Anything You Can Do(55)
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Austin remembered this was all an act and had some sort of purpose, but he couldn't remember what, nor did he care. All he cared about was Bailey—Bailey's sleek body that fit so nicely against his, her faint, spicy scent, her ragged breathing that told him she wanted him too. He needed to be a part of her again, to be united completely, to race together to the ultimate peak the way they had that night in Gordon's yard.
He scanned the room desperately. The jukebox was too small and close to the wall for the two of them to hide behind.
"Bailey, sweetheart," he groaned into her ear, his hands caressing her rounded buttocks, "let's go to my apartment."
She sighed and snuggled closer, and he heard himself moan.
Then she shoved him away, her eyes spitting green fire. "You knew!"
"What? What's the matter?" Austin struggled to clear the fog from his senses and fathom what was happening.
"You called me 'Bailey,' moron. I never told you my name. You knew all along, you scheming, conniving creep! You come in here in that absurd disguise and—and come on to me, and you knew it was me!" She strode angrily toward the door.
Austin followed her outside, then grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. "Of course I knew it was you. Do you think I'd want to make love with some bimbo from a bar? You, on the other hand, seemed awfully willing to carry on with a man you'd never met!"
Bailey jerked her arm free and glared at him, her eyes deep and dangerous. "Cretin. I hate to destroy your illusions, but I recognized you the second you walked in the bar. And let's be completely clear about one thing. I wasn't carrying on with you. I was just—"
"What?" he asked, enjoying her sudden discomfort. "You were just what?" He grasped both her arms in case she decided to punch him, and for a brief instant, she seemed to relax. He leaned toward her, his lips parting automatically.
But she jerked free of his hold and whirled away from him. He watched her run across the parking lot toward her car, stumbling in the heels, but nevertheless presenting a most intriguing spectacle in her leather skirt.
As she drove away, he leaned against somebody's car, pulled off the hat and glasses, and considered what Bailey had just said. Setting aside the insults, she had known who he was and had flirted with him outrageously, had made it very obvious that she wanted him. Maybe she'd thought herself disguised, but her emotions had been unmasked and open. Twirling the glasses, he smiled into the night.
"Hey, aren't you that lawyer?"
Austin looked up to see Candy Miller approaching wearing a spandex miniskirt. Everyone but Bailey, he thought, should be prohibited from wearing clothes like that.
"Yes," he answered Candy. "I'm a lawyer." Then, as he came back to earth and reality, he ground his teeth.
"See you inside, honey!" she called, opening the noisy door.
"Damn!" he cursed, throwing his hat to the ground. "Damn, damn, damn!" Bailey had done it again! There was no point in following Candy into the bar if she knew who he was.
He kicked the hat all the way back to his car.
*~*~*
Bailey slammed the front door behind her, threw the wig onto the dining room table, kicked her shoes across the room, turned, and kicked the wall. Samantha scuttled into the room, then tucked her tail and started to scuttle away again until Bailey held out her arms.
''I'm going to kill him," she swore, cuddling the little dog against her face. "I will kill that man in front of a dozen witnesses, and no jury in the world will convict me."
"What are you raving about?"
Bailey whirled around to see Paula standing in her bedroom doorway, wearing a nightgown and yawning.
"What are you doing home?" Bailey asked, then blushed as the implications of the situation dawned on her. "Oh! I didn't realize—I thought—I'm just going to bed. Don't mind me." She grabbed the wig off the table and began scouting around for the shoes.
"The reason I'm here is because I got stood up. Now, what are you looking for and why are you acting so weird?" Paula asked, coming over to join the search.
Bailey straightened. "Stood up? You mean Gordon isn't—?" She waved a hand in the general direction of Paula's bedroom.
Paula flopped onto the sofa. "No, he isn't. I neither know nor care where Gordon is. And judging from your rantings, I'd guess your evening wasn't much better than mine."