Out Of Order

by Barbara Dunlop

  Shelby started to get up to straighten the magazine pile on the low, mirrored table, but her telephone rang again.

  “Turnball, Williams and Smith.”

  It was Allison. Her voice was a muted whisper. “Houston, we have a problem.”

  Shelby spun around and sat back down. “What? The pictures weren’t ready?”

  “No. I’ve got them. I’m at Greg’s.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “But Greg took his luggage to work. I’ve got nowhere to plant them.”

  “He didn’t bring it up here.”

  “I figure it’s in his car.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have his car keys?”

  “No.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I think we have to abort the plan.”

  Shelby glanced around the office. They couldn’t give up now. Not when they were this close to giving Greg a case of raging sexual frustration for the next four days.

  She spotted Greg’s open briefcase through the boardroom doorway. “No, we don’t. I can get to his briefcase.”

  “His briefcase?”

  “Yeah. I’ll plant the pictures in his briefcase. Meet me in the lobby.”

  “What if he opens it in a meeting?”

  “So what? He’s hardly likely to put them on the overhead.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “You bring the pictures. I’ll do the rest.” It was a good plan. It was a great plan. They couldn’t let the first little logistical complication shut them down.

  There was a moment of silence on Allison’s end of the phone. “You sure this is a good—”

  “It’s a great idea. Honey, you are going to drive him nuts.”

  “But what if he—”

  “He won’t. It’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Trust me. From what you described last night, it’s a slam dunk. Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes.”

  “Right. I’m on my way.”

  Shelby asked one of the partner’s secretaries to watch the reception area for her, then she grabbed an elevator to the lobby.

  Wearing sunglasses, a brimmed hat and a long coat, Allison slipped her a plain brown envelope. Shelby nearly laughed out loud at the espionage feel to the whole transaction.

  Within minutes, she was back in the office.

  It was a simple matter to meander into the boardroom, tuck the envelope under some file folders in the briefcase and slip back into her desk.

  She was pretty good at this secret-agent stuff.

  Her self-congratulations lasted all of two minutes.

  Then Dallas headed into the boardroom, closed the briefcase, turned the locks, picked it up and headed for the front door.

  Shelby shot out of her chair. “Where are you going?”

  Dallas stopped short, staring at her with an incredulous expression.

  “Where are you going with Greg’s briefcase?” she elaborated.

  Dallas’s eye narrowed and he looked down. “This is my briefcase.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  There was a moment of silence as his expression turned painstakingly patient. “Yes. Actually. It is.”

  Shelby’s stomach went into a free fall. “But…”

  She scrambled for a solution. Should she fess up and throw herself on his mercy? Surely he’d give the pictures back.

  But then Allison would be mortified. Allison would probably kill her. She’d sworn on pain of death to keep Allison’s secret.

  Dallas gestured to the door. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got an appointment.”

  For a brief second, she considered wrestling him to the ground. Too bad he was sure to win. Too bad she was sure to lose her job. She frantically searched her brain for an alternative.

  “I’ll be back in half an hour,” he said, moving again, putting his hand on the doorknob.

  “But, I thought…” She swallowed. She couldn’t explain her mistake and ask for the pictures back without betraying Allison.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “I put…” She whimpered under her breath.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she squeaked. “Nothing.”

  “Good.”

  The door opened, then closed, and Dallas disappeared.

  Shelby drew in a shuddering breath, forcing herself to mentally regroup. The pictures were pretty well buried in there. She had half an hour. She could still make it.

  Plan C.

  All she had to do was wait for Dallas to get back, get him out of his office, break into his briefcase and switch the pictures to Greg’s. If Plan C worked out, Allison would never even suspect there’d been a problem.

  4

  WHEN DALLAS RETURNED to the office, he kept his eyes front to avoid looking at Shelby. If he didn’t see her, he couldn’t get those buzzing, inappropriate stirrings caused by her bedroom-tousled hair and the skimpy outfits she insisted on wearing. You would think the woman could look around and take her cue from the rest of the administrative staff.

  But no. Today she was wearing a pair of low-cut blue pants with a button-up fly, a little nothing of a burgundy tank top printed with yellow and mauve flowers and inset with dark lace along the scooped neckline. The only thing he could say for it was she was definitely wearing a bra. But her heels were high, her legs were long, and the look in her eyes was always just a hair shy of a proposition.

  He couldn’t understand why the other partners didn’t notice.

  “Dallas,” she called, setting down the phone and rising from her chair.

  He ignored her, beelining for the relative safety of his office.

  “Dallas?” she tried again, and he could hear her quick footfalls on the hallway carpet.

  He dumped his briefcase on a chair near the door, and quickly positioned himself behind his desk, focusing his attention on a stack of papers.

  “Dallas.” She blew out a breath, and he gave in to the temptation to look up.

  She stopped in the doorway, propping one smooth, bare arm against the doorjamb, smiling brightly. “I was wondering if you needed anything.”

  “Nope.”

