Anything You Can Do(46)

With a sigh she forced her attention back to the matter at hand. The rest of her happiness left as she acknowledged that the problem of making a decision was still unresolved, and Austin's involvement made it more complicated. Maybe she'd best let it ferment, let her subconscious work on it for a while. Get back to her work.

She flipped open the first file on her desk. A lease for Larry Haynes. She ought to dive into it and booby trap the document with all sorts of loopholes he'd never notice until it was too late.

Better shelve Larry Haynes until her mood changed.

The next folder opened to pictures of Candy Miller's wreck with—what was the little guy's name? Alvin Wilson. From the looks of their cars, this wasn't the first wreck for either of them. The background scenery was nice, though. Springcreek Park, as she recalled from the file. A great park to run, though she hadn't been there in a while. Lots of trees, path marked in half miles. A good place to blow out the cobwebs, push the body till it hurt, set the mind free to work out difficult decisions.

Not to mention the park was across town from Austin's apartment. No chance of running into him and having him complicate matters even further.

*~*~*

Bailey chugged along the path, cursing the late afternoon heat and humidity. Though most of the track was shaded from the sun by the thick forest of trees on both sides, those same trees kept out any stray breezes. Even her sweatband was unable to keep the perspiration out of her eyes, and there was no such thing as an upper lip band. This was not one of her better runs.

Add to that the fact that neither her mind nor her body seemed to be working quite right. Her legs felt strange and hard to control, which was a pretty good description of her mind. She'd give it another half mile, then turn around and go back. Best not to be in such a wooded area alone after dark, and the sun was getting pretty low.

A looseness on one foot caught her attention, and she looked to see her shoelace flying. It figured. Stooping beside the path, she yanked the lace tight and knotted it. Resting felt good, and she pondered turning around and going back.

A bicycle passed her as she straightened, and she glanced with idle curiosity at the rider. He looked vaguely familiar though it was hard to tell from the rear. Short, pudgy, and wearing a baseball cap. Not anyone on her "A" list.

Drawing in a deep breath, she resolved to continue to the next half-mile marker before she headed back. With everything else, she didn't need to feel like a quitter.

Rounding the bend, she saw the man on the bicycle slowing as he neared a picnic area. Another rider swung onto the path and joined him. Even from the rear, there could be no mistaking the pink spandex and blond hair. Candy Miller. That's why the man looked familiar. Alvin Wilson, the party whose insurance company they were suing.

Ain't love grand? Bailey thought wryly. Run into somebody, wreck her car, injure her back, and find the girl of your dreams.

The next half-mile marker should be just ahead, and she'd definitely turn around there. She pounded noisily across a wooden bridge, then noticed two abandoned bicycles beside the path. A high-pitched giggle from beneath the bridge elicited a soft groan and an immediate U-turn from Bailey.

This run had been going down the tube from the first step, and it had finally reached bottom. That was all she needed, to see the evidence of a couple of adults who ought to know better making out in the middle of a park. It called to mind all too vividly the activities of another adult couple who'd briefly acted like teenagers in a yard near a park.

Bailey's feet pounded wildly down the path, her speed increasing, her heart racing. Was there some sort of cosmic conspiracy to keep Austin, with his electric eyes and electric touch, in the front of her mind? She raced from the park, as though pursued by demons.





CHAPTER 9



The third time Austin drove by Bailey's condo, he finally saw her car in its assigned space under the covered parking. He smiled smugly as he parked and headed for her door, anxious to confront her face to face.

He had a legitimate reason to be at her door, a reason that went beyond his desire to see her and touch her again, an impersonal reason—to continue the discussion she'd started before the arrival of a mythical client when she'd hung up on him. He understood what she'd told him, her intimation that she was in control of his destiny, that they had another contest going. He could, after all, read between the lines when they were Bailey's lines.

He rang the doorbell and waited, rehearsing his script, preparing to win the day before she even knew what was going on. He could almost see her moving into position behind the door, her sleek, warm body disguised in one of those prim suits she always wore, her demeanor cool and regal. Two lawyers, dressed for battle.