Runaway Attraction

by Farrah Rochon

  A slightly pudgy, dark-skinned little girl who looked to be about ten or eleven said, “I love Bailey Hamilton because she showed me that I shouldn’t be ashamed of the way I look. She told me that I am perfect just the way I am.”

  “I used to be embarrassed because I get a lot of my clothes from the Goodwill store,” another girl said. “But Bailey told me that it doesn’t matter where your clothes come from, as long as you wear them with confidence. So now I wear my clothes with confidence and style.” She struck a pose that made the other girls laugh.

  So did Bailey. Micah looked over to find tears streaming down her cheeks, despite the smile that stretched across her face.

  Another girl, this one with a thin, light pink scar that stretched from behind her ear to under her chin, said, “People at school used to make fun of me, but now I don’t even let it bother me.”

  “I remember her,” Bailey whispered. “She was in a car accident.”

  “Do you see the confidence she has now?” Micah asked. “That’s because of you, Bailey. You’ve touched the lives of so many of these girls. You taught them how to embrace the good in their lives. You taught them how to live authentically.”

  Micah captured her cheek in his palm and turned her to face him.

  “Every day that you hide behind that fake smile and pretend that everything is okay is a rejection of everything that you taught those girls. You owe it to them to acknowledge what that abduction did to you so that you can go back to being the Bailey Hamilton they look up to. Stop living a lie, Bailey. Get the help you need. Please.”

  He used his thumb to wipe away the tears that had started to cascade down her cheeks again.

  “I’m ready,” she whispered, and Micah’s chest constricted with emotion. “I know that I need to get help,” she continued. “I just don’t know where to start. I don’t want to harm RHD’s reputation any more than I have already.”

  “Bailey, you’re the face of the company. When people think of Roger Hamilton Designs, it’s your face that pops into their minds. Talking to someone about the trauma you’ve been through won’t change that—it will just put you back on the road to enjoying what you love. And you’re not alone in this,” Micah reminded her. “You have your family. And you have me. I’ll be with you for whatever you need. That’s my promise to you.”

  “What about having to be objective? Don’t you think there will be talk about you being so involved with me?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Micah said.

  “Of course it does!” Bailey insisted.

  “It doesn’t. Because I quit my job.”

  “What?”

  Bailey popped up from the sofa but Micah grabbed her hand and tugged her back down.

  “But how? Why? You love your job, Micah. What made you quit?”

  “I could no longer go along with their vision,” he said. “They wanted me to do the exact opposite of what I’d promised you and your family, Bailey. You know that sleazy, reality-TV thing your father was adamant I avoid?”

  “That’s what they wanted.”

  He nodded. “I refused to go along with it.”

  “So where does that leave the documentary?”

  “They’ve agreed to air it as I present it, but it will be the last project I work on for them.”

  “But what about your show? God, Micah, did I cost you your job?”

  “No! Don’t ever think that, Bailey.” He cradled her cheek in his palm once more. She covered his hand and leaned into his touch. Micah relished being with her like this. He could see himself doing so for years to come.

  “The writing has been on the wall for a long time. Ever since new management took over the station.” He shook his head. “I’ve been trying to fight it, but I’m done with the battle. I’ll find something else. I’ve actually turned down several offers over the years. Maybe I’ll call those places and see if they’re hiring,” he said with a laugh.

  A sad smile played across her lips. “I doubt you’ll be unemployed for very long. People didn’t watch Connect because it was on WLNY. They watched it because of its host.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured. Then he released another light chuckle. “You think your brother would be interested in starting up a production company? Turns out the two of us work well together.”

  “That’s not such a bad idea.”

  “That was a joke, Bailey. Daniel and I may respect each other creatively, but he just stopped giving me the evil eye last week. We’re a long way from becoming partners.”

  “You underestimate him,” she said. “Daniel may be more inclined to work with you than you think. And, as for giving you the evil eye, he’ll have to get over that if he doesn’t want to end up cross-eyed, because I’m hoping you’ll be around a lot more.”

  Micah’s chest tightened with hope. “What—” He cleared his throat. “What are you saying, Bailey?”

  “That I want you to be part of my life long after this documentary is complete,” she said. She turned her face and kissed his palm. “I’m saying that, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me for the things I said Saturday night, that I would love to see where this leads, Micah. Are you willing to go along with that?”

  “I’m willing to go wherever you want to lead me.”

  He took her face in both hands and brought her lips to his. Then, with a tenderness that had his limbs shaking, he laid her on the sofa and proceeded to show her just how far he was willing to go.

  Chapter 13

  Bailey rolled her eyes in frustration at the numbers above the elevator doors.

  “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she muttered.

  She wasn’t running late. Yet. But she knew New York traffic, and with this being Thanksgiving weekend, when millions of tourists added to the millions of people who normally clogged the streets, she wanted to get to the Childs International Hotel as soon as possible. It was Kyle and Zoe’s wedding day, and she wanted everything to go perfectly.

