Out of Order

2

DALLAS SLAMMED THE DOOR behind her and strode around to the driver’s side, while Shelby swore she’d never complain about taxis again. It was so much nicer in here than in the police car—a cushioned seat, handles on the inside of the doors, a window that opened, and no lurking aroma of vomit, sweat or urine.

She glanced at her watch, wishing she’d thought about her purse on the way out of the Game-O-Rama. Who knew when she’d get it back? Not that she could have managed to grab her purse with the cuffs on. And not that the young cop was likely to have helped her.

The opposite door opened and Dallas slid inside—six feet two, gray eyes, short, dark hair and a set to his jawline that said he’d rather be cleaning his oven than escorting her home.

Had she thanked him? Should she thank him? It wasn’t like his help had come cheap. And she was already planning to dip into her meager savings to pay half of Allison’s rent at the end of the month.

She guessed she could kiss that new pair of Bjorn shoes in Holstead’s window goodbye. Along with the matching leather purse. It was a great sale, too.

She sighed inwardly. “How much do I owe you?”

“Forget it,” said Dallas, slamming his own door.

“What do you mean, forget it? That was ten minutes’ work. I figure it’s fifty bucks, easy.”

He turned and stared at her from beneath slanted brows. She got the feeling his clients didn’t usually try to press money on him.

“What’s your address?” he asked.

Shelby glanced at her watch again. Five-fifteen. Allison would have left for Balley’s by now, and Shelby’s apartment key was in her purse with the rest of her worldly goods. Too bad Flower-Fresh closed at five. Or was that five-thirty?

She leaned forward to talk to the driver through the open, Plexiglas barrier between the seats. “Can you take me to Black and Wheeler?”

“Allison lives on Rupert,” said Dallas.

“Flower-Fresh is on the corner,” she explained to the cabbie. “I need to pick something up.”

Dallas sat back in his seat. “You’re picking up your dry cleaning?”

“I sure hope so.”

The cab lurched forward.

“Let me get this straight,” said Dallas. “You just got arrested, narrowly avoided a stay in the lockup, you have no purse, no money. I’m assuming you’ve lost your job, and the first thing you need to do is pick up your dry cleaning?”

Shelby didn’t get the connection. She blinked at him. “Yeah.” She knew her credit card number. Hopefully that would be enough to spring the dress.

His forehead furrowed, he stared at her as if she was a bug under a microscope.

“I’m meeting Allison at Balley’s,” Shelby elaborated, gesturing to her wrinkled skirt and dusty tank top. “It’s not like I can show up like this.”

Dallas was silent for a full minute. “Right.”

“You mind waiting?” she asked. “I could walk to Balley’s from Flower-Fresh, but it’s nearly a mile.”

“Of course I’ll wait.”

Shelby smiled. “Thanks. And thanks for getting me out of jail.”

“You weren’t in jail.”

“Don’t you mean ‘you’re welcome’?”

He didn’t smile at her joke. “Of course.”

“I can pay you for your time,” she felt compelled to offer. She didn’t want him to think she was a charity case. Even if she nearly was.

His lips pursed as though he’d just sucked a lime. “You’re Greg’s fiancée’s roommate—”

She grinned irreverently. “Which means we’re practically cousins?”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought he might have growled at that.

“Flower-Fresh on your right,” said the cabbie.

Shelby peered hopefully out the window, but she was disappointed with what she saw. The sign was turned off and the front window was dark. But wait, somebody was on the sidewalk locking the front door. If she hurried…

She ripped off her seat belt and flung open her door before the cab had a chance to roll to a stop.

“Christ,” Dallas bit out, reaching for her.

But she was quick enough to elude his hand.

She dashed between two parked cars and up onto the curb. “I need my dress,” she called to the short, gray-haired woman with a set of keys in her hand.

“We’re closed,” said the woman, adjusting a plastic rain hat as she turned to walk away.

“You don’t understand,” said Shelby, following. “I need my dress.”

The woman quickened her clicking steps on the wet concrete. “Come back tomorrow.”

“But—”

“We’re closed.”

Shelby grasped the woman’s arm in an effort to force her to listen.

The woman spun. She tilted her chin, eyes turning to black beads, voice going snappish. “Do I have to call the cops?”

Dallas’s deep voice sounded behind Shelby. “I’d consider it a personal favor.”

The woman looked up. Her eyes widened and her lined face instantly softened.

Dallas reached past Shelby and handed the woman a folded bill. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

A tense half smile formed on the woman’s face. She whisked the money from Dallas’s hand. “Why not?”

“You trying to get arrested again?” Dallas muttered to Shelby as they followed the woman to the door.

