Anything You Can Do Page 6

  "So how do you like working for the old bear?" Austin asked Paula.

  Paula looked at him then turned away as Samantha bounced into her lap. "It's a job," she answered, shrugging, stroking the dog as she again raised her eyes to Austin. "The only one I'm qualified for at this stage of my life."

  With a start Bailey realized that Paula really did hate being a legal secretary as much as she said she did. Since she tended to be sarcastic about most things, Bailey had mostly dismissed her comments. But Paula's lilting voice had suddenly gone dull and lifeless.

  "So why don't you do something else?" Bailey asked.

  "Like what? I'm too short to be a model and too clumsy to be a waitress. And speaking of, what's happening with our friend Candy?"

  "Don't get them started," Gordon warned. "We'll have World War Three right here in Bailey's living room. Come on, let's go deliver your letter."

  "Right now? In the middle of the night?"

  "Sure." He stood, pulling Paula to her feet. "Why not? I'll protect you."

  "It's not that," she answered. "It just doesn't feel right to send off a letter without making file and reading copies."

  "You've definitely been a secretary too long. Come on."

  Paula retrieved the envelope from the kitchen bar, sealed it, and grinned. "This is fun," she said.

  "We'll be back shortly," Gordon assured Bailey and Austin as he opened the door for Paula.

  "You know, we can't stretch you or improve your coordination, but have you ever considered night school now that you live close to several colleges?" Gordon asked her.

  Bailey watched the pair leave, the door close behind them. Even if they were nuts, she was glad her two best friends got along so well. She didn't even resent their going off together and leaving her alone with Austin.

  But suddenly she didn't feel so comfortable anymore.

  Ridiculous! She'd overcome this irrational fear of the male of the species long ago. She was a professional, a skilled attorney up for a partnership. So why did Austin make her feel like she was sixteen again?

  For what seemed an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, she kept her head turned toward the door, avoiding him, searching her usually fertile mind for something to say. They'd argued interminably all week, creating an odd sort of intimacy by virtue of the continued encounters. There was really no reason to feel awkward now.

  With incredible force for a six-pound creature, Samantha leaped into Bailey's lap, eliciting a startled "Oomph!"

  "Cute dog," Austin said, and she finally turned to look at him, directly into those electric eyes.

  "Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  A mantel clock that had theretofore been relatively silent suddenly ticked loudly, annoyingly.

  "Nice chess set," Austin said. The carved ivory figures on a marble board occupied their own table in the corner of the room.

  "A gift from my father. Do you play?"

  "A little." But his eyes lit up, and Bailey knew. Wordlessly she moved the set to the dining room table, and Austin followed, eyes glowing. As they began to play, she rapidly concluded that he was no novice. Not that she'd ever thought he might be.

  Bailey's blood was leaping again. She made her moves unhesitatingly, no longer uncomfortable, again in control.

  Sometime during the game she saw Paula and Gordon from the corner of her eye as they came in, but they went straight to Paula's room.

  Finally— "Check," Austin announced.

  "And mate." Bailey unhesitatingly moved a knight into position, trying to refrain from smirking.

  "Very good," Austin said. Damn! he thought. That gave her two in a row, for she'd definitely trounced him at the deposition. "Another game?" He had her strategies figured out now. He'd beat her this time.

  Sometime later he slapped his palm on the tabletop and exclaimed, "Impossible!" when it became apparent the game was a stalemate.

  "My sentiments exactly."

  For a moment they glared at each other, then both shoved back their chairs and stood. Austin moved in long strides toward the refrigerator, intent on getting a cold beer. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bailey doing the same thing. Well, he could certainly walk faster than she could!

  They collided in the kitchen doorway. He automatically put up his hands to brace against the collision and she must have done the same because somehow their bodies slammed together while their arms tangled around each other. The adrenaline of anger, the excitement of the game, somehow all got mixed up and misdirected. He could have sworn it all came from holding Bailey's sleek body against his.

  Her face, inches from his own, was glowing, her green eyes blazing. She exuded life and vitality and challenge.

