Seduced. Metsy Hingle

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