Anything You Can Do

chapter 2



"Good morning, Joan." Bailey greeted the receptionist, picked up her messages, and thumbed through them as she strode down the hall. Dressed in a tailored black suit with a white silk blouse, still exhilarated by the race on Saturday, she felt ready to take on the world, even Stafford Morris.

As she passed the large conference room, the door opened and Lisa Palmer, one of the secretaries, came out. Bailey had only a quick glimpse of the interior of the room before the door closed, but it was enough to pull her up short, suddenly alert.

"Lisa, who's in there?" she asked.

In that brief instant she'd seen a familiar head bent over the polished wood of the conference table, a head with black, razor-cut hair. Unlikely as the possibility seemed, it was even more unlikely she'd hallucinate Austin Travers.

"We're deposing Candy Miller," Lisa answered. "You know, that personal injury suit Margaret got stuck with."

Bailey vaguely remembered that Margaret Hodges had asked her a couple of questions concerning the legalities, but details of the case escaped her. "Who's counsel for the insurance company?"

"Mark Powell at Kearns, Worley, Lewis, Hooper and Day."

Austin's firm. "Is Mark Powell the man with dark hair sitting at this end of the table?" she asked, though she already knew what the answer would be.

"Oh, no. Mr. Powell's at the far end. He's short and blond. That other guy's some big gun from the Kearns branch in St. Louis. I don't know who he is, but Margaret had me serve coffee in our real cups. Mark Powell only rates paper cups."

"Thanks, Lisa." Bailey turned back to her message slips and continued down the hall, but she wasn't reading the names and phone numbers in front of her. All she could think about was him—in her territory. A brief, titillating fantasy flashed unbidden through her mind of the two of them going head to head in the courtroom.

She entered her office and slid into her soft gray chair behind the desk she'd chosen for its smooth walnut top, a top she hadn't seen since the day the desk arrived. Someday she'd have to peek under the mounds of paper just to be sure it was still there.

Sorting the new message slips in order of how soon, if ever, the call should be returned, she added them to an existing pile on her desk then scowled at the one on top. Larry Haynes would expect to hear from her ten minutes ago. She had nothing new to tell him on the lease she was negotiating for him, but the man wanted his attorneys to jump on command. He was rich, rude, and obnoxious. She moved his message to the middle of the pile, then, on second thought, to the bottom.

Her mind jumped back to the unresolved question of Austin's presence. Why would a big gun get involved in a simple personal injury lawsuit, one her firm had assigned to a second-year associate? Could the insurance company Kearns, Worley was representing possibly be that important? If so, why was Mark Powell, a fairly new associate, the official attorney of record? Was that only a smoke screen so they could slip something past her firm?

As she recalled, her firm's client, the woman being deposed, had the infamous, unprovable back injury. Therefore it was simply a matter of negotiating a settlement with the insurance company that would be less than the woman deserved if she was really injured and more than she deserved if she was faking.

"Where's that damned Gordon?" The voice charged into her office along with its owner.

"Good morning, Stafford. How are you?" Bailey replied.

"I'd be a hell of a lot better if people could get to work on time," he grumbled.

Bailey rose from her chair, aware that her two-inch heels put her at eye level with Stafford Morris and cut down on his intimidation factor, his strong point. A very bald head accentuated his large nose and stubborn chin, and he walked with his head thrust forward, as though daring anyone to get in his way. They rarely did.

"The next time it's my week to watch Gordon, I'll see to it he gets here early every morning," she assured him sarcastically.

"I want him in my office as soon as he gets in." Morris stalked to her door then turned back. "I hear you did all right at the race Saturday."

"Nothing spectacular." But she smiled in spite of herself, not only about the race but also because Morris didn't add the phrase for a woman to the end of his sentence. It had taken her a long time to achieve that omission.

Morris nodded, and Bailey thought his mouth curved upward fractionally just before he turned to leave her office.

"I saw an acquaintance of yours at the race," she called after him. "Austin Travers with Kearns, Worley."

Morris looked back at her, his face unreadable. "Is that right?"

"Good runner."

