Anything You Can Do (2 page)

Almost without conscious effort, her pace increased a little more. By the time the two of them reached the "killer hill at the end of the fifth mile," however, Bailey thought she just might have pushed a bit too hard. Her breathing had increased almost to the point of panting, and her easy stride felt forced. She gave serious consideration to crawling up the hill.

"How you doing?" Austin asked as they began the climb. It was his first comment in quite a while, and Bailey was grateful for more than one reason. She had no energy left to talk, needed it all for running.

"Great," she answered in a breathy grunt, the most articulate sound of which she was capable. She'd die before she'd let him know how close to the end she was, before she'd expose a weakness, leaving herself vulnerable.

Her legs were numb, but that was better than pain.

As long as she could persuade her brain to keep ordering them forward, they'd be okay. However, the pressure in her chest and the ache in her side were distracting. She decided to wait until the last half mile to sprint past him.

The hill stretched longer than ever. The street department must have added an extra block or two.

Finally the finish line loomed ahead. Less than half a mile to go. Time to sprint for it, leave Austin Travers far behind with his toothpaste smile and blue contact lenses—for surely his eyes weren't really that bright. Her brain ordered her legs to stretch out farther, move faster. She thought they were following orders, but somehow Austin stayed beside her, a permanent fixture in her peripheral vision.

She pushed harder. The red FINISH banner grew larger, but the letters began to blur. Reaching deep inside, Bailey found an extra ounce of energy and stretched farther, churne
d her legs faster. From the corner of her eye, she saw Austin move ahead, cross the line a split second before her.

She wanted to curse, but couldn't. Breathing was an all-consuming activity. She stopped for removal and recordation of her number then stumbled on to the end of the women's chute.

"That was incredible!" Paula shouted, grabbing her arm.

Bailey wanted to protest that it wasn't incredible, that Austin had beaten her, but the words wouldn't come out. She took the cup of water
Paula offered and raised it to her lips, rinsing her mouth. Swallowing would have meant a brief cessation of breathing, and she needed all the oxygen she could get right then.

She scanned the crowd but didn't see Austin. That was good, because she was pretty sure she was going to throw up from the extreme exertion, and she had no intention of letting him know how tough the race had been. Moving shakily, she made her way to the sidelines, aware that
Paula was talking, but too intent on her own body's agonies to catch the words.

As she concentrated on walking out her cool-down, ignoring her protesting muscles that wanted to rest, breathing fast enough to get adequate oxygen into her system to avoid passing out,
Paula's words suddenly penetrated.

"My time?" she gasped, not sure she'd heard right. "Yes,"
Paula assured her, "forty-two minutes, seven seconds."

Suddenly it didn't matter quite so much that Austin had beaten her because she'd just beaten herself, turned in a personal best. As soon as she was physically able, she planned to shout to the heavens.

Paula grabbed two oranges from a refreshment table and began peeling as they walked. "I see you came in with that gorgeous lawyer," she said, offering a half skinned fruit to Bailey. "Do you have something to tell me?"

Bailey gulped down a piece of orange, greedy for the sugar and liquid to nourish her exhausted system. "Gordon's friend," she gasped. "Thought you weren't interested in lawyers."

"I can admire a thing of beauty while having no desire to mate with it. Anyway, he passed me by with a wave. I think he's interested in you."

Even though it sent her into coughing, gasping spasms, Bailey burst into laughter at the idea. Men like Austin Travers reserved their interest for beautiful women with soft voices and bust line measurements that exceeded their IQs.

On the other side of the path, Austin held his side to ease the stitch and walked around the sidelines, fighting the nausea of overexertion, trying to cool down slowly. Across the crowd, he caught a glimpse of the woman who'd almost killed him.

He studied her for a moment, watched her accept an orange from her friend. When he'd first seen her before the race, stretching her long, sleek muscles, she'd seemed a regal gazelle. She enhanced that image when she ran with long, graceful strides, hair sparking red in the sunlight. Now, however, he knew her to be a tiger,
a force to be reckoned with.

If he could just manage to catch his breath, he'd go over and congratulate her on a race well run. Not to mention that she'd pushed him into his best time since the high school track team.

But by the time he got back in control, ready to face her, she and her friend had disappeared into the crowd.

Feeling oddly disappointed, he got a cold soda and wandered through the throng.

"Austin! Over here!"

Austin turned at the welcome sound of Gordon's voice and saw him standing under a large tree, waving. Beside Gordon, Bailey and her friend lounged on the grass. Sunlight dappled Bailey's smooth, sweat-shiny skin and blazed in her hair. However, her gaze was cool and green as she watched him approach.

The combination of fire and ice was daunting and tantalizing. He'd probably be wise to keep on running. Instead he sank to the ground beside her.

"Bailey's tr
ying to make me take up some exhausting sport," Gordon complained as Austin sank to the cool grass, "and Paula Duvall, whom you haven't met and probably don't want to, thinks I should find a decent job."

"Make something of yourself,"
Paula supplied, laughing, looking up at Gordon. "Better yourself. Become a janitor, wash dishes, dig ditches."

"But Bailey's a lawyer, and you like her," Gordon objected.

Paula sighed heavily, lowering her eyes in mock shame. "I'm partially to blame for her sorry lot in life. From the time we were in third grade, I encouraged her to go to law school. I blame it all on too many Perry Mason reruns."

"What is this?" Austin asked, laughing. "Are we trashing attorneys?"

"Why not?" Paula quipped. "Can you think of anybody who deserves it more?"

"I asked her to ma
rry me," Gordon declared, leaning lazily back against the tree trunk. "She told Bailey I showed good sense in not running or indulging in those other activities that make you sweat, so naturally I asked her to marry me. That's when she said I'd have to get a decent job."

