Dallas gritted his teeth. He had half a mind to leave her behind and go to the party himself. But if she was spying, that might destroy his case, and his chances of impressing Perth-Abercrombie.
Maybe that’s what she was counting on. Being left behind to do her dirty work.
Nice try, Shelby.
Dallas crouched down.
She stuck out one foot and a little platinum anklet winked at him. The woman had the sexiest ankles in the world, slim, neat, smooth. Her calves were like burnished silk, and his fingertips grew warm where he contacted her skin.
He didn’t dare let his gaze roam to her thighs.
He fumbled with the first delicate clasp, his fingers feeling big and uncoordinated. Who had designed the damn closure, Houdini?
By the time he finally got it right, his blood pressure had nearly doubled.
When she put out her other foot, she lost her balance, and braced one hand against the top of his head. His gaze caught her thighs and he nearly groaned in agony.
He focused on the shoe, telling himself she couldn’t be trusted. She was angling to get left behind. There was no other explanation.
He finished.
Thank God.
And straightened.
“Ready?” He was pretty proud of the neutral tone of his voice.
“As long as you open the doors.” She blew gently on her lavender nails. “I’m right behind you. Can you grab my purse?”
Derek picked up the small beaded black bag she’d chosen at Arianne Eastern, and tucked it under her arm. She’d taken her hair down. It glowed in auburn waves, a thick satin curtain caressing her bare shoulders.
Her makeup was perfect. Her eyes were in a dark jade kind of mood. Someday he’d have to figure out what that meant. He was pretty sure turquoise meant she was nervous. Sapphire meant she was angry. Lime meant she was teasing. But so far jade had eluded him.
He turned away from her and opened the door of his apartment, stepping to one side so that she could go first. He steadfastly kept his gaze above her waist.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asked as he locked the door.
“Plan?”
“You said there was an important client giving the party. What are we doing? What do you need?”
We? Dallas didn’t think so. “It’s just drinks and casual conversation.”
They started down the hall.
“Oh, come on. You canceled everything else on your schedule. You kept this. You bought me a dress. There has to be a reason.”
“I’m working on a fraud case for Eamon Perth. As you already know.”
“Only because you told me.”
“Right.” Dallas drew out the word.
Shelby stepped inside the waiting elevator. “So, he’s this big important client and you want…what from him?”
“His business.”
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
“So you don’t trust your lawyering skills?”
“Why wouldn’t I trust my lawyering skills?”
“You don’t think you’re a good enough lawyer to get more of his business, so you’re trying to schmooze him. I can respect that. You want me to chat him up?”
“No!”
Shelby shrugged. “I’ve known a lot of men—”
“I’ll just bet you have,” Dallas muttered.
“Hey! If my nails weren’t still wet, I’d sock you for that. Just because I don’t dress like the Queen of England on a dowdy day, doesn’t mean I’m slutty.”
“I never said you were slutty.”
“You don’t have to say it when you’re thinking it all the time.”
“I don’t think you’re slutty.”
“Is this because I kissed you?”
“No.” Dallas closed his eyes and gave his head a little shake. He didn’t want to think about their kiss. Not when she was standing in front of him looking like his deepest fantasy. Not when she was spending the next three nights in his apartment…
Sweatpants and T-shirts after tonight. There was no other answer.
The elevator came to a stop and he opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right. My remark was uncalled for.” He gestured for her to go first.
Her full lips pouted for a second longer, and then she started walking. “All I was going to say was, in my experience, men lose approximately fifty percent of their brain power when they come in contact with any halfway attractive woman. If we work as a tag team, you might be able to use that to your advantage.”
“I don’t need to use you to my advantage. And Eamon Perth is not about to choose his legal counsel based on who’s the best flirt.”
She shrugged her sexy shoulders. “Hey, I didn’t make the rules, I just pay attention to them.”
Dallas hit his remote car lock through the glass door at the front of the apartment lobby. “They’re a brokerage firm full of professional accountants. I can assure you, they won’t lose sight of the bottom line the minute an attractive woman shows up.”