"Hmmph."

"Why's he involved in that personal injury case Margaret Hodges got stuck with?"

"What makes you think he is?"

"He's in the conference room taking Candy Miller's deposition."

Morris' eyes narrowed speculatively. He reached into his jacket pocket for a cigar. "Interesting."

Bailey watched as he charged off down the hall. Gordon was right. The man deserved to have Paula as his secretary. But did Paula deserve Stafford Morris?

That afternoon Bailey made it a point to visit Margaret's office. "How'd your deposition go this morning?" she asked, peering around the doorway into the small space. As a second-year associate, Margaret didn't get a window. Partners were entitled to more sunlight than associates.

"Okay, I guess." Margaret shrugged. Her round face projected youth and insecurity in spite of large, black framed glasses and pale hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"Heard the opposition brought in reinforcements," Bailey said, sliding into one of the client chairs in front of Margaret's desk.

"Yeah, that was kinda strange. Some heavy hitter from the branch office in St. Louis."

"I thought this case was pretty routine. Why did they have a heavy hitter here? What did he do in there?"

Margaret shuffled the papers on her desk. "Mostly he just watched everybody, like he could see right through us. But then sometimes he'd come up with a question we'd never thought of. He got Candy really flustered a couple of times."

Bailey leaned forward. "Do you think he's planning to take this thing to trial? Is the insurance company a major client for them? Is our client's credibility bad?"

"I don't know. Candy's okay. She's not real smart, but that doesn't have anything to do with her legal rights."

But in the hands of a slick lawyer, it might have a lot to do with the way she came across to a jury, Bailey reflected. And if Austin was as good in the courtroom as he was on the track—

"What's next on the agenda?" Bailey asked. Margaret checked her desk calendar. "Depositions for the insurance company and their investigator next Monday morning, nine o'clock."

"If you'd like me to go along for a little backup, I'd be happy to," Bailey offered, trying to sound nonchalant, as though she could care less what Margaret's answer was. Leaving Margaret to go up against Austin alone was like throwing a Christian to the lions. Bailey owed it to her firm to see that they were adequately represented, she assured herself virtuously.

Tiny tension lines on Margaret's face suddenly relaxed. "If you have time, that would be great."

Bailey stood to leave. "Fine. Get me the file as soon as you can, and the deposition the minute we receive it."

A heavy hitter, Bailey mused as she strode down the carpeted hallway. A big gun. A big egomaniac. That's what he was. Come to town and get involved in an insignificant case. Try to intimidate her firm's client, not to mention the attorney from her firm. Well, if he wanted intimidation, she'd teach him the meaning of the word.

"Bailey!" Gordon greeted, appearing beside her and breaking into her thoughts. "I think there's a law against looking that happy while you're still at work."

"Happy?" She tried to scowl away the smile, though she couldn't deny to herself that she was looking forward to another encounter with Austin Travers.

She turned into the kitchen, followed by Gordon, and selected a soda from the vending machine. "Why is Austin Travers involved in the Miller v. National Service Insurance case?" she asked.

"I didn't know he was." Gordon poured himself a cup of black, dense coffee and added several packets of sugar.

"I can't believe you're going to drink that."

"I'm not," Gordon assured her. "I'm going to eat it. Speaking of which, what are you doing for dinner tonight?" He stirred his nauseating concoction and actually took a sip.

"Nothing. Want to grab a bite?" Bailey tilted her head back for a long drink of her cool, effervescent cola.

"Sure. Austin's meeting me over at Reilly's at seven-thirty. Even you should be finished working by then, and you can ask Austin whatever it is you want to know about him."

Bailey almost choked on her drink. "Oh, no. I wouldn't intrude on your evening with your friend." Racing with him, meeting him in the courtroom—that was one thing, but no way did she want to be in a social setting with the man.

"You're my friend too," Gordon assured her, "so you'll be Austin's friend."

"Maybe another time."

"You're not feeling awkward about going out with two men, are you, Bailey? Hey, I always think of you as just one of the boys, you know." He winked and punched her shoulder in mock camaraderie. "See you tonight, buddy." He strolled away.

