Anything You Can Do - By Sally Berneathy Page 0,54

be careful now, darlin'. Your boyfriend come in and catch you—we don't need no more fights in here."

"I think this is a business acquaintance."

Mike winked suggestively. "You never did say what kind of business you're in, sweetheart."

She was halfway around the bar before she realized what Mike was suggesting.

"Hi, cowboy," she said to Austin, trying to keep her voice a husky whisper.

Austin almost fell off the barstool. What, in the name of all that was sacred, was Bailey doing in this bar, dressed like a hooker?

Probably the same thing you're doing, he thought, answering his own question.

"Hi, uh, sugar." Knowing his voice was the only way she could possibly recognize him, he pitched it a few octaves lower and added a drawl.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, sliding onto the stool next to him.

"I'd be plumb delighted, little lady. I'll even buy you another drink." Austin smiled as he signaled the bartender.

What a stroke of luck! If he worked it right, she'd waste her entire evening prying bogus information out of him, then when she left, he'd get down to business and find out just what she was so interested in.

She returned his smile as she accepted the drink. "I believe you're about the purtiest little filly I've ever seen in here," he said, playing the role. And it was the truth in spite of the makeup and fright wig.

She tilted her head sideways and peered at him coyly.

"I'll bet you've seen a lot of 'fillies' to compare me with." Her voice, always pleasantly low in pitch, was husky, overtly sexy.

Where had she come up with such a corny act? She'd obviously been watching too many movies. Well, he could play that game, too. He reached over and took her hand, pretending to examine the gaudy ring she wore. Without a word, he turned her hand over and stroked the palm, raising his eyes to hers.

She met his gaze boldly and held it while stirring her drink with her index finger, then placed the finger in her mouth and slowly sucked off the orange juice and vodka. The surf began to pound in Austin's ears. He peered closely at the woman, suddenly uncertain it really was Bailey. She couldn't possibly be acting in such a seductive manner, even with the movies for guidance.

As he ran his finger down her wrist, Austin noticed that her pulse was racing. Or maybe it was his own pulse throbbing all the way to the ends of his fingers.

He turned on his barstool to face her. She moved with him, placing her long, bare legs between his. They certainly looked like Bailey's legs. They affected him the way Bailey's legs affected him.

"That surely is a nice little skirt," he told her, molding his hands to her hips. Soft leather covering firm flesh. He squirmed on the barstool. The snug jeans were becoming painfully tight.

"I borrowed it from my roommate," she replied, running her hands over his hands, over the skirt, down her smooth thighs. "Do you think it's too short?"

"I wouldn't mind if it was a few inches shorter or—" he drew a finger across her bare midriff— "a whole lot lower."

She retrieved her drink, sipped, then slowly licked her lips.

The jukebox kicked into a country song, and Austin's eyes narrowed. This was his chance to find out if she'd lied to him that evening at Reilly's when she'd told him she couldn't dance.

With an effort of will, he withdrew his hands from her hips.

"Why don't we do a little boot-scooting, darlin'?" he asked casually.

She reached over to trail her fingers down his neck, then began toying with the top snap on his shirt. "I'm afraid that's not one of the accomplishments in my repertoire," she purred, and undid the snap. "But maybe you could teach me."

The dance floor was about the size of a first-year associate's office, but it didn't matter. Bailey had told the truth about her dancing abilities. She fell all over herself and him, too. Laughing hysterically, they stopped after only a few steps, and with a smoldering look, Austin pulled her tight against him and began to dance in place. She managed to follow that action nicely, swaying her leather-covered hips against his.

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,