Amanda pedaled her bicycle down the street, slowly riding through the quiet neighborhood. She passed house after house with neatly trimmed yards and gardens filled with bright spring flowers. A squirrel scurried up a moss-laden oak, bringing a slight smile to her lips—the first one she’d managed in more than a week.
She lifted her face to the bright May sunshine, and the heat of the morning sun warmed her cheeks. The weather was perfect for the opening of Saint Margaret’s school fair, she thought, pumping faster as the street inclined slightly. She really should go to show her support for Gracie and the schoolchildren. Besides, she’d promised Summer she would be there.
Summer.
Amanda chided herself silently as thoughts of the dark-haired little girl filled her head. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had started to care for the uncle? How could she have allowed herself to become attached to the child, as well? Would she never learn from her mistakes? There was no place for her in Summer’s life—especially not now, not after the way things had turned out between her and Michael.
Irritated, Amanda pedaled faster, trying to outrun the restlessness that seemed to plague her whenever she thought of Michael.
Turning the corner, she braked in front of her own yellow-and-white house. The little cottage was still as cheerful as ever. Bright-covered azaleas and phlox bordered the width of the wooden structure, adding to its charm. But today the sight failed to lighten her mood.
Snap out of it, she told herself. Dismounting her ten-speed, Amanda stored it in the attached garage. She had every reason to be happy. She was on the verge of finishing her studies. She had parents who loved her, and wonderful friends like Gracie. And she had just avoided a very narrow escape where Michael was concerned. What in the world did she have to be gloomy about?
The answer was simple. She missed Michael. She’d ordered him out of her life. But how did she get him out of her heart?
After unlocking the door, Amanda entered the house and walked through to the kitchen. Sighing, she grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and polished it against the leg of her jeans. She took a bite, noisily munching on the sweet, juicy fruit before heading into the den. Taking another bite, she set the apple on the coffee table and plumped up the cushions on the green-and-white couch. Flopping down, Amanda stretched out her legs and crossed them at the ankles.
She cut a glance toward the window. Bright sunshine streamed into the room, reminding her once more just how happy and cheerful she should be and how completely miserable she was.
And it was Michael Grayson’s fault.
Michael.
Amanda wanted to scream. She had to stop thinking about him. But every time she closed her eyes, Michael was with her again—inside her head, inside her heart—just as he had been almost from the start.
He haunted her. Even after eight full days, she could still see his face, remember the way he’d looked that night—his lean, chiseled features pulled into tight, angry lines, his mouth set and unsmiling.
Amanda squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears with her hands, but she could still hear Michael’s angry voice, his biting words...
* * *
“So, it’s over. Just like that—” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. Anger radiated from every muscle in his body. “—No discussion. No trying to work things out. You just tell me to get lost...that we’re finished. And for what? Because you’re too damn scared to take a chance?”
Amanda tilted her chin defiantly. “This has nothing to do with me being afraid.”
“The hell it doesn’t.” His voice was a furious hiss and Amanda was vaguely aware of heads turning around them. “Admit it. I broke through that ice wall you’ve built around yourself and made you feel again. And it’s got you so scared, you can’t run away fast enough.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? Then why are you calling it quits between us?”
“I’ve already explained why.”
“Explained? No, Amanda. You haven’t explained anything. What you’ve done is convince yourself that I’m like your ex-husband. You’re only too happy to believe anything Martha Winthrop tells you because you’re scared silly and have just been looking for any reason to push me away.”
Amanda shrugged, striving for nonchalance. “Believe whatever you want.”
Michael leaned across the table, bringing his face so close to hers that Amanda could smell the spicy scent of his after-shave. “What I believe is that you’re a coward.”
Stung by his assessment, Amanda gritted her teeth. “Why? Because I came to my senses and decided not to go to bed with you?” She met his gaze evenly. “I’ve no doubt you’re good, Michael, but sex would have only made things more complicated. And I’ve already told you, I don’t like complications.”