"Don't wait dinner on me," Bailey called after him. Still, as the day wore on she found herself questioning her decision. She'd gone out with Gordon and his friends before. She was never uncomfortable dealing with men on a friendship basis. Why did Austin make it different?

Irritably she thumped the eraser end of a pencil on her desktop. Why was Austin different?

She didn't still resent him for using her to get next to Paula since he didn't seem to be making any real efforts in that direction. And the days were long past when she'd been prone to losing the power of speech if a good-looking male smiled at her.

For that matter, Austin wasn't any better looking than Gordon. He did have a nicer body, more muscular. And his dark hair and burning eyes made a striking contrast. His features were more irregular than Gordon's, too, more interesting.

None of which explained why she was so reluctant to meet him and Gordon for dinner. She realized the tempo of her pencil tapping had increased measurably and forced herself to stop.

Very well, she decided, since there was no logical reason not to go to dinner with Gordon and Austin, she'd be there.

*~*~*

Austin leaned back in the dim, cool booth at Reilly's and smiled politely when Gordon told him Bailey would be joining them for dinner. But his feelings were ambivalent. True, the idea of seeing her again brought every nerve ending in his body to attention, but he'd wanted to relax for the evening. Bailey was definitely not a relaxing influence.

As he went into his second week at the Kansas City office, the problems and stress had mounted in direct proportion to his discovery of the situation. Everyone was perfectly happy with the status quo. Growth, expansion, updating, only meant change and uncertainty to them. In particular, the partners who were senior to him were making it difficult. Though he was attempting to carry out the majority decision, they acted as if he had no authority.

Spending time alone with Gordon would be restorative. Having Bailey around would be almost as stressful as trying to iron out the problems at work. Still, the idea also held a certain amount of pleasurable excitation, a large amount, in fact. He adapted to the confusing situation by ordering a second Scotch on the rocks.

"I just hope she gets here soon," he told Gordon. "I'm starving. Didn't have time for lunch."

Gordon shook his head. "You seem to have a problem keeping your priorities straight," he drawled, sipping lazily on his beer. "I always have time for lunch. It's the work I sometimes don't have time for."

"You haven't changed a bit in twenty years." Austin grinned in spite of himself.

"Haven't seen any reason to change. I like me this way. Maybe I don't have any ambition, but hey, that's okay. I have lots of money in my trust fund. It seems a shame to let it all go to waste."

"But you're wasting yourself. You're a talented attorney. Hell, just the fact that you manage to keep your job with that old Scrooge shows you must be doing something right. If you put forth even a little effort, you'd make partner." He accepted his drink from the waitress, took a quick sip, and set it on the table.

Propping one elbow on the back of the booth, Gordon smiled lazily. "Let's say I work harder and make partner. Then I'd have to work even harder, and for what? I don't need the money. So I'd work more, play less, put more money in the bank for my heirs at law to fight over when I'm dead, which would be a lot sooner under those circumstances. Nah, I don't think I want to be partner this week."

"Gordon, you're hopeless."

Gordon shrugged unrepentantly and had another drink of beer.

Austin wrapped his fingers around his glass but stopped before raising it to his lips as the atmosphere in the room seemed to change, to become charged with energy. Ridiculous.

But somehow he wasn't surprised to see Bailey approaching. For an instant their gazes met, but before he could read her expression, she lowered her eyes and slid into the booth next to Gordon.

"Just get off work?" Gordon asked.

"No, I went home to feed Samantha—my dog," she explained with a quick, neutral glance in Austin's direction. "Then Paula called while I was there."

"Hasn't changed her mind about coming to work here, has she?" Gordon inquired, a trace of concern in his voice.

"Oh, no," Bailey replied, and Austin was sure she'd missed the nuance. "In one more week she'll be an employee of Hoskins, Grier and Morris, God rest her soul."

"And a roommate of Bailey Russell, ditto," Gordon added.

"Hold your tongue or I'll tell Stafford where you go to nap."