  “Coffee? Water?” She came right into the office.

  Dallas gritted his teeth against the hormonal rush. She was not the kind of woman he was attracted to. He went for class, sophistication and intelligence. She was raw sensuality and wild passion.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  She moved even closer.

  “Well, can I help you out here?” She straightened a couple of books on the far side of his desk.

  “Don’t—”

  “I know you’re busy, and things are getting a little untidy.”

  Dallas glanced around at his bare desk and his neatly organized office. “No, they’re—”

  “I could sort through your bookcase, make sure everything is in order. Maybe you could go and—”

  “Shelby.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t need any help.” And he didn’t want her here. He wanted her out there where he didn’t have to look at her, smell her sexy perfume, listen to her husky voice. The farther away the better.

  “Oh.” She took a step back.

  In fact, the reception area wasn’t nearly far enough.

  He cleared his throat. “Have you given any thought to what we talked about?”

  She looked puzzled. “We talked?”

  Okay, good point, he’d pretty much avoided her since she started. “Monday,” he elaborated. “About you getting another job. I mean, you don’t want to be wasting your talents, and I’m sure you’d enjoy something a bit more stimulat—interesting.”

  “I was thinking about family law,” she said.

  “Family law?” Dallas had been thinking about rock music or high fashion. He wasn’t sure anyone in the legal community was ready for Shelby.

  She gave him a teasing smile. “You know, the
interesting stuff. Who’s cheating on who, who’s in the will and who’s out. The skeletons in the closets.”

  “Interesting? I call that sordid.”

  She shrugged and he fixated a second too long on her smooth shoulders. “Hey, I’m human. I’m interested in what makes people tick.”

  “So you like the tawdry, seamy side?”

  “Hey, you like the snooty, boring side?”

  “I prefer to think of it as class,” he said.

  “I prefer to think of it as repressed.”

  “I’m not repressed.” The minute the words were out, he regretted the defensive tone. He didn’t have to defend his career choices to her or anyone else. He was on track to success—more than he could say for her.

  She didn’t answer, but her expression challenged his assertion. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with his receptionist.

  He came out from around the desk, trying to herd her toward the door. “Okay, fine. I’m repressed. Thanks for your offer, but I don’t need any—”

  “What about your briefcase?” She shot toward the chair next to the door and picked it up. “Why don’t I get it out of your way?”

  Perfect, she was just inches from the doorway. Only seconds from now she’d be back outside.

  “The briefcase is not in my way.”

  “It looks messy sitting on the chair,” she insisted.

  “It’s fine.” He reached forward, but she jerked it back out of his reach.

  What the hell was her problem?

  He took a firm step toward her and grasped the briefcase, his hand closing over hers, sending shock waves throughout his body.

  “Let go,” he insisted, stunned by the intensity of his reaction. He pulled the case toward him, fighting panic as his classy thoughts were replaced by tawdry ones.

  She didn’t let go but came with the briefcase, smack into the center of his chest. She tipped her chin, looking up at him with those wide eyes—jade color now, streaked with sapphire in the light of the office. They were mysterious, compelling, deeply sensual.

  They both froze, and every sense he had zeroed in on her. Her skin was smooth, her hair fragrant, her lips full and dark, absolutely made for kisses—long, hard, inappropriate kisses, followed by sweaty, messy love-making that broke boundaries and bent rules.

  His body hardened and his nerve endings snapped to attention.

  A voice sounded in the hallway and panic shot through him. Reflexes took over but instead of stepping away from her, his hand smacked the door, pushing it shut to shield them from the prying eyes of the office staff.

  The snap echoed through the room, followed by stunned and total silence.

  He waited for her to step away, to cuss him out or slap him for what he was thinking. But she didn’t move, just stared up at him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Her thick lashes fanned over her eyes, and her soft lips parted slightly.

  His mind screamed at him to step away from the gorgeous receptionist, but his body wanted to press closer. He sucked in gulps of oxygen, trying to stop the hand that was moving up her bare arm, brushing her satin skin with the backs of his knuckles. The contact was electric, and he felt it to his toes.

  When he got to her shoulder, he touched her hair, running a few wisps through his fingertips, just to see if it was as soft as it looked. It was.

  Somehow, his fingers got tangled in it, buried near the base of her skull. And then he was pulling her forward, dipping his head to meet her, inhaling her sweet breath.

  His lips touched hers and sensation exploded. The briefcase slipped from his hand, and he reached up to touch her other cheek, cradling her soft face between his palms. She tasted sinfully sweet, like black coffee with swirls of sweet cream.

  He opened his mouth, testing the seam of her lips with his tongue. A murmur sounded in the back of her throat, and she opened to accept him.

  His hands slipped down her rib cage, skimming the sides of her breasts, finding the small seam between her low-cut pants and her stretchy tank top. He grazed his fingers along her taut belly, hitting a small delicate ring at her navel.

  The sensation launched his hormones and he deepened the kiss, hauling her tight against him.

