Runaway Attraction Page 10

  Bailey pulled her hand away from Micah’s.

  “I’m okay,” she said, proud of the resolve she was able to project in her voice, even though she didn’t feel an ounce of it.

  She chanced a quick glance at him as they pulled up to another red light, and his piercing look told Bailey that he could see so much more than she wanted to reveal. She’d had that feeling often over the past few days. There was something about Micah Jones. He seemed to see inside her head—a scary thought. Lately even she didn’t want to see inside her head.

  In a gentle voice, he said, “It gets better, you know. Eventually, you’ll stop fearing what’s behind every corner. You’ll stop suspecting that every person is out to get you.”

  “It’ll be a lot easier to stop suspecting that every person is out to get me once the person who did attack me is behind bars,” she said with a vehemence that surprised her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she said.

  “No. No, don’t apologize,” he said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Bailey. It’s not my place to tell you how you should react. You have a right to feel however you want to feel.”

  Silence filled the car again as they finished the drive back to her building. Micah found a parking spot only a few yards from the entrance. He got out and came around the car to open her door.

  “Thank you,” Bailey murmured.

  He nodded, then rested his hand against the base of her spine as he ushered her inside. Bailey shut her eyes for a moment to relish the feel of his touch. It radiated a strength she could feel even through her leather jacket.

  “This place is something else,” Micah said as they made their way through the lobby.

  “It is.” Bailey nodded. They stopped in front of the elevators. “Brianna and I have toyed with the idea of moving a few times, but as you can see, we’re both still here. I would like to eventually move closer to RHD. And I love SoHo—the vibe in that part of the city suits me.”

  “But?”

  She shrugged. “This is home. It always has been. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if I lost my roommate soon.”

  The elevator arrived. Micah motioned for her to go ahead of him. “Your sister and Collin are getting serious?”

  Bailey couldn’t contain her smile. “She’s pregnant.” She pointed a finger at him. “That does not leave this elevator. The baby is Brianna and Collin’s news to break. I can’t wait, though. I’m so excited about my first niece or nephew.”

  His lips drew up in an adorably sexy smile as he pretended to lock them and throw away the key. “No one will hear anything from me.”

  At this late hour, the building was quiet and the elevator’s smooth ride to the tenth floor took less than a minute. When they arrived at her front door, Bailey debated whether or not to ask him in for a nightcap.

  He took the choice out of her hands.

  “I should probably go,” he said. “Believe it or not, my work isn’t done. I’ve got a lot of notes to review for tomorrow’s show.”

  “Why didn’t you say that earlier?” Bailey asked. “I wouldn’t have kept you out this late.”

  “I didn’t mind,” he said. “I enjoyed watching you enjoy yourself.”

  His seductive murmur sent a tremor down her spine. The air between them sizzled.

  Bailey took a step forward. Micah did the same.

  He ran one hand down her arm. The other went to her hair. He tucked a few wayward strands behind her ear.

  “Will you be okay?” Micah asked.

  Bailey nodded. “Brianna should be home by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s waiting up for me like a worried mother hen.”

  “She cares about you,” Micah said, his voice low and rough with something that could only be described as desire. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  Bailey could only nod in agreement. The knot lodged in her throat made speaking impossible. She stood still as Micah’s head lowered, his eyes staring straight at her.

  She sucked in a breath mere seconds before his soft lips connected with hers. Her eyelids slid shut as his mouth closed over hers. He kept things light, pressing several gentle, airy kisses against her lips. But when Bailey slipped her tongue out and touched the corner of his mouth, everything changed.

  A low growl tore from Micah’s throat as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, fitting her against his body. He pushed his tongue past the seam of her lips, flicking it inside her mouth, tangling with her tongue. Bailey’s fingers crept up his back until they reached his head. She cradled it, holding him to her with one hand as she snaked the other up his chest. She grabbed a fistful of his sweater, clutching it as she held on to him for dear life.

  After several more moments of indulging in their intensely erotic kiss, Micah pulled back. His chest heaved with labored breaths. His eyes were wide with surprise, as if he couldn’t yet fully comprehend what had just passed between them.

  “Uh, I should...” He pointed toward the elevator.

  Bailey nodded. She couldn’t speak in coherent sentences, either.

  Micah gestured to the door of her apartment. “I won’t leave until you’re safely inside.”

  Her heart pinched at his compassion. He was such a gentleman.

  She took out her key and unlocked the door, then turned back and gave him a wave. It seemed woefully inappropriate after the explosive kiss they’d just shared.

  “Good night,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

  Micah nodded. “Good night.”

  Bailey looked one last time over her shoulder before she entered the apartment. She closed and locked the door behind her, shutting her eyes tight as she banged her head against the door.

  “Should I even ask?”