After they placed their orders, Austin cast about for something to say to Bailey. Everything that came to mind, he discarded. The standard small talk wouldn't do. She'd just look at him with that clear green gaze and make some satirical comment that cut right through the nonsense.

"I did stay a little late at the office," she said abruptly, fixing him with that gaze he'd been thinking about. "An important case like Miller v. National Service Insurance justifies some overtime. Wouldn't you agree, Austin?"

He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment. Why did she have an interest in that case? She wasn't the assigned attorney. And why had she said it was important? It appeared to be relatively insignificant. He'd decided, after going through the deposition with Mark Powell today, that Mark was competent enough to handle it. The boy could use a few lessons on power techniques, but power hadn't seemed necessary in that instance. After Bailey's remark, though, he'd have to keep an eye on that deal.

"Makes sense to me," he finally said, deliberately being as evasive as possible. Not the answer she'd wanted, he could tell. Her eyes narrowed and her lips compressed slightly.

"Of course, one never knows the full magnitude of any situation until all the facts are out in the open."

What on earth was she talking about? "Volcanoes frequently erupt with very little warning." There. That should give her something to think about.

"And how was your day, Gordon?" Gordon interrupted. "Oh, the usual. I won a case in Supreme Court, wrote a lease that Larry Haynes liked on the first draft, and Stafford Morris told me I'm a great lawyer. Just your average Monday."

"Aren't you getting enough attention?" Bailey asked, wrapping a long, slim arm around his neck.

With a shock, the idea hit Austin that Bailey and Gordon might be lovers. Impossible! Gordon had never mentioned it, and besides, how could anyone so easy going be attracted to someone so pushy? Though she actually looked soft as she kissed Gordon's cheek, those enormous eyes half-closed, her full lips pursed.

Gordon smiled smugly. "Are you taking notes?" he asked. "How to get a beautiful woman's attention."

"Gordon," Bailey said, laughing and pushing him away, "if you weren't my friend, I wouldn't even like you." "

They weren't lovers, Austin decided with an inexplicable rush of relief.

*~*~*

Friday afternoon Bailey was working frantically on a project that had to go out with the Federal Express pickup at six when Gordon strolled into her office and flopped into a chair.

"What's up?" she asked, never lifting her eyes from the papers strewn across her desk, tactfully letting him know she didn't have time to talk.

"TGIF, Bailey, my friend. What's on your agenda for the weekend?"

"Not much. Paula's moving in tomorrow."

"Don't tell me you're taking Saturday off."

Bailey looked up briefly to smile. "What an imagination you have."

"So your friend's going to be stuck by herself in a strange city, unloading furniture and heavy boxes."

Bailey looked up again. Gordon had swung one leg over the arm of his chair and was helping himself to a mint from the jar on her desk.

"What is this, Gordon?" she asked. "Are you strapped for entertainment? Are all your girlfriends out of town for the weekend? Are you hinting for an invitation? Okay. Paula's storing her furniture, but why don't you go over and help her unload boxes, and when I get there, we'll all have pizza and beer and watch TV. Now go away and let me work."

Gordon rose with a sigh, returning the candy jar to her desk. "I'm a busy man, but no one could resist such a gracious invitation. I'll baby-sit Paula and Samantha until you make it home then keep you girls company for the rest of the evening."

Bailey smiled to herself as Gordon strolled away. His friendship meant a lot to her, and she was glad he and Paula seemed to get along so well. She'd try a little harder to get along with his friend Austin. The guy wasn't all bad. He was, after all, a good runner with great legs.

And wouldn't he be surprised when she showed up at that deposition on Monday. That whole situation was still a mystery to her. After going over the entire file and Candy Miller's deposition, she could see no reason for Austin's intrusion into the case, or for that matter, her own. Except something was going on, and she owed it to her firm to find out what.

But that was Monday. She pushed aside the pleasurable anticipation. Right now she had to finish the blasted contract.

*~*~*

When Bailey arrived home early Saturday afternoon, she noticed several cardboard boxes in the spare room but no bodies. Even Samantha was gone. However, stuck to the refrigerator door she found a small, yellow note with the single word Pool scrawled in Gordon's inimitable handwriting.