  An alarm jangled in the back of his brain, as the sounds on the other side of the door penetrated.

  He was in his office.

  He was kissing Shelby.

  He was breaking about a thousand ethical rules and at least a dozen laws.

  He forced himself to let go of her. Then he eased back to break the kiss, giving in to an urge to stroke the pad of his thumb over her moist lips.

  Then he stepped away, breathing hard. He didn’t have the slightest idea what to say to either regain his self-esteem or keep himself out of court.

  “You know what I’m talking about?” asked Shelby in a neutral tone that ignored what had just happened between them. “The interesting law-firm stuff. Like who’s bopping their secretary during work hours.”

  In a split second flash, Dallas saw his entire career ending in a sexual harassment scandal.

  Then he realized she was mocking him.

  Here he’d been sucker-punched by his careening passion and his own ethical weakness, and she was making a joke.

  “You need to change your shirt,” he said sharply.

  “My shirt?”

  “There’s a dress code here. No exposed navels.” Particularly not those with a winking gold ring that was sure to invade his dreams tonight. “And think a little more conservative, please.”

  Shelby glanced down at her exposed midriff, but Dallas didn’t dare.

  Her jaw tightened, and she took a sharp breath. “Right. Fine.” She put her hand on the doorknob, turning to leave.

  “Shelby?”

  “What?”

  “My briefcase.”

  SHELBY STOMPED her way through the main floor lobby of the office building, tossing her shopping bag into the trash can and buttoning up the yellow satin blouse she’d bought at the department store across the street. So much for the briefcase caper.

  She had no pictures.

  She had no briefcase.

  Dallas didn’t like her clothes.

  And she was not turned on by her boss. Uh-uh, no way, not going there ever again.

  She pressed the elevator button, and the doors slid open immediately. Greg stepped out.

  “Greg?”

  “Hey, Shelby.”

  She was out of time? How could she be out of time? “Where are you going?”

  “New York.”

  “So soon?”

  “My flight’s in two hours.”

  “But…Don’t you…”

  Greg cocked his head. “What?”

  Shelby couldn’t for the life of her come up with a way to make him stay.

  Short of rushing upstairs, snatching Dallas’s briefcase then chasing Greg to the airport, she didn’t know how she was going to get the pictures into his luggage.

  The odds of her making it out of the building before Dallas ran her down were not good. And the odds of making it to O’Hare before Greg checked his luggage were even worse. For a split second she considered fessing up to Greg. Maybe he’d help her retrieve the photos. At least they’d be out of Dallas’s hands.

  But they’d lose the element of surprise. And she would have failed Allison. There had to be another way.

  She offered Greg a weak smile. “Have a good time.”

  “Everything okay upstairs?” he asked, concern clouding his expression. “You look upset.”

  “It’s fine. It’s great. I love the job.”

  “Don’t let Dallas get you down.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t.”

  “I think, deep down, he likes you.”

  Deep down, Shelby figured Dallas wanted to sleep with her. And for some reason, the thought horrified him. Probably something to do with her pierced navel. Or maybe he simply didn’t consort with the employees.

  Actually
, she had to admire him for that.

  “It’s fine.” She broadened her smile for Greg’s benefit. “See you on Tuesday.”

  He gave her a wave as he headed for the exit.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Shelby closed her eyes and groaned out loud.

  Plan C had crashed and burned. She needed a Plan D.

  She headed into Frappino’s for some liquid inspiration. Liquor would have been better, but she ordered a large black coffee and found an empty corner table. She peeled off the lid and took a straight shot, letting the buzz and bustle of the coffee shop fade into the background.

  Should she tell Allison that Dallas had the pictures before or after she rescued them? After would be so much better, but she couldn’t put it off much longer without Allison getting suspicious. And she could hardly avoid answering the phone for the rest of the day.

  “You work on the eighth floor, don’t you?”

  Shelby glanced up to see a pleasant-looking man in his midthirties standing beside her table.

  “I’ve seen you in here before,” he continued. Then he looked around at the crowded coffee shop and gestured to the empty seat across from her. “Do you mind?”

  Shelby shook her head. “It’s all yours.”

  “Randy Calloway,” said the man, holding out his hand to shake.

  Shelby briefly took his hand. “Shelby Jacobs.”

  “I work at Ryan, Finch and Finch across the street.”

  “Really? I’m with Turnball, Williams and Smith.”

  Randy grinned. “On the eighth floor.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You a lawyer?”

  Shelby shook her head. “Receptionist.”

  There was a twinkle in his eye. “Glad to hear it. I don’t date lawyers.”

  Shelby raised her eyebrows. “Date?”

  He gave her a shrug and a mischievous grin. “Call me an optimist.”

  Shelby shook her head. She’d seen guys like this a hundred times before, but after being dumped by Neil and hearing Dallas’s criticism of her clothes, it felt good to have somebody try to flirt.

  “How long have you worked there?” he asked.

  “Just started this week.”

  “Got a boyfriend?”

  Shelby grinned knowingly. “No.”