  Her bridesmaid’s dress had been delivered to the hotel earlier that morning. She’d just spoken to Brianna, who had assured her that she’d seen the dress with her own two eyes, and that it was unharmed. After the sabotage attempts they’d dealt with over the past few weeks, Bailey wasn’t taking any chances.

  The elevator finally arrived. Bailey muttered a quick, “Thank goodness,” as she made it down to the lobby in less than a minute. When the doors opened, she spotted Micah walking toward her. He looked unbelievably gorgeous in his charcoal-gray suit and crisp white shirt. He wore a burnt-orange-and-gray-striped tie to match her bridesmaid’s dress.

  Bailey greeted him with a kiss. “You look downright edible, Mr. Jones.”

  The grin that lifted the corner of his mouth was pure sin. “So do you, Ms. Hamilton.”

  “I’m not even dressed yet,” she said with a laugh. Her chuckle turned into a purr when Micah slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her. He nuzzled the spot just under her ear, pulling in an audible breath.

  “And you smell amazing, as usual.”

  “Thank Brianna for that. She developed the fragrance.”

  “She can bottle that up and sell it.”

  “That’s the plan,” Bailey said with another laugh.

  The doorman came up to them. “Excuse me, Ms. Hamilton, your car has just arrived.”

  “Perfect timing,” Bailey said.

  Micah led the way out of the building to the black limousine that waited under the portico.

  “Good afternoon,” the limo driver greeted. The woman tilted the brim of the hat that sat low above her brow.

  “Good afternoon.” Bailey smiled as she stepped up to the door the driver held open. As she entered the car, the woman let out a violent sneeze. “Bless you,” Bailey called from within the car.

 
Micah climbed in and settled next to her.

  When the driver slid behind the wheel, Bailey leaned forward. “The company probably already told you this, but we’re going to the Childs International Hotel.”

  The driver nodded and, seconds later, the partition that separated the driver from the passengers started to rise.

  “Excuse me, but do you mind leaving that down?” Bailey called. She looked over at Micah. “Remind me to bring up my fear of enclosed spaces when I go to see the therapist,” she said.

  An understanding smile drew across his lips. “I’ll make a note of it.” He took her hand in his and gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze.

  The driver started to pull out onto the street but stopped abruptly, the car giving a vicious lurch as she stepped on the brake and suffered a round of powerful sneezes.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” the driver said before continuing on.

  Bailey leaned back into her seat, settling against Micah. “So how is the job search going?” she asked.

  “Actually, that’s something I’ve been waiting to tell you. Did you know that your future brother-in-law’s family owns a television station?”

  “Childs Entertainment,” Bailey said. She sat up straight. “Are you going to work for Collin?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but he called me yesterday. I guess he heard about me leaving WLNY. News travels fast.”

  “What would you do?”

  “The same thing I do now—produce, direct and host my own show. But Collin assured me that we have the same vision when it comes to content. He wants a substantive show that delves into real issues.”

  The driver sneezed yet again.

  “Bless you,” Bailey called toward the front. She turned her attention back to Micah. “It sounds like the perfect fit for you.”

  “I’m not putting all my hopes on Childs Entertainment,” Micah continued. “Even though Collin and I know each other on a personal level, there’s a possibility that things could fall through. This is business, after all. But it is definitely appealing.”

  Bailey threaded her arm through his. “Still, it’s like one big happy family. The Hamiltons, the Childses and the Joneses.”

  The car jerked to the side and the driver sneezed again. Bailey sent Micah a perturbed frown. He leaned forward. “Are you okay up there?” he asked the driver.

  She sneezed again. “I’m okay,” she answered. “I think I may be allergic to your cologne.”

  Micah settled back in his seat. “Must be yours,” he said to Bailey. “I’m not wearing any cologne.”

  A trickle of unease cascaded down Bailey’s spine. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had triggered it, but her skin began to tingle with a sense of recognition.

  The driver took a left turn when she should have turned right.

  “Wait a minute,” Micah said. He leaned forward again. “Ma’am, we’re going to the Childs International Hotel.”

  The driver sneezed again.

  And Bailey remembered.

  Her skin became both hot and cold and dread filled her chest. “Micah,” she whispered, clawing at his arm. Breathing suddenly became the hardest thing in the world. Bailey felt the blood pounding in her ears, the deafening sound of it rushing in her head.

  “You’re heading the wrong way,” Micah was saying, but Bailey could barely make out the words. It sounded as if he was a mile away.

  She pulled at his arm and he turned to her. “What is it, Bailey?”

  “That’s him...her,” she corrected. “That’s the person who kidnapped me.”

  “What?” Micah whipped around.

  “The sneeze. I remember the sneeze. I was wearing this perfume the morning of the fashion show.”

  Just then, the limo driver took a turn onto the West Side Highway and took off.

  “Stop the car!” Micah reached over and clamped his hand around the driver’s neck. The car swerved left, then right. Horns from other cars blared as the limo veered into adjacent lanes.