Michael pulled back as though she’d slapped him. “Is that how you see me? As a complication? Are you trying to tell me that what was happening between us the other night was just sex?” he demanded. “Is that all it was to you?”
“Isn’t that what it was for you?” Amanda shot back, determined not to be intimidated by his outrage.
Turning away, Michael swore. The veins in his neck throbbed angrily as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
When he turned back to face her, his eyes were as hard and cold as steel. The knot in Amanda’s stomach tightened.
“It was a lot more than that for me. I thought we had a relationship—one that’s emotional as well as physical.” He drew a measured breath, then continued. “I wanted us to be able to talk to each other. To go places together. To share things,” he finished softly.
His gentleness unnerved her, zapped her anger. Why did he have to make this more difficult? He wanted to use her, she told herself, marshaling her defenses. “How can you say that after what almost happened between us? After...after the things you said a few minutes ago?”
“After what? Admitting that you turn me on?”
Her throat tight, unable to speak, Amanda nodded.
“Why not? It’s true. I wanted you last night. I still want you,” he said, his voice low, husky. “I want to take you to bed, to explore every inch of you with my mouth, with my hands, until I know your body as well as I know my own. I want to lie with you naked, bury myself deep inside you.”
Amanda’s pulse grew frantic.
“I want to make love to you for hours...slow and easy until we’re both desperate with need, then fast and hard because neither of us can wait a moment longer. And then I want to start all over again and not stop until we’re both so weak neither one of us can lift our heads.”
Breathless, Amanda’s heart raced at the provocative images his words created. She gripped the edge of the table unable to do anything more than stare at him.
“But I’m not interested in meaningless sex, Amanda. I never have been.”
He pinned her with his gaze and Amanda felt as though his blue eyes could see through the facade she’d tried so hard to erect and into her wanton soul.
“But then, maybe that’s what you want,” he continued. “Empty sex. Maybe that’s your idea of a relationship...”
He made it sound so ugly, so cold. The warm feeling his erotic expounding had caused withered, leaving her chilled, hollow.
“Because you sure as hell don’t have a clue about what a real relationship is or what it takes to make one work.”
Stung, she snapped, “And I suppose you do?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said arrogantly. “At least I have a lot better idea of what it takes than you do.”
She shot him her haughtiest look, the one that had successfully banished many an unwanted suitor.
It didn’t faze Michael.
“I know it takes a lot of guts to put your feelings on the line, to leave yourself open, to risk being hurt.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh that chilled Amanda even more. “And you know what’s so ironic?”
“No doubt you’re going to tell me,” she said, trying for sarcasm but falling short.
“I asked you to meet me here so I could apologize. I thought I’d overreacted the other night when I accused you of being afraid. I wanted to tell you that I was wrong.
“I told myself, here’s a woman who’s chucked everything, who’s picked up the pieces of her life and started over. But you weren’t starting over. Were you, Amanda?”
She didn’t even attempt to answer him.
“You were running,” he said, not bothering to hide his scorn. “And now you’re running again—only this time, you’re not running from an ex-husband or unhappy memories. Hell, you’re not even running from me. You’re running from yourself. And the sad part about it is, you don’t even know it.”
She’d had enough. Pushing back her chair, Amanda stood. “Thank you, Dr. Grayson. Now, if you’ve finished your amateur analysis, I’m leaving.”
Michael’s hand flashed out and caught her wrist before she could take a step. Amanda looked down at her imprisoned wrist, locked in his powerful grasp. She brought her gaze back up to his angry face.
“Someday you’re going to get tired of running,” he told her, his voice low, dangerous. “I only hope when you do, it won’t be too late for us.”
* * *
Amanda shook her head, trying to clear away the memory, but Michael’s words continued to echo in her mind.
Had he been right? she asked herself for the dozenth time. Had she been running from herself and her feelings? True, she hadn’t wanted the emotional risk a relationship with him represented. But had she deluded herself into believing if she shut him out of her life that her heart would be safe?
Had she succeeded? Or was it already too late?