Shelby didn’t answer, figuring it was a rhetorical question.

The woman’s large key ring jangled as she worked her way through the three dead bolts. She turned to Shelby and held out her hand. “Ticket, please.”

“I uh, lost my purse,” said Shelby.

The woman glared at her in exasperation. “You’re not gettin’ nothing without a ticket.”

“It’s an emerald dress.” Shelby gestured to her neck and shoulders. “Scooped neckline, cap sleeves. I’ll recognize it when I see it.”

“No ticket. No dress.” The woman turned the key back in the top lock.

Dallas sighed hard next to Shelby. He handed the woman another bill. “Emerald,” he said. “Scooped neckline. And she’ll recognize it when she sees it.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Shelby whispered to Dallas as the woman slipped through the door and shut it firmly in their faces.

“Forget it,” said Dallas. “Greg can—”

“No. I’ll take care of—”

“I was going to say Greg can be my errand boy for the next week or so.”

Shelby glanced up at Dallas’s poker face. A sense of humor? It was hard to tell. Just in case, she responded in a lighthearted tone. “Or I could be your errand boy.”

The expression in his eyes suddenly shifted. It went from cold to hot in half a heartbeat, and her nervous system reacted with a flutter. Holy cow. Apparently serious, cynical, arrogant lawyers were good for more than one thing.

The door behind her clattered open, and the dry cleaner shoved a film-covered dress into her hands.

“That’s it!” Shelby cried. Yes. Finally, something was going right today.

The woman harrumphed and turned to relock the door.

Dallas lifted the dress from Shelby’s hands. “Come on. Let’s go before the taxi takes off.”

DALLAS WATCHED Shelby’s back as she dashed across the packed, brightly lit parking lot of Balley’s. There was a lineup at the door and no guarantee that Allison was even inside. If she wasn’t, space cadet Shelby was stuck in a nightclub parking lot with nothing but a change of clothes to her name.

Not that the woman was Dallas’s responsibility. He’d already gone way above and beyond the call of duty. Not even Greg could complain he hadn’t.

Dallas had a pile of work waiting at the office and a dinner reservation at Sebastian’s for eight o’clock. Sebastian’s was wildly popular, and he’d had the reservation for two weeks. He needed to scope out the place before he took his soon-to-be most important clients there next week.

He had things to do, places to go. If Shelby Jacobs wanted to line up outside Balley’s on the off chance that Allison was inside, that was her choice. She was a grown woman, perfectly capable of asking for help, even using the telephone if it all went sideways.

He found himself focusing on her long, sexy legs. Hell, any one of the hundred or so guys inside would probably give his eye teeth for the chance to drive her home.

Dallas paused.

Dammit. There went the Williams do-gooder gene again.

He reached into his pocket to grab some money, then stuffed it into the taxi driver’s hand.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he hauled himself out of the car, shrugging back into the suit jacket Shelby had abandoned on the seat between them.

He adjusted his collar and straightened his tie. Rain began to sprinkle down as he lengthened his strides toward the nightclub lineup. He eased in beside Shelby, feeling the base beat that throbbed right through the wall of the building.

She looked up at him quizzically. “What are you doing here?”

Dallas lifted the dress out of her hand as he met the gaze of the man in front of her. The man hesitated, then looked away. Too bad, buddy. Just not your night.

Dallas leaned over and spoke in a low tone. “I wanted to make sure you found Allison.”

Shelby pulled back and grinned, her changeable eyes sparkling lime-green in the streetlights. “What? You think I need a baby-sitter?”

Dallas could feel the interested stare of the man in front of them. The rain was increasing and the lineup wasn’t moving. What the hell was he doing here anyway?

Shelby was hardly a babe in the woods. For all he knew, she really was a petty criminal. He couldn’t exactly picture her selling a bazooka. But pirated software? Maybe a con artist? Hell, she had him eating out of the palm of her hand.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a bouncer moving the length of the lineup. Once again, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bill. A big one this time.

He slipped it into the man’s palm. “Can you get us inside?”

The burly man, glanced down into his palm. “Follow me.”

Dallas grabbed Shelby’s hand, towing her along before she could ask any questions, keeping his eyes front as they cut the lineup at the door.

“Is there anyone you can’t bribe?” asked Shelby.

“Not so far,” said Dallas. Though it wasn’t part of his daily routine. This had to be the most expensive non-date he’d ever been on.

Warm air, an eclectic mix of perfumes and a blast of sound from the band met them in the crowded foyer.

“See Allison?” Shelby asked, coming up on her toes and tipping her chin.

Dallas tucked her in behind him, shouldering a path toward the dance floor. “Stay close,” he called back.

