Runaway Attraction Read online

  Bailey laughed at the reluctance she heard in Zoe’s voice. She was so happy that Kyle had come to his senses and admitted his feelings for Zoe. Her future sister-in-law fit in perfectly with their family.

  The sound of footsteps approaching drew Bailey’s attention, but it was hearing her name that made her stand up straight.

  “We have to make sure Bailey doesn’t see this,” Kyle said as he entered his office, looking down at something he held in his hands. He was followed by Brianna, who stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted Bailey.

  “You have to make sure I don’t see what?” Bailey demanded.

  “Shit,” Kyle said, folding a tabloid and sticking it under his arm.

  Bailey held out her palm. “Hand it over.”

  “It’ll just upset you,” Brianna said.

  Bailey remained where she stood, palm out.

  With a groan, Kyle slapped the paper into her hand. Bailey read the headline, and her blood instantly started to boil.

  Bailey Hamilton Suffering from an Exotic Medical Condition.

  Underneath the headline was a photo of her entering a medical building on the Upper West Side.

  “Are you kidding me?” Bailey screeched. “I was going to the dentist for a cleaning!”

  She skimmed the article, which postulated that the reason behind her disappearance and continued seclusion was that she had been diagnosed with a rare disease and was being treated with medication and intensive therapy.

  She slammed the paper down on Kyle’s desk. “I’m in seclusion because I can’t step outside without the press hounding me with questions and twisting around my answers whenever I do answer them.”

  Just then, Micah walked into the office, followed by the second cameraman who’d been brought in for the special interviews with RHD employees.

  Bailey put both hands up. “No taping,” she ordered. “I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown and I’d rather not have it captured for posterity.”

  Micah’s forehead creased in a frown. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Kyle picked up the tabloid and tossed it to him.

  Bailey paced back and forth in front of her brother’s desk, trying to calm herself down. It wasn’t working.

  Would her life ever be her own again?

  The unfairness of this entire situation made her want to rage against the world. She had not done anything wrong. In fact, she’d done everything she could to live her life completely aboveboard. She’d been warned countless times about the dangers of the industry. She’d witnessed firsthand how quickly one could fall from grace, and she’d steered clear of those pitfalls.

  Bailey wanted to show that all models were not anorexic druggies who partied all night. Sure, she’d attended a fair number of industry bashes, and she’d been known to hit a club or two, but she also volunteered at the Boys & Girls Club of New York and sponsored a week-long character-building workshop for inner-city girls every year.

  Whenever she did an interview, she made sure she showcased all the positive things that had happened in her life because of modeling. Yet the same media that once praised her for always keeping her nose clean were now doing everything they could to eviscerate her good name.

  “It should be clear to anyone who bothers to look hard enough that I am just fine. What am I supposed to do—stand in the middle of Times Square and shout it at the top of my lungs?”

  “Oh, yeah, that will convince people that you’re not crazy,” Kyle snorted.

  Bailey glared at her brother.

  “You don’t have to do anything,” Brianna said. “Let the press say what they want. Who cares?”

  “I care,” Bailey said. “And so should you and everyone else here at RHD. The longer they speculate about what’s going on with me, the more it affects the brand. I’m just ready for this to end.”

  “Bailey, Roger Hamilton Designs can handle whatever hits it takes. The important thing is keeping you safe,” Brianna insisted.

  “Stop downplaying what this is costing RHD,” Bailey said. “Image is everything in this business, and rumors of me on drugs, or hiding some secret medical condition, or whatever else is being said is not good for RHD’s image.”

  Of everything that had happened following her abduction, it was the backlash RHD had taken that caused Bailey the most pain. She hated to think that the company her parents had built together would suffer because of her.

  “I need to convince the media that I’m not this person they’re making me out to be.”

  “Don’t tell them,” Micah said. “Show them.”

  Every eye in the room turned to him.

  “Telling the media that you’re fine isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Micah continued. “Before September, you were a regular on Page Six, but now you go from your apartment to this studio. If you want to show reporters that you really are back and better than ever, you need to get out there and actually show them, actually be the Bailey you were before your attack.”

  “I have to agree with Micah on this one,” Kyle remarked in a tone that said agreeing with Micah was akin to eating dirt. Her brothers were obviously still leery of him.

  “So what do you suggest? Should I call up the press corps and tell them to head to Fifth Avenue so they can get some shots of me buying socks at Bloomingdale’s?”

  “You won’t have to call anyone,” Micah said. “All you have to do is step outside and you’ll have more than enough press following your every move. But I was thinking more along the lines of a nightclub than a shopping trip to Bloomingdale’s.”

  Bailey groaned. “The last thing I’m in the mood for is a night of clubbing. Having to fight off the media is one thing, but dealing with jerks with weak pickup lines is more than I can handle right now.”

  “You wouldn’t have to worry about guys trying to pick you up,” Micah said.