The telephone rang, saving her from searching for answers that wouldn’t come. Sitting up, she swung her legs to the floor. The shrill sound continued to pierce the quiet as Amanda walked over to the table and picked up the receiver. “Hello?” she answered in the middle of the third ring.
“Miss Amanda?”
Amanda knitted her brows. “Summer? Summer, is that you?”
“Yes,” Summer returned breathlessly, the relief in her voice evident. “I was afraid I had the wrong number. I asked information for your phone number, but it didn’t sound like you at first.”
“Summer, honey, is something wrong?” Amanda asked, beginning to feel worried.
“It’s Uncle Mike.”
Amanda froze. Suddenly her legs grew weak. “Has something happened to your uncle?” she asked, fighting to keep the panic from her voice.
“No. He’s all right, it’s just that...that he’s going to ruin everything.”
“Ruin everything? Honey, what are you talking about? What’s going to be ruined?”
“Everything,” Summer declared, her voice breaking on a sob. “Please, will you come help us?”
“Help with what?”
Summer mumbled something, but the words were drowned out by what sounded like a loud crash.
“Summer, what was that noise?” Amanda demanded.
“Please say you’ll come, Miss Amanda. You said you were my friend and Sister Mary Grace said friends help each other. Will you help me?”
“Help with what?” There was another crash and Amanda was sure this time she heard glass breaking. “Summer, what’s going on?”
“Uh-oh. I gotta go. Please hurry. We need you. Bye.”
“Summer, wait—”
But it was too late, the dial tone was already buzzing in Amanda’s ear.
Amanda stood for a moment, looking at the receiver she held in her hand. She depressed the button and punched out the digits for Information.
Amanda jotted down Michael’s phone number and address. Picking up the receiver again, she punched out Michael’s number.
The line was busy.
She dialed again. Again, she got a busy signal.
Please come. We need you. Summer’s pitiful voice kept playing over and over in her head.
Amanda started to dial a third time, but hung up the phone instead.
She was probably making a mistake by going. Only a fool would risk becoming more involved with either Grayson, she told herself.
Evidently, she was a fool.
Grabbing her purse and car keys, she rushed out of the door, ignoring common sense and following her heart.
Twenty minutes later when Summer opened the door and threw herself into Amanda’s arms, Amanda was glad her heart had won.
“I knew you’d come,” Summer said, clinging to her.
Amanda swallowed, moved by the little girl’s faith in her. After a moment she held Summer at arm’s length and stood. “Now suppose you tell me what’s wrong?”
“It’s the school fair,” she said, her green eyes filling with tears.
“The school fair?” Amanda asked, confused.
Summer hiccuped. “My class is supposed to bring cupcakes to sell...”
Amanda looked around the room and sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the scent of burning cake. “Cupcakes? That’s the emergency?”
Summer nodded. “Only, Uncle Mike doesn’t know how to bake.”
Amanda didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved.
“He wanted to buy them, but they have to be homemade. So, he’s been trying to bake them...”
The smell seemed to grow stronger and Amanda pressed her finger to her nose as it started to sting a little.
“And we’re supposed to have them at the school before three o’clock, but—”
“Ouch!” Michael’s angry shout came from the next room and was followed by a loud crash. What sounded like metal hit the floor with a bang. A thud came next and was followed by another muttered curse.
“Come on,” Amanda said, grabbing Summer’s hand. “We’d better get in there before he kills himself and burns the house down.”
Summer led the way to the kitchen. When she pushed open the door, the smell of burning cupcakes slapped Amanda in the face. She blinked, her eyes smarting. She waved her hand back and forth in front of her face in an effort to ease the odor.
The room was in chaos. A trail of flour covered the counter, ending in a heap of broken eggs, their yellow yolks running down the side of the cabinet. Mixing bowls and measuring cups covered in chocolate cake batter lay strewn across the counter like drunken soldiers. An electric mixer rested on its side, the beaters looking battle worn and weary.
Summer coughed and waved frantically in front of her face. “Uncle Mike, Miss Amanda’s here. She’s going to help us.”
