Out Of Order

by Barbara Dunlop

  “You were a cocktail waitress until two weeks ago?”

  “Right.”

  “Allison told Greg you were experienced.”

  “I am. He just never asked what the experience was in.”

  “I don’t believe this.”

  “You don’t want to know who Eamon Perth was at the Terra Suma with?”

  Dallas shook his head and careened around a corner. “None of my business.”

  Shelby reached for the handle above the door and hung on. “Now, me, I’d be curious.”

  “You already know who he was with.”

  “I meant if I was you.”

  Dallas pulled onto the street in front of his apartment building. “Well, I’m not like you. I don’t need to know the seamy side of people’s lives.”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re kind of boring?”

  He zipped into a parking spot and pulled the hand brake. “Anybody ever tell you you’re kind of nosy?”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re kind of sexy?”

  His eyes went wide and he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

  “Sorry,” she said. “That just kind of popped out.”

  “Well, pop it back in.”

  “Right.”

  He opened his door and she followed suit.

  “I have to call Allison,” she said as they crossed the sidewalk and Dallas hit the remote car door lock.

  “Forget it.”

  “If I don’t, she’s going to worry.” About more than Shelby’s whereabouts.

  “Should have thought of that before you started spying.”

  “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

  He inserted his key and opened the oversize glass door that led to a spacious lobby. “How do I know you’re not going to leak something to her?”

  “Oh, right. I forgot. We’re a spy ring. She got engaged to Greg two months ago in order to get me into the firm, so I could steal evidence on a case that none of you had even heard of back then. It was a simple plan. Though arranging my arrest, and knowing exactly when you’d show up at the Haines Street lockup to bail me out was a bit tricky. We’re amazed you fell for it.”

  “Quit being sarcastic.”

  “Quit being unreasonable.”

  “Fine. But you use the speaker phone this time.”

  “No.”

  He punched the elevator button. “What do you mean no? I’m calling the shots.”

  “Oh, you are not. I’m humoring you.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “You can listen to my end of the conversation. Not Allison’s.”

  They stepped into the elevator.

  Dallas fumed silently, which Shelby took as agreement.

  The floor number pinged and the doors slid open.

  He gestured for her to go first, expression relaxing for the first time in hours. “I can’t believe you were going to tell them the monkey joke.”

  “It’s funny.”

  “It’s disgusting.”

  “You should have heard the one Courtney told first.”

  He opened his apartment door. “I do not want to know this.”

  “Lighten up. A little curiosity is good for your health.”

  He closed the door behind him, hitting a couple of switches. An overhead light came on in the foyer, and gentle pot lights over the fireplace gave the living room a soft glow. “Make your call, and let’s get to bed.”

  Shelby shot him a playful smile. “You may want to rephrase that.”

  He shook his head and grimaced. “Make the call.”

  She headed for the telephone in the dimly lit living room, composing in her head. She couldn’t report to Allison she’d been successful yet. But success couldn’t be too long in coming. It was nearly midnight, and Dallas didn’t strike her as a wee hours party animal.

  She punched in Allison’s number. “Why don’t we have a brandy?” she asked Dallas.

  “You want more to drink?”

  The ring tone buzzed in her ear. “Yeah. Join me.” She could nurse her own. But the more he drank, the sooner he’d sleep.

  “Shelby?” came Allison’s breathless voice.

  “Yeah. It’s me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m with Dallas. Sorry I couldn’t call earlier.”

  “Did you get them?”

  Shelby glanced at Dallas’s suspicious scowl. Her bizarre joke about having cooked up a master spy scheme with Allison obviously hadn’t quelled his suspicions.

  “Not yet,” she said to Allison.

  “What do you mean, not yet?”

  “I mean, I haven’t had a chance.”

  “He’s going to open the briefcase. He’s going to open it and see the pictures.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “How can I not worry?”

  “I have an idea.”

  Dallas’s eyes narrowed.

  “Tell me your idea,” Allison demanded.

  “Uh, I can’t really talk right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Guess.”

  “He’s there?”

  “Right.”

  “Hang up,” said Dallas.

  She gave him an annoyed stare. “I gotta go.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Shelby—”

  Dallas reached forward and lifted the phone out of her hand, then pressed the end button.

  “I wish you hadn’t done that,” said Shelby.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” She headed for the bar. If he wasn’t going to pour the brandy, she was.

  He followed behind her, up close, his tone menacing. “I don’t know what you two are—”

  She turned to face him, holding out a snifter of brandy. “You’re paranoid.”

  He ignored the glass. “Paranoid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fact. You stole my briefcase.”

  She held his glass out further. “Borrowed.”

  He still ignored it. “Fact. You tried to break into my briefcase.”

  She wiggled her wrist, sloshing the amber liquid in the oversize glass. “Speculation.”

  “Fact. You have a relationship with Randy Calloway.”

  “One coffee. Will you take the damn drink.”