“Absolutely,” she shouted, tucking her fingertips into the waistband of his slacks.

His muscles contracted at the unconsciously sexual gesture. She was simply trying to keep from getting crushed by the crowd, he told himself. If she was trying to flirt, he had a feeling he’d know it.

To his immense relief, he quickly spotted Allison at a table near the dance floor. He headed straight toward it.

“Dallas?” Allison’s eyes went round.

Then she peeked around him. “Shelby?”

Shelby groaned and plunked herself down on a chair. She picked up Allison’s martini and took a healthy swallow. “I’ve just had the worst day of my life.”

Allison drew back, gazing at Shelby with interest as she tucked her long dark hair behind one ear. “Given your life, that’s saying something.”

Shelby nodded vigorously. “Oh, yeah. Even for my life, it was bad. But first things first. I need to freshen up. Can I borrow your purse?”

“Sure.” Allison handed her a small black bag that matched her sparkling dress.

Shelby got to her feet, taking the emerald dress from Dallas’s hands. “I’ll tell you all about it after I change.” Then she melted into the crowd.

Allison turned her attention to Dallas. “Do you know where Greg is?”

“Last time I saw him, he was at the office.”

Allison held out her hand. “Can I borrow your cell phone?”

“Of course.” Dallas fished it from his jacket pocket.

“He’s late,” she said, pressing the buttons on his phone.

A cocktail waitress appeared at Dallas’s side. “Get you a drink?”

“No—”

“Another martini,” said Allison, holding the phone to her ear. “Make it two. You want one, Dallas?”

Dallas started to shake his head.

“Make it three,” said Allison.

Dallas gave up and sat down. It had cost him fifty bucks to get in the door. He might as well have a drink before he left.

“Greg?” said Allison, raising her voice and covering her opposite ear. “Where are you?”

There was a pause.

“I’ve been at Balley’s for half an hour. Dallas and Shelby are here.”

She glanced at Dallas, shrugging her shoulders. “Beats me.”

Then she paused again, her expression growing irritated as the seconds ticked by.

“But we talked about…”

She shook her head. “No.”

Another pause. “No. Not if you want to live.”

Her frown deepened. “Greg.” She drew his name out on a groan of exasperation.

Dallas feigned an interest in the couples gyrating on the dance floor, swearing off fiancées then and there. If a guy had to put up with whining in exchange for getting his work done on a Friday night, Dallas wanted no part of it.

“Fine,” said Allison tersely.

Dallas zeroed in on the band. They were pretty good.

“Right,” she added.

He squinted trying to make out the name stylized on the bass drum.

“Later,” she finished.

Elipso…something.

She clicked the phone shut and handed it back to Dallas, catching his gaze with her wounded blue eyes.

Oh, crap. He didn’t want to ask.

He really didn’t want to ask.

Luckily, Shelby appeared through the crowd.

Thank goodness. No, wait. He sucked in a tight breath. Not thank goodness. This was bad, too.

The shimmering emerald dress molded to her curves like a lover, showing off rounded breasts, a flat stomach, cascading over her smooth hips to mid-thigh. There was no way in the world she was wearing underwear beneath it. The realization jacked up his heart rate.

She’d pulled her hair up into a tousled bun and put on just enough makeup to deepen the color of her eyes—jade-green as they reflected the dress. Her cheekbones stood out. Her lashes were thick and lush and dark, and her full lips were something out of a midnight fantasy.

At least a dozen heads swiveled to follow her progress across the polished floor. Dallas swallowed.

The waitress set the drinks down on the table—not a moment too soon. He handed the woman his credit card and took a swig of his martini.

Shelby wriggled her way into the seat between him and Allison. “That’s better,” she sighed, scooting a little closer to the small, glass table. She picked up her own martini and crossed one gorgeous leg over the other, seeming genuinely oblivious to the stares of the men all around her.

“So, tell me what happened,” said Allison, recovering quickly from her conversation with Greg.

Shelby sucked her olive off the toothpick.

Dallas shifted in his chair.

“I lost my purse and didn’t have taxi fare,” she said.

Talk about burying the lead. Dallas crunched down on his own olive.

“Well, it’s not exactly lost,” she continued. “But it’s locked up in the Game-O-Rama. I don’t know when I’m going to get it back.”

“Go tomorrow,” said Allison.

Shelby shook her head. “I also lost my job.”

Allison sat back. “Oh, no. What did you do?”

“Nothing. My boss got arrested.”

Dallas wondered when the heck she was going to get to the part where she got arrested. Then he wondered why Allison automatically assumed Shelby had done something to get fired. Then he started wondering about Shelby’s honesty all over again.

Had she lost jobs before? Maybe pilfered merchandise from her employer?

