Anything You Can Do (11 page)

"You like him? I mean, really like him?" Bailey sat down on the edge of her bed, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.

Paula smiled in pleased embarrassment. "Yeah," she said. "I really like him."

"Then why the hell don't you tell him and get on with it and quit this nonsense?"
And stop letting me make a fool of myself
, she added silently.

"Are you kidding? I'm having too much fun. Think of it, Bailey, I'm finally in control of a lawyer. He's falling all
over himself to please me, and I love it!"

"
Paula! How can you care about him and talk like that?"

"Come on, Bailey. Loosen up a little. He's having as much fun as I am. Why spoil it? I'll tell him when he finally gets around to confessing." Her smile turned wicked. "Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll act horrified and let him sweat a little."

That, at least, would serve the jerk right, Bailey thought.

"In the meantime, can't you play along too? I thought you were having fun. I know you like Gordon, and it sort of seemed like you and Austin were getting on better."

Paula looked so happy, so pleased with herself. "Sure," Bailey mumbled. "If that's what you want."

Paula
tiptoed up to kiss her friend's cheek. "Thanks. I knew I could count on you. This might be
it
, Bailey. The real thing, I mean."

Oh, brother. This was bad. The only other time
Paula has used the
it
word was about her then future ex-husband, and she'd been sixteen at the time. Since then, the good ones had been
better than the one last week
or
slightly more interesting than Saturday night television.

"I'll change clothes while you call Austin and tell him I'll go to the concert and do the stupid run with him, though I fail to see the purpose of it. The run, that is."

Paula laughed. "Austin wants to run with you, and you don't see why? Come on, Bailey. Get real. Competition, of course. The lifeblood of your relationship."

"Ah. Of course." So he thought to make
Paula jealous by running with her friend? Was that why he'd kissed her? What a jerk!

*~*~*

Austin couldn't believe it when Bailey hung up in his ear. He'd slammed his own receiver down even though it was too late for her to hear. She was, by far, the most confusing woman he'd ever met as well as the rudest.

What on earth had made him want to run with her anyway? She was no real competition. Even out of shape, he'd beaten her in that first race. So he should just drop it.

Okay, so she'd beaten him at the deposition and the chessboard. He'd won at running, swimming, and cooking. That made it three to two, his favor. Not to mention that he deserved an extra honorary point for eating that awful cheesecake. So that made the score four to two. A good time to quit.

He stalked into the tiny kitchen and gently shook each of the four beers in the refrigerator, selecting the one that seemed the least frozen. Damned apartment. Nothing worked right. Maybe staying in Kansas City wasn't such a hot idea after all. Maybe he'd request a transfer back to St. Louis after things got rolling at the office here. At least at home he had a refrigerator that only made ice in the freezer.

When the phone rang, he took his second sip of beer and considered not answering it. But it might be family or friends back home. Sunday afternoon was prime phone time.

"Austin! This is
Paula. I have a message for you. On behalf of Bailey Russell, I herewith extend her apology and request that the festivities begin."

That was it? The woman told him to blow it out his ear then sent her weak apology by proxy?

''I'm sorry, Paula, but I've already made other plans."

"No, you haven't. Look, Bailey was just upset about something, and she took it out on you. Haven't you ever done that? I'll bet you've done it to your secretary a lot of times."

Austin smiled into the receiver. "You could be right on both counts, but I'm still not going. You and Gordon get along just fine with that impossible woman, so why don't the three of you go together?"

"Because we're the
Four Musketeers and because Gordon can't possibly handle two women at the same time. Confidentially, I doubt that he could handle even one."

Paula
giggled as Gordon shouted something unintelligible from the background.

"All right," Austin agreed. One more time he'd go along so Gordon could be with
Paula, but only one more. Even friendship had its limits, and tolerating Bailey's bad temper was pushing them.

He hung up the phone and stared at the beer can still clutched in his other hand. Would two sips be enough to impair his running? He poured the remainder down the kitchen sink then checked his wheat germ to see if it was frozen. Maybe a couple of spoon
sful of the health food would compensate for any ill effects the beer might have on his running.

He was still angry at Bailey, but the prospect of racing with her again blunted the edges of his ire. The adrenaline was already pumping.

*~*~*

The band played Bailey's favorite music, oldies from the sixties and seventies with a few of the more mellow tunes from the eighties. Under different circumstances, she would have really enjoyed the evening.

Lounging on a blanket spread under a tree, Paula and Gordon sipped wine from paper cups, giggling about how awful it was. Bailey was tempted to ask for some—a lot, in fact, and forget the blasted run. Somehow the idea of racing Austin no longer appealed to her.

Nor, it would seem, did he have much interest in it.

He sat cross-legged, straight-backed, on a front corner of the blanket, apparently absorbed in the music. Anyone observing the group would have doubtless thought Paula and Gordon were lovers and she and Austin were recently divorced—from each other.

She supposed
Paula's actions constituted more of this stupid competition she'd mentioned, that Paula was trying to make Austin jealous. Dumb. Why didn't they just come out with it, be honest and open, instead of playing asinine games?

The band broke into a rendition of "Summer Breeze," a favorite of Bailey's. She relaxed against the rough bark of the tree trunk, feeling the light breeze on her sweat-damp face as the kid playing lead guitar sang about it. There was no jasmine in the air to blow through her mind, but she could smell honeysuckle mixed with the marijuana smoke.

Very softly she began to sing along. Even before she turned and saw Austin watching her, she could feel the heat of his gaze. Embarrassed at being caught singing badly, she refused to let him see her discomfort. One eyebrow raised haughtily, she returned his solemn stare.