Shelby sent him a calculating smile as they crossed the sidewalk to the quiet turnaround drive in front of the apartment. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Men are men.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Take you.”
He raised his eyebrows in her direction.
“So far, over the course of our relationship, you’ve spent fifteen bucks on taxi fare, twenty—no forty, to bribe the dry cleaner, fifty to get us into Balley’s. You paid for the drinks. You spent four hundred on this dress, two-fifty for the shoes, nearly as much for the purse, and one twenty-five for the ankle bracelet.”
Dallas couldn’t help himself, he glanced down at her ankle.
She slid into the passenger seat of his car. “You’re telling me you didn’t lose sight of the bottom line?”
“Not in the least.” Though he sure hadn’t quantified it in those terms before.
“Right.” She pulled her sexy ankles inside. “And so far you got what? A kiss? It wasn’t even that great a kiss.”
He almost defended the quality of the kiss, but he quickly stopped himself.
“You mean to tell me,” she continued into his silence, “if I was sixty-five, with sallow skin and hair on my upper lip, you’d have done the same thing?”
“Your argument is illogical,” said Dallas, quickly closing her door.
“It’s perfectly logical,” she picked up as he climbed in the driver’s side. “Besides, all I’m trying to do is help you.”
He turned the ignition. “Can we rewind here? I’ve forgotten exactly how it is you’re trying to help me. Guess maybe I got stuck back there where you were spying on me.”
“You know I’m not spying on you.”
He put the car into gear and checked his mirrors. “Come again?”
“If you really thought I was spying on you, you’d have called the cops.” She pulled back in her seat as he accelerated out of the parking spot and into traffic.
“Thirty seconds ago, you said I’d kept you around because you weren’t sixty-five with hair on your upper lip. Which is it?”
“I’ve got both of those things going for me.”
He slowed down for a light, shooting her an incredulous look.
“Hey, like I said, I didn’t make the rules. Now. What’s the plan? What are you trying to get from Eamon Perth, and how can I help?”
“You can help by keeping quiet and staying still.”
“That’s not very challenging.”
The light turned green and Dallas smirked as he accelerated and shifted into second. “For you? Oh, yeah. It is.”
DALLAS HAD ONLY BEEN to Eamon Perth’s home on one other occasion. The classic, Italianate mansion had impressed him then, and it impressed him now. From the gold-leaf grandfather clock and the carved cherrywood railing that graced the palatial foyer, to the ivory silk armchairs in the living room and the Grecian-pillared three-story atrium in the center, the Per
ths had created an oasis of comfort and elegance.
Tonight, the party guests spilled from the foyer to the living room and dining room, and into the atrium beyond.
“Dallas.” Eamon held out his hand where he was greeting guests in the foyer. “So glad you could make it. You remember my wife, Pamela?”
Dallas let go of Eamon’s hand and shifted his attention. “Very nice to see you again, Pamela. Thank you so much for the invitation.”
Pamela smiled, and her gaze moved to Shelby.
Dallas stepped back with a quick prayer and a fervent hope for the best. “This is my friend, Shelby Jacobs.”
“Nice to meet you both,” said Shelby, shaking each of their hands in turn.
Dallas let out his breath. So far, so good. And, although Pamela was wearing a floor-length gown, Shelby’s dress didn’t seem too far out of place. A little shorter than most, and he got nervous whenever she moved her hands away from her sides and flashed her skin, but there were plenty of other women in cocktail dresses.
Eamon gazed quizzically at Shelby. “Have we met before?”
Shelby cocked her head. “I don’t know. Have you ever been to Minneapolis?”
Eamon nodded. “I usually get there a couple of times a year.”
“Really? Ever been to the Terra Suma Cocktail Lounge?”
Eamon stilled, a look of alarm creeping into his eyes.
Dallas reached for Shelby’s arm to shut her up.
Not fast enough.