“So how’d you end up with Dallas?” asked Allison, nodding his way.

Shelby grinned. “He bailed me out of jail.”

“I didn’t bail you out of jail,” Dallas corrected. “You weren’t in jail.”

Shelby leaned forward, giving an almost illegal view of her cleavage. “They arrested me, too. Slapped the cuffs on and everything.” Then she leaned sideways and nudged his shoulder, giving him a secretive smile.

He tried to keep his gaze under control, really he did. But a quick glance downward confirmed his suspicions that she was sans brassiere and in terrific shape.

“Dallas was great,” she said, her words turning rapid-fire as she straightened away from him. “He made them let me go. Then he bribed, like, everyone in the world to get me here so I could drink with you.”

Allison slanted Dallas a suspicious look.

What? A guy couldn’t be a good Samaritan these days?

“I simply pointed out to the officers at the Haines Street lockup that their case against her was shaky,” he said.

“You bribed the cops?” asked Allison.

“I did not bribe the cops.” He took a swallow of his martini. “I bribed the dry cleaner.”

“And the bouncer,” said Shelby.

“I tipped the bouncer,” said Dallas.

“And here we are,” said Shelby, leaning back with a happy sigh, draping her arms across the back of her chair as though all was suddenly right with her world. “Where’s Greg?” she asked Allison.

Something flashed briefly in Allison’s eyes. “Working late.”

Which was where Dallas should be, instead of taking mental liberties with Shelby’s body. Which was where he was going to go, right now before he disgusted himself further. He downed the rest of his martini.

A man tapped Shelby on the shoulder, and Dallas fought an urge to smack the guy’s hand away.

“Like to dance?” the man asked her.

“Sure,” said Shelby, rising to her feet.

“Care for another?” asked the waitress.

“Sure,” said Dallas as his gaze rested on the smooth skin reveled by the plunging V at the back of her dress—his and fifty other gazes with even less noble intentions. He probably owed it to Greg and Allison to make sure Shelby survived the evening.

He’d work all day Saturday to make it up.

COFFEE MUG STEAMING on Allison’s Formica kitchen table on Saturday morning, Shelby drew a red felt pen circle around an ad for a balloon delivery agent. Heck, she was a responsible adult, cheerful, enthusiastic, a self-starter, and she was willing to wear costumes.

Allison appeared in the doorway, leaning sideways against the white-painted jamb while she covered a wide yawn with the palm of her hand. Her dark hair was disheveled, and her flannel nightgown drooped off one shoulder. Faint traces of her mascara were smudged beneath her squinting eyes.

“What the hell are you doing up so early?” she asked. Then she spotted the coffeepot and made a beeline.

“Looking for a new job,” Shelby answered. “You suppose a balloon delivery agent would have to wear fishnet stockings?”

Allison poured a steaming mug of Costa Rican blend. “Ahh,” she sighed, inhaling deeply, closing her eyes and cradling the mug as if it were a magic elixir. “I’d say yes.”

“To the fishnet stockings or the coffee?”

“Both.” She headed for the table. “Fishnets, French maid uniform, sexy nurse outfit, you name it. And you’d probably have to learn to sing Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe.”

“I could do a clown outfit. Deliver balloons to kids.” Shelby wasn’t so crazy about the erotic slant. She looked Allison up and down. “You look like hell, you know?”

“I was two martinis ahead of you. And I was pissed at Greg.” She slumped into one of the chairs. “It’s not my fault.”

“Of course it’s not.” Shelby circled another promising ad. This one for a café waitress. It was the breakfast shift. God, she hated the breakfast shift. “Your fiancé stood you up. The evening had to suck.”

“At least I didn’t get thrown in jail.”

“Now that is an excellent point.” Shelby circled an ad for a dental assistant. Not that she had any desire to stick her hands in strangers’s mouths. But they were willing to train the right person.

Allison took a careful sip of her coffee. “You know, I love having you around as a barometer.”

“Who wouldn’t?” asked Shelby, scanning for anything else that was promising. Not much to choose from. She sighed and dropped the felt pen. “Compared to me, even Joyce Vinton is a success story.”

“I heard she’s doing makeup parties in Boise now.”

“See what I mean? What was it we voted her in high school?”

“‘Most likely to be photographed with snakes.”’

Shelby shook her head, fighting a grin. “We were so crude.”

“That we were, Miss Most Likely To Marry Money More Than Once.”

“I’m still waiting for the first time.” Shelby scanned down the column of want ads one more time, just in case. “Think I’d make a good custodian?”

“Bad choice.”

“They get to work nights.”

“If you want to marry money, you need to hang around rich guys.”

“Neil was rich. Look where that got me.”