  One of his hands, seemingly of its own volition, stroked her smooth neck while the other moved down to her slim waist.

  This is crazy, he thought. Holding an untamed tiger in one's arms was definitely crazy but it didn't feel crazy. It felt wonderful.

  He really had to stop.

  Her full lips parted slightly, as if to take in extra breaths, her gaze never leaving his. Her hands caressed his back, deftly, gently, as he'd never realized yet always known she could.

  Austin ordered his hands to move away from her body, but they were no longer connected to his brain. The right slid down to the firm roundness of her buttocks, pushed her pelvis against his arousal, while the left held her neck firmly as his lips touched hers. She returned the kiss hungrily, matching his own frenzy. He felt the strength and the softness, tasted pizza and beer and an elusive spiciness he immediately identified as Bailey. His tongue darted out, met hers, thrust, parried, retreated, and returned.

  He couldn't think, didn't dare think, could only revel in the feel of her beneath his hands, against his body, moving with him in a frenetic rhythm. As she clung to him, his hand moved from her neck over her collarbone, down to her small, round breast, molding it through the soft fabric of her cotton blouse. His fingers searched for the nipple, his breath coming faster as he found it erect, felt her surge against him as he stroked.

  Something gentle but insistent touched his leg repeatedly, but he had no attention left for outside distractions. This contest was consuming him. He couldn't get enough of Bailey. He had to have her, had to love her, doubted even that would be enough.

  A sharp bark intruded.

  Dazed, Austin jerked apart from Bailey, followed her gaze to the floor at their feet where Samantha looked up with indignation in her brown eyes.

  Bailey sank to the floor, took the dog into her arms.

  "Were you being ignored, sweetheart?" Her words were gasps, the same as his would be if he tried to talk.

  Talk? How could he talk when he couldn't even think? Austin yanked open the refrigerator door and pulled out a can of beer. He popped the top, held on to the kitchen counter, and downed half the contents of the can then paused to breathe.

  "Are you two finally taking a break?" Paula's voice came across the room.

  "Yes," he gulped.

  "We're finished," Bailey added.

  She sounded so definite, but when he looked at her, in the split second before she looked away he saw in her eyes what he already knew. They weren't finished. They'd barely begun, and whatever it was they'd begun, it was like nothing he'd ever known or heard of before.

  "Got to run, kids," Gordon said, giving Paula and Bailey a quick kiss. "Let's do my place tomorrow night. Austin and I will cook so we can eat something besides pizza."

  Austin smiled as he felt control returning. He was a gourmet cook. No woman who kept dog food and mayonnaise in her refrigerator could possibly equal his culinary skills. "Great idea, Gordon."

  "I'll bring dessert," Bailey said.

  All eyes turned to her.

  "Price Chopper's got a sale on frozen cheesecake," Gordon said.

  CHAPTER 5

  Bailey set her grocery sacks on the kitchen counter then went back downstairs for her large shopping bag from The Complete Kit
chen. Who'd have thought a little cheesecake would require so many different items? But it would be worth all the hassle to see the look on Austin's face when she brought a white chocolate cheesecake with raspberry sauce for dessert.

  With the various bags settled on the counter, she reached down to scoop up Samantha.

  "Your uncle Gordon's going to get his, too," she told the little dog. "Price Chopper's got a sale on frozen cheesecake."

  "Bailey, you're home early," Paula exclaimed. Bailey started at the sound of her friend's voice. Paula entered the living room with a fist full of letters.

  "Why aren't you out at the pool trying to catch skin cancer?" she asked, hoping Paula wouldn't look in the kitchen.

  "You're just jealous because you look like a speckled pup after a few minutes in the sun. What have you got in the sacks?"

  Bailey tilted her chin upward. "I'm taking dessert to Gordon's tonight, remember?"

  "That's a lot of dessert. What did you do? Buy up all the frozen cheesecakes?" Paula came over to peek into the bags.

