Runaway Attraction

He propped his elbows on the table and folded his hands, resting his forehead on them for a moment before looking up at her.

“Okay, can we just get this out in the open?” He blew out a deep breath. “I’m attracted to you. I have been from the very beginning.”

A dizzying jolt of awareness raced through her at his announcement. Before she could respond, he held both hands up. “But that’s not the reason I want to do this documentary. In fact, it will make things harder.”

Bailey couldn’t help the laugh that sprung from her mouth.

His brow dipped in a frown seconds before he caught his unintended double entendre. “You know what I mean,” Micah said.

“I do. I’m attract—”

Micah stopped her with a hard shake of his head. “Don’t tell me the attraction is mutual. That’s not what I need to hear right now.” He ran a hand down his face, the picture of barely contained sexual frustration. “Look, Bailey, I need you to be the subject of this documentary and nothing more. I’d give my left arm to have you be more, but it wouldn’t be a good idea—not if we’re going to work together.”

Bailey knew that what he suggested was the best thing for both of them, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a little hurt. She pushed the hurt to the side.

She was carrying a boatload of baggage; she didn’t need to add any romantic entanglements. She had a specific goal in mind when it came to this documentary, and she needed to remember that.

“I agree,” she answered. “We need to keep this on a strictly professional playing field.”

Micah’s shoulders relaxed, but his expression still held traces of longing and regret.

Bailey could commiserate.

“So,” he asked, “have I convinced you that this documentary is the best idea in the history of the world yet?”

“Maybe.” She laughed. “But unfortunately for you, I’m not the only one you have to convince.”

“Ah, yes.” He sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “The package deal that is the Hamilton family.”

“I know, I know. We’re obnoxiously close-knit.”

His head tipped to the side and he gave her a curious stare. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Bailey lifted her shoulders in a light shrug as she wrapped her palms around her tea. “I complain, but it’s not all bad. Being the baby of the family, I’m spoiled by everyone, and I take full advantage of it whenever I can.”

She laughed, but he didn’t join in. His body stiffened as he looked past her.

“Bailey, I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s this guy on the other side of the coffee shop who walked in about ten minutes ago, and he’s been staring at you ever since.”

Bailey glanced over her shoulder and cringed under her bodyguard’s reprimanding gaze.

“Oh, great,” she muttered, feeling like a teenager who’d been caught sneaking out of the house. She pivoted toward Nick, one of the three bodyguards who took turns watching her every single move.

She put a finger up to tell Nick she needed more time. Then she turned back to Micah and said, “Don’t ask.”

“You don’t have to answer, but I have to ask.”

Of course he did. Regardless of whatever label he tried to put on it, he was a reporter. It was in his nature to ask.

“He’s...a bodyguard,” she said.

Micah’s gaze went from curious to concerned.

She shook her head. “I can’t get into it, so please, don’t ask. Just pretend you didn’t see him. No, wait!” She stopped short, realizing this could very well work in her favor. “When you meet with my family, let that be the first thing you bring up. Maybe then my dad will see just how ridiculous it is to have these bodyguards following me around.”

Micah’s brow furrowed. When he spoke, his voice was softer. “Bailey, what really happened during Fashion Week? I’m not buying this exhaustion story your family has been feeding to the press. You were so excited about RHD’s show you could hardly sit still during our interview, yet you pull out right before your big moment? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that there’s more to the story. What happened to you that night?”

“You said you wouldn’t grill me like a reporter.”

“This isn’t me being a reporter. This is me—” he tapped his fingers to his chest “—being concerned about you. I just want to know that you’re okay.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Why?” she asked, although she already had her answer. The intensity in his eyes suggested that his question was wrapped in something much more powerful than just concern, and Bailey suddenly realized that trying to fight the pull between them would be a thousand times harder than she’d imagined.

The attraction had sparked the moment she’d sat across from him a few months ago. She had tried to write it off as insignificant. But there was nothing insignificant about the heat she could feel like a physical touch on her skin right now.