Michael spun around, holding a pan of charred cupcakes in one hand with a bright yellow oven mitt.
With an apron tied haphazardly around his waist, smudges of flour on his face and chocolate cake batter splattered across his T-shirt, on his forehead and in his hair, he was the most wonderful sight she’d ever seen.
And she loved him.
Unnerved by the realization, Amanda squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Despite all her reservations and her determination not to fall in love with him, he’d somehow managed to slip past her guard and find his way into her heart.
Opening her eyes, she looked at him and wondered if he already knew what she’d just come to realize.
He squinted his eyes against the smoke billowing from the oven and the pan he was holding, and peered in her direction. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice guarded.
“Summer called me and said you needed help.” She cut a glance to the burned cupcakes he was holding. “And from the looks of things, she was right.”
“Nothing we can’t handle,” he began, squaring his jaw like an indignant child. “We’re doing just fi— Ouch!” Michael dropped the pan to the floor and crisp, black cupcakes flew in all directions. He jumped back, cracking his head on the upper oven door.
“Uncle Mike!”
“Michael!”
Summer and Amanda rushed to his side.
He cursed as he rubbed his head with one hand. Flinging off the oven mitt, he stuck his burned fingers into his mouth.
“Be still and let me look at your head,” Amanda ordered.
He grimaced as she examined the small knot forming on his forehead.
“Is he all right?” Summer asked anxiously.
“Oh, I think he’ll live,” Amanda told her, sidestepping one of the smoldering cupcakes. “But I’m not too sure about those cupcakes.”
“Funny, Amanda. Real funny,” he said.
Amanda bit back a smile. “Summer, do you think you can find me an ice pack?”
“There’s one in the bathroom.”
“Can you get it for me?”
Summer went running out of the room.
“What do you need an ice pack for?”
“For that hard head of yours.” Taking him by the arm, she led him to the sink and turned on the cold water. She stuck his burned fingers under the faucet.
He pulled his hand away.
“You’re supposed to put butter on a burn,” he complained, obviously disgruntled.
Amanda stuck his hand under the water again. “Not true, and not if you want to stop it from blistering. Stay put until I get a bowl of ice for your hand.”
Muttering, Michael turned his back to her and did as he was told.
When Summer returned with the ice pack, Amanda had him seated in a recliner in the living room, his hand immersed in the bowl of ice that rested in his lap. After filling the ice pack, she placed it on his forehead.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Feeling better?”
“I never felt bad in the first place.”
Amanda arched one brow. “No? Could have fooled me. You look like you’ve been in heavy combat.”
When he looked up at her, she was smiling. And despite himself, Michael found himself smiling back. “Yeah, I guess I do look a little battle worn,” he admitted.
“A little?”
“All right. A lot.” Michael grinned, enjoying her teasing. “But I never claimed to be any good at baking. And that recipe didn’t turn out the way it was supposed to.”
“So I noticed.”
“Uncle Mike,” Summer said, bringing in a tray of charred cupcakes. “I don’t think these are right, either.” She poked at one of the cakes with her finger and the top caved in.
“I followed the directions,” he insisted, feeling a bit defensive with both Summer and Amanda looking at him. He’d never baked cupcakes before—only eaten them. But he’d tried darn hard to bake these because it seemed so important to Summer. “I did. I even improved on the recipe.”
Amanda looked down at the blackened cupcakes then back up at him. “This is improved?”
“He found some shortcuts,” Summer explained.
Michael smiled, proud of his ingenuity. “Instead of spending all that time softening the butter before mixing it with the sugar, I went ahead and melted it.”
“And we put in extra chocolate squares so it would taste real chocolaty,” Summer added.
Amanda picked up one of the cupcakes, examining where the batter had mushroomed over the top of the paper cup before burning. “I guess you decided to make them extra large, too.”
Michael’s smile slipped a little as he looked at the pitiful results of his morning’s work. “I filled them up with batter just like you’re supposed to. Something must be wrong with the oven.”
