Runaway Attraction Page 11

  She sat with her legs crossed, in the common yoga pose that he’d already forgotten the name of. As if he could concentrate on the names of the poses she’d been twisting her body into for the past half hour in Central Park. It was taking every ounce of restraint he possessed not to reveal just how much watching her bend and flex in those skintight exercise clothes turned him on.

  “I can operate a camera when the time calls for it,” Micah answered. “I interned at a station in Boston as an undergrad. I was required to learn every part of the process.”

  He’d chosen to shoot this morning’s session using a classic 8-millimeter camera. The vintage-looking footage would be incorporated into a montage of different snippets of Bailey doing everyday things. His creative self was getting excited at the thought of the montage.

  Another part of him was getting excited for an entirely different reason.

  Bailey closed her eyes and pulled her hands down in front of her. Micah watched, mesmerized, as her chest rose and fell with several deep breaths. Her eyes opened and another of those smiles graced her lips. He’d gotten way too used to those smiles over these past few weeks. He wasn’t sure how he would ever live without them.

  “This is the first time in months that I’ve exercised in the park,” she said.

  They’d found a perfect spot in the park, not too far from her building. It was chilly, but the direct sunlight hitting their little patch of grass made it comfortable.

  “How often would you come out here?” he asked, the camera still rolling.

  “A couple of times a week. I typically exercise at the gym, simply because it’s more convenient, but getting out here and breathing in the fresh air never fails to relax me.”

  “We haven’t really discussed the lengths you have to go to in order to keep in shape,” he said. “It’s a sticky subject in the fashion industry, isn’t it?”

  She shrugged. “Of course body image is a huge deal. The nature of this job is to put yourself out there so that people can judge your appearance. But it isn’t everything. I want to show people, especially young girls trying to break into this business, that there is more to modeling than just a pretty face and a tiny waist. I’ve seen too many girls fall for that.”

  “How did you manage not to get caught up in the body-image trap?”

  “I’ve always had a healthy amount of self-esteem. I suspect it comes from being the baby of the family, and having everyone dote on me.” She chuckled. “As you can probably tell, I use it to my advantage all the time.”

  Once, Micah would have argued that her self-confidence was one of her best assets, but in the weeks since she had returned to New York, he’d perceived more insecurity and self-doubt than anything else. Her family had to have seen it, too, but they were all more concerned about not upsetting Bailey. What everyone failed to realize was that continuing to ignore the real issue was likely to cause more harm than good.

  She finished up her yoga routine and they walked over to a newsstand at the 72nd Street entrance for something to drink. She gestured to the ice-filled trough in front of the stand and Micah shook his head, declining her offer. He shut off the camera and, after she’d made her purchase, pointed to several tabloids that had pictures of her, all with unflattering headlines.

  “How does that feel?” he asked.

  “Seeing my face plastered across the papers?” Another shrug. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

  The headline—What Is Bailey Hamilton Hiding?—was printed in bold red ink above a picture of her heading into a coffee shop. Designer sunglasses covered her eyes and she was clutching her coat closed at her throat. He’d been there the day that picture had been taken. He knew she wasn’t hiding anything—she’d simply wanted a hot chocolate.

  At that moment, Micah felt ashamed to be in the media. Bailey hadn’t asked for this scrutiny, yet she couldn’t even step into a coffee shop without the press putting some type of salacious spin on it.

  He was about to apologize yet again for his role in the havoc that had been wreaked in her life when Bailey’s cell phone rang. It was a call from her future sister-in-law, telling her that she was needed at RHD. Micah had mentioned wanting some shots of her at home to show her more personal side, so she invited him to come up while she showered and changed.

  He spent the five-minute walk to her Central Park West building trying like hell to calm the desire raging in his blood. Watching her nimble body twist and arch during her yoga routine had pushed his control to the limit. Maintaining that control as she stripped naked and got slippery wet just a few yards away from him was asking too much.

  As they rode the elevator up to her floor, Bailey filled Micah in on the building’s history, but his mind refused to concentrate on anything but thoughts of her soon-to-be-naked body.

  They entered the apartment and, after making sure the door was locked behind them, Bailey tossed her keys in an oblong silver dish on a table next to the door.

  “I won’t be long,” she said. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

  He wanted to help himself to her.

  God, this was killing him!

  Micah cleared his throat, trying to break free from the lust that was nearly choking him. “I’m going to shoot the apartment,” he said. He focused his attention on the framed photographs on the mantel. “Is anything off-limits?”

  After a moment’s pause, she answered with a soft, sensual, “No.”

  The invitation Micah perceived in that single word caused him to whip around.

  Bailey stood just inside the arched entrance to the hallway that led deeper into the apartment. Her eyes were full of the same raw desire that had been building in his bloodstream all morning.

  Micah pitched his head back and groaned at the ceiling.

  “Bailey, please don’t make this any harder for me.” He looked over at her and nearly lost the battle to keep his hands off her. His throat ached, but he pushed past the pain and said, “I can’t.”

