Seduced

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Authors: Metsy Hingle
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Winthrop was definitely a charmer. But he didn’t make her heart race or her pulse beat faster—not the way Michael did.
    â€œBehave yourself, Bradley. You were away on one of your little sailing adventures when Amanda arrived. Otherwise, you’d have met her sooner.”
    â€œIf you had told me your old school friend had such a beautiful daughter, I would have cut my trip short and come home.”
    â€œIgnore him, Amanda. Instead of taking over his father’s business, sometimes I think Bradley should have gone on the stage.”
    â€œI’m sure he would have done quite well,” Amanda said, grinning at Bradley’s pained expression.
    â€œAnyway, I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t called this dear child in months to even see how she’s been getting along. When you and I talked last, I believe you said you were taking some sort of classes.”
    â€œYes. Refresher courses. At the University of New Orleans. I’m hoping to take the state exam this fall and get my license to practice in Louisiana.”
    â€œPractice?” Bradley asked. “Are you a doctor?”
    â€œA child psychologist,” Amanda explained.
    â€œAmanda worked for a very reputable firm in Boston before her marriage,” Martha informed her nephew.
    â€œYou’re married?” Bradley asked, his show of disappointment almost comical.
    â€œDivorced,” Amanda said, hating the failure the word implied.
    Bradley brightened. “In that case, I hope you’re planning to stay in New Orleans for a while.”
    â€œI am, provided I can get on with one of the clinics.”
    â€œMaybe Aunt Martha can help. She sits on a number of the hospital boards. Don’t you, Aunt Martha?”
    â€œBradley’s right, dear. And of course, I’d be glad to send a letter of recommendation for you,” Martha added. “Do you have a particular clinic in mind?”
    â€œNot at the moment.” Although she appreciated the offer, Amanda didn’t want any favors. That had been part of the reason she’d come to New Orleans. Here she was simply Amanda Bennett, not Ambassador Bennett’s daughter or somebody important’s wife. And any job she got was going to be on her own merit, Amanda vowed.
    â€œWell, let me know if I can help. I’d be happy to put in a word for you,” Martha said.
    â€œThanks. I’ll keep that in mind. But right now, I’m concentrating on getting through the next four weeks of classes. Then I’ll have to wait until the fall to take the exam.”
    Bradley grimaced. “I certainly don’t envy you. I’m sure you’ll be glad to get all that behind you and start working again.”
    â€œYes, I will. But, actually, I am working now. With a group of children at Saint Margaret’s. Of course, it’s only in a volunteer capacity, but I enjoy it.”
    â€œSaint Margaret’s.” Martha took a sip of her wine. She drew her brows together. “I don’t seem to recall any Saint Margaret’s clinic or hospital. Where is this place located?”
    â€œIt’s uptown. But it’s not a clinic or a hospital. It’s a Catholic grade school. I’ve been doing some counseling there a few afternoons a week.”
    Martha’s face paled. “The little school off of State Street?”
    â€œYes. That’s it.”
    Martha’s hand shook slightly as she set her wineglass down on the table. “Do you work with all of the children there?”
    â€œNo,” Amanda responded, puzzled. “Just the ones whose parents or teachers have recommended them for counseling.”
    â€œYou mean, the problem kids,” Bradley said, scorn in his voice.
    â€œI wouldn’t call them ‘problem kids’,” Amanda informed him, frowning. She wondered then how she could have thought him charming. “Sometimes the children are just afraid or they might be having trouble

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