. And Gracie expected her to persuade him to allow his niece to participate in the school’s counseling program?

“I mean, I thought that was the reason you were here...because of what happened.”

He loomed over the desk and glared at the receptionist; the woman paled under his ferocious scowl.

No, Amanda decided. Michael Grayson definitely didn’t look like the kind of man one “persuaded” to do anything. In fact, she suspected he did exactly what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it.

“Why don’t you just tell me exactly what happened,” he commanded.

“I—”

“Mrs. Evans,” Amanda said, stepping forward. “I believe Sister Mary Grace can see Mr. Grayson now.”

The other woman’s shoulders slumped in obvious relief as Michael Grayson swung his angry gaze from the nervous Mrs. Evans to her. At the sight of those flashing blue eyes, Amanda immediately wondered at her wisdom in rescuing the older woman.

His gaze skimmed the length of her and suddenly Amanda felt as though her tailored lemon suit was much too daring.

Dismissing her reaction as foolish, Amanda tipped up her chin. “If you’ll come with me, Mr. Grayson, I’ll show you in to Sister Mary Grace.” Without waiting for his response, she turned and started toward the principal’s office.

To Amanda, the few yards to Gracie’s office seemed like a mile with him walking behind her. She could almost feel his eyes trained on her back, watching her movements. She tapped on the door.

“I didn’t catch your name, Miss...”

Amanda turned to look at him and swallowed when she found him so close. She fought the urge to step back. “Bennett. Amanda Bennett,” she said, her voice more breathless than she would have liked.

“Come in,” Gracie called out.

Relieved at the prospect of putting distance between them, Amanda opened the door and entered the room. Michael followed.

“Mr. Grayson.” The tiny nun came bustling from behind her desk, a flurry of energy in a religious habit.

“Sister.” Michael shook her hand.

“I see you’ve already met Amanda,” Sister Mary Grace said.

“Yes, I have.” Cutting a glance to her, Michael smiled.

The simple movement of his lips—slight though it was— softened the harsh lines of his face, warmed the coolness of those blue eyes. Amanda’s pulse skittered in response.

“And of course, you know Mrs. Green.” Sister Mary Grace gestured toward the woman seated in front of the desk.

Michael’s smile dissolved immediately. “Mrs. Green.”

Yes, Amanda decided, confirming her initial impression. Michael Grayson was definitely going to be difficult. She could only hope that if he loved his niece as much as Gracie seemed to think he did, he would listen to reason.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Sister Mary Grace motioned to the chair beside Mrs. Green’s. When the nun had resumed her own seat, Amanda slipped into the chair adjacent to the desk so that she could observe him.

“I know how busy you are, and I appreciate your coming so quickly,” Sister Mary Grace began. “I wish all of our parents were as responsive as you.”

“Anything concerning my niece is important to me, Sister. What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem, Mr. Grayson, is that your niece insists on disrupting my class,” Frances Green informed him.

“Frances, please,” Sister Mary Grace admonished.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “And just how did she manage to disrupt your class this time, Mrs. Green?”

His voice was soft. Too soft, Amanda thought, noting the rigid line of his jaw.

“Well, for starters, she pretended to go into a trance in the middle of my lesson, and then she—”

“A trance?” Michael repeated.

“Not a trance,” Amanda corrected, noting the way his fingers had tightened around the arms of the chair. “She was meditating.”

“Call it whatever you like,” Frances Green countered, her too thin shoulders stiff with indignation. “All I know is the child kept staring off into space, pretending she couldn’t hear me.”

Michael gritted his teeth. He hadn’t thought it possible to dislike the sour-faced teacher more, but he did. “Maybe she didn’t hear you,” Michael offered. He certainly wouldn’t blame Summer if she had pretended not to hear the woman.

“Oh, she could hear me, all right. Why, if it hadn’t been for Amanda...”

Amanda?

Michael moved his gaze from Mrs. Green to the blonde, trying once more to place her name and face among those staff members he’d met at the last PTA meeting. He took in the waterfall of blond hair, the trim waist and long legs. She had great legs, he thought, unable to resist looking at them again. No, Amanda Bennett hadn’t been at the PTA meeting. If she had, he would certainly have remembered her.

“...And that awful humming sound she kept making,” Mrs. Green continued.

