Runaway Attraction Read online

  “Hmm...that sounds serious,” Brianna commented. “Meeting the mother.”

  Bailey rolled her eyes. It was probably pointless to try to hide her and Micah’s involvement outside of the documentary, but she wasn’t ready to share just yet.

  “Do you have everything you need for the shower?” she asked Zoe.

  “I met with the event planner earlier this morning. She’s coming by later today with cake samples. I guess you won’t be able to give your opinion since you’ve got better things to sample,” Zoe finished with a wink.

  Bailey rolled her eyes again.

  Kyle came into the office carting a huge box. “Did you all order everything in the free world?”

  “Don’t be silly. Just think of all the things in the free world,” Zoe teased. She stood and planted a kiss on Kyle’s lips before turning her attention to the box. “Oh, this is the fabric for Lila’s dress!”

  “Thank goodness it arrived,” her mother said.

  Zoe pried the shipping tape from the box, then flipped it open.

  And gasped.

  She pulled the fabric from the box, revealing silky eggshell material peppered with splotches of deep red. Bailey’s blood turned to ice at the sight.

  Kyle snatched the fabric from Zoe’s hands. “It’s dye,” he quickly surmised. He turned the box over, and it was evident that it had been tampered with. The tape used to seal the bottom was completely different than the tape Zoe had peeled from the top.

  “This is no coincidence,” Brianna said. “Not after everything else that’s happened.”

  Bailey whipped around to her sister. “Everything else?”

  “Brianna,” her mother said in a warning tone. Bailey caught the slight shake of her head.

  “No.” Bailey went to her mother. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” her mother said. “It’s under control.”

  “Is it?” Kyle asked. “Keeping Bailey in the dark isn’t going to help her. She needs to know so that she can keep her eyes open.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked, unable to keep the hysteria out of her voice. She felt her chest tightening, felt the air restricting in her lungs. A now-familiar clamminess crawled across her palms. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to ward off the impending panic attack.

  Bailey closed her eyes. “Tell me, please.”

  “There have been a few...incidents lately,” her mother began after a pause.

  “What kind of incidents?”

  “In September, Kyle and Zoe were locked in a closet for several hours. The tires on his car were slashed, and we just found out that when the RHD computers crashed not too long ago, it was deliberate, the work of a hacker.”

  Bailey brought shaking fingers to her lips. “No,” she whispered.

  “We thought your abduction was an isolated incident, but it’s apparent that the entire family is being targeted,” Kyle stated.

  “Why am I just hearing about this now?” Bailey demanded. Her body was shaking with something other than fear—she was furious.

  “You’ve been through enough already,” Brianna said. “You didn’t need this on top of everything else.”

  “Stop treating me as if I’m a piece of glass,” Bailey snapped. “I’m not going to shatter at the first sign of trouble. I deserve to know what’s going on in this family, too.”

  There was a knock on the door. Bailey turned to find Micah poking his head through the slightly opened door.

  “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

  “No,” Bailey said. She stalked out of the conference room, grabbing her jacket off a chair. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  Micah looked at Bailey out of the corner of his eye as they moved in a sluggish crawl across the Williamsburg Bridge into Brooklyn. He adjusted the car’s heating vents, then chanced asking a question.

  “You want to talk about whatever has you ready to pound your fist through my windshield?” he asked.

  She shook her head, but seconds later said, “Apparently, others in my family have been through troubling episodes lately. Incidents, as my mother called them.”

  “Such as?”

  “Someone slashed the tires on Kyle’s car and hacked the computers at RHD. And today the fabric for my mother’s dress for the wedding arrived covered with red dye. The box had been tampered with.” With a derisive snort, Bailey said, “My family thought it was too much for my fragile brain to take, so no one bothered to tell me.”

  Micah was torn between feeling enraged over yet another incident against the Hamiltons and relief that they had finally clued Bailey into what had been going on. It had been weighing on his mind ever since Brianna had told him before he’d taken Bailey to Rafe’s club.

  “Someone is targeting your entire family,” Micah stated. He gripped the steering wheel in an attempt to control the rage coursing through him. The thought of anyone getting their hands on Bailey again made him crazy.

  “And it all started with me. This is all my fault, Micah. If I had been paying attention that morning—”

  “No.” He cut her off. “Don’t you see, Bailey? It’s the exact opposite. Who’s to say they weren’t after Kyle? Or someone else in your family? This isn’t just about you.”

  Her eyes registered comprehension, as if she had never considered that she might not be the cause of the reign of turmoil being wreaked upon her family.

  “This isn’t your fault, Bailey.”

  She expelled a tired sigh. “I’m just ready for it to end,” she said. “I’m ready to get my life back.”

  “You will. Just let the police do their job. They’ll eventually find out who’s behind this. And in the meantime, remember there are people looking out for you. Your family was just trying to protect you. They don’t want any more harm coming your way. Neither do I.”

  He reached across the console and covered the hand that was resting on her thigh. She flipped her palm up, and her elegant fingers twined with his, closing tightly. She gave his hand a squeeze, and Micah felt it in his chest. She had no idea of the hold she had on his heart.

