“Oooh.” She leaned her chin on her hand, gazing at him. “Do tell.”
“I’d rather talk about you, not MacNiven.” He reached to take her hand in his. Her palm was cool, and he knew it’d feel wonderful on his skin. “You live in Chicago. What sort of work do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“So your dad is a lawyer too,” he surmised.
“One of Chicago’s best,” she said with a tinge.
“And your mom?”
“Dead.”
“Jesus.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago. She got messed up when Julian, my biological father, left her.” She sounded matter-of-fact, but he could tell she cared.
“I haven’t spoken to my mom in years,” he admitted. “The closer I got to my dad, the more distance I had with her. Her work was more important to her anyway.”
“Crack was more important to my mother.” Jules gave him a humorless smile.
He raised her hand to kiss it. “How did you end up so…” He searched for a word.
“Clean?” she offered. She shrugged. “I checked myself into a homeless shelter when I was sixteen. The woman who ran it, and her husband, saved me. If not for them, I don’t know that I’d have become an attorney.”
“I doubt that. Determination is determination. I don’t know anything about law,” he admitted. “But couldn’t he have someone else do this case?”
“He could, but he wouldn’t do that.”
“What a dick.” He frowned. “And you don’t want to excuse yourself?”
“No.” She lifted her glass to her lips, smiling a little. “Are you going to call me a dick?”
“You’re not a dick,” he said.
“What do you think I am?”
“Someone who needs to prove herself.” He sat back in his chair, his fingers rubbing the bottom of his glass. “I’m not one to talk though.”
“What are you trying to prove?” she asked, tipping her head.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Because he didn’t have an answer for her, he changed the topic. “You’re obviously good at what you do.”
“I’m excellent,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “I love what I do. I love the law.”
“And the hours?”
She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s part of the package.”
Their waiter came back, and they ordered dinner and a bottle of wine. Jules waited until they were alone to ask, “You know I’m a lawyer. What do you do?”
“I play football. European football,” he clarified.
“With Jamie.” She nodded. “It makes sense now.”
“I didn’t actually play with MacNiven,” he admitted. “We were always more adversaries.”
She raised her brow. “And yet you came to him for help when you needed it?”