“Mantras,” Amanda explained.

He caught the New England accent again and his curiosity escalated another notch.

“Whatever,” Mrs. Green said. “All I know is that it gave me goose bumps.”

Pulling his attention back to Mrs. Green, Michael half listened as the woman droned on. He’d heard a similar tale last week when Summer had brought the talisman to school.

Frustrated, Michael wanted to demand once again that Summer be transferred to another class. But any such demand was pointless. Frances Green was the only religion teacher for the third grade. And if he wanted Summer to remain at Saint Margaret’s—and he did—she had to take the class.

“As I’ve explained to Sister Mary Grace, I have nothing against your niece, Mr. Grayson. But these disruptions she’s causing are affecting the other students.”

“I’ll speak to Summer, Mrs. Green. You have my word, it won’t happen again,” he assured her, biting back his frustration for Summer’s sake.

“Thank you, Frances,” Sister Mary Grace said. “You can return to your students now.”

The birdlike woman stood primly. “Thank you, Sister. Amanda.” She inclined her head toward him. “Mr. Grayson.”

Michael nodded, still too irritated by the woman’s lack of empathy to even speak. Didn’t she realize what Summer had been through? The death of her mother? The adjustments she had had to make? He swallowed. Hell, he still hadn’t gotten over the loss of his sister. And he wasn’t a vulnerable seven-year-old. He glared at the teacher’s retreating back.

“Don’t be too hard on Frances,” Sister Mary Grace said after the woman had left the room. “She really is an excellent teacher, and she cares about her students.”

“I’m sure you’d be a better judge of that than I would, Sister. At any rate, I’m sorry about what happened today. It’s my fault for allowing Summer to continue the meditation at home. Obviously that was a mistake. One that I intend to rectify.”

Amanda looked at Sister Mary Grace, then back at Michael. “Forgive me, Mr. Grayson. I realize this isn’t any of my concern, but given Summer’s background, do you think it’s wise to discourage her from meditating?”

“You’re right, Miss Bennett. It isn’t any of your concern.”

He heard the nun draw in a sharp breath and Michael realized he’d gone too far. But before he could apologize, Amanda was shooting back.

“That may be, but considering all that she’s been through and the adjustments she’s having to make, your taking a hard line on her meditation now could prove damaging.”

“You seem to know a great deal about my niece, Miss Bennett,” he said, suspicious.

“She and I spent some time together after this morning’s incident. We talked for a while.”

“I see,” he said in a voice that was deliberately calm. He didn’t like the idea of Summer being questioned by anyone, particularly about her background. Questions had a way of leading to more questions. And some questions were best left unanswered. “And based on a few minutes of conversation, you think you’re in a better position to judge what’s right for my niece than I am?”

She didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. “Perhaps I am. Perhaps not. But then, I hardly think six weeks as a guardian constitutes your being an authority.”

Michael frowned, wondering once more exactly who Amanda Bennett was and why she was so interested in his niece. “Obviously, Summer wasn’t the only one who confided in you.” He glanced over at the silent nun.

Before Sister Mary Grace could speak, Amanda rushed on. “I assure you, Sister only spoke to me out of concern for your niece.”

“Listen, Miss Bennett, I don’t—”

“Actually, it’s Dr. Bennett,” Amanda informed him.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Doctor?”

“Amanda’s a child psychologist,” Sister Mary Grace explained. “She works with some of the children here at the school. Naturally, I called her when Frances told me what had happened.”

“I didn’t realize Saint Margaret’s employed a child psychologist on its staff,” Michael said, making no attempt to keep the coldness from his voice.

“It doesn’t,” Amanda countered.

“Heavens, no,” Sister Mary Grace added. “Saint Margaret’s could never afford to pay for Amanda’s services. We’re simply grateful that she’s willing to give us a few afternoons each week.”

“That’s very admirable of you, Dr. Bennett.”

“Not at all,” she returned in equally cool tones. “Since I’m not yet licensed to practice in Louisiana, volunteering at Saint Margaret’s allows me to keep my feet wet while I study for the state exam. Besides, I find the work gratifying.”

“As Frances told you, Amanda was a tremendous help to us this morning,” Sister Mary Grace added. “She’s the one who brought Summer out of the meditative state.”