“I used to be a cocktail waitress there,” she offered.
“You did?” asked Pamela, sliding a disapproving glance her husband’s way.
Dallas wished the floor would open up and swallow him. Better yet, he wished it would open up and swallow Shelby. And hold her there—without a telephone until the party was over.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever been there,” said Eamon.
Dallas prayed she wouldn’t press it.
To his relief, she shrugged. “I’m sure I would have remembered you if you had. You must have me mixed up with someone else.”
Eamon visibly sighed. Okay, Dallas would give her points for that save.
“You were a cocktail waitress?” asked Pamela, obviously not about to let the Minneapolis connection die a quick and merciful death.
Shelby hesitated for a split second. “Part-time. In college. I went to U. of M.”
Pamela perked up. “My sister went to U. of M. What was your major?”
“Philosophy.”
“Oh.” Pamela nodded politely, the animation leaving her expression. “Philosophy.”
“With a minor in economics,” said Shelby.
That perked Pamela back up.
“She’s doing client relations now,” said Dallas.
Shelby flashed him a look of surprise, but went along with the exaggeration. “That’s how I met Dallas.”
Pamela’s gaze flitted past Dallas’s ear, her attention momentarily distracted. She leaned toward her husband. “Eamon,” she muttered under her breath, nodding toward the door behind them.
Dallas was too polite to look. But Shelby, having no such compunction, turned to stare at the front door.
“I’ll take care of it,” said Eamon.
“Daddy,” came a high voice behind them.
Dallas turned to see a young woman of about twenty saunter across the burgundy area rug in what looked like spun pink Saran wrap. Her blond hair was teased to add about four inches at her head, and her high, strapless sandals added four inches at her feet. Huge beaded earrings dangled to her bare shoulders. Her makeup was bright, her lashes enormous.
She made Shelby look sedate by comparison, and Dallas was overjoyed.
“Sorry I’m late,” she pouted as she joined the group.
“Courtney,” said Pamela in an admonishing voice. “This is Dallas Williams and Shelby Jacobs. Dallas, Shelby, this is our daughter, Courtney.”
“Nice to meet you, Courtney,” said Dallas, growing uncomfortable at the vibes running between the three, and looking to make a hasty escape.
“Great dress,” said Shelby, apparently oblivious to the tension. She stepped forward to shake Courtney’s hand. “A Varian?”
Courtney struck a pose. “Got it in Paris last week.”
“Excellent,” said Shelby, looking her up and down. “I wasn’t crazy about all that retro stuff in her spring collection, but looks like she’s gone minimalist for fall.”
Courtney nodded. “You see the Asian-inspired jackets?”
Shelby shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Raw silk, mandarin collars, a sort of origami fold thing goin’ on. And the colors are to die for.”
Shelby held out her open palms with an apologetic frown. “Got this one at Arianne Eastern.”
Courtney made a face. “My mom shops there.”
Dallas’s gaze flew to Pamela’s expression, and he froze in dread.
“I don’t think you can beat it for class and sophistication,” said Shelby smoothly, turning to include Pamela in the conversation. “Dallas picked out a gorgeous gold silk-chiffon gown there this afternoon, but I just couldn’t pull it off.”
Pamela smiled, apparently ready to accept Shelby’s second save of the evening. Dallas felt like he was dodging bullets.
“Wanna go get some shooters?” Courtney asked Shelby, nodding toward a bar in the corner of the spacious living room.
“Sure,” Shelby quickly agreed, and the two scampered off like new best friends.
Eamon cleared his throat. “Well, Dallas. She seems…nice.”
“Thank you,” said Dallas, not sure whether to be relieved or terrified that Shelby and Courtney had left to have shooters. “We’re just friends.”
Eamon extended his arm and gestured toward the door. “Ah, I see Hal Webber’s arrived. I’d like to introduce the two of you. He’s the manager of the Hawthorn Club. Remember we talked about getting you a recommendation for membership?”
