He shrugged. “Why do something if you’re not going to go all the way? But I had nothing to do with the whiskey, except to enjoy it.”
“What made you follow in your father’s shoes in soccer?” she asked.
“I didn’t. I just had similar shoes.”
It couldn’t be that easy. She frowned, thinking about being an attorney like her father. “Was he happy when you decided to play?”
He raised a brow. “I can see why your track record is so impressive. You don’t relent.”
“No, I don’t,” she said, waiting to hear his opinion of that. Most people—even in her career—believed a driven woman was pushy or a bitch.
“I like that. I felt you were determined like that.” He folded his hands over his leg. “What surprises me is that you need to see me. What changed? Did you have an altercation with a client?”
“No.”
“Did a partner at your firm come on to you?” he asked in the same moderate tone.
“Not lately.” She shrugged. That was part of the game, and she always dealt with it.
“Your personal life?”
She laughed without mirth. “I’m an attorney on partner track. I have no personal life.”
“Is that what you’re wanting to rectify? Is there someone you’re interested in?”
The bad boy in the hallway outside flashed in her head, and she felt herself start to getveryhot all over again.
“So there’s someone,” Jamie said, his acute gaze trained on her.
“There’s no one.” Like she’d said—shitty timing. Although if she could have one night with the bad boy, she’d jump on it.
She cleared her throat and sat forward. “I don’t have time for anyone, not if I want to succeed at my career.”
“It seems you’ve already succeeded,” he said gently. “But let’s set that aside for the moment. I still don’t know why or how you need our help. I assume it must have to do with your work.”
“I have a trial coming up in January. It’s a civil case, a matter of a breach of contract. The opposing counsel is Julian Holland. He’s one of Chicago’s preeminent lawyers.”
“He’s good, I take it?”
“Very.” She leaned in. “What you don’t know—what no one knows—is that Julian Holland is my biological father.”
“Ah. That makes it sticky, doesn’t it?” He continued to study her. “Does he know he’s your father?”
“Yes.” Her hands fisted, just thinking about the dismissive way he always looked at her, like she was something sticky on the bottom of his Italian shoes that he couldn’t scrape off.
“And you can’t recuse yourself?”
“I don’t want to.” She took a deep breath and ordered herself to calm down. She wasn’t a teenager anymore—she was a grown woman. “The first time I met him, he told me in front of all my peers that I’d never amount to anything. Now fate’s given me the perfect opportunity to show him who I am. I’m not turning away from that.”
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked again. “I assume you’ve prepped extensively for court. You always win.”
“I don’t know that I can win againsthim.” Saying that out loud made her stomach twist. “He has a way of getting to me. He doesn’t even need to say anything. He just looks at me and I feel like folding. One time at a bar association function, someone ‘introduced’ me”—she made air quotes—“to him and the way he looked at me made me sick. Literally.” She’d had to excuse herself to go to the restroom, and when that wasn’t enough space, she’d snuck out and gone home. She’d had a handful of antacids that night, and it still hadn’t helped her heartburn. “I need help shoring myself up so he can’t pull me off my game. We have mediation talks coming up in three weeks, and I need to be able to face him strongly.”
Jamie stared at her, obviously thinking.
She sat back, holding his gaze. It went on for so long that she started to worry that he was going to turn her away after all, though she refused to let that fear show.
But then he nodded. “How this works is I discuss your needs with the team and we decide whether one of us is a good fit to help you.”