Anything You Can Do(18)
The movements of Austin's lips as he spoke seemed to fill Bailey's field of vision and absorb her attention to such an extent, she had to concentrate to hear his words. She realized with a start they had both gradually risen from their chairs, and his face was only inches from hers. Her heart pounded, her breathing came shallow and rapid.
His lips had stopped moving. It was her turn to speak. She forced her gaze from his lips to his eyes. Bad move. Electrical currents leaped and sparked in those eyes, holding her as surely as if she'd grabbed a live wire.
"Poor eyesight in a detective is another valid reason for having the man disqualified," she managed to say. "Are you wearing contact lenses?" Oh, jeez! Why had she said that?
"What? What does that have to do with anything? My vision isn't in question."
"No, just your judgment." But the fight had gone out of her. Suddenly very aware of Austin's warm breath on her face, Bailey fell back into her chair.
He sank back too, apparently a little confused, as well he might be. She couldn't believe she'd asked that last stupid question. Fortunately, he'd thought she was referring to his vision when she'd actually been questioning the vivid color of his eyes. She really had to keep vagrant thoughts like that out of her head or risk losing her edge.
"Where's Gordon?" Austin suddenly asked, and Bailey noticed for the first time that the chair Gordon had occupied was empty.
"Maybe he finished early," she suggested guiltily.
"His bowl and glass are gone," Austin observed.
A quick scan of the small room revealed Gordon sitting a couple of tables away. Upon being discovered, he smiled and waved. Bailey motioned for him to return, and he sauntered over.
"Is it safe?" he asked, resuming his seat.
"Gordon, how can you possibly expect to be a successful lawyer when you can't stand a little controversy?" she asked him.
"Simple, my dear. I don't. In years to come, I'll probably set a record as the oldest associate at Hoskins, Grier, as well as the lawyer with the fewest ulcers."
Bailey shook her head fondly. "You're hopeless."
"Unless, of course," Gordon continued, "management should change at the old place and someone come in with streamlined, efficient ideas."
"Then what would you do?" Austin asked, sounding suddenly solemn.
"I don't know. Travel, maybe. Write a book. Paint."
"Not likely since the terms of your trust fund require you to practice law." Austin's gaze never left Gordon's face, and Bailey wondered if he knew something she didn't.
"You're such a stickler for facts! Okay, I'd open my own firm and hire you two enthusiasts to carry the work load while I play." He rattled the ice in his plastic tumbler, tossed a piece into his mouth, and crunched. "Or maybe I'll discover the ever elusive reason for working and then become a better lawyer than you two put together. That is to say, a more successful lawyer, not a more aggressive one, since that would not only be undesirable but impossible."
What a strange thing for him to say, Bailey thought. Why would he call her aggressive?
CHAPTER 4
As Austin walked back to his office after lunch, he found that a smile kept sneaking onto his face for no reason. He hadn't won the argument with Bailey, though he hadn't lost either. Still, he should be upset because she had rejected the settlement offer. In all honesty, though, he had to admit he'd known she would. She was tough, a worthy adversary. Battling with her certainly got his adrenaline pumping, not to mention the effect she had on his hormones.
Inside the building, he punched the button to call the elevator, and his smile slowly dwindled. He had to meet with Daniel Lewis, third in overall seniority in the firm and managing partner of the Kansas City branch for fifteen years, and that wouldn't be nearly as much fun as sparring with Bailey.
A few minutes later Austin entered the corner office and faced the older man. Even seated behind the desk, Lewis was obviously tall. Of course, some of that was probably an optical illusion created by his gauntness and long, drooping facial features. He reminded Austin of a skinny basset hound, but his tenacity was that of a bulldog.
"Have you started negotiations with Stafford Morris yet?" Austin asked without preamble, taking a seat without invitation. He knew Lewis resented this intrusion into what he considered his territory.
"I've talked to Stafford."