Out of Order. Barbara Dunlop

the woman a chance,” said Allan. “Bouthier likes her. Maybe it’s because she’s kind of pretty. But who cares?”

      “I care.”

      “Well, you’re just going to have to deal with your own libido,” said Greg. “I promised Allison we’d give her a chance, and I’ve got Allan’s backing.”

      Before he could protest again, both men left his office, Greg heading out to meet Bouthier, and Allan crossing the hall to the library.

      Dallas glanced at his watch.

      Fine. He still had over an hour before Eamon Perth was due. It couldn’t be that hard to dissuade a woman like Shelby Jacobs.

      “I DON’T THINK Dallas likes me much,” said Shelby as she took a seat across from Allison in Frappino’s on the first floor of the office building. It was her fourth day on the job, and things seemed to be going pretty well—other than the fact that Dallas had barely said two words to her. Well, except for Monday morning when he suggested she could get a better job.

      He’d even offered to help her find one.

      Not a good sign.

      “Dallas can be tense,” said Allison, stirring the foam into her coffee. Allison worked as a graphic artist across town, but today a meeting with a client had brought her close enough to meet up.

      “It’s more than that.” Shelby tore off a piece of the cinnamon bun they’d agreed to share.

      “Yeah?” Allison looked her in the eyes.

      Shelby faltered, squinting at the red tinge and slight puffiness around Allison’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing.” Allison waved a dismissive hand. “Tell me about Dallas.”

      “Forget Dallas. You look upset.”

      Allison shrugged, still toying with her stir stick. “Greg stood me up again last night.”

      Shelby dropped the chunk of cinnamon bun, wiping her sticking fingers on a paper napkin. “But you were out until after eleven. I heard you come in.”

      “I walked home. I was thinking…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

      Shelby’s heart contracted. “Allison…”

      “It’s his work. Always his work. We haven’t had sex in two weeks.” She glanced from side to side to make sure their conversation couldn’t be overheard. Then she leaned across the table, pitching her voice below the general buzz of conversation. “How can I marry a man who doesn’t want me?”

      The question shocked Shelby. She had no idea that Greg’s working was causing any more than a minor tiff. “He wants you. Of course he wants you.”

      “Then why is he always working?”

      Shelby thought for a moment. “I know they’re after a couple of big clients right now. There’s Eamon Perth from Perth-Abercrombie—I haven’t met him because all of Dallas’s meetings have been outside the office. But it feels like he’s really important.

      “And there’s the New York firm, Preston International. They’ve been doing a ton of research on them. And I know they just redecorated to impress clients. Maybe this is a temporary thing.”

      “I’m beginning to think I’m the temporary thing.”

      Shelby’s heart went out to Allison. “I’m sure he misses you just as much as you miss him. Give him a little time.”

      “You’re a lot more forgiving than me. I’m about ready to hand him an ultimatum.”

      Shelby felt her eyes go wide. “You can’t mean break up with him? He’s a wonderful guy.”

      “Either he shows up on our next date, and we have great sex, or he can take his ring and—”

      Shelby started to panic. Allison and Greg loved each other. They were great for each other. She didn’t want Allison to say anything that was hard to take back.

      “I don’t think you want to go with an ultimatum,” she said.

      “Well I can’t think of anything else that will make an impression on his thick skull.”

      Shelby picked up her coffee, putting a teasing tone in her voice. “You know, you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

      “What? Your grandmother say that?”

      Shelby nodded. “All the time. Though I don’t think she had premarital sex in mind.”

      “Ha. They had premarital sex back then. They just lied about it.”

      Shelby grinned. “They also played hard to get.”

      “You think I’m too available?”

      Shelby nodded. “I think you need to make him wait on you. Oh. Even better. Whet his appetite and then make him wait.”

      “How the hell am I going to whet his appetite if I never see him? He’s got meetings tonight, then he leaves for New York tomorrow morning.”

      “The Preston International thing?”

      “Exactly. He’ll be gone all the way through the weekend.”

      “So send something with him.”

      “What? Slip my panties into his suitcase?”

      That was what Shelby had been about to suggest.

      “He’s got six pairs,” said Allison. “Doesn’t seem to be working.”

      “Sexy pairs?”

      “No. White cotton. Of course they’re sexy.”

      “Hmm.”

      “Yeah. Hmm.” Allison tore off a chunk of the cinnamon bun.

      “Could you go to New York?”

      “How does that make him wait?”

      “Good point.”

      Allison groaned around a bite of cinnamon bun. “And can you imagine how horrible it would be if he was at meetings all evening long while I waited in his hotel room?”

      “Pathetic,” Shelby agreed.

      “Seriously. I’d be worse off than when I started.”

      Gaze resting on the mochaccino machine as it churned out another foam-topped coffee, Shelby searched her brain. “Phone sex?”

      “He has call waiting on his cell.”

      Shelby coughed out an outraged laugh. “He wouldn’t.”

      “He has.”

      “Tell me again why you’re marrying this man?”

      Allison laughed darkly, tipping forward as she shook her head. “He’s charming, intelligent, gorgeous and hardworking.” She straightened, flipped her hair back and groaned again. “He really is. I just have to figure out how to get back on top of his priority list.”

      “Pictures,” said Shelby.

      “Pictures?”

      “Sexy pictures.”

      “What? Like a magazine?”

      Shelby pointed at Allison with her index finger, warming to the idea. “Yeah. Just like a magazine. Only you.”

      Allison’s jaw dropped. “What?”

      “You. In sexy pictures. Hide them in his luggage. He stares at them for four days in New York, comes home, and voilà. Instant sex.”

      “I don’t have any sexy pictures.”

      “Have some taken.”

      “By who?”

      “Me,