  There was nothing to do but tell the truth. "I'm making dessert. That's the ingredients and a pan and measuring stuff and a cookbook. Now go lie in the sun or stuff your letters in a tree or something."

  "Good grief! It really is." She lifted out a spring form pan and set of measuring cups. "Bailey, dear friend, I feel it's my duty to remind you that you can't cook. Have you forgotten being the only person in the history of Haywood High who did a supplemental research paper so you wouldn't flunk home ec?"

  "Anybody can cook. It's like a computer program. You just follow the directions."

  Paula pulled a package of white chocolate from one of the bags and studied it appraisingly. "I can mail my letters later. I don't think I'd better leave right now."

  "Paula Lynn Duvall, don't you touch one thing in this kitchen. I' m cooking, and I don't need any criticism or help."

  "You don't mind if I sit here at the bar and drink iced tea, do you?"

  Most assuredly Bailey minded, but there seemed no way out of it. "Fine. But knock off the unsolicited advice. "

  "I'll just sit here quiet as a mouse and take notes. Maybe we could work this into a television sitcom."

  Choosing to ignore her friend's smart mouth, Bailey left the room to change into appropriate attire.

  Minutes later, wearing the T-shirt and shorts she'd worn to paint the bedroom, Bailey unpacked her purchases and arranged them on the counter. She studied the recipe carefully, then rearranged everything and stared at the items, trying vainly to imagine the gorgeous color picture in the cookbook emerging from all that mess. Paula had her head buried in a magazine, but Bailey could have sworn she was smirking.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to the project. One thing she knew for certain, the blasted recipe had to be followed exactly. Paula's recounting of her high school fiasco, her last experiment with cooking, reminded her that cutting out unnecessary steps had gotten her in trouble before. Heating the water to boiling before adding the pasta really did make a difference.

  She set the oven to the exact temperature, allowing time for it to preheat, then consulted the recipe again. Since she didn't have time to let the cream cheese reach room temperature while lying on the counter, she plopped it into the microwave where parts of it got real soft real fast. Well, it could harden up a little in the freezer while she made the crust.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the cheesecake was in the oven. Now to get all the seeds out of those raspberries and make the sauce. Maybe if she just put them in the blender, the seeds would mush up and disappear.

  Yes, indeed, Austin would regret his tacky remarks about her refrigerator holding nothing but dog food and mayonnaise. She'd show him she was a skilled cook.

  *~*~*

  "This is great," Gordon drawled, popping the tab on a beer and settling onto a dining table chair.

  "You get to clean up," Austin answered from the kitchen, stuffing wild rice mixture into the last Cornish game hen.

  "You're such a pal, going to so much trouble to help me impress Paula."

  Austin hesitated in his work, searching for sarcasm in Gordon's words. "Seems to me you need all the help you can get," he finally said. "What you're doing is the goofiest thing I've ever heard of. Where do you go from here? You can't leave letters in the park indefinitely." He basted the birds carefully with real butter. This was no time to think of one's arteries.

  "I'm glad you asked. I've got a great idea, and since you're so eager to help, I'll include you. I take her to the park to look for her next letter, and I let you know when we're going. Then you be there waiting, and while we go check the tree, you leave flowers in her car."

  Austin slid the hens into the oven and groaned. He'd never known his friend to go to so much trouble over a woman—over anything, for that matter. If a project involved effort, Gordon just left it and went on to something easier.

  "Has it ever occurred to you that when Paula finds out you're writing these kooky letters, she may just decide you're nuts in addition to being a lawyer? Then she'll for sure never go out with you. Probably never speak to you again."

  "I'm just trying to give her a chance to see what kind of guy I am without being blinded by her prejudice against lawyers."

  Austin joined his friend on the brown leather sofa. "I'm beginning to think she may be right about attorneys."

  "They're still ready to lynch you, huh?"

  "They're fighting the changes." Austin noticed a small spot of butter on his crisply creased khaki slacks. He considered going home to change then discarded the idea. If he did that, Gordon might think he was unduly concerned about how he looked tonight, might think he was trying to impress Bailey. He crossed his leg over the spot. "They're stodgy," he finished, coming back to the subject at hand.