Michael cut her a glance. “It seems I’m in your debt, Dr. Bennett.”

“Not at all. I was glad I could help.”

“Given the circumstances, I took the liberty of discussing the problems Summer’s been having in school with Amanda,” Sister Mary Grace informed him. “I thought it might help to get a professional’s perspective. I hope you don’t mind.”

But he did mind—and very much. Forcing his voice to remain even, he said, “Sister, I know you meant well, but don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? I mean, just because Summer’s had a few problems adjusting to the school doesn’t mean she needs a child psychologist.”

“What would you consider reason enough?” Amanda asked.

Michael tensed. He could feel the muscle twitch in his left cheek. “To be honest, I can’t think of any reason Summer would need a shrink.” They certainly hadn’t helped his sister, he added silently.

Amanda bristled. She’d heard the term often enough, and there was no reason why having Michael Grayson call her by the unflattering name should bother her. But it did.

Sister Mary Grace sighed. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Grayson. I had hoped that perhaps with Amanda’s help, we would have been able to allow Summer to remain at Saint Margaret’s.”

Michael froze. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t Summer be able to continue at Saint Margaret’s?”

Amanda narrowed her eyes. What was Gracie up to? she wondered. She’d said she wanted help in convincing him to allow his niece to receive counseling. But nothing had been said about dismissing the child if their plan failed.

“Mr. Grayson...Michael,” Sister Mary Grace amended. “I had Frances Green speak to you because I wanted you to see what you’re up against. Saint Margaret’s has a rigid teaching structure bound in Catholicism. And as you know, Summer’s been exposed to a great many other cultures and beliefs—beliefs that are very much at odds with what she’s being taught here.”

“I know that, Sister. But Summer will adapt.”

Sister Mary Grace shook her head. “I don’t think so. At least, not without help.”

“You and I have discussed this before, Sister. I’m not interested in putting Summer in any kind of therapy. She doesn’t need it. All she needs is some time to adjust.”

“She needs more than time, Michael. She needs help. I know you were opposed to the idea of counseling when I first suggested it. But I had hoped that after meeting Amanda and learning that Summer could work with her, here at the school, you might reconsider.”

“I don’t have to reconsider. The answer’s no.”

“Then you leave me no alternative. I have to consider what’s best for the child and, under the circumstances, I honestly don’t believe Saint Margaret’s is good for Summer.”

Michael sat forward, his face a mask of disbelief. “What are you saying?”

Amanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Really, Gracie—”

“I’m saying that I think it would be in Summer’s best interests if you were to transfer her to another school. One that’s less structured in its teaching matter, particularly where religion is concerned.”

“Sister, you can’t mean that,” Michael said.

“I assure you I do.”

“But don’t you realize what affect this will have on Summer? She’s never known any stability. Until now, her life has been nothing but a series of moves, from one city, one village, one country to the next. If I take her out of Saint Margaret’s, it’s just one more change. There’ve already been too many.”

The anguish in his voice surprised Amanda. He seemed so strong, so defiant, not the kind of man who pleaded for anything. And yet he was pleading—for his niece’s sake. “He’s right,” Amanda told her friend. “More changes wouldn’t be good for the child.”

“Neither will more incidents like today’s.” Sister Mary Grace leaned back in her chair and fingered the silver cross that hung from the chain around her neck. She looked at Amanda then at Michael. “Of course, if you were to reconsider and allow Summer to work with Amanda, if I knew she would be receiving professional guidance that would help her to deal with these adjustments she’s having to make where the school’s curriculum is concerned, I suppose it would be okay for her to remain at Saint Margaret’s.”

Amanda flushed. “Gra—”

“Well, Michael?”

Michael scowled. He curled his hands into fists. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice. Do I?” But before Sister Mary Grace could respond, he conceded. “Never mind. What do I have to do to get Summer in the program?”

Sister Mary Grace stood, a smile spreading across her face. “Good. Then I’ll leave it to Amanda to explain the details of the program to you and to work out a schedule for Summer.”

* * *

Moments later, seated across from Amanda in the tiny office the school had designated for her use, Michael tried to squelch his irritation at having allowed a five-foot-nothing nun to outmaneuver him. It had been a long time since anyone had forced him into a corner this way. Not since the Winthrops—

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.