As she started to leave the room, she spotted a newspaper lying on the kitchen counter, folded over to the classifieds, with one ad circled in red.

I've kissed the requisite number of frogs, she read, so where is Prince Charming? PC is tall (even without the crown), intelligent, and easy on the eyes. His Cinderella is slim, five feet two when not wearing her glass slippers, dark hair and eyes. She'd love to go to the ball or even the local Burger King with the real PC or a reasonable facsimile thereof. No lawyers need apply.

Bailey wondered briefly what her chances were of finding and burning every copy of the paper before Paula got herself in trouble.

Slipping on an old swimsuit and half a bottle of sunscreen to avoid the freckles that had been the bane of her younger years, she headed for the pool to find her friends and her dog and see how much trouble they were in already.

As she rounded the building and approached the pool, she saw Gordon and Paula lying stretched out full length, almost visibly turning brown in the warm sun. Beside them, Samantha lay on her back in Austin Travers' lap, looking up at him with adoring brown eyes while he scratched her stomach.

For an instant she panicked. What was he doing there? Gordon could at least have given her a little warning, a chance to get prepared. Squaring her shoulders and wishing she had on a business suit rather than a swimsuit, she opened the gate and strode determinedly toward them.

Austin could feel himself unwinding as he soaked up the warm sun, enjoyed the undemanding companionship of Paula and Gordon, and stroked Samantha's soft, fuzzy stomach. Anxious to get out of the tiny apartment where he'd been staying, he'd agreed to come along with Gordon and help Paula move some boxes upstairs to Bailey's condo.

He stopped scratching Samantha's stomach just to make her raise one little paw toward his hand, silently urging him to keep moving. But this time she stopped, paw half-raised, rolled to her feet, and dashed out of his lap.

He made a futile grab for her leash then looked up to see Bailey gliding toward him. The faded black swimsuit she wore emphasized her translucent skin and hugged her streamlined curves. Smiling broadly, she stooped to catch the little dog in midair.

The sight brought out the usual mixed feelings he'd come to associate with Bailey. On the one hand, he wanted to touch her porcelain skin, see if it really was as smooth as it looked. On the other hand, he felt the need to stand up before her and prepare for battle.

Choosing a third option, he employed the smile that showed his molars. "Bailey! How nice you look."

Gordon and Paula opened their eyes and sat up. Bailey looked at everyone then turned her gaze back to him. "Why, thank you, Austin. How kind of you to say so."

"Bailey, have a beer," Gordon offered, opening an ice chest. "Anybody else ready for another?"

"I saw your ad," Bailey said to Paula, accepting the can and settling herself into their midst, folding her long legs under her sleek body.

"What do you think?" Paula asked. "I wrote it kind of fast so I could get it in this edition."

"Oh, it was well written. You always were very articulate."

"Quite creative, I thought," Gordon added. "I told her she ought to try for a career as a writer, but—" he shrugged and rolled his eyes "—you know how dedicated she is to being a legal secretary."

Paula pressed her cold beer against Gordon's back, eliciting a brief shriek. Everyone laughed, but a loud silence followed. Soft laps of water against the side of the pool and muted music from someone's radio sounded clearly through that silence.

Austin was trying to decide if perhaps he ought to leave since Bailey hadn't invited him, and it was, after all, her place, when she turned to him. Her hundred watt smile set every nerve in his body to jangling in excitement and apprehension.

"You will stay for pizza this evening, won't you? Or do you have plans?"

How tactful. Straight out of a textbook on manners.

He could match that. "Thank you," he said. "I'd love to stay."

"Good deal," Gordon approved. "You can carry the pizza, and Samantha'll probably let you rub her tummy some more."

Paula reached over to stroke the fuzzy head as Samantha looked up at the mention of her name. "She took an immediate liking to him," she informed Bailey. "Jumped into his arms the minute he walked through the gate."

Everyone smiled. Gordon and Paula smeared on more suntan oil and stretched out.

Austin reached over and scratched behind Samantha's ears, accidentally brushing Bailey's hand in the process. Her skin was smooth and firm and warm.