  As they drove toward his mother’s home, Micah pointed out buildings and places he used to visit while growing up.

  “We lived over there, in the Bushwick-Hylan projects,” he said, pointing to the housing development where he’d grown up.

  “Did you go to school here?” Bailey asked, pointing to a building in the next block.

  “No, I went to Stuyvesant in Manhattan.”

  “Stuyvesant?” She twisted in her seat and stared at him. “Do you know how tough it is to get into Stuyvesant? At least twenty thousand students apply every year, and they only accept the top five percent.”

  “Actually, it’s more like the top two percent.”

  She laughed, then said, “You’re a smarty. Stuyvesant, and then Harvard?”

  Micah looked over at her, one brow cocked in inquiry. “Is being a smarty a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “Definitely a good thing,” she said. “I find intelligence very sexy.”

  It felt as if the car’s temperature had climbed twenty degrees. Micah knew he was playing with fire by encouraging the seductive banter, but he told himself that it was for Bailey’s own sake. He was taking her mind off the incident that had happened back at RHD. Yeah, that was what he was doing.

  He pulled up to the curb in front of the brownstone where his mother now lived, near Irving Square Park. It wasn’t anywhere near as nice as the building that housed the Hamilton clan, but compared to the one-bedroom apartment in the projects where he’d spent most of his childhood and teenage years, it was a palace.

  His mother greeted them at the door.

  “Hi,” Bailey said, putti
ng her hand out. “I’m Bailey Hamilton.”

  “No introduction is necessary,” his mother answered. “I’m Rochelle Jones. It’s so exciting to meet you. I see your face on TV all the time.”

  Micah shrugged. “I guess it’s no big thing that my face is on TV all the time.”

  “Oh, come in here, you,” his mother said, batting his arm.

  She led them into the house. Micah glanced over at Bailey, surprised to realize he’d been expecting to find derision on her face as they stepped into his mother’s modest home. He should have known better. He was standing next to the most gracious, down-to-earth woman he’d ever met. Even if she had been put out by the house, Bailey never would have revealed her feelings. She was much too polite.

  Her face lit up the moment her eyes found his mother’s Lladró collection.

  “Well, I can tell what you’re here for.” Rochelle gestured to the shelves of figurines.

  Before his mother could join Bailey, Micah pulled her in for a hug and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

  “How’s it going?” he asked. “You know that’s code for ‘What do you have to eat?’ right?”

  That garnered another playful tap on the arm. “There’s leftover sweet-potato casserole in the refrigerator.”

  “Oh, God, how I love you,” Micah said with another quick kiss before he jetted for the kitchen. He dished up a plate of his mother’s famous sweet-potato casserole, which he usually didn’t get to eat until Thanksgiving. Evidently Thanksgiving had come a week early this year.

  When he returned to the living room, he found his mother and Bailey oohing and aahing over the figurines.

  “I am so jealous,” Bailey said. “Do you know how hard it is to find this piece?”

  “I’ve had it for years. And before you even ask—no, you can’t buy it.”

  “How did you know that was my next question?” Bailey said with a laugh.

  The sound traveled across Micah’s skin, leaving a ribbon of sensation in its wake.

  “How unfair is this?” Micah said, stepping into the room. “I would get pinched whenever I got too close to these when I was a kid.”

  “That’s because you wanted to blow them up with your Transformers,” his mother returned.

  “This collection is one of the most complete I’ve ever seen,” Bailey said. “I’m in awe.”

  “It’s my pride and joy.”

  “Next to your only son,” Micah added.

  Rochelle pointed to the plate in his hand. “How’s the casserole?”

  “Delicious as usual.”

  “Bailey, would you like some sweet-potato casserole?” his mother asked. “Oh, wait. You’re probably not allowed to have that as a model.”

  Bailey slid her a look. “Says who? A sweet potato is a vegetable, right?”

  His mother threw her head back with a laugh. They all filed into the kitchen and his mother dished up a hefty serving of casserole for Bailey.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” his mother said, excusing herself from the kitchen.

  A knowing grin drew across Bailey’s face as she stared at him.

  “Good?” Micah asked, nodding to the casserole.

  “Wonderful,” she said. “So is your mom. She’s so down-to-earth.”

  “She’s probably thinking the same things about you.”

  His mother returned to the kitchen carrying two leather-bound binders.

  “I’ve taken up a new hobby. Scrapbooking!” She placed the binders on the table. The first was filled with pictures of her and a group of girlfriends who had taken a trip to the Bahamas over the summer.

  “We want to visit either Jamaica or the Virgin Islands next year,” Rochelle commented.

  “The Virgin Islands are beautiful,” Bailey said.

  “Oh, which ones have you visited?”

  Bailey looked up at her. “Most recently St. Thomas, but I’ve been to several over the years. It’s usually where Roger Hamilton Designs shoots its swimsuit collection.”