  He glared at the brandy, but took it from her hand. “I don’t think you understand exactly what is at stake for me on this.”

  She stared at him openly, putting every scrap of honesty she could muster into her expression. “Nothing I’ve done will have any impact on your case for Perth-Abercrombie.”

  “Problem is,” he drawled, taking a swallow of the brandy. “I can’t afford to believe that.”

  “Believe it.”

  He slowly shook his head. “Not a chance. You have thirty seconds to tell me exactly what’s going on here, or I’m calling Allan and Greg and we’re firing you tonight.”

  “You can’t call Greg.” Shelby wasn’t convinced that Plan D was going to fail. She could still FedEx the pictures in time to torture Greg for three days.

  “Twenty seconds.”

  “You don’t need to know this.”

  He moved toward the phone. “Ten.”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  He picked up the receiver. “Five.”

  “Dallas.”

  He pressed a button. “Two.”

  Shelby swore out loud.

  “Time’s up.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Fine. But you have to promise me something.”

  “You’re not in a position to bargain.”

  “Make me a promise, or make the damn phone call.”

  Dallas hesitated. Then he set down the phone and eased onto the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Start talking.”

  Shelby sank down into an oversize armchair, grateful for the brandy. “If I tell you what’s going on, you have to promise me, I mean swear to me, that you w
ill never, ever, on pain of death, let Allison know I told you. And you will absolutely, under no circumstances, look at what I tell you not to look at.”

  Dallas blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  She shook her head. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

  “What are you going to tell me not to look at?”

  “Uh-uh. Not until you promise.”

  His eyes narrowed. His lips pursed. He took a slow, silent drink of his brandy. “Okay.”

  “You agree?”

  He nodded. “I agree.”

  Shelby took a deep breath. Okay. Plan E. She’d tell Dallas what was going on. He’d hand over the pictures, keep the secret, and she’d hit an all-night courier on her way home.

  It could work.

  He swirled the brandy in the deep glass, his expression thoughtful, the dim light reflecting off the planes and angles of his face. His shoulders were broad beneath his expensive suit, and he carried himself with an assured air of self-confidence.

  For an aggravating man, he certainly was sexy.

  “Let’s hear it,” he prompted.

  Shelby steeled herself. “I need something out of your briefcase.”

  “I had figured out that part out already.”

  “It belongs to Allison.”

  That got an expression of surprise out of him. “How’d it get in my briefcase?”

  “I put it there.”

  “When?”

  “This afternoon. Greg was in the boardroom. So was your briefcase.” She shrugged. “I presumed…”

  “Wrongly.”

  “Wrongly.”

  “What is it?”

  She stared at him for a long moment. This was it. The point of no return. “Pictures of Allison.”

  He drew back, eyebrows arching. “You went through all this over pictures of Allison?”

  Shelby leaned slightly forward, gazing at him out of the tops of her eyes. “Pictures…” she said. “Of Allison…. That I secretly snuck into Greg’s briefcase…”

  “What? She’s having an affair?”

  “No! They were…” Shelby gave him her best sultry, come-hither look. “Pictures.”

  Dallas’s mouth dropped open a notch. “Pictures?”

  Shelby had to stifle a grin. “Of Allison.”

  “In my briefcase?”

  “I have been trying to steal them back from you for twelve hours.”

  Dallas set down his brandy glass on the end table with a snap and rocked to his feet. He left the room, returning quickly with his briefcase.

  When he undid the locks, Shelby breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. Plan E was going to work.

  He opened the lid.

  “Two files down,” she said.

  Dallas slipped out the manila envelope.

  He held it up to the light, chuckled and shook his head. “I never would have thought Allison had it in her.”

  “I talked her into it.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “You can not let on that you know. She’d be mortified.”

  He fanned the envelope back and forth, meeting Shelby’s eyes. “You went through all this to help a friend?”

  “I did get her into the mess.”

  He stared at her for a long minute, as though he’d never seen her before. Then his eyes softened and she felt the warmth of it shimmer through her body.

  “You surprise me, Shelby Jacobs,” he nearly whispered.

  She stood up and crossed the floor. “I surprise myself all the time.” She reached for the envelope.

  He jerked it back out of her reach and his eyes lit up with trouble.

  “Hey!” Shelby nearly overbalanced.

  “You must admit,” he mused. “This situation is rife with extraordinary possibilities.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a chance to get to know Allison in a way—”

  “I thought you said you weren’t interested in the seamy side of other people’s lives.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. You must be a bad influence.”

  She glared at him, trying to decide if he was joking or if she’d totally misjudged him. “We had a deal.”

  “Did you get it in writing?”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Next time, you might want to consult a lawyer.”

  “Hand them over.”

  “Turns out the item we spoke of earlier is more valuable than I thought.”

  “You’re not going to look at them.” She couldn’t have been that far wrong about him.

