Anything You Can Do (12 page)

He tugged at the waistband of her shorts, and she leaned back, her hips seeming to rise of their own volition, assisting him to remove the fabric, the barrier that separated his flesh from hers. As he pulled his own shirt off and tossed it aside, she sat up, reached for her shoes, untied the knots, and kicked them off, then turned back to him.

Thick, black hair sprang from the taut muscles of his chest. She moved to him, tangled her fingers in the dark mat. Against her palm she felt his heart pounding surely as fast as her own. Trailing her fingers over his ridged stomach, she stopped at the elastic of his shorts and, holdin
g her breath, daringly slid the waistband downward. He groaned. His hands caught in her hair, kneaded as he whispered her name. She gasped when she guided the fabric down his hard thighs and saw his readiness, the irrefutable evidence that his fervor ran apace with hers.

She couldn't tell if he lowered her to the grass or she pulled him, but she felt its coolness on her back and the heat of his body over her. His mouth came down on hers again as she opened her thighs to him, moved to meet him, surrounded him as he entered her.

Then they were racing together, and she needed him, wanted him with her all the way. This was no contest, this was the prize they both won. Together their pace accelerated until they burst into flames and exploded together.

Exhausted, replete, she held on to him, soaking in the feelings, luxuriating in the incredible array of sensations.

Austin held Bailey's slick, sweaty body against his own, kissed her smooth skin, and murmured things he couldn't remember later. Somehow it seemed they would stay forever joined on the soft grass beneath the velvet sky alive with sparkling jewels and flying wisps of clouds. He'd always be able to touch her firm, strong body, lie on her taut stomach, revel in her perfection.

Then sanity slowly returned, and with it the realiz
ation that he had just made love outside, under the stars, in Gordon's front yard, only a few blocks from a crowd of people. Being caught like this would make a great entry in his Martindale-Hubbell bio.

Still, irrationally, he lingered, savoring the peaceful, satiated look on Bailey's face, the knowledge that he'd brought her to that point. And she'd had an equally devastating effect on him. Giving way to spontaneous lust on his friend's lawn wasn't something he did on a regular basis.

With one finger he touched her smooth skin, traced the line of her high cheekbones. How delicate and helpless she seemed, lying there in the moonlight, her eyes glazed and heavy-lidded as she looked up at him.

A loud drum roll from the nearby concert rumbled through the night, and Bailey's eyes widened, became alert, and he knew they could no longer ignore the world outside. With a final kiss, he rolled away, turned his back to her as he
pulled on his shorts, giving them both time to collect themselves.

When h
e was dressed and he'd raked his fingers through his hair, still he didn't face her, didn't know what he ought to say, wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. What he wanted to do was hold her in his arms again. Taking a deep breath, he turned around to face her.

She was gone.

He kicked the rock structure of the goldfish pond, smashed his toe, cursed roundly.

If that wasn't just like the bloody woman!

He charged off toward the park, finally saw her just as she reached the blanket and sat down, stiffly erect, behind Paula and Gordon.

"Hi, folks!"
Paula greeted him. "Does this late appearance mean Bailey trounced you in the great race?"

"No," Bailey corrected quietly. "Austin won."

It was only the truth, but he didn't like the way she said it, as if he'd conquered her in some cruel, personal way. He hadn't forced her to make love, and she'd seemed to enjoy it every bit as much as he—and that was a lot.

"Are we ready to go home?" Bailey asked. "The mosquitoes are driving me crazy."

Austin hadn't noticed any mosquitoes, but he had heard they were more attracted to fair-skinned people, and Bailey's skin was very fair, especially in the moonlight.

"
We can leave here if you want to," Gordon said. "But we don’t have to go home. The night is young, and so are we."

"No," Bailey said, and the monosyllable was so final, everyone turned their attention to her. "I'm really tired," she explained, but it didn't have the ring of truth. "I have an early appointment in the morning. You all go on if you want to."

She stood and began folding the blanket. With an exchange of puzzled looks, Austin joined Paula and Gordon in assisting her.

Damn the woman, Austin thought as they crossed the park. She even made it a point to walk beside
Paula, as far away from him as possible. What was her problem?

He hadn't made love by himself. She'd been a willing participant. More than willing, if memory served him correctly. Surely it wasn't possible the supremely confident Bailey Russell was suffering from embarrassment at her actions.

Whatever the problem, he supposed he had no choice but to back off for the moment.

"We got company," Gordon suddenly announced, and Austin looked up to see two tall figures leaning against Gordon's BMW.

"Excuse me," Gordon said, brushing past the one in front and reaching for the passenger door. Alcohol fumes hung thickly on the night air.

"The nice man said
excuse me
,'' the youth slurred, looking at his friend and laughing. "The nice man with the pretty car." He tipped his glass and poured the remaining liquid over the gleaming hood.

Austin lunged toward the creature,
intent on taking him down, but Gordon held his arm out in front of him, blocking his attack.

Austin
hesitated. It was Gordon’s car and so he supposed any action taken was up to Gordon. He clenched his fists and stepped back.

"This nice car has a wonderful feature, doors on both sides," Gordon said evenly as he took
Paula's arm to steer her around the automobile.

Austin reminded himself again that it was Gordon’s car and Gordon’s call. He could be the peacemaker if that’s what he wanted.

"Isn't that cute? A little girl to go with the little car." The drunk stretched out a hand and touched Paula's face as she started past him.

Gordon's fist shot out, made a dull whump as it co
nnected with the boy's jaw and tumbled him to the ground.