  The next scrapbook had Micah wishing for a meteor to fall from the sky and put him out of his misery. His mother had apparently found every single embarrassing picture ever taken of him, from butt naked in the bathtub as a toddler to sporting cornrows during his high school years.

  She and Bailey pointed and laughed while Micah plotted ways to get his hands on the book and burn it.

  “This one is from Halloween. He wanted to dress like a witch because he was convinced girls got more candy.”

  “I was four,” Micah deadpanned, shaking his head as Bailey wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.

  His mother patted his hand. “I’m sorry. We’re not laughing at you, Micah—we’re laughing with you.”

  “That would be true if I were laughing,” he pointed out. But then he ruined his annoyed look by grinning.

  “Oh, I completely forgot about the Egyptian pieces,” his mother said.

  Bailey’s eyes lit up. “You have the Lladró Egyptian collection?”

  “Not all of them, of course, but a few. I keep them in a special lighted display case.”

  She pointed Bailey in the direction of the dining room.

  As soon as she was out of hearing distance, his mother turned to him.

  “I’m so happy you brought her over, Micah. You know I’ve wanted to meet her since she appeared on your show. She is just as charming in person as she was during your interview.” With a cagey smile, Rochelle added, “She also seems to be very comfortable with you.” Micah instantly recognized that glint in her eyes.

  “Don’t,” he warned.

  “What?”

  As if he was buying the innocent act.

  “Bailey is the subject of a documentary I’m producing. That’s all she is. Don’t try to make anything more out of it.”

  “Hmm, funny how you’ve never brought any other subjects here.”

  Micah pitched his head back and let out an exasperated breath. “Don’t,” he said again.

  Bailey came back into the kitchen and Micah shot his mother another look.

  “We should probably be getting back,” he said. “I need to go into the station for a bit.”

  A lie. He needed to get his mother away from Bailey before she got any ideas about campaigning for a daughter-in-law. She had only barely tolerated most of the girls he’d dated. But Micah could see the wheels turning in her head with Bailey.

  Bailey smiled at his mother. “It was wonderful meeting you, Rochelle. Thank you so much for sharing your Lladró collection. And the pictures.” She turned back to Micah and with laughter in her eyes said, “You’d better make sure she keeps those under lock and key, because if someone ever wanted to blackmail you, that’s all the ammunition they would need.”

  After more laughter at his expense, they made their way out of the house, his mother following them to the car. Micah opened Bailey’s door for her and waited for her to get in, then gave his mother a kiss on the cheek before bidding her farewell.

  “Your mother is lovely,” Bailey noted as they turned onto Knickerbocker Avenue.

  “Thanks,” Micah said. “That woman is my world.”

  “Has it always been just the two of you?”

  He nodded. “She and my dad divorced when I was still an infant. She tried to keep in contact with him for my sake, but he was never really interested. Doesn’t matter,” he said. “She did enough to fill both roles. She’s one of the strongest women I know.”

  “She’s proud of everything that you’ve accomplished. You really are a testament to what you can do when you work hard and want it badly enough.”

  “And you’re not?” he asked as they pulled up to a red light.

  “I didn’t have to work that hard. I was born into my lifestyle.”
/>   “Don’t do that, Bailey. Don’t discount what you’ve accomplished simply because you were born into privilege. You’ve worked hard to get where you are, too. You should be proud of that.”

  She was quiet for a moment, a contemplative look on her face. Finally, she acknowledged, “You’re right. I had to work my way up the ranks of RHD just like the other models. In fact, I sometimes think I had a harder time because my dad didn’t want anyone accusing him of nepotism. I have worked hard.” She looked over at him, and with a gentle smile said, “Thank you for reminding me of that, Micah.”

  Her voice was thick with emotions that he tried to parse. There was gratitude, but there was something else in there. Something he could sense just underneath.

  Desire? The same kind of want rushing inside his veins?

  A car horn honked behind them. Micah glanced in the rearview mirror and continued along the boulevard. By the time they arrived back at RHD, the building was nearly deserted, with only a few designers still hunched behind their massive computer monitors or draping fabric over headless mannequins.

  Micah followed Bailey into the break room, accepting the can of soda she offered him.

  “Thank you for today,” she said.

  “Are you kidding? My mother loves showing off her figurine collection. I should thank you for being so enthusiastic about it.”

  “That’s not what I was talking about,” Bailey stated. “I know what you tried to do today, and I appreciate it.”

  Micah didn’t deny it. He took a step forward and fingered the lock of hair resting on her shoulder. “You needed to get your mind off what happened. I’m happy I could help.”

  Mere inches separated them. Micah stood there, mesmerized by the pulse beating at the base of her throat. Her distinct scent reached his nose, imbuing his brain with everything that was good about her.

  Bailey closed the distance between them. Her eyes shut as she tilted her head up.

  “I should go,” Micah said, releasing her hair and taking two pronounced steps back.

  The crestfallen look that crossed her face made him feel like the worst person in this universe and the next, but Micah knew his limits. If he remained here just a few seconds longer, he wouldn’t be able to resist her.