Turning, he braced one arm against the wall of Amanda’s doorway and drew a deep, gulping breath as he fought the ache in his lower body. Stopping with just a kiss at her front door had been every bit as hard as it had been to hold himself to only kisses at the Carousel Pavilion. On second thought, maybe it was harder, he decided. A soft breeze whispered through the night carrying the clean scent of freshly cut grass. Lifting his head, he looked out across the lawn. All during dinner he’d found it impossible to think about the custody suit, Martha Winthrop, or his reasons for seeking out Amanda in the first place. And now it was even worse. Now all he could think of was how much he wanted to lie with her on the earth’s carpet, beneath the shadow of the magnolia tree, its branches heavy with fragrant blooms, with only the soft light of the moon touching her skin. His body hardened once more and he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the erotic images. “Michael?” Taking another deep breath, Michael gave himself a mental shake before turning to face Amanda.