"Blink, damn it,"
Paula suddenly ordered, waving a hand between the two faces. "Why don't you two go run and tear your knee cartilages or fall on your faces or something? It's a little more socially acceptable than a staring contest."

Austin's expression lightened at that prospect, but Bailey still couldn't engender any enthusiasm. If she'd been by herself, the idea of a run in the approaching twilight would have b
een soothing, but Austin's presence changed everything. She wanted to go home and lock the door behind her, hide from this awkwardly painful situation with Austin and Paula.

Instead, as her heart squeezed inside, she laced her shoes tighter, tied them in a double knot, and stood up, stiffly erect. "Ready," she announced.

They walked some distance from the concert. "Where to?" Austin asked.

Bailey shrugged. "Up to you. I don't think we ought to run around the park and disturb these happy folks, so why don't we circle through the neighborhood in that direction and come back to Gordon's house? It's only a few blocks from here."

The first few steps were almost agony. Bailey's legs seemed heavy and strange, but by the time they left the park, habit or something had taken over. The legs belonged to her again, obeyed her commands, carried her along.

One by one the stars popped out of the dusk, and a full moon turned from pale yellow to bright gold. The moonbeams reached down toward earth, and Bailey e
xulted in the sensation that she could run right up one directly to the moon.

Austin touched her shoulder and pointed. "Let's grab one and sprint up it," he said, as though reading her mind.

"I'll race you to the moon," she responded.

"You would!" he agreed, and the way he said it made her feel as if one of the beams had lodged its brightness and energy inside her chest. One corner of her mind warned her to reject the feeling, but she a
llowed it to remain, to mingle with all the other good feelings engendered by running.

She ran easily now, conserving her energy for later, and Austin stayed beside her. She had half expected him to try to keep at least a few paces ahead of her. He wouldn't have challenged her to another race if he hadn't been practicing, hadn't been sure of winning.

However, the real race began when they made the last turn and the tall hedge around Gordon's yard loomed in the distance. Bailey wasn't sure if she started increasing her speed first and he followed or vice versa or if they started at the same time. At any rate, they ran the last couple of blocks in full sprint.

Bailey was sure her lungs were going to burst and her legs fall off, but she didn't dare slow down. Austin was pulling ahead. He was a good ten paces in front of her when he reached the big tree at the edge of Gordon's property. As his momentum carried him on past, he touched the tree as if in a childhood game, threw his hands into the air, and finally halted on the sidewalk, just inside the opening in the hedge.

Bailey passed the tree in full stride even though she'd lost, then slowed to a stop beside him. "Damn!" she swore, bending over and trying to catch her breath, but it was a halfhearted curse. After a run like that, even the loser was a winner.

"Good race," Austin gasped, flinging an arm companionably about her shoulders.

"Yes," she agreed, her blood racing, heart pounding, and breath coming in labored pants. Her face burned from summer heat without and blood heat within. The breeze tickled her skin without abating the fire.

"You okay?" Austin asked. His hand moved to the back of her neck, his fingers sliding into her damp hair.

She must have overdone it, Bailey thought, because her pulse didn't seem to be slowing.

Raising her head, she looked up at Austin, intending to assure him that she was fine. His bright eyes were dark slits, glitte
ring black in the moonlight. On his upper lip a film of perspiration shimmered. His long fingers drew circles in her hair, on her neck, then his other hand touched her cheek.

Fascinated, unable to look away, Bailey watched his mouth coming toward her
s, felt herself reach up to meet him. His lips touched hers, generated more heat, released as they both gasped desperately for air, then moved to touch and release and touch again, until the touching seemed more important than breathing.

His lips were soft and firm, giving and demanding.

She tasted salty sweat, from him, from herself, opened herself to him as his tongue pushed into her mouth, pulled her into him.

A voice somewhere inside screamed that she shouldn't be kissing Austin, but another voice denied that this was a kiss. It was a continuation of the race, the ultimate high, a total envelopment in sensation.

His damp T-shirt wrinkled maddeningly beneath her exploring hands. She reached impatiently under it to feel the solid width of his back, to touch his skin with her own, to press him closer to her. He returned the pressure, pushed against her, and she moaned into his mouth, exulting in his hardness, in the reactions she had caused in him.

She sucked in a deep, ragged breath, inhaling his musky scent, straining closer, wanting all of him touching her, surrounding her, filling her.

He wedged one hand between them, under her athletic bra, and cupped her damp breast, teasing the nipple, sending a bolt of lightning zigzagging through her.

A car whooshed past on the street, and Bailey jumped back, briefly registering that the real world e
xisted only a few feet away. For an instant she wondered just what they were doing, but then Austin's gaze burned into hers. He took her hand, leading her farther inside Gordon's yard, along the thick hedge to the far side of the goldfish pond, behind a large rock formation that completed their retreat from the world of cars and rock concerts.

And the question of what they were doing no longer mattered, she decided, as his hands grasped her hips to bring her back to him. What they were doing didn't matter, only that they continue to do it. Not that she
seemed to have much choice; her body would doubtless have run on without her had she tried to stop.

As they sank to the grass, his corded arms wrapped around her, lifted off her shirt and bra. The night air touching her bare skin was cool, but immediately his mouth was there, leaving streaks of fire everywhere he touched
—down her neck, around her breasts as he circled and returned to envelop the turgid tip.

She grasped his shoulders, holding on to him, holding him to her. Her heart rate was increasing too fast. Time to slow down, but she couldn't slow down in the middle of the race.