Anything You Can Do(32)

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.