  Her eyes flew open at the sound of her sister’s voice. Brianna sat on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her, a sketch pad in her lap.

  “I’m in so much trouble,” Bailey said.

  And it had nothing to do with a crazed kidnapper. This time, she knew exactly what the danger looked like...and how it tasted.

  Chapter 8

  Micah sat at a right angle to George Stevens, the former director of a local children’s charity who had suffered a spectacular fall from grace two years ago when he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He’d just been released from prison and was attempting to make his grand return to the spotlight. He’d decided Connect was the perfect vehicle with which to do so.

  The poor fool.

  Micah folded his hands casually in his lap, relishing showing Stevens the error of his ways.

  His interviewee stared at him with so much hate in his eyes that a lesser man would have cowered. But Micah could hold his own with the best of them. He continued with his relentless questioning.

  “You represented the most vulnerable demographic in this city—underprivileged children. Did you once think about the people you were supposed to help, and how they would feel once your treachery was uncovered?”

  Stevens sat back in his chair and pressed his steepled fingers against his lips, biding his time before answering, “At the time, I believed I was doing what was best for the children.”

  “You believed using donations for personal vacations was the best use of the funds collected for the poor inner-city youths your charity served?”

  “I considered those trips research.”

  Micah flipped through the sheaf of papers his production assistant had provided just before they went live. He needed a minute to calm himself down before he threw professionalism out the window and punched the hell out of George Stevens.

  “During an eight-month span, you visited Bora Bora, the Florida Keys and Maui. Exactly what type of research were you conducting?”

  “It was for a new playground that
I commissioned.”

  “A playground?” He had to fight hard to keep the smile from his face. His job shouldn’t be so damn easy.

  By the time the hour ended, George Stevens looked as if he’d gone ten rounds in the boxing ring, and Micah was reminded of why he loved his job so much.

  At the end of the show, Stevens refused to shake Micah’s hand; he and his handlers stormed away from the set. They were not given much sympathy from the Connect crew.

  “That was some of the most entertaining television I’ve seen in a while,” Ben said.

  “The guy served two years in jail and still refuses to admit he’s a thief,” Micah said as he unhooked his mic. “I sure as hell wasn’t going to take it easy on him. That’s the problem with people in the public eye today. They’re used to getting coddled instead of facing hard-hitting questions.”

  He handed the audio equipment to the production assistant and frowned at the sly smile that drew across his cameraman’s face.

  “What?” Micah asked.

  “I guess Bailey Hamilton is lucky you don’t take that same attitude toward models.”

  Micah’s head reared back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m just making an observation.”

  “And I’m just asking exactly what it is you think you’ve observed.”

  Ben shrugged. “You’re shooting a documentary on a fashion model who was found clutching a bag of cocaine, but you haven’t mentioned that once. Some people may think that you’re taking it easy on her, especially after the way you just handed Stevens his ass.”

  “I’m not taking it easy on Bailey,” Micah protested. But even as he said the words, Micah knew they weren’t entirely true. He had been treating her with kid gloves, but that was only because he knew the full story—or at least more than the rest of the media knew.

  Ben held his hands up. “Like I said, just making an observation.”

  Micah watched the other man as he continued toward the break room. He fought the urge to follow him so he could try to make a stronger case—if he protested too much, it would likely backfire.

  Instead, he headed for his office, shutting the door behind him, and collapsed into his chair. He was exhausted, and his body was starting to rebel from the lack of sleep.

  Micah folded his hands over his chest and leaned his head against the headrest of his ergonomic chair, a gift from his mother when Connect had launched. He closed his eyes and tried not to think for just a minute, but it was no use.

  At the forefront of his mind was, as usual, Bailey. But not for the reasons she had taken up residence in his psyche over the past two months. Now whenever Micah thought about her—which, granted, was way more than he probably should—his thoughts were shrouded with guilt over the turmoil he had inadvertently created for her.

  He would give up his home, his car, everything he owned, if he could go back in time and change that interview. Why hadn’t he considered that his questions could jeopardize her safety?

  But how could he have known someone would use the information to hurt her? He had interviewed hundreds of guests over the course of his career. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

  And now he had something else to worry about. The idea of Ben believing that he was biased toward an interview subject didn’t sit well with him. The thought of his professional integrity being brought into question made Micah’s stomach churn with unease.

  What was even more unsettling was that he’d thought it himself more than once over these past couple of weeks, especially after that kiss last night.

  What the hell had I been thinking?

  He hadn’t been thinking—that was the problem. He had been dying to kiss her since the interview, and last night he’d finally had his chance. The minute he saw desire reflected in those enchanting brown eyes, he’d been done for. Utterly, completely done in by those exquisite lips, that sensuous body, her beautiful, gentle soul.

  God, he was falling hard for her. But he wasn’t just falling—he was tumbling headfirst without brakes, barreling toward that L word he’d managed to steer clear of for the past thirty years.