  “Yeah,” Kyle started, “the bodyguards can—”

  “No,” Bailey said with an emphatic shake of her head. “I finally convinced Mom and Dad to get rid of the bodyguards just yesterday. I’m not going back to being escorted around.”

  “You wouldn’t have to worry about hiring bodyguards,” Micah said.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Are you planning to run interference?”

  “Yes.”

  Such a simple word, but it was spoken with such potency, such resoluteness, that Bailey immediately felt safer. She had no doubts that Micah was ready, willing and more than able to play the role of personal bodyguard if that was what she required.

  Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea. The press would have no reason to dig if she was out there for everyone to see. If there was even the slightest chance that it would help to put some of the rumors to rest...

  “It’s up to you, Bailey. Just remember that the longer you shy away from the press, the longer you’ll see these types of headlines. You need to get back out there and remind people who you are.”

  “Micah’s right,” Brianna said. “But I’m not sure if the club scene is the best environment for you right now. Maybe something a bit more subdued and less crowded would be better.”

  “I can make that happen,” Micah said. “A friend of mine just opened a new place in the Meatpacking District. It’s small, intimate and a lot tamer than the flashier clubs in Midtown. It would be a more controlled environment.”

  The more Bailey thought about it, the more she warmed up to the idea of a night out. She needed to be seen doing the things she used to do, being the girl she used to be. She hadn’t felt like that girl in months; she needed to rediscover the old Bailey.

  But what if she couldn’t?

  The idea that she would never feel like her old self again, that the kidnapping had irrevocably changed her, sent a now-familiar whisper of dread along her skin.
r />   Bailey turned to Micah. “I’m in,” she said.

  “Bailey—” Brianna started, but Bailey cut her off.

  “I want to go to your friend’s club. How does Friday night sound to you?”

  Micah blinked several times before saying, “Friday night is fine with me.”

  “Good,” Bailey said with a firm nod. “It’s a date.”

  Chapter 7

  Micah let out a low whistle as he walked up to the imposing building on Central Park West. He had to make a conscious effort to stop his jaw from dropping open when he stepped into the luxurious lobby, with its glittering chandeliers and gleaming marble columns. This was definitely how the other half lived.

  Trying not to seem like some bum off the street who had never seen nice things before, Micah resisted stopping in the middle of the lobby to stare at his surroundings. Instead, he strode with purpose toward the doorman behind the reception desk.

  After being confirmed on the list of visitors, Micah was shown to the elevators. He watched the numbers climb as he ascended to the tenth floor.

  With each floor he passed, his skin grew hotter until he was ready to strip off his brushed-suede jacket. Up to this point, he’d done a credible job of lying to himself. He’d insisted that he was doing this for Bailey’s sake. He’d offered to accompany her for a night on the town not just to get the press off her back, but because he saw that she needed to get out and enjoy herself.

  It had nothing to do with him damn near dying to be with her every second of every day.

  The elevator dinged with his arrival on the tenth floor, and Micah followed the doorman’s instructions to Bailey’s apartment. He rang the bell and collected his breath. It rushed out of him the second the door opened.

  Micah felt as if he’d been punched in the gut at the sight of Bailey. She wore supertight dark blue designer jeans with a bright yellow sequined top. Her black leather jacket ended just above her waist and hugged her curves. Her sky-high heels had to be at least five inches. They were snakeskin, in the same yellow as her top. She looked amazing. Stunning. Irresistible.

  Her thick flowing hair was slicked to the side, with a yellow flower holding it in place. It tumbled down her back, tempting him to run his fingers through it, to feel its softness. Micah clutched his fists to stop himself from satisfying his curiosity.

  She was a chameleon—a demure, hauntingly beautiful creature one minute and a fierce fashion model the next.

  “Hello,” she said, taking a step back. “Come in. I’m almost ready.”

  “Thanks,” Micah said. He entered the apartment and allowed his eyes to wander. It was as lavish as the rest of the building, but the decor was much more modern, better suited to the two young women who lived here.

  “You look really nice,” he said.

  Biggest understatement in the history of the universe.

  “Thank you,” Bailey said. “You look great yourself.” She smiled, and his blood began to burn with that all-consuming desire that simmered just underneath the surface.

  Micah knew better than to reveal how much of a sucker punch her appearance had given him. Despite what tonight might look like to the casual observer, Bailey was still his subject. Journalistic integrity had to be upheld if anyone was to take this documentary seriously. It would be hard as hell to claim impartiality if he got caught with his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a salivating cartoon character.

  “Can you give me just a few more minutes to finish getting ready? I promise I won’t be long. Have a seat,” she said, motioning to the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m good,” Micah said as he sat. He popped up seconds later as Brianna entered the room.

  “Hi, Brianna.”

  “Hello,” she said. “So you and Bailey are going to a club after all?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s my friend’s newest. I think Bailey will like it. It’s a slightly older crowd, not the college scene, you know?”

