Shame on Him (11 page)

T
rue to his word, Dallas showed up at the office the following evening. I had almost given up hope after not hearing from him all day and was calling myself all kinds of a fool for borrowing another one of Paige’s outfits. The short black-and-white plaid skirt and long-sleeved black sweater that hangs off of one shoulder reminds me a little bit of a Catholic-school uniform. According to Paige, that’s the point. She seemed to think Dallas wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but kissing me when he saw me wearing this. Obviously she was wrong. We’ve been sitting here for two hours poring over our notes and he’s barely looked at me.

I really am an idiot. He’s probably regretting everything that happened in my parents’ driveway. He knows kissing me was a bad idea for so many reasons, not the least of which is that we have a murder to solve, which should take precedence right now.

Since when did I turn into this pathetic woman who dresses for a man and worries if he wants her?

Since I was kissed by a man like Dallas Osborne, obviously.

“So we know Miles has an alibi for the morning Richard was shot, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t have something to do with it,” Dallas states from his chair on the other side of my desk, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I watch for a moment as he reads over my notes and adds them to his. I made a few calls earlier and had found out Miles was in court the morning Richard was killed.

Getting up from my seat, I bring both of my arms above my head and stretch, closing my eyes and groaning as I work out the kinks. We’ve been sitting in the exact same spots for so long that my entire body is stiff as a board.

“He could have hired someone to kill Richard. Can you look into his bank accounts and see if there were any big transactions around that time?”

Dallas doesn’t answer me. I open my eyes, drop my arms back to my sides, and see that he’s staring at my stomach, not blinking. Glancing down, I realize my sweater inched up while I was stretching. I quickly tug it back down and turn away.

“Do you want some coffee? I’m going to make some coffee,” I ramble as I walk to the kitchen in the back of the office.

I glance over my shoulder as I pull the coffeepot from the machine and catch Dallas quickly looking away from my bare legs. He mumbles something to himself that I can’t decipher and then rubs his palms down the front of his face a few times.

What the hell am I doing? Who cares if kissing him was the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in thirty-plus years? What does it matter if he regrets it and wants to keep things all business now? I’m an adult, for God’s sake. I don’t need to rely on anyone to make me happy. My life is finally going the way I want it to. I don’t need a complication like Dallas Osborne. We’ll just chalk up yesterday’s make-out session to a result of heightened emotions after that disastrous dinner with my parents.

With a firm resolve to pretend like nothing ever happened between us, I finish setting up the coffeemaker and walk back over to my desk while it brews. Not ready to sit down again in my uncomfortable chair, I grab a file from next to Dallas and go over to Kennedy’s desk, hopping up on top of it and crossing my legs.

“What about the day Andrew Jameson was shot? Did we check and see if Stephanie and Miles had alibis for that day?” I ask, flipping open the file and reading through the notes.

“Son of a bitch, I can’t do this,” Dallas suddenly mutters.

I look up from the file in confusion to see him jump up from his chair and pace back and forth in front of me.

“If you’re tired, we can stop and pick back up in the morning.”

Dallas laughs mockingly and runs his hands through his hair. “That’s not going to help. I changed my mind. Maybe it’s not a good idea for us to work together.”

I slam the file down on the desk. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me with this shit! I knew something was up with you tonight. Here I thought you just regretted kissing me yesterday. Nice to know you just don’t think I’m worthy to work with you and your amazing crime-solving abilities.”

He finally stops pacing and turns to glare at me. “Will you cut it out with that crap? I have no doubt that you could solve this case without help from me or anyone. I told you that already.”

“Yes, and obviously I was an idiot for believing you since it’s only been twenty-four hours and you’re already going back on your word,” I tell him angrily. “Get the hell out of my office and stop messing with my fucking head!”

Dallas throws his hands in the air, but doesn’t make a move to leave.

“I thought I could do this, I really did. I thought I could forget about what happened and be a professional. This case is a big fucking deal and I don’t want anything getting in the way of that!” he shouts.

So I was right. He
does
regret kissing me. Fine, that’s perfectly fine.

“Great, we’re in perfect fucking agreement then!” I yell back.

I open my mouth to fire some insults at him and before I can even utter one more word, he closes the distance between us. His hands grab my face and he pulls me against his mouth.

A surprised squeak bursts out of me, but Dallas slides his tongue past my lips and I forget to care that we were just yelling at each other. Like yesterday, the kiss is hard and powerful and it takes my breath away. My arms immediately wrap around his shoulders and I pull his body between my legs, wrapping them around his hips. As his tongue pushes and slides through my mouth, he leans his body against mine until I have no choice but to let go of him and rest my hands on the desk behind me.

His lips leave mine and I groan in protest as he stares at me.

“Just so you know, we are NOT in perfect fucking agreement. I didn’t regret kissing you yesterday. I just thought we needed to be professionals and maybe have some distance while we’re working this case,” he explains.

One of his hands leaves the side of my face and moves to my thigh, still wrapped around his hip. He slides his palm up my leg until it disappears under my skirt and he’s cupping my ass.

I glance down between us and then back up at him. “This doesn’t look like distance to me.”

