Anything You Can Do

chapter 6



Back in her bedroom, Bailey cursed softly, then more loudly as the zipper of her black skirt jammed and refused to budge. Of all times for it to fail—she wanted to be dressed and gone when Paula and Gordon came back. She almost wished she'd gone on to the office in her cutoffs. Everyone else dressed casually on weekends. Only she felt office attire was appropriate when in the office, no matter the day or hour, and today it was proving to be her undoing.

She didn't want to see her friends, to be forced to act as if everything was all right, her life was neat and orderly, the way it had always been. None of the above was true, and she didn't have the emotional energy to pretend it was.

Well, that's what she got for trying to compete in an area in which she had inadequate training and skills.

A gentle touch on her leg turned her attention to Samantha. The little dog was looking up with liquid, pleading eyes. She knew that stockings and suits meant her friend was going away. Bailey reached down and picked her up, balancing the furry body in one hand and scratching her ears with the other.

"You can go with me, sweetheart. On Sundays the office belongs to us. You can lie right in the middle of Stafford Morris' desk if you like. Dig yourself a nice bed in his papers. Just don't get in the ashtray. You'd never get the smell off."

Samantha twisted and scrambled onto Bailey's shoulder, snuggling comfortingly against her neck.

"Sometimes, little one, I think you know more than you let on," Bailey murmured, stroking the soft fur. She couldn't be totally dejected around so much love.

From the living room came the sound of a door closing followed by Paula's bubbling laughter. Plopping Samantha onto her white bedspread, Bailey gave the zipper a final yank and felt it jerk free. She threw on her jacket, grabbed her black leather shoulder bag and Samantha, and strode out of her bedroom.

Gordon was positioning the telltale flower arrangement in the middle of the coffee table. Samantha squirmed from Bailey's grasp and ran over to greet Paula then Gordon then Paula again.

"Bailey," Paula called, seating herself on the sofa directly in front of the flowers and next to Gordon. "Come look. While Gordon and I went to retrieve my latest letter, Prince Charming left these in my car. Isn't that romantic?"

"They're lovely flowers."

Bailey tried to keep her voice neutral, but Paula's eyes narrowed as she turned her full attention to Bailey. "Why are you dressed like that?" she asked.

"I'm going to a costume party as a lawyer. Why do you think I'm dressed like this? I'm going down to the office for a while."

"It's Sunday afternoon," Gordon protested. "Paula and I were talking about maybe calling Austin, and we could all go down to that park over by my house for the free concert. Take a blanket and some cheap wine and pretend we're in college again."

"I never went to college," Paula reminded him.

"Yeah, but you've got a great imagination."

They both laughed giddily at the stupid remarks. Bailey felt relief when the telephone shrilled its interruption. She rushed to answer it, to get away from the conversation that centered around Paula and Austin.

"Bailey," Austin's voice boomed over the wire. So much for feeling relief at the telephone call.

In an instant she considered and rejected a multitude of responses ranging from What do you want? to Go to hell.

"Yes?" was the best she could come up with. Should she ask if he wanted to talk to Paula, make it easier for him? Hell, no, she decided.

"Have you registered for that 10-K race on Saturday after next?" he asked.

"Not yet." And she wouldn't if he was going to be there.

"I thought you might like to get in a practice run," he went on, seemingly oblivious to her curt reply. "It's a great afternoon for running—low humidity, starting to cool a little. In an hour or so it'll be perfect. We could even wait until night. I love to run after dark, don't you?"

She did, but she wasn't going to admit it to him.

"It's dangerous to run after dark in the city.”

Austin's laughter roared in her ear. "Bailey, I feel deeply sorry for anyone who tries to attack you. Anyway, I'll be running with you. A little ahead, probably, but still within earshot. Why don't we get Gordon and Paula, grab a light, early dinner, then you and I can go for a late run?"

Obviously he and Gordon needed to get together on their stories. "Gordon wants to go to the free concert in the park."

"Sounds good to me. We can let our dinner settle while we listen to a couple of songs, then go for a run, come back, and listen some more."

Yeah, and you can… Bailey stopped her thoughts. So she hated Austin and was jealous of Paula. So Paula hated lawyers, and she herself thought a relationship between the two would be disastrous for Paula. That wasn't really her decision to make. If using her was the only way he could get close to Paula, she should just go along with it and let Paula decide.

However she just wasn’t feeling particularly magnanimous at the moment.

"Blow it out your ear," she said, and hung up the phone.

"Was that by any chance Austin?" Gordon asked.

"Umm. Excuse me. I really have to get to the office." She leaned over, clapped her hands, and Samantha jumped into her arms.

"Bailey!" Paula swung over the back of the sofa in front of her. "What's the matter with you today? Are you having PMS?" She tiptoed up to hiss the last remark in Bailey's ear.

Bailey turned her haughtiest scowl on her friend, but thirty years of familiarity had indeed bred contempt. Paula laughed.

"I thought you reserved that look for old Mrs. Dunnigan. Remember how you used to get her so confused, she'd have the Mesopotamians pillaging Paris? Come on, Bailey. Let's go out tonight. We'll even take Samantha. If you don't want to go to the concert, we'll do something else."

Heaving a deep sigh, Bailey turned to Gordon.

"Would you excuse us a minute?"

He waved a hand negligently, and she shoved Paula into her bedroom and closed the door.

"I didn't want to tell you this, but I know who Prince Charming is," she whispered.

"Is that what's upsetting you? Jeez. I know, too. I'm not completely retarded."

"It doesn't bother you? I mean, he's a lawyer."

"I know, and I swore I'd never get mixed up with a lawyer, but he's really not a typical lawyer. And he's gone to so much trouble to convince me of that. I think it's terribly sweet."

"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 spoonsful 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 been 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 exulted 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 allowed 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, glittering 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 hers, 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 existed 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.

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, holding 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 realization 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 he 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 connected 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 possibly 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."