  Micah lunged toward the front of the car, propelling half of his upper body inside the front cabin. The car accelerated, then slowed. It lurched back and forth as Micah and the driver fought for control.

  Bailey willed her limbs to move, but she was paralyzed with fear. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

  The car careened toward the median strip.

  Bailey screamed, her body hurtling forward as the car ran aground on the shrubbery planted in the median.

  “Are you okay?” Micah called from the front.

  “Yes,” Bailey murmured. She took inventory to make sure she wasn’t telling a lie. She was pretty sure that everything was in order.

  The whirl of approaching police sirens made Bailey forever grateful to the NYPD. A moment later, a uniformed officer opened the back door.

  “Is everyone okay here?”

  Micah kept his arm around the limo driver’s neck.

  “No,” Bailey said. She quickly got out of the car, nearly collapsing to her knees. She pointed to the front. “The driver... I believe the driver kidnapped me.”

  “Ma’am?” The officer’s forehead creased in a frown.

  The driver’s-side door opened and the limo driver tore out of the car and dashed for the northbound lanes of the West Side Highway.

  “Watch out!” the officer said. He caught the driver around the waist before she could rush into the oncoming traffic.

  Micah climbed out of the car and had his arms wrapped around Bailey within seconds.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, gliding his hands up and down her arms and along her back.

  Bailey nodded “I’m...f-fine.” Her teeth were chattering and she realized her body was shivering uncontrollably, despite the coat she wore. Micah took off his wool coat and wrapped it around her.

  “Can someone explain what’s going on here?” the officer barked. He continued to struggle with the limo driver, whose hat had fallen off, and whose hair lay in disarray around her head.

  The driver looked up and Bailey gasped.

  “Oh, my God,” Bailey said.

  “What’s wrong?” Micah asked.

  “Sasha?” She looked over at Micah. “It’s Sasha Jones.”

  “Someone had better explain what’s going on right now,” the policeman warned.

  “Officer, my name is Bailey Hamilton.” Bailey saw the instant recognition in the man’s eyes. With the way her name and picture had been splattered over the tabloids these past few months, it was hard even for those who didn’t give a hoot about the fashion industry not to know who she was. “I believe this woman abducted me, tied me up and left me for dead in September,” Bailey said.

  “If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you,” Sasha screamed.

  Bailey gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand and recoiled at the wild-eyed hate radiating from the other woman. Bailey’s entire body shook with panic.

  And then came bone-melting relief.

  It was over.

  With her outburst, Sasha had just admitted in front of all of them that she had kidnapped Bailey. The nightmare of the past three months was truly over.

  The backup the police officer had radioed in for arrived on the scene, followed several minutes later by one of the detectives who had been working with the Hamilton family. Sasha was handcuffed and led to one of the waiting police cruisers. Once seated in the back, she started talking and could not stop. She confessed to being the one who had knocked Bailey unconscious and tied her up during Fall Fashion Week. She also confessed to slashing Kyle’s tires, canceling the cake order for Zoe’s wedding shower, stealing and slashing Zoe’s wedding dress and all of the other mishaps that had befallen the Hamilton family over the past few months.

  But she hadn’t been working alone. Sas
ha said she had only been carrying out someone else’s plans. The mastermind behind them was Jerry Prentice.

  “Who’s Jerry Prentice?” Micah asked.

  “He owns Guava International. He’s Zoe’s old boss,” Bailey said.

  Everything began to click into place. “The Hamiltons have been a thorn in Jerry’s side since he and Kyle were in design school,” Sasha said. “I loved him, but he couldn’t see anything past the hatred he felt for the Hamiltons. When RHD stole Zoe away, it was the last straw. Jerry orchestrated all of this! He wanted to get back at the Hamiltons. It was all Jerry.”

  Bailey started to explain that Zoe had left Guava International on her own, not because RHD had stolen her away from Jerry Prentice’s design firm, but she realized it was useless to try to reason with someone who was obviously disturbed. And why should she waste the time? Sasha Jones was in custody, and her nightmare—her family’s nightmare—was finally over.

  Detective Schmidt read Sasha her rights, then instructed the officer to bring her in for booking.

  “I’m going to call your father with the news,” Detective Schmidt said.

  “Please don’t,” Bailey pleaded. “Not today.” She looked at Micah and then back to the detective. “Today is my brother’s wedding. I don’t want it ruined with this news.”

  “Bailey, you need to go to the hospital to get checked out,” Micah said.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. I promise you, I am completely fine.” He started to argue, but Bailey was adamant. “What I need to do is get to the hotel so that I can stand as bridesmaid to my future sister-in-law. We need to go now. We’re running late.”

  As if on cue, her cell phone rang. It was Brianna’s number. Bailey put a finger to her lips and stepped away from the men. She pulled in a steadying breath and answered, letting Brianna know that they had been caught up in traffic, but were on their way to the hotel.