“I do,” said Dallas, nodding in easy agreement, relieved to discover Shelby’s antics hadn’t completely blown him out of the water with Eamon.
After talking to Hal, Dallas moved from conversation group to conversation group, keeping a close watch on Shelby. Luckily, she and Courtney were staying still. Unfortunately, they were staying still at the bar, downing shooters at an alarming rate, and drawing a crowd.
A small band had started up in the far corner of the atrium, and several of the guests were dancing under the stars. Through an open set of double doors, balls clacked in the billiard room, and a sumptuous buffet was set up in the dining room.
As the evening wore on, Shelby and Courtney’s laughter grew louder, and their skirts shifted higher.
Perched cross-legged on a little bar stool, Shelby tipped her head back and laughed at something Courtney had said. Her white teeth flashed and her eyes lit up. Then she wriggled forward to talk, and Dallas found himself shifting closer, straining to hear her voice.
His gaze moved from her shimmering hair to her smooth shoulders, down the inch-wide oval cutouts along the sides of her dress—the golden skin beside her breast, the smooth glimpse of her hips, and a flash of golden thigh. He followed her impossibly long legs to the black high-heeled sandals he’d fastened earlier.
His fingers tingled as he remembered cradling her ankle. His pulse jumped as he remembered the scent of her skin. The rest of he crowd faded to the background and he moved closer still.
She was talking, holding an impromptu audience of Eamon’s associates to rapt attention. “So, a guy walks into a bar with a monkey on his shoulder, and says ‘a beer for me, and three for the monkey.”’
Holy crap!
Dallas knew the punch line to that one.
He rushed forward and grasped Shelby’s hand.
“Hey, Dallas.” She gave him a sloppy grin. “How’s it going?”
“Let’s dance.” He tugged her from the stool.
“Great idea! Whoops.” She stumbled in her heels, grabbing Cou
rtney’s hand on the way by. “Come on, Courtney. Dallas wants to dance!”
He was in the middle of the dance floor, trying in vain to ignore Shelby’s sinewy, sensuous body as she gyrated to a vintage Beatles song, when he realized both women were dancing with him. Arms in the air, eyes closed, Courtney swayed to the beat, hip-bumping with Shelby and creating a threesome.
Dallas glanced around in horror, groaning inwardly as he caught the reproachful expression in Eamon’s eyes.
Who could blame the man? Dallas would be pissed, too, if he caught somebody in the middle of a ménage à trois with his daughter, in his atrium, in front of fifty of his most important friends and colleagues.
He tried to back away—but Shelby caught his hand.
Eamon squinted, and for the second time since he’d met Shelby, Dallas wished somebody would just shoot him.
7
SHELBY STRETCHED her tired limbs against the soft leather of Dallas’s front seat as the streetlights strobed shadows across the dashboard and classical music throbbed from the hidden speakers.
“Great party,” she sighed, the shooters wearing off to a pleasant buzz. She’d been surprised at how much fun she’d had.
He jammed the gearshift into third, chirping the tires on the dry asphalt. “I cannot believe you did that.”
“Did what?”
“Managed to undo in one party what it’s taken me six months to build.”
Now that threw her for a loop. She thought it had gone extremely well. She hadn’t flirted with anybody. She’d had fun with Eamon’s daughter, stayed out of Dallas’s way. “What did I do?”
“Your behavior was reprehensible.”
“Whoa. Because I laughed?”
“Way too loud.”
She ignored that. “Because I danced?”
“With Courtney.”
“Because I had a couple of drinks?”
“Six.”
“Or maybe you’re mad because I lied for you.”
He shot a glance across the front seat. “Lied for me?”
“Client relations?” she asked.
He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “It was merely semantics.”
“Well, the rest of it was a whole lot more than semantics, because I never took a single economics course. I worked full-time as a cocktail waitress, and not just when I was in college. I only quit two weeks ago. And yes, Eamon Perth has been to the Terra Suma Cocktail Lounge in Minneapolis.”
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