Falling For The Lawyer (11 page)

“That’s a nice way to greet your boss,” JP replied with a sardonic smirk.

He was enjoying surprising her, he couldn’t deny it. And to think he could have been sitting in his car and heading for home right then, still fuming over her final decision about the paralegal offer. Yet that was exactly what he’d planned on doing not ten minutes before as he’d drummed his fingers on the wheel and watched her disappear like an apparition into the house opposite.

Then as fate would have it a call from a client had delayed his departure and thank God it had. But for that call he would not have been sitting there when that cab drew in across the road from where he was parked. He would not have watched a couple get out of the cab and remove their suitcases from the boot. He would not have seen that same couple linger on the footpath for several minutes after the cab had driven away, leaning towards one another as they engaged in an intimate conversation before finally heading into the house. And he would not have had an opportunity to decide it was absolutely necessary he get into that house to find out whether the man he’d just watched making body language love to another woman was Alex’s fiancé.

The only problem was JP didn’t have a single excuse for barging into her parents’ home unannounced. It wasn’t until he’d racked his brains, come up with no brilliant ideas at all and thrown the car into gear that he finally saw it: Alex’s wallet was lying on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat. It had obviously fallen out when she’d grabbed her bag and fled just minutes before.

JP sat back in his seat and laughed in mirthless disbelief as he killed the car engine, wondering whether the devil himself might have made that wallet fall out that night.

“I thought you’d have gone by now,” Alex hissed back irritably as the initial shock of seeing him on her parents’ doorstep subsided.

“I took a business call after you got out of the car,” he explained, loving the effect he was having upon her.

Turning to check no one had followed her down the hallway, Alex pulled the front door closed behind her and stepped out onto the front porch.

“You can’t come in,” she directed, her voice pitched at near hysteria.

“Why not?” JP drawled, unmoved by her panic.

“You know why not.”

“Is it because Simon has arrived? I saw him get out of the cab, you know. I guessed it was him with that pretty little curly haired number.”

“That pretty little curly haired number is my cousin, if you must know.”

“They make a cute couple,” he couldn’t resist adding, wanting to see Alex’s reaction so that he could gauge whether she had any inkling of what he’d thought he’d seen pass between her fiancé and cousin.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, visibly perturbed.

“Nothing at all.”

“Anyway, you can’t come in.”

“You know that’s very bad manners,” he laughed. “And you may want to reconsider your decision not to let me in because I have your wallet.”

With that he whipped it out from behind his back to reveal it to her ever so briefly before stowing it away again.

“Give me that!”

“Not until you invite me in,” he replied with a grin. He hadn’t seen much of Alex’s feisty side and he decided he liked it—very much.

“Never!” she cried and launched herself at him, lunging around his powerful physique to grab at the wallet but he was too quick for her. He soon had his arm stretched upwards as she jumped a couple of times to snatch it. But he held it just out of her reach, laughing uproariously the whole time.

“Alex, what’s going on?”

At that moment, Alex was airborne in an effort to regain her wallet when the bone chilling tone of a woman’s voice reached JP’s ears. Alex regained her footing and throwing a silencing look at him swung around to face a dark-eyed, slightly built woman standing in the doorway. She was clearly nonplussed at the shenanigans going on in her garden.

“Mum!” Alex breathed, but then despite her mouth being open to speak, no sound came out.

“It’s my fault, Mrs Farrer.” JP stepped into the light. “I’m Jonathan McKenzie, Alex’s boss.”

“Oh!” Mrs Farrer replied, taken aback at JP’s ready command of the situation.

“Alex left her wallet in my car. I was just torturing her a little before I gave it back. I didn’t mean to interrupt your gathering.” With that, he held his hand out to Alex’s mother who accepted it, looking a little dumbstruck at his appealing demeanour.

“That’s all right, I suppose,” she replied doubtfully as Alex watched her in fascination, clearly shocked at her mother’s docile acceptance of his explanation. “Won’t you come in?”

“No!” Alex cried with a shrill note in her voice. “JP has another commitment.”

“JP?” Mrs Farrer questioned, looking hard at Alex and then at him.

“Jon Paul, like the popes,” he grinned but the levity was lost on Alex’s mother who was completely poker-faced. “And unfortunately my other commitment was cancelled,” he added, throwing Alex a look of mock disappointment.

“Well then, come in and have dinner with us,” Alex’s mother commanded rather than asked.

“Mum’s mission in life is to feed the men of the world as often and as much as possible,” Alex threw in dryly, looking in grim resignation at her mother.

“Don’t be cheeky young lady!” Mrs Farrer scolded but JP could see the affectionate sparkle in her eye as she waggled her finger at her daughter. “You’re not too old to be sent to your room, you know.”

“I’d love to join you but I wouldn’t want to intrude,” JP checked insincerely as he raised his eyebrows at Alex provocatively.

“You’re not. We’re just sitting down at the table now,” Mrs Farrer assured him and turning her back on her daughter she made