  “I know,” she answered. “But for the record, I don’t agree—I think you can.”

  Then she turned and headed for the back of the apartment.

  Micah let out the breath that had seized in his lungs. He needed to leave this place right now, before he made the biggest mistake of his entire career by gaining carnal knowledge of an interview subject. If he allowed that to happen, he could kiss what little impartiality he had left goodbye.

  But he still had work to do.

  So instead of leaving, Micah fired up his 8-millimeter and started filming. Viewing the apartment through the lens of his camera gave him the distance he needed from the situation, in addition to greater insight into how Bailey and her sister lived. They both apparently loved bold colors—there was not a pastel to be found. The decor matched what he knew of both Hamilton women’s personalities.

  A narrow glass-topped buffet table was lined with framed photographs of Bailey and her siblings, along with pictures of her surrounded by young girls in front of a Boys & Girls Club of New York banner.

  One thing Micah found odd was the fact that there was not a single picture of Bailey modeling. She must have posed for thousands of high-fashion portraits over the years, but there were no stills of her in the middle of a bold strut down the runway, or of the many magazine ads she’d appeared in.

  Micah came upon a display case of figurines that looked similar to the ones his mother had inherited from one of her former clients. The collection was his mother’s pride and joy—after her only son, of course.

  “I didn’t peg you as someone who would be interested in Lladró pieces.”

  Micah turned at the sound of Bailey’s voice. “Is that what they’re called? My mom has a bunch of them.”

  “Your mother collects Lladró?”

  “She does now,” Micah said. “She’s a home heal
th nurse. One of the women she took care of left her collection to my mother. You would think she’d inherited the moon.”

  “Depending on which pieces she has, she may have. I’ve been collecting these since I was a little girl.”

  “Do you want to see her collection? She would get a kick out of showing it to someone who actually knows what Lladró is.”

  “I would love that,” Bailey said. Then she turned to him and, crossing her arms over her chest, asked, “So are we going to talk about that kiss the other night, or are we just going to pretend it never happen?”

  Her boldness shocked the hell out of him. Micah had been creeping around that tinderbox since Friday night, waiting for that ill-advised kiss to blow up in his face. After a few days had gone by without Bailey mentioning it, Micah had hoped the subject would just magically go away.

  Not that it had stopped him from thinking about it.

  Bailey put a hand up. “Never mind. I think I already know your answer.”

  “Bailey—”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay.”

  “Not really,” he admitted with a humorless laugh. “Look, what happened outside the door of your apartment on Friday was not one of my more professional moments.”

  She folded her arms again. “Lack of professionalism aside, are you sorry it happened?”

  Nothing within him would allow Micah to tell that lie. “No,” he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and expelled a frustrated breath. “That kiss gave me life, Bailey. You have to know that.”

  Her expression softened, and a small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I do,” she said in a gentle voice. “It did the same for me.”

  The urge to pull her into his arms was so all consuming that Micah couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more.

  “I told you from the very beginning that I’m attracted to you, and that attraction has only grown stronger these past few weeks.” With a sigh he admitted, “Every second I’m around you is a struggle.”

  Her forehead dipped into a frown. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “It is. The way I feel about you goes against my code of professional ethics, but being around you and not touching you kills me. You know that I want you.”

  “Then why are you fighting it?”

  “Because you don’t need me wanting you right now. Bailey, you have so much that you’re dealing with—that you still need to deal with. Getting involved with me would only complicate your life.”

  “So now you know what’s best for me, too? When did you add psychologist to your résumé?”

  “This is serious, Bailey. It’s not a game.”

  “I know it isn’t a game,” she said, stepping up to him. Before he could stop her, she linked her hands behind his head and pulled his face to hers. “It’s very real. And it’s happening. Stop fighting it.”

  The precious little fight he had left in him was no match for the ardor that Bailey brought to the kiss. With the first lick of her soft, wet tongue against his lips, Micah’s will to protest was completely annihilated. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her against him. Then he went for her pliant lips, melding them to his own.

  He slipped his hands underneath her sweater and caressed her spine, his skin pebbling with goose bumps of desire as his fingers grazed the silky fabric of her bra. Micah brought both hands around and cupped her silk-and-lace-covered breasts. As Bailey’s nipples hardened beneath his palms, his erection did the same, pushing against the fly of his pants.

  A soft moan escaped her lips. The sound washed over him, urging him on, driving him to push his tongue deeper, knead her breasts harder, press himself more firmly against her belly. Micah licked and sucked her tongue, pulling it into his mouth, relishing her flavor.

  Bailey’s hands trailed down his back to his backside. She grabbed his ass, clutching him to her middle.

  His body lit up like a bonfire.

  Micah picked her up and took the couple of steps to the sofa. He laid her across it and covered her body with his. As he pressed his straining erection to the hot warmth between her legs, he trailed his tongue down her throat. Then he pushed her sweater up, past the tops of her breasts, exposing the full, luscious lace-covered mounds. He tongued her protruding nipples through the lace, bathing them with long, wet licks before sucking them into his mouth.

