Anything You Can Do (25 page)

Gordon shook his head. "No, I just don't buy it. You need to talk to her, give her a chance to explain."

Austin signaled for a fresh beer. Maybe this one would taste better.

He lifted it to his lips. It didn't. "Explain what?" he asked. "That she knocked my career in the head for the sake of winning, that she'll represent a client she knows is a fraud just so she doesn't have to admit defeat?"

Gordon laughed, an action Austin felt was totally inappropriate considering the seriousness of the situation. "Lighten up," Gordon said. "I seriously doubt that your career's ruined because you didn't get our firm. And I certainly don't think Bailey's so dumb or so spiteful as to base her career decisions on a chance to score a point in this endless contest you two have going." Gordon shifted on his stool to face the mirror behind the bar. "To tell you the truth," he continued, raising his beer in a salute to the reflections, "I'm glad it didn't go. I like things the way they are, and I sure don't want to have to work as hard as you do."

Austin scowled at the images in the mirror
, one radiating sunshine even in the dark bar, and the other—himself—adding to the gloom. Okay, he had to admit, maybe Gordon was right. Probably he was right. Okay, so his friend was definitely right. So why did he still feel lousy?

He tilted his glass from side to side, watching the bubbles float around, examining the thoughts floating around in his mind. "I guess maybe it isn't the merger that's bothering me
the most. That sort of lost its critical aspect when I found out the old grouch refused to hire me because of his own skewed perception of the ingredients for a successful firm, not because of my lack of qualifications. I guess the important issue here is Bailey's lack of morals in that asinine lawsuit."

Gordon nodded sl
owly. "Interesting," he said. "If this was just any lawyer we're talking about, you wouldn't be angry. You'd be excited about ripping their client to shreds, presenting your client with a real coup."

That was true, Austin had to admit. "But Bailey isn't just any lawyer. She's
—" He halted in midsentence, swallowed hard.
She's the woman I love
, he'd almost said. And even as he choked back the words, he knew they were true.

Good grief! What on earth
could he do now? Setting aside the more obvious problems like their constant competition, how could he love an unethical attorney? His career, his life, were built on the preservation of justice and equity. How could he love someone who apparently didn't know the meaning of those terms? True, he admired her courage and her determination to win, but not when it meant dishonesty, a breach of ethics.

"She's what?" Gordon asked impatiently.

"Huh?"

"Bailey. You said she isn't just any lawyer. So what is she?" The smug look on Gordon's face suggested his friend had a good idea of the gist of his unfinished sentence.

But Austin was having enough trouble facing the knowledge himself; he wasn't ready to admit it to Gordon just yet. "She's pushy," he said. "Pushy, irritating, arrogant." He hesitated again, at a temporary loss for adjectives.
Brilliant, exciting, sexy, and fun
were the only ones that came to mind.

"Yes?" Gordon prompted.

Austin sighed as images of Bailey danced through his head—Bailey's sweat-damp, exultant face after a run; Bailey expertly taking down the detective at the deposition; Bailey, sassy and sexy in that horrible wig at the bar; Bailey's ivory skin in the moonlight after they made love. Damn!

"She has the morals of a television evangelist," he growled, more to convince himself than Gordon.

Gordon shook his head. "You're wrong. I don't know what's going on, but I do know you're wrong. You've made a judgment based on circumstantial evidence."

Austin belted down half his beer in a sudden burst of anger, though he wasn't sure if the anger was d
irected at Bailey, Gordon, or himself. "After I left Stafford, I came right out and asked her about it, and all she did was order me out of her office. Slammed the door behind me. You don't consider that confirmation?"

Gordon laughed. "
Bailey slammed a door? No, I don't consider that confirmation. I consider that anger and pride—qualities both of you seem to have an excess of. See that pay phone over there? Go call her and give her a chance to tell her side of the story. Isn't that what the law's all about? Innocent until proven guilty?"

Austin flinched at the way Gordon contrived to use his own ethics against him, and for a moment he considered taking his friend's advice. Gordon seemed so positive, and Austin wanted to believe him, wanted to believe in Bailey's innocence.

"She'd only hang up on me," he concluded. "She's already done that once, not to mention ordering me to leave her office and slamming the door behind me. I'll be damned if I'll give her the chance to do any of it again."

"Good boy," Gordon drawled. "Win at all costs."

"Bailey, old buddy! Hey, save that scowl for the clients. I'm on your side."

At Gordon's teasing words, Bailey made a conscious effort to rearrange her expression into something pleasant, something that didn't accord with the storm crashing around inside her head. 

"You're certainly looking rested and complacent," she observed. "No more burning the eight o'clock oil? Are we back to our former decadent lifestyle?"

Gordon slouched into one of her chairs. "We should all do what we do best. Anyway,
Paula likes me as a semi-lawyer."

Bailey leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Are we working up to a confession here?"

"Maybe. Have you got something of equal value to trade?"

"Hunh?"

"My confession for yours."

Sitting upright in her chair, Bailey folded her hands.
"I guess we'll have to talk about the weather. My life is too dull to afford me any confessions."

Gordon laughed, unaffected by her aloof tone. Bailey clenched her hands tighter. Sometimes, she thought, there could be such a thing as too much intimacy.

"Not even if we were to talk about a certain deceitful client and a certain pushy attorney from an opposing firm?" Gordon asked.

I'm not mad at Gordon
, Bailey had to remind herself as her knuckles turned white.
This is my friend, and he means well
.