The sound of Bailey's throaty laughter drew Austin's attention to her. She was leaning back on her arms, long legs stretched in front of her, the co
rners of her full mouth tilted upward. Once again she was the sleek, sensuous woman he'd noticed earlier rather than the tiger he'd almost lost the race to.

But then she turned toward him, eyes narrowing, smile challenging. "Jump in, Austin," she dared him, sitting upright, pulling her knees to her chest and leaning her chin on them.
"Defend your chosen profession."

Austin cleared his throat, suddenly at a loss for words, inexplicably feeling eighteen years old again with the task of proving himself still looming ahead. "What exactly don't yo
u like about lawyers?" he asked.

"I've been a l
egal secretary for twelve years," Paula answered. "Need I say more?"

"I promise not to hold that against you if you don't hold my law degree against me," he retorted with a smile.

"I'll try, counselor, but these ingrained prejudices are hard to overcome. Are you with the same firm as these two?"

"No," he said. "Does that make it better or worse?"

"A little better, I suppose. Gives you some distance, at least. You see, I go back home to Haywood tomorrow to pack my bags, move in with Bailey next Saturday, and go to work for Hoskins, Grier and Morris on Monday. Since secretaries and lawyers are natural enemies, there's absolutely no chance for Gordon and me to be friends." She sighed in exaggerated fashion. "Unfortunate, really. He has some good qualities, like being rich, lazy, and blond, but hey, that's life."

Austin laughed in genuine delight.
Paula was witty, entertaining, and attractive. A quick glance at Gordon convinced him he shouldn't go any further than admiring her, though. He'd known Gordon a long time, but he'd never seen him look at a woman the way he was looking at Paula—kind of a combination of the way he used to look at his dog and the Playboy centerfold.

Well, if she and Gordon developed a relationship, at least the three of them could get along. However, he wasn't too sure about Bailey. How was it possible with only a glance she could make him feel the way he'd felt those e
arly years in law practice—like he had to work twice as hard just to catch up with the rest of the world?

From the co
rner of his eye, he watched her stretch her long legs across the grass.

She made him feel frustrated, defensive, and, damn it, exhilarated in anti
cipation of the challenge, an aspect of those early years he'd forgotten until now.

*~*~*

The waitress left with their post-race breakfast order.

Paula
disappeared behind a newspaper she'd picked up as they came into the coffee shop while Austin and Gordon discussed the fate of a mutual friend from college days. Bailey settled back in the plastic-covered booth, sipped her soda, and thought again of the awards ceremony.

She still couldn't decide if she should be proud of winning a second-plac
e medal in her age and sex division. Ordinarily second place, especially with the age and sex qualifiers, was the same as losing. Still, Austin didn't get a medal even though he'd beaten her. So that kind of meant he hadn't really beaten her…didn't it? 

And he had run one hell of a race, hadn't held back just because she was a woman. Besting him would
be a noteworthy accomplishment—and a far safer one than getting pulled under by those vibrant eyes so full of energy and life, those thighs with the well-defined muscles that looked as if they'd be rock-hard to the touch. Not, of course, that she was in any danger of doing that.

"Hey, listen to this!"
Paula smoothed her newspaper onto the table. "
SWM, thirty-two, professional, seeks long-term relationship with attractive, single woman, twenty-six to thirty-five.
Could this be the father of my future children? Nope, he smokes."

"What on earth have you got there?" Bailey demanded, glad to have a new direction for her wayward thoughts.

"The Kansas City Observer. It has this section called
New Friends.
There's pages and pages of ads."

"I wouldn't think you'd have any trouble finding dates," Austin assured her.

The man really was dense. Bailey didn't see how Paula could have made it any clearer that she didn't want to date an attorney, but he kept trying.

"I'm not looking for
dates
," Paula advised him. "I could have stayed in Haywood if all I'd wanted was dates with male bodies. I'm looking for a relationship with someone who's intelligent, romantic, exciting, funny, handsome...hmm...
Degreed DWM, professional, divorced two years, no diseases
... Oh, gag."

"Prince Charming," Gordon contributed. "She's looking for Prince Charm
ing, but no lawyers need apply."

"That's a great idea,"
Paula said, folding the paper. "I'll run my own ad.
Looking for Prince Charming, no lawyers need apply
, although the exclusion should be self-evident."

"Ah, revenge will be sweet," Gordon drawled, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "Stafford Morris, for all those weekends you made me work and all the nasty memos, not to mention the ciga
r smoke, behold your secretary."

"May the two of them have a long, long relationship." Bailey lifted her soda in a mock toast. "Our beloved managing partner," she explained to Austin.

"I've met the man," he acknowledged, and Bailey wanted to ask the circumstances, why his lips thinned when he made the curt remark. But before she could decide on a polite way to frame her question, the food arrived and conversation ceased.

*~*~*

Full and exhausted, Bailey pushed open the door of her second-floor condominium and stooped to catch the tiny bundle of black and red fur that launched itself into her arms.

"Did you miss me?" Bailey asked, cuddling the little dog, reveling in the unconditional love.

"You didn't miss her, did you, Samantha?" Paula scratched the animal behind one pointy, tufted ear. "She's only pretending to be ecstatic. A good job of it, too, Samantha."

"Want to go for a
walk
?" Bailey asked, stressing the last word. Samantha wriggled out of her arms, jumped to the floor, and began running in circles, yipping and waving her plumed tail.

"I'd say that's a definite
yes
," Paula interpreted, tossing her handbag onto the glass-topped coffee table. "Poor thing's probably been standing around for hours with her legs crossed."