Out of Order. Barbara Dunlop
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“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