"Not even," she grated through clenched teeth and was pleased as well as dismayed to see Gordon flinch slightly. While she hadn't meant to be rude to him, at least he realized she was serious. Surely he'd drop the subject now.

With a sigh he stood, closed the door, then returned to his seat. "I don't know what's going on, but I do know that my two best buddies are unhappy. To put it in language you can understand, don't you think it's time to schedule a conference and work out a settlement agreement?'"

"If you weren't my friend, I'd tell you to mind your own business. Since you are my friend, I'll just say there are times when friends respect each other's privacy. " 

Gordon rose from the chair. "You got it," he said, and started for the door.

"Wait a minute," Bailey called. "We've dispensed with my confession, but what about yours? You were going to tell me about
Paula."

He paused with one hand on the door. "I could tell you friends respect each other's privacy."

Bailey slumped backward in her chair. "Oh, Gordon, I'm sorry. Please come back and sit down. I didn't mean to take out my anger on you."

"Are we going to talk about Austin now?" Gordon asked as he resumed his seat.

Bailey ignored his question. She didn't want to talk about or even think about Austin, though she wasn't having much success at the latter. "Did you know Paula isn't coming to the year-end party?" she asked.

Gordon crossed his hands over his chest and looked smug. "Yes, she is."

"No, she's not. Secretaries aren't allowed. And Paula's a secretary, making her, it appears, something less than a person according to the existing code."

"Not to worry. She's coming as my date, my fiancee."

Bailey's jaw dropped, came back up to form a smile, then a frown. "When did this happen? Paula hasn't mentioned it. As of last night, she wasn't coming, and she certainly didn't say anything about marriage."

"I just figured it all out myself. I haven't told her yet. "

"Don't you think it would be a good idea if you let her in on your plans?"

"I will at dinner on Saturday. Flowers, champagne, then a small black box. Maybe I'll even get down on my knees."

Bailey circled around her desk to hug him. "You really have turned into Prince Charming since Paula showed up," she teased, settling into the chair next to his. She could have sworn he was blushing, though it was hard to tell beneath his tan.

He shrugged. "But on the practical side, I have to find out what size ring she wears. Any suggestions?"

"Sure. I can find out for you."

"I thought you might. I also thought you might go with me to pick out something she'd like."

"I'd love to. I'll even take off work on time."

"The ultimate sacrifice!" Gordon beamed as he stood to leave. "I'll hold you to it. My house at six tonight. "

After Gordon left, Bailey sat staring out the window at the parking lot and office building next door, not really seeing either. Her lips curved up in a half smile.

She couldn't think of anything that would please her more than the marriage of her two best friends. If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own problems, she'd have seen it coming. In spite of
Paula's thorny shell, it was obvious she cared for Gordon. The fact that she continued to see him in spite of his occupation spoke volumes.

As for Gordon, in all the years they'd been friends, he'd never acted this way. Certainly there had been no lavender teddy bears or blushes!

Would anybody ever love her that way?

Bailey scowled at the last maverick thought and ordered it from her mind, but not before a recollection of the look of loathing on Austin's face as he left her office yesterday stabbed through her.

I'm happy. I'm happy for my friends
, she told herself in an attempt to drive away the hollow, painful feeling that had suddenly returned.

This will at least solve the problems of
Paula's going to firm functions and of her low salary
, Bailey reflected, diverting her thoughts to the positive side.

No, on closer examination, that wouldn't do. There was still the principle of the thing.

*~*~*

Somewhere around ten o'clock that morning Austin lost count of how many times he had picked up the phone with the intention of calling Bailey then put it back down. By noon he estimated that the number e
xceeded a hundred.

Never had his emotions bounced around so wildly.

After the initial shock had worn off, he'd begun to search for some explanation for Bailey's behavior. And against all the evidence he'd come to believe, as Gordon did, that there must be some explanation—at least, he desperately hoped there was.

When and how had this irritating woman gained so much importance in his life?

He gulped down a dry sandwich and tried to return to his work. No one at the firm had been particularly upset or even surprised that the merger had failed. Some of the older partners gave him unsolicited but probably good advice on selecting a more likely firm next time.

Though he'd never admit it to anyone else, Austin acknowledged to himself that he'd pushed for the Hoskins, Grier firm as much from emotion as from factual data. His judgment had been influenced by his desire to change an old failure, an unaccustomed failure, to a success. Then, even when Morris' revelation had blunted the edges of the rejection, he'd pushed ahead with his plan because of Bailey. She became the one he wanted to conquer.

So how could he condemn Bailey for doing the same thing?

Except he hadn't done anything unethical in his effort to win, and she had
—hadn't she?

He picked up the phone and, before he could change his mind, punched out her number.

Just hearing her voice identifying herself sent a rush of adrenaline through his body.

"Bailey," he began, talking fast before she could hang up on him, "I'm sorry I got upset about the merger. You had every right to vote the way you wanted. And if you'll just tell me why you're still representing Candy Miller, I'll try to understand."

She didn't hang up. To his surprise, her voice was calm, sweet even. "Understand? You think you can understand?"

"I think I can. Just try me." This was too easy
.

"Blow it out your ear. Can you understand that?"

She hung up.

An hour later a bomb came in the afternoon mail, a bomb in the form of a copy of the pleading he'd seen on Stafford Morris' desk. The smear of cigar ashes across the top had photocopied perfectly, identifying it beyond any reasonable doubt. He read it slowly, carefully, jubilantly. Hoskins, Grier and Morris was asking to be released as attorney of record for Candy Morris due to "pertinent facts of which said firm was not aware at the time of original filing."