Gordon reached over him and jerked the door open, slamming it against the second drunk's shoulder as he lunged forward, reaching for Gordon.

"And all the doors work just fine." He offered his arm to Paula.

Daintily
Paula took Gordon's arm, stepped around the youth, and slid into the front car seat.

"You hit him," Austin marveled as both drunks made a hurried retreat. "You hit him and knocked him down.
I’ve never seen you do anything physical before."

"I've been saving my strength," Gordon drawled, closing
Paula's door and moving around to the driver's side. "You two get out and exercise and use it all up, but me, I've been saving it for a lot of years."

With a big, dopey smile, he slid into the car next to
Paula.

*~*~*

Bailey tapped gently on Paula's bedroom door. "What is it?" Paula's reply was muffled but notably irritated as it came through the heavy wood.

"I need to talk to you,
Paula."

The door opened and
Paula stood there frowning but still cute and darling even in the middle of the night in her short nightgown with her hair tousled. Beside her Bailey felt tall, gaunt, and awkward.

"Bailey, this is the third time you've awakened me to talk about nothing. What is the problem? I thought you were tired and wanted to go to bed."

"I am. I do. But I just have to talk to you. Let's go out to the living room."

Paula
followed with a sigh. "So far tonight we've settled the questions of whether or not to have premium cable TV and where I can buy an air cleaner for Morris' cigar smoke. What is it this time?"

Bailey picked up Samantha and cuddled her. "If you went to the doctor and he discovered you were dying, would you want to know?"

"Sure I'd want to know. Am I dying?" She rubbed her eyes with both hands and yawned, then sat up straight, alert. "You're not sick, are you?"

"No, no," Bailey denied. At least not physically, she added silently.
Paula's obvious concern made her feel even worse. She had to tell the truth, no matter what the consequences.

"Okay," she began again, "if you were married and your husband was cheating on you and I found out, would you want me to tell you?"

"I know for a fact I'm not married, and if you're going to tell me that Chuck cheated on me, you're a few years late."

"
Paula, I have to tell you something."

"Bailey, you have exactly ten seconds to tell me before I go to bed with earplugs."

Bailey cleared her throat, shifted Samantha to her shoulder, needing the comfort of the soft little body. Samantha gave her a sleepy lick then settled comfortably against Bailey's neck. "Paula, I—Austin and I—we sort of made love." The last words came out in a rush, and she raised her eyes from her lap only long enough to see how Paula was taking it.

Paula
gaped at her in open-mouthed astonishment.

"What do you mean, you
sort of
made love? Did you or didn't you?"

"We did," Bailey admitted miserably. "In Gordon's yard."

"You don't mean for real. You're being metaphorical, right?"

"I'm sorry. We just got carried away by the race, I guess. It all sort of flowed from one thing to the other. I'm so sorry." She forced herself to meet
Paula's eyes. To her relief, there were no tears.

"Wait a minute. You mean you and Austin got it on in Gordon's yard, tonight, while the band played on?"
Paula actually seemed to be enjoying this.

"Something like that."

"I don't believe it."

"I'm afraid it's true."

"Why are you so upset? Was it terrible? Come on, tell me all the details!" Paula leaned closer, grinning impishly.

"I will not!" Bailey exclaimed. "How can you po
ssibly want to know about your lover making love with another woman? That's sick, Paula, very sick."

"My lover? Wait a minute. You're not saying you think Austin is Prince Charming?" She collapsed back onto the sofa in gales of laughter.

"I saw him put those flowers in your car! And when I told you, you said you already knew he was Prince Charming!" Bailey defended herself.

"I did no such thing! Maybe he put the flowers in my car, but Gordon bought them, believe me. I saw the receipt in his car. Prince Charming is Gordon, the wonderful man who fought for me tonight. Have you ever had a man fight for you? It's really an incredible feeling. Probably every bit as great as that runner's high you keep babbling about."

Bailey's head was spinning, trying to assimilate all the ramifications of this new information. "You're not in love with Austin? He's not in love with you?"
He's not using me to get close to you?

"Of course not. Austin? Are you kidding?"

"Why not Austin? What's wrong with him?" The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. With a start, she realized she was defending the wretched man.

"I don't know. You tell me. You're the one who's all upset after making love with him. You and Austin, splendor in the grass." She
rolled her eyes and laughed. "I love it!"

"
Paula, I have to go to bed now. I'm really tired."

"You got it, kid,"
Paula agreed, grinning broadly. "Wait till I tell Gordon," she said as she headed for her bedroom door. 

"I'll kill you
if you tell," Bailey said.

Paula
laughed, shook her head, and muttered, "Incredible," before closing her door behind her.

Bailey sat on the sofa stroking Samantha. She had to think about this new development. Austin had apparently made love to her because he wanted to. She had participated wholeheartedly then refused to speak to him. He'd probably hate her for the rest of his life, and that was likely all for the best since they couldn't get along anyway.

But it didn't feel like it was for the best.

"Oh, Samantha," she murmured, holding the little face against her cheek. "I think we've got problems."

"Power suits!" Bailey exclaimed as she threw the third one onto her bed.

She'd never noticed until she started dressing that Monday morning how austere most of her wardrobe was. Other than the suits, several pairs of blue jeans, and a rack of T-shirts from competitive runs, all she had was the dress her mother had given her for her last birthday, the one she'd worn to Gordon's on Saturday night.

Samantha vaulted onto the bed and sniffed the pile. "However, severe colors and somber lines are necessary for the old career, and that's what's important. Right?"