Anything You Can Do (18 page)

Bailey sighed. "I doubt it. I think she's probably gone over the edge."

"Well, I guess you'd better check on her, and we'll have to reschedule our, uh, discussion."

Bailey nodded. And
Paula had better be in extremely dire straits to justify her exquisitely bad timing.

She closed the door behind Austin, grabbed her soda off the floor, slipped into shorts and a T-shirt
, and charged into Paula's room. "Your seven o'clock followed you home? I knew you'd get mixed up with a nut!"

"You know what they say, better a nut than a lawyer."
Paula lay stretched out on her bed with Samantha resting on her stomach. Neither of them looked unduly concerned.

Bailey sank to the floor in a cross-legged posture. "I never heard anybody say that," she argued.

"You did now. Sorry I interrupted just when you were getting close to a little activity behind closed doors instead of out in the open."

Bailey felt herself blush as
Paula giggled.

"Don't change the subject," Bailey ordered. "Who followed you home and why?"

Paula folded her arms behind her head. "Lennie was his name. He was the oddest little guy. Balding, glasses, kind of meek, and he gushed on and on about how wonderful I am." She turned toward Bailey and frowned. "I shouldn't make fun of him. He was really kind of sad. But when I tried to leave, he grabbed my arm. Said I should come home with him and meet his mother. Shades of Psycho!"

"He grabbed you?" Bailey sat bolt-upright. "He physically assaulted you then followed you home?"

"Don't come all unglued. He took my arm, released it when the waiter came over, and then I think I saw him when I left the last bar, and maybe again in the parking lot here. But I wouldn't swear to it." She paused then added, "Anyway, he's no taller than I am, so how many problems can he cause?"

Bailey groaned. "Do you want something to drink? I need a refill. This seems to be turning into a two-cola evening."

Paula sat up, holding Samantha in her arms and swinging her feet to the floor. "I'll go with you, and we can see if Lennie's in the parking lot. By the way, you didn't ask about eight o'clock. He was terrific. Good looking, great bod, great job—an airline pilot."

Bailey took two sodas from the refrigerator and handed
one to Paula. "So what are you doing home this early if he was so great? Did he have a nine o'clock?"

"Of course not,"
Paula answered, crossing the living room to the front window and peeking cautiously between the mini blinds.

Bailey curled into an armchair.
"So tell me about your pilot," she invited as Paula flopped onto the sofa.

"Pretty,"
Paula answered, focusing her attention on Samantha, who quickly resumed her spot on Paula's stomach.

"You said that already."

"Did I say he had a great bod?"

"
Mm-hmm." 

"Nice guy. Bright. I'll probably go out with him again."

"But?" Bailey supplied.

"Well, you couldn't exactly say the sparks flew."

She rolled her head to the side and gave Bailey a sheepish grin.” When I left, I thought it was at least nine-thirty or ten, but it was only eight-thirty. Maybe it'll get better, though."

Bailey nodded. She'd come to the private conclusion that those blasted "sparks"
Paula mentioned were fickle creatures, coming of their own volition, totally uninfluenced by the decrees of mere mortals.

As though
Paula read her thoughts, her smile became impish. "But you don't seem to be having any problem with sparks. Did you shower together?"

"Certainly not!" She touched her still damp hair. "I showered before
he got here. We were discussing—" She halted in midsentence. The merger, like everything else in a law firm, was considered a confidential topic. Of course, secretaries tended to know as much about the business as their bosses. Still, Paula hadn't mentioned the subject, and she hesitated to bring it up, just in case. "We were discussing business," she finished lamely. That was a rotten deal, not being able to talk to her best friend about her problems. "I'd just come back from a run. And you'll never guess what I saw!"

She seized on the story of Candy and Alvin under the bridge with delight, recognizing a great diversion when she found one. Drawing out the tale, avoiding her personal feelings, Bailey soon had
Paula wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"So instead of writing letters," Bailey concluded, "maybe you should run into cars until you find Prince Charming. Or, to be totally accurate, let him run into you."

Suddenly she felt uncomfortable. From the sober look that crossed Paula's face, she knew her friend felt the same unease. 

"Let him run into you,"
Paula repeated, sitting upright.

"Coincidence," Bailey protested weakly, taking a deep gulp from her soft drink. This could turn into a three-
cola evening.

"If you ask me, it sounds a little suspicious."

It certainly did, and Bailey would have seen it immediately if her mind hadn't been so muddled with thoughts of Austin and lust. "Innocent until proven guilty," she hedged, trying to defend her indefensible oversight.

Paula
shrugged, leaning back. "Whatever you think, but you better hope Austin doesn't get wind of it. He'd have that detective back on her in a New York minute. "

And Bailey had just admitted to him that she'd gone running in Springcreek Park, the location of the acc
ident. That tidbit would probably be enough to set off his suspicious mind. He had seemed awfully interested in the details.

"I think I'd better check it out," Bailey admitted, rubbing her neck, which had suddenly begun to ache. "But
unofficially." No need for everyone to know she'd temporarily lost her reasoning abilities, especially not with a partnership on the horizon and Austin poised for a checkmate should she make a wrong move.

*~*~*

Austin drove aimlessly around the city for half an hour, waiting for his hormones to subside and his brain to kick back into gear. Maybe it was just as well that Paula had interrupted because he'd definitely been out of control. His glands seemed to take off on their own when he was around Bailey. His glands, his temper, his common sense—his whole system went haywire in her presence.