“Of course, the oven,” Amanda said solemnly, her lips twitching at the corners.
Summer looked at the cupcakes. “They don’t look like the ones Michelle’s mom made.” Leaning forward, she sniffed at the cupcakes and crinkled her nose. “And they don’t smell like Mrs. Darcy’s, either.”
“I know,” Michael said.
Summer turned to Amanda, her shoulders drooped. “I said I’d bring chocolate cupcakes to the fair.”
“It’s all right, honey,” Amanda soothed.
“Do you know how to make cupcakes like Mrs. Darcy’s?” she asked, her expression filled with hope.
Amanda smoothed Summer’s bangs away from her face. “I don’t know if mine will taste as good as Mrs. Darcy’s, but I think I can come up with something passable.”
“You can bake?” Michael asked.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“I’m not. It’s just that I hadn’t envisioned you spending much time in the kitchen.”
“I don’t usually have much reason to. And, I admit, I’m not nearly as ambitious as you are. I use a cake mix.”
“Does that mean you’ll make some cupcakes for me to take to the fair?” Summer asked.
“If your uncle doesn’t have any objections.” She cut a glance toward him, her eyes questioning.
He shrugged. “It’s okay with me.” Michael paused, remembering how things had ended between them the previous week. Was that the only reason she’d come? To help Summer? “Sure you want to do this? I wouldn’t want you to feel like you were being used.”
He heard the tiny catch in her breath, saw the flash in her eyes before she looked away. “I don’t.”
“Amanda’s my friend, Uncle Mike.” Summer took hold of her hand. “That’s why she came.”
“What about us, Amanda? Are we friends, too?” Michael asked.
She shifted as though uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “We can be, if you want us to be,” she returned, her voice serious, her eyes questioning.
He wanted a great deal more than simple friendship from Amanda. And it had nothing to do with Summer. He’d discovered that much two days ago when he realized he would no longer need her as his wife to ensure Summer remained in his custody.
And if the flush staining her neck and cheeks as she and Summer headed for the kitchen was anything to go by, she wanted a lot more than friendship, too.
Leaning back in his chair, Michael smiled. He’d been waiting for the right moment to approach her again. But, thanks to Summer, his waiting was over.
His sweet little minx of a niece had given him a second chance with Amanda. And this time, he was going to do his best not to blow it.
* * *
Michael stood at the doorway and watched Amanda move around his kitchen, laughing and working with Summer. He’d been pleased to see how quickly she’d taken over, directing him and Summer easily until she had restored the place to order.
He smiled, enjoying the sight of her face flushed with excitement. With her long blond hair caught up in a ponytail and one of his aprons wrapped around her tiny waist, she was a far cry from the Boston socialite or the cool Dr. Amanda Bennett he’d first met. She looked like a woman, a beautiful, contented woman.
And he wanted her to be his.
“Uncle Mike.” Summer spotted him standing at the door. “Come see,” she said excitedly, motioning for him to enter.
He walked into the room and moved beside his niece.
“Don’t they look great?” Summer asked as she held up a tray of beautifully frosted chocolate cupcakes.
“Sure do.” He scooped a fingerful of frosting off the top of one and stuck it in his mouth. “Hmm. Taste good, too. How about a sample?”
Summer looked at Amanda. “Can he have one?”
“Oh, I think we can spare one,” Amanda said, smiling. She turned on the dishwasher, then walked across the kitchen and moved next to Summer. “But no more for you, missy,” She tapped the tip of Summer’s nose. “You’ve already had two.”
“Two?” Michael arched his brow. Taking one of the cupcakes from Summer’s tray, he peeled back the paper.
“I was the tester and I helped frost them, too,” Summer explained proudly.
“Tester, huh?” Michael bit into the cupcake, finishing off the sweet chocolate cake in two bites. He swallowed. “If you guys hadn’t banned me from the kitchen, I’d have tested them for you.” He licked the chocolate frosting and crumbs from his fingertips. “That was really good.”