  “That’s good.” Brianna nodded. “She needs to ease her way back into the social scene. It sounds like the kind of place that won’t be too overwhelming.” She looked over her shoulder, back toward the hallway where Bailey had retreated, then took a few steps toward him. In a much lower voice, she said, “Be careful with her, Micah.”

  He understood where Brianna was coming from, but Micah was starting to understand Bailey’s side of this, too. Her family was shielding her not just from her attacker, but from the world. The more they kept her hidden, the more speculation she would draw.

  “I won’t let anything happen to your sister,” Micah said.

  Brianna came even closer. “Look, we haven’t told Bailey any of this, but there have been several other occurrences that lead us to believe that Bailey’s kidnapping was not an isolated incident.”

  Trepidation clawed up Micah’s spine. “What are you talking about, Brianna?”

  “Just...things,” she said. “Kyle’s tires were slashed, and before that, he and Zoe were both locked in a supply closet at the Childs International Hotel. There have been a couple of things at RHD, too.”

  “Why haven’t you all told Bailey?”

  “Because we don’t want to alarm her.”

  Micah had never heard anything more ridiculous in his life. Bailey was in more danger than he first thought, and they were deliberately keeping her in the dark. And, worse, they thought it was for her own good!

  “It’s more than just the physical threats to her,” Brianna continued. “I’m more concerned about this.” She tapped the side of her head. “Bailey is still fragile.”

  “Excuse me, but I am not fragile.” Micah watched Brianna’s eyes slide closed as Bailey stormed into the room.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Brianna?”

  “I was just—”

  “Treating me as if I’m some porcelain vase that’s about to crack,” Bailey said. “I’m stronger than any of you think.”

  “No one is questioning how strong you are, Bailey.”

  “Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “Because when I think of fragile, strong isn’t the next word that pops into my head. I told you before, I am done being afraid.”

  Brianna released a tired breath. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? How about if I tag along?”

  “You have dinner with Collin,” Bailey stated.

  “I can cancel.”

  “Brianna, I can take care of your sister,” Micah assured her.

  Bailey turned to face him. She put up a finger. “First of all, I don’t need you to take care of me. Running interference on sleazebags who try to hit on me? Yes. Playing the big, bad bodyguard? No, thanks. That is not what tonight is about.”

  Well, it looked as if Feisty Bailey had decided to make an appearance tonight. And in those knockout heels and skintight jeans, she was a thousand times sexier than Micah had ever imagined. He had to will his libido to remain calm.

  Brianna put both hands up. “Okay, okay. I just want you to be safe.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Bailey enveloped her in a hug. “Now go and get ready for your dinner.”

  Bailey picked up a wallet no bigger than a deck of cards from the table next to the door and slid the patent-leather strap over her wrist. Micah held the door open for her, then followed her out. He gave Brianna—who looked to be on the verge of snatching Bailey back—a reassuring nod as he closed the door behind them.

  Once downstairs, he led Bailey to his car, which he’d parked a half a block away. When they arrived at the club, there was already a line stretching around the block. A deep red velvet rope held back the crowd of eager club-goers.

  “Pretty popular place,” Bailey observed.

  “Half those people won’t get in. The club only holds about two hundred.”

  “But we�
�re on the VIP list, right?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

  Micah looked over at her and grinned. “You put the V, the I and the P in VIP, Miss Hamilton.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not the one with clout here, Mr. Writer, Producer and Host.”

  “You forgot Director.”

  Her head fell back with her laughter, and Micah suddenly realized that laughing was something she didn’t do very often. It was a pity. Her laugh was as perfect as the rest of her.

  He guided Bailey to the club entrance, where the bouncer let them into a narrow corridor that led straight to an elevator. Even though there was room for at least a dozen people on the old service elevator in the renovated warehouse, Micah and Bailey had the car to themselves. When the elevator doors opened on the second floor, they were greeted by Rafe Edmonds, Micah’s old college roommate at Harvard.

  Like Micah, Rafe had been a scholarship kid. They’d both done pretty well for themselves since their days on Harvard Yard.

  “Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Rafe said, clasping Micah’s hand and pulling him in for a one-armed hug. Dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt with a jewel-studded Celtic cross on the front, Rafe was probably the most underdressed man in the club. However, his larger-than-life personality more than made up for his understated attire.

  “It is an honor and a pleasure to have you grace my club,” Rafe said, capturing Bailey’s hand and placing a kiss on it. Micah told himself that the shot of annoyance that had just raced down his spine was due to the fact that Bailey was probably uncomfortable with Rafe’s public display, and not because he was jealous.

  “When Micah told me he was bringing my favorite crush to the club, I told him he was full of shit.”

  “Am I your crush?” Bailey asked with a laugh.

  “Sweetheart, you’re every man’s crush.”

  Micah couldn’t stop his eye roll, and he could no longer deny what he was feeling was definitely jealousy.

  Maybe introducing Bailey to the world’s biggest flirt wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.