A red light appeared out of nowhere, and he slammed on his brakes, cursing Bailey and
Paula and himself for his lack of attention. He'd blown the evening. He hadn't goaded her into revealing any information about the merger, hadn't influenced her vote in his favor, and certainly hadn't made any headway in smoothing out their strange relationship.

A horn sounded behind him, and Austin realized the light had been green for an indeterminate amount of time.
With a wave of apology to the driver behind, he accelerated on down the street.

The only time Bailey had shown any loss of control was when he asked about her run, an odd thing to get upset about. And why had she gone all the way over to Springcreek Park? The whole thing sounded awfully suspicious. It was too dark tonight, but tomorrow evening immediately after work, he'd be at Springcreek Park. He'd find out what Bailey had gone to see.

*~*~*

If Bailey's life was splintering out of control in all directions, she could at least try to help her best friends get their lives straightened out. Just before lunch the next day, she marched determinedly down to Gordon's office. He was sitting, staring blankly into space, when she burst into the room.

"You look terrible!" she exclaimed.

"I wish you'd learn to be more direct, stop sugarcoating the facts," he drawled.

"I've come to drag you to lunch, and I don't want any flack about it."

"Drag away." Gordon extended his hands. "I'm not sure I can walk."

"Come on," Bailey ordered, starting out the door but turning back to be sure he was following. "Are you sick? With those bloodshot eyes and dark circles, you look like you've been on a week-long binge."

"I have. A work binge." He followed her down the hall.

Bailey shook her head. "I work hard but I don't look like that. What are you really up to?" The poor man obviously needed her help getting straightened out in more ways than one.

"You've been working hard since you came here,
long enough to develop work immunities." Gordon punched the button to call a down elevator. "I've got a lot of catching up to do. This is only temporary, until I get my desk cleared off. "

"That'll never happen. Not a feasible goal." They entered the half-full elevator.

"I have a reason." Gordon admitted, and Bailey nodded in satisfaction. He was just about ready to confess, if she could only keep him awake through lunch.

At the deli Gordon scarfed down his sandwich and launched into his potato salad. Not only had the man not been sleeping, it would appear he hadn't been eating either.

"All right, out with it," Bailey ordered when he swallowed the last bite.

"I'm trying to straighten up my life. Is that so terr
ible? Are you going to eat your slaw?"

She'd planned on it. "No. Do you want it?" She shoved the plastic dish across the table. "You always seemed perfectly happy with your life."

"Things change. And you needn't play innocent with me, Ms. Russell. It didn't escape my attention that you were invited to join the big boys yesterday."

"Oh." She shouldn't have been surprised. The office grapevine was very efficient.

"So," he said, smiling for the first time, "does this mean what I think it means?"

Bailey nodded, unable to restrain a wide grin. Reaching across the table, Gordon took her hands in his. "That's wonderful! I knew you could do it! When do we celebrate?"

"When it's official, at the fiscal-year-end party."

Then her smile faded, and she leaned forward. "Is that it, Gordon?" she asked, barely above a whisper. "Are you upset because we started at the same time and you aren't a partner yet?"

Gordon released her hands and leaned back, still smiling. "Nah. You know I never had my eye on a partnership. But I would like to keep my job."

"I wasn't aware it was in jeopardy."

Gordon lifted an eyebrow. "When our laid-back firm merges with an aggressive, killer cobra firm, a lot of things will change."

Punching the
crushed ice in her glass with her straw, Bailey studied him for a few minutes. "I suppose Austin told you," she finally said. Though it pained her to give him the credit, the man seemed to be ubiquitous.

"Yes, he did." Gordon scraped the last bite of slaw from the container, swallowed, and smiled smugly.

"Some time ago, I'd guess, since you've been working your brains out practically since he arrived in town."

"Poor Bailey. It must be awful to be the last to know," Gordon teased. "I'm aware of how desperately you hate being last."

She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you're so knowledgeable, then surely you're aware it's far from a done deal. Should the merger not occur, will you go back to leading a normal life?" Might as well add one more outside influence to her list of considerations for her decision, make things even more complicated.

Gordon stacked his plastic utensils and bowls in his plate and avoided Bailey's gaze. "That depends. I don't know. Probably not."

Enough was enough. She couldn't wait forever for these foolish people to recognize what was before their very eyes. "If you'd spend a little more time with Paula and less time working or hiding notes and flowers in the park, she'd be a lot more impressed."

Gordon's mouth dropped open.

"Come on," Bailey said, pushing back her chair and standing. "Let's get to the office and you can call and ask her for a date like a regular, sane human being. And don't tell her I told you to. Take the credit for yourself. You need all the credit you can get."

Gordon took her arm as they wended their way through the tables. "I think being a partner is going to make you bossier than ever."

"Not possible. An absolute can't have a comparative form."

*~*~*

Austin slammed the door of his apartment behind him, grabbed an icy beer from the refrigerator, and flopped onto the sofa. He'd wasted the whole evening checking on Candy Miller, and all she'd done was go to the B&B Lounge. That was nothing new. The insurance company's bumbling detective had followed her there.

He'd sat in his car in the parking lot for thirty minutes before he gave up and came home. As he recalled from the testimony, she'd likely be in there for the rest of the evening.

What he needed to do was go in and observe her, ask a few questions. Maybe even talk to her. Buy her a drink and get into her confidence.

Right. And she's going to be eager to spill her guts to opposing counsel. Even Candy Miller wasn't that dumb.

Snatching up the remote control, he flicked on the television, drank his beer, and watched a bumbling detective don mustache and beard to spy on a suspect.