  Bailey clutched his head to her breast while her hips undulated underneath him. Micah thrust against her, rubbing his rock-hard erection back and forth, the friction fueling his pleasure.

  Bailey arched her back and her body stiffened as she cried out toward the ceiling.

  “Oh, my God,” she let out with a deep breath.

  Micah lifted his head from where he’d buried it against her neck. “I can’t believe I just dry humped you in the middle of your living room.”

  A giggle bubbled up from Bailey’s throat. “God, that felt good,” she said.

  Guilt tried to creep up on him, but that satisfied look on Bailey’s face beat it back. Her contented smile was worth any bout of self-reproach he would eventually suffer.

  Micah pushed himself up with shaky limbs and sat on the far end of the couch. Evidence of his unfulfilled orgasm bulged against his fly.

  “I would offer to take care of that for you, but you would just bring up that journalistic integrity thing,” Bailey teased.

  Micah leaned his head back against the sofa, covering his eyes with one arm while the other fell into his lap. He felt Bailey shift on the sofa.

  “Don’t,” he warned. “You need to get to RHD.”

  “Is that the best excuse you can come up with?”

  “And I need to go to the station.” Micah took a chance and looked at her. Just as he’d anticipated, his body responded by growing even harder. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, Bailey.”

  “The right thing for who?”

  Micah dragged a hand down his face. He needed to get out of here before he said to hell with his conscience and carried her to her bedroom.

  “Why don’t I pick you up from RHD? We can take a drive into Brooklyn and you can see my mom’s figurine collection.”

  “Bringing up your mother at a time like this? Nicely played, Mr. Jones.” She laughed, then said with an exaggerated sigh, “If that’s all you’re offering, I guess seeing your mother’s Lladró collection will have to do.”

  He looked over and had to stop himself from reaching out to her.

  “I wish I could offer more, Bailey.”

  “So do I,” she said.

  Micah considered giving into the impulse to kiss her one more time, but he didn’t trust himself to stop at just one kiss. Instead, he grabbed his camera from the side table and got out of there before he could do something else he would later regret.

  Chapter 9

  “Hey, where’s your shadow?”

  Bailey turned at the sound of Daniel’s voice. “Who?” she asked.

  His brow arched in amusement as they boarded the elevator at RHD. “Don’t even try it. You know who I’m talking about.” Daniel playfully tugged her hair, bringing the big-brother routine to an annoying level. “He follows you around like a lovesick puppy,” he teased.

  Bailey could feel the blush creeping up her neck. She swatted her brother’s hand away. “I thought you hated Micah.”

  He shrugged as they got off on the fourth floor and walked toward the brainstorming room to which they’d both been summoned.

  “I’ll be the first to admit that in the beginning I was ready to kill the guy, but he’s started to grow on me. And he’s damn good at his job,” Daniel said with a fair amount of respect.

  Bailey was rendered momentarily speechless. Daniel didn’t mete out praise often, and he tended to be particularly harsh when critiquing
others in his profession. It said a lot about how much Micah had grown in Daniel’s esteem these past few weeks.

  Evidence of just how much Micah had grown on her entire family became even more apparent as Bailey, her mother, Brianna and Zoe sat around the conference room table, looking over the box of favors that had just been delivered for Zoe’s wedding shower that coming weekend.

  “How are things going with Micah?” her mother asked as she fluffed the netting around the wedding bell filled with candied almonds.

  “Okay, I guess,” Bailey answered with a shrug. “He refuses to let me see any of the raw footage but promises that he’ll have a rough copy for me by the end of next week. Once we’re done with the resort-wear show, he’ll be able to put the finishing touches on it.”

  “I’m not talking about the documentary,” her mother replied.

  Bailey looked up to find her mother regarding her with that shrewd, knowing look she’d perfected through years of dealing with her children. Brianna and Zoe were mimicking that same look.

  “What?” Bailey asked, sounding overly defensive.

  “Oh, give it up, Bailey,” Brianna said. “We want to know what’s going on between the two of you.”

  “Nothing’s going on,” Bailey said, picking up another favor.

  “Something is definitely going on,” Zoe said. “Or if it isn’t yet, it will be soon. Everybody sees how that man looks at you.”

  Bailey’s eyes shot to her future sister-in-law. “How does he look at me?”

  “The way Kyle looks at me,” Zoe said with a laugh.

  If the attraction pulsing between her and Micah was this apparent, Bailey wasn’t sure she wanted her family to see the two of them together after what had happened a few hours ago on her couch. A shudder flowed through her body at the recollection of the magic his tongue had wielded.

  Oh, God! I can’t think about the man’s tongue with my mother sitting next to me!

  “We’re going to see his mother later today,” Bailey said. Six eyebrows arched in surprise, and she quickly added, “She collects Lladró figurines. When he found out about my obsession, he told me he’d bring me over to see her collection.”