She’d researched Jamie MacNiven. She’d seen countless pictures of him on and off the field, in all sorts of situations. She’d have recognized him if she’d passed him on the street.
In person, he looked exactly like she thought he would—urbane and polished, with thick hair and an expensive watch. Not really any different than the men she worked with, except that his suit was less traditional and more like fashion. He perched on a desk, his hands holding the edge as he smiled at the dark-haired woman in front of him.
The only thing about him that she didn’t expect was the look in his eyes directed at the woman, who had to be Rachel Morgan, his fiancée. It was how Connor looked at Louisa—like she was the only person he wanted in his world.
Rachel turned around with a polite but welcoming smile. She was a pretty woman, with light eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, which made Jules wonder what they had been talking about. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all.” Jamie MacNiven studied her with his piercing eyes, the same blue as his suit. “Julianne Emory?” he asked in a suave accent.
She had the urge to put her sunglasses back on because it was like he could see all the way to her soul. “I can wait outside if this isn’t a good time.”
“Don’t be silly. You have an appointment.” Rachel smoothed down her skirt. “Jamie and I can finish our discussion later. I’m Rachel, Jamie’s business partner,” she said, holding out her hand.
“She’s my fiancée,” Jamie said.
“I know,” Jules said as she stepped forward to shake her hand.
“Jamie, in the office I told you that I’m just your business partner,” Rachel protested mostly in a hiss under her breath.
Jamie smiled fondly at her. “I’m not going to hide my feelings for you, and I don’t give a damn what people find professional. We’re here to coach winning, and if they can’t see that marrying you is the best example of winning, then they don’t belong here.”
Rachel visibly melted. Then she glanced over her shoulder.
Jules shrugged. “That was kind of sweet.”
“Yes, but it’s different for women.” Rachel returned her attention to her fiancé. “They see you all over me and thinking you’re winning. They see me with your hands on me and they think I slept my way to the top.”
Jamie scowled, standing up. “Who thinks that?”
“The world.” She gestured broadly. “Tell him, Julianne.”
Jamie glanced at her.
“I’d lose every scrap of respect I’d built if my colleagues and clients saw me even in a casual setting with a man I worked with,” she said. Not that she’d ever wanted a man she’d worked with.
Now, that bad boy in the hallway? Different story. Her heart started to race just thinking about him, and she ruthlessly pulled herself back from that precipice.
“Don’t worry, Julianne. He’s idealistic, especially about love, but he gets it done.” Rachel patted Jamie’s arm, sending Jules a friendly smile as she left the office. “Good luck. I hope we take you as a client. I like you.”
“Sit.” Jamie nodded to the couch on one side of his office.
Aware of his assessing gaze, she took off her overcoat and draped it on the couch next to her purse before sitting down.
He crossed his arms. “Julianne Emory.”
“Call me Jules.” She studied him. “Unless we’re not going to be working together, in which case I’m Ms. Emory to you.”
“It’s a deal.” He grinned, crossing his arms across his chest. “So, Jules, tell me what you need.”
“To win,” she said without thought.
He nodded, not acting surprised. “It seems from your track record that you already know how to do that. It’s really quite impressive.”
Of course he’d investigated her. She’d done her research too. “As is yours. Your family has a legacy in both soccer and whiskey. I believe it was your grandfather who started a whiskey brand based on an old family recipe?”
Jamie smiled. “It’s no longer exclusively a family business, but yes.”
“It was very successful.”