“And they taste even better than Mrs. Darcy’s,” Summer added, her eyes shining.
Michael licked the last of the chocolate frosting from his lips. “That good, huh? Maybe I should test another one just to make sure.”
He reached for a second cupcake, but Amanda slapped his hand away and laughed. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she said, smiling at him. “Summer, you’d better box these up now or they may not make it to the fair.”
“Okay.” Summer hurried over to the table to pack up her precious cupcakes.
“Don’t you want to know if I think your cupcakes taste as good as Mrs. Darcy’s?” Michael teased.
“Not really.” She moved over to the counter and picked up a large mixing bowl. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up to store it in the cabinet.
“Let me get that,” Michael said, moving behind her. He’d only meant to help, but then his legs accidentally touched the back of her legs and his fingers brushed hers as they both slid the bowl onto the shelf.
All the lightness and teasing of a few moments ago deserted him instantly. And the memories came flooding back. The way she’d felt in his arms. The sweet taste of her lips...
Amanda snatched her hand away. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a shaky whisper.
His hands drifted down and settled on either side of the counter, trapping her within the circle of his arms.
Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes dark and shiny as they met his. Michael leaned closer. “Amanda...”
“All finished,” Summer said.
Michael shook his head to clear it, then dropped his hands to his sides.
Grinning from ear to ear, Summer carried the large box of cupcakes over to them. “Can we go now?”
“Heavens, look at the time,” Amanda said, glancing at her wristwatch. “It’s after two. You two had better get going if you want to get these to the fair by three.”
“We’ve got plenty of time,” Michael assured her. “I’ve already showered and changed. And you sent Summer up to change when she finished with the frosting, remember?”
He took the box from Summer and placed it on the counter, then turned back to his niece. “Summer, don’t you have something you want to say to Amanda?”
“Thank you,” Summer said.
“You’re welcome.”
Summer wrapped her arms around Amanda’s waist and hugged her. “I wish you could stay here with us all the time. I love you.”
Dropping to her knees, Amanda hugged Summer close. She blinked, her eyes glistening with tears as she whispered, “I love you, too.”
Michael swallowed, moved by the affection between the child he’d come to love and the woman who had stolen his heart. This is how it would be if they were a family, he thought. The three of them—Summer, Amanda and him.
Summer pulled back from Amanda. “Will you come with us to the fair?”
“Oh, honey, I don’t think so.” At Summer’s crestfallen expression, she added, “But I’m planning to go later this afternoon. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
But if that skittish look in her eyes meant anything, she would be careful to avoid him. “Have you already made other plans?” Michael asked as casually as he could.
“No.”
“Then why not come with us?”
“I couldn’t. You’re ready to go now and look at the way I’m dressed,” she protested.
Michael ran his gaze over her, taking in the white oxford shirt with its sleeves rolled up past her elbows and tucked into the worn, faded jeans that molded her trim hips and long legs. He smiled at the sight of the sensible white tennis shoes before moving back up to her face. Flawless and free of makeup, her skin looked like ivory silk, her eyes the color of dark topaz. “You look beautiful to me.” And she did. Beautiful on the inside and outside.
“Please come with us.” Summer tugged at her hand.
Amanda hesitated and Michael sensed her indecision. He wanted her with him...with them. The three of them belonged together. He’d been a fool to even think he could have walked away from her. He couldn’t. And he wasn’t going to let her walk away from him—not without a fight. “I’d like you to come, too, Amanda. Will you?”
“All right,” she said, giving in. “But I’m at least going to change clothes. I’m not going anywhere with chocolate cake batter smeared all over me.”
“Okay,” Michael agreed. He picked up the box of cupcakes. “We’ll stop by your place on the way to the fair.”
Summer practically danced to the door. “We’re going to have so much fun,” she said excitedly. “We’ll be just like a real family.”
And someday they would be a real family, Michael promised himself as he closed the door. The three of them belonged together. And he was going to find a way to convince Amanda of that. He simply had to.
He only hoped he could do it before Martha filled Amanda’s head with any more doubts about him.