His palm glides back up and over my thigh and the tips of his fingers brush against the lacy scrap of my underwear between my legs. Another groan leaves my mouth and my body jerks when he brings his fingers back, running them up and down over the lace.

“It’s your fault. You and that mouth of yours. And I really, really like this skirt,” he admits quietly.

He dips his head and his lips make a trail of kisses up the side of my neck while his fingers slide my underwear to the side. I throw my head back to give him better access to my neck while the pads of his fingers glide through my wetness. My thighs ache with how tightly they’re clutching to his hips, but I don’t care. I want him to keep doing what he’s doing and never move from this spot.

As his mouth makes its way to mine and his fingers work me into a mindless frenzy, I can think of nothing but how good it feels to let go and just feel. His lips find mine and his tongue plunges into my mouth at the same time that his fingers push inside of me.

With one hand holding me up on top of the desk, I move the other hand to the back of his head and hold him in place. His mouth and his tongue move in sync with his fingers between my legs: push and pull, slide and swirl. My hips move against his hand and I forget how to breathe when I feel my orgasm creeping up on me. I’m a mindless ball of need and I have no idea what’s coming out of my mouth as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge with his expert fingers. His thumb circles me and I hear nothing but gibberish escaping my lips as my release explodes out of me. I clutch Dallas’s hair so tightly that I’m afraid I pull a few strands out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shout as the best orgasm I’ve ever had washes over me.

Dallas chuckles and brings his lips back to mine. He kisses me softly as I slowly come down from my high and my legs fall limply down from around his waist.

He pulls his hand from between my legs and rests it on the desk. The kiss continues for several minutes until I finally pull away.

“All right, we can still work together. As long as this can continue happening,” Dallas tells me.

I don’t say anything to him as he leans in and kisses me again. He was probably right the first time when he said this was a bad idea, but right now, I don’t care to argue with him.

CHAPTER 14

I
can’t breathe in this thing,” I complain, tugging up the front of my dress.

Paige sighs and smacks my hands to stop the tugging. “Quit your bitching. You look hot. Breathing is a luxury.”

Staring at myself in the mirror, I actually have to agree with Paige. The dress she picked out for me to wear to Doug’s wedding is breathtaking. Literally. It’s so tight that I have to take small, short breaths. The dress is strapless with a plunging sweetheart bustline. Another reason why I should avoid breathing—my boobs are practically falling out of this thing already. It’s cream with a black lace overlay and it molds perfectly to my body. The skirt stops a few inches below my butt, so sitting down or attempting to cross my legs might pose a problem as well.

“Kennedy, what do you think?” I ask, turning around to face her. She’s sprawled across my bed on her stomach with her arms hanging down over the edge.

“It’s a dress.”

Paige rolls her eyes and grabs a can of hair spray, adding a few spritzes to my hair. She kept it wavy but pulled it back in a low, loose bun. “Don’t ask her what she thinks. She thinks wearing jeans and a T-shirt is perfectly fine for a proposal.”

Kennedy pushes herself up to her knees. “It IS perfectly acceptable. If I wear something fancy, Griffin will know that I know that he’s going to propose. He can’t know that I know.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Paige grumbles. “So, how do you think he’ll do it? Maybe put the ring in your dessert? Spell out ‘Will you marry me’ in rose petals on the bed?”

Kennedy scrunches up her face and shakes her head. “Oh, hell no. He better not do any of those things if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Kennedy, this is your engagement to the man of your dreams. Your best friend. The man you should have married instead of that lying, cheating sack of shit you DID marry. It should be huge and romantic,” Paige complains.

“No, it should be small and to the point. I want to be curled up on the couch watching a Notre Dame game and have him hand me a ring along with a plate of salsa and chips.”

It’s Paige’s turn to make a face. “I just don’t understand you sometimes.” She sets the hair spray down and takes one last look at me. “Seriously, I am a genius. You really should have invited Dallas as your plus one.”

Walking over to my closet, I slip into my four-inch black-lace peep-toe Christian Louboutins. “Inviting Dallas to my gay ex-husband’s wedding is not at the top of my to-do list.”

Paige flops down on the bed next to Kennedy. “How many times have you sucked face with him now?”

I laugh uncomfortably. “Um, I don’t know. I stopped counting.”

Seven. Seven times I’ve had the pleasure of kissing Dallas so far. Seven mind-blowing times and as hard as it is to believe, each time gets better and better. We’ve spent every single day of the last week together going over notes for the case. Well, not every second was spent going over notes. Some of that time was spent kissing, tasting, touching, and doing everything except having sex. And everything but discuss what’s going on with us now—not how he’d wanted to kiss me since the first moment he saw me, not how he tried to pretend like that first kiss never happened, or how absolutely insane it is that one day we hated each other and the next we can’t keep our hands off of each other.

“You are such a bad liar, Lorelei. Anyway, I bet he would have said yes if you asked him to go to Doug’s wedding with you,” Paige tells me.” Especially after he gave you an orgasm on Kennedy’s desk.”

Kennedy pops up from the bed and stares at me in horror. “WHAT? I’ve touched that desk this week! Jesus Christ, I’m going to have to bleach my hands!”