Anything You Can Do

by Sally Berneathy

  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.