  “I’m not?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  “A sexy woman…wearing…” He lifted the loose flap on the envelope. “Let’s see.”

  She reached, but his arms were too long. “That’s not funny, Dallas.”

  “Who’s trying to be funny? I have in my possession sexy pictures of a beautiful woman. I don’t think I should give them up for nothing.”

  That threw Shelby. “You’re trying to bribe me?”

  “But if,” Dallas continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “somebody was to replace said sexy pictures with something of equivalent, uh, value, I might be talked into giving them up without looking at them.”

  Shelby stilled, staring into his eyes. There was no mistaking the dare he’d tossed out. Was he joking? Trying to get a rise out of her?

  “Dallas.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You don’t want to play this game.”

  He stared back levelly. “Don’t I?”

  “Hand over the pictures.”

  “Give me a pose.”

  Did she argue further? Call his bluff? Walk out and hope he had enough honor to leave the envelope closed?

  If she walked out, she wouldn’t be able to honestly tell Allison that she’d retrieved the pictures. And Allison would spend the rest of her life worrying. Shelby had gotten her friend mixed up in this, and it was up to her to get her out.

  Besides, she had more guts than Dallas. She gave him all of two minutes before he cried uncle.

  She took a few steps away from him, stretching her arms out across the painted mantel and tossing her hair back over her shoulders. She licked her lips, and zeroed in on his gaze.

  His eyes widened slightly, and an avalanche of desire rolled through her. “You mean, like this?” Her voice turned bedroom husky.

  He shifted in his seat. “You can do better than that.”

  She hiked her skirt up over one thigh, bending her knee, surprised by her hormonal reaction to the faux striptease. Her pulse sped up, and her mouth went dry. “This?”

  “I have a feeling Allison showed a little more skin.”

  Shelby smirked, taking a couple of steps forward. “Are we talking navel here?”

  Dallas was obviously fighting a grin. Who knew the man could be playful? “We’re definitely talking navel,” he said.

  Playful or not, she was still convinced he’d crack. Might as well speed things up. She reached around her back and slid down the zipper, snaking her arms free and letting the dress slither over her black bra to pool at her hips.

  “Better?” she asked, moving closer.

  “Getting there,” said Dallas, the raw interest in his eyes urging her onward. The envelope slipped out of his hand onto the couch.

  “You want more?” she asked.

  “You willing to give it?”

  She was pretty sure he’d cough up the pictures anytime, but she was curious to see how far he’d go with this.

  She gave her dress a final tug, and it slithered over her legs.

  His gazed fixed on her lacy bra and her black, high-cut lace panties. The lust in his eyes turned naked and completely uncensored.

  Shelby stepped out of the puddle of her dress and moved even closer, within touching distance. She glanced at his broad hands, itchy to have them caress her skin, remembering his touch, remembering his kiss, her nerves growing hot in anticipation. She’d never felt this sexy in her life.<
br />
  “More?” she breathed, praying he’d say yes.

  He didn’t answer.

  She leaned down and dipped her index finger into his brandy, then she slipped it into her mouth, savoring the heady sweet flavor.

  He watched her movements, mesmerized.

  Her lungs labored, trying to feed enough oxygen to her body. She forgot about the pictures, forgot about Allison, her job, the party…All she knew was that she was standing in front of the sexiest man on the planet, and she wanted him bad.

  She crouched to her knees, so they were face-to-face. “More?” she asked again.

  “Yeah,” he growled.

  She reached around to the clasp of her bra, knowing there’d be no turning back. A woman could flash her thigh and expect a man to walk away. But she didn’t bare her breasts unless she was serious.

  She clicked the clasp, then positioned one forearm across herself, using the other hand to slide her bra away.

  Dallas clenched his fists, his jaw was tight with control. “The pictures are yours,” he said.

  She didn’t move. “I know.”

  Slowly, obviously giving her ample time to stop him, Dallas reached forward. He touched her arm, gently drawing it away from her chest.

  She let it go easily, and he sucked in a breath as he stared at her bare breasts in the golden light.

  Then he switched his gaze to her face, and his hand moved behind her neck, cupping her scalp. He moved toward her, pulling her to him.

  Her body nearly convulsed with anticipation.

  Then their lips joined, and a brandy fire leaped between them.

  Dallas levered himself off the couch, kneeling in front of her. His arms went around her, pulling her tight. His suit jacket abraded her nipples, and his mouth heated her lips, her skin, the very core of her being.

  The tension of the evening fused them. The tension of the past week anchored them. She saw it clearly now, every argument, every frustration, every tense moment, had been foreplay. They needed a sexual catharsis to clear the air between them.

  Dallas must have recognized that, too.

  He pulled back, lifted a hand and smoothed her hair from her forehead, stared deeply into her eyes. “We’re going to do this?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Kind of ironic that this is Plan F.”

  “Plan F?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Later,” he agreed, kissing her again, strumming one thumb across her nipple, sending shock waves along her system.