  “Damn it,” Micah cursed, running both hands down his face.

  He knew better than this. He couldn’t allow his emotions or his libido to override his common sense.

  A knock at his door jarred him from his musings.

  “Come in,” Micah called.

  Jessica Silverman, who produced the evening news program, stuck her head into his office.

  “Rebecca’s called for a quick meeting. She wants to discuss the new lineup,” she said. She put a hand up. “And before you ask, yes, Freshmen Escapade is still included.” Rolling her eyes, she closed the door.

  He and Jessica were on the same page when it came to the reality show that had been proposed by Rebecca Barrington, another of the station’s producers, and the one person who could give Micah a run for his money over the executive producer position. He and Rebecca had vastly different visions of where to take the station. She wanted WLNY to ride the wave of reality-TV shows that thrived on drama-filled ridiculousness. Freshmen Escapade—which was slated to start in the spring, following four New York college freshmen as they learned more about partying than schoolwork—was just one of Rebecca’s stellar ideas.

  She’d also hounded him about getting whatever dirt he could find on Bailey. Rebecca wanted to turn his documentary into the same kind of sleazy programming she wanted to bring to the rest of the network’s lineup.

  Micah wanted the station to get back to covering substantive issues. When he’d first started at WLNY, the lineup had been filled with thought-provoking programming that actually made people think. Connect was now one of the only shows that continued in that tradition. Micah wanted to bring the station back to its former glory, not tear it down with shows about partying college freshmen.

  He checked his email and phone to make sure he didn’t have anything pressing, and couldn’t suppress his disappointment at not seeing anything from Bailey. He shouldn’t be upset; they weren’t scheduled to meet again until tomorrow. But that didn’t lessen his disappointment.

  When Micah arrived at the small conference room where their cable station’s meetings were normally held, the other segment producers were already there, along with Mark Davis, the general manager.

  Mark motioned for Micah to take a seat, then said, “Before we get started discussing the spring lineup, I want to know how things are going with your documentary, Micah. Can we expect to run it during the holiday sweeps?”

  Micah nodded. “Roger Hamilton Designs is holding a special fashion show next week. That will be the final day of filming. We’ve been editing as we go, so I expect the finished product to be done within the next couple of weeks.”

  “Is the dirt you’re getting on Bailey Hamilton filthy enough to schedule this in the Sunday night prime-time slot?” Mark asked.

  “I heard that she was seeing some psychiatrist to the stars,” Rebecca piped in.

  “Look,” Micah said, intentionally ignoring Rebecca’s comment and forcing himself to stay as calm as possible at the disrespectful mention of Bailey’s mental health. “There is no dirt on Bailey Hamilton. This documentary is going to show how RHD has helped to make her a rising star in the fashion industry. It’s about family, and how having a strong support system can lead to success.”

  Every person in the room just stared at him. Even Jessica was looking at him as if he’d grown two heads.

  Rebecca cut the silence with a sharp laugh. “You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking, Micah.”

  “No, I’m not joking,” he gritted out.

  “You have an exclusive with the person at the center of one of the juiciest stories to hit New York this year, and you’re going for the wholesome-family angle?”

&nbs
p; “The Hamiltons are a wholesome family,” he said. “It’s inspiring what they’ve been able to accomplish while holding their family together.”

  Mark Davis was shaking his head. “Not this time. Rebecca is right. The drug scandal with Bailey Hamilton is what people what to know about. That’s what you need to focus on.”

  “I promised Roger Hamilton that I would not turn this into some sordid, sensationalized story,” Micah argued.

  “You lied,” Mark stated. “Now let’s turn to the lineup for the spring season.”

  Micah seethed with barely contained anger as he sat back in his chair, pretending to listen as each producer rattled off ideas for the upcoming season. What he really wanted to do was get up and walk out, with a parting request for each and every one of them to kiss his ass.

  He didn’t care what Mark said. He was not going back on his word to the Hamilton family. He couldn’t do that to Bailey, especially now that he knew the truth about her supposed drug scandal.

  God, how he hoped they caught the man behind her attack. For one thing, Bailey’s world would be a hell of a lot safer if her kidnapper was no longer on the streets, but just as important, she could clear her name.

  Micah finally understood the frustration the Hamilton family had been suffering these past few months, knowing that Bailey had done nothing wrong yet having to witness her reputation being dragged through the mud. To this day the rumors about her continued to spread.

  But Micah would be damned before he added to them. He didn’t care what Mark or Rebecca wanted, nor did he care about the executive producer position. He would walk away from the project and the promotion before he turned Bailey’s documentary into a smear fest.

  * * *

  “So are you adding cameraman to your résumé?” Bailey grinned. She stretched her arm over her head, angling her body to the right.