  "They've done pretty good for a lot of years." Gordon leaned back and swung his legs onto the sturdy coffee table.

  "But the world has changed, the practice of law has changed. If we don't change too, we'll be swallowed up by progressive firms that do. We have to streamline our work habits, cut out waste, and, of course, get a good public relations firm."

  "Austin, are you sure you were sent over here because you did so well with the St. Louis office or because they wanted to get rid of you?"

  "You've been hanging around your friend Bailey too long. Her abrasive personality's rubbing off." He had to do that, had to say Bailey's name aloud, as if he could thus summon her.

  Gordon smiled lazily. "Old friend, if your abrasive personality didn't rub off on me over the years, I don't think I'm in any danger from Bailey. You, on the other hand—" Gordon shrugged, drained his beer can, and crushed it.

  "Me on the other hand, what?" Austin sat forward, studying his friend's face closely.

  "Have met your match, I'd say. I'm going to hit the shower and get all spiffied up." He stood, stretched, and looked back at Austin. "Like you. And if you keep your legs crossed, Bailey will never see that spot of butter." He strolled from the room.

  Well, Austin thought, staring after his friend, either the man was awfully perceptive or he had observed the spectacle of the night before. Austin couldn't quite decide if that idea bothered him or not. But then, he couldn't quite decide what to make of the kiss either. One thing he was sure of, though. He had to take exception to Gordon's assertion that he'd met his match. She could certainly put the pressure on him, force him to give his very best, but he'd still be the ultimate winner.

  True, she was mentally acute and physically trim, athletic, without an ounce of fat on her slim body. Even her rounded derriere was firm. Though, he recalled with pleasure, her breast had been soft and pliant beneath his hand, only the nipple swelling hard between his fingers.

  Damn! How did he get off on that line of thought?

  He forced the smile off his face before Gordon came back in and noticed.

  He was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on his Caesar salad when Bailey a
nd Paula arrived.

  "That looks wonderful," he heard Gordon enthuse. "Where did you get it? A new bakery?"

  "I made it." Bailey's voice rang with indignant defiance.

  Gordon laughed, but Paula interrupted. "She did. I watched. It's kind of scary, really."

  Gordon had told him she would bring something frozen for dessert, that she never cooked.

  He leaned into the living room, eager to see what she'd come up with. Paula, cute and perky in a denim miniskirt, held Samantha in her arms. Gordon looked amused. Bailey, striding regally, carried a cut-glass cake plate holding an incredible culinary creation.

  "White chocolate cheesecake with raspberry sauce," she announced, handing it to him. "Just something I whipped up on the spur of the moment."

  Austin accepted the plate but continued to stare at Bailey. In a flowing cotton skirt patterned with flowers and a pale green blouse that accented her flushed cheeks and sparkling ocean eyes, she looked willowy, ethereal—his mind groped for the right words—beautiful, female, desirable.

  "You made this?" he finally managed to ask, diverting his thoughts before they got too carried away.

  For an instant her eyes blazed with indignant green fire at his rude question, but her reply was cool. "Umm-hmm," she said, and turned her back to him. "Gordon, is that a new painting?"

  Later, as they finished dinner, Bailey had to admit the meal was wonderful even if Austin had cooked it. Of course her cheesecake would be every bit as wonderful. Magnanimously she added her praise to the compliments of Gordon and Paula.

  "It's just something I whipped up on the spur of the moment," he replied, mocking her earlier comment.

  Okay, that was fair, Bailey decided. "Touché," she said. "Actually, I spent more time and effort on that blasted cheesecake than I spend preparing a case for trial."

  "Half that effort was expended in cursing," Paula explained and everyone laughed.

  Bailey felt mellow, warm in the company of friends, even Austin. Eagerly she anticipated his approval of her creation—grudging approval, probably. He'd hate to admit she'd won again. Grudging but respectful. Yes, she liked that idea.