"We always had big dogs," he said, jerking back, pretending he hadn't noticed the contact.

"We?" she asked. If it had been any other woman, he'd have thought she was trying to find out if he was married. However, he felt sure Bailey was simply requesting information.

"My family," he told her. "Not me. I don't have time to care for an animal. Besides, my town house in St. Louis is no place for a Doberman."

Bailey nodded. "I feel guilty about leaving Samantha alone all day. Sometimes I take her to the office with me on Saturdays."

"You're kidding! What does Stafford Morris say about that?"

"He doesn't. The view of the office is a little obscured from his golf course at the country club."

Austin laughed delightedly at Bailey's sardonic humor. Her mouth quirked upward, and those incredible sea green eyes danced.

"How about a swim?" he asked, suddenly unable to sit still. "The sun's getting pretty hot."

"Paula, can you hold Samantha?" She turned the leash over to her friend, who accepted it without opening her eyes.

The pool was a decent size, as condo pools went. The space appeared more than adequate for its purpose since most of the residents were lying beside it. Only four other people were actually in the pool, including one tan lady floating lazily on a raft. Austin almost sighed as the cool water enveloped his overheated body. The day had turned into a scorcher.

Beside him Bailey slid completely under the water and came up, shaking her short hair. Not many women could still look good with no makeup and wet hair, Austin thought, falling into a leisurely backstroke, watching Bailey as she joined him.

At the end of the pool, they turned and launched into a crawl simultaneously, laughing at the coincidence. Bailey was a relatively strong swimmer, Austin thought. She didn't seem to have any problem keeping up with him. They hit the other end and flipped over.

Austin stretched out, reaching, feeling the rush of adrenaline from exercise. Through the churning water, he could see Bailey beside him, and they shared a smile. Austin increased his stroke. They hit the opposite end at the same time.

Of course, Bailey would be faster than most women. She had nothing on that sleek body to slow her down. Even her small, high breasts appeared aerodynamically designed.

Damn her, he thought, stroking as hard as he could, hitting the end of the pool and flipping back the other way, didn't she know he was physically stronger than she was? Hadn't he proven that at the run?

"Get out of the pool," he heard someone shout, and looked up to see Gordon and Paula on the edge, glaring down.

Were they crazy? He was pulling ahead of Bailey. He wasn't about to get out now.

They bounced off the edge and started another lap.

He'd pass her for sure this time. Again and again his arm lifted out of the cool water into the warm sun, back into the cool. His muscles stretched, lengthened, contracted. He couldn't see Bailey from the corner of his eye anymore. He'd passed her! He was winning!

A hand grabbed his as he neared the end of the pool again. "If you don't get out of the pool, I'll throw in your Cartier," Gordon promised, dangling the watch over the water with his other hand.

Austin stared uncomprehendingly at his friend's face, at Bailey pulling up beside him. Damn! She hadn't been very far behind, but with a few more laps...

Were Gordon and Paula conspiring to keep him from winning?

"Why?" he demanded angrily.

"Look around you," Paula invited. "You've succeeded in clearing the pool. You've embarrassed even Gordon and me, and that isn't easy to do."

Austin looked. The bronzed lady clutched her raft and glared. He and Bailey were the only ones in the water. Reluctantly he pulled himself up. Bailey followed suit, and they sat on the concrete rim, breathing hard, staring across the water. Paula and Gordon moved back to the ice chest, and he heard a beer can pop.

"Pretend you don't know them," Paula advised from the background.

I won, Austin wanted to shout. I was ahead when they stopped us. He couldn't say that. They hadn't been racing. "You're a good swimmer," he said, grudgingly.

"Thanks. So are you," she replied. Her response wasn't very hearty either.

"Don't feel bad because I was ahead of you. Men are inherently physically stronger than women." There! He'd managed to remind her of his victory by putting it on an impersonal basis. Just a simple statement of biological fact.

"That's true," she agreed sweetly, green eyes dancing. "It's Mother Nature's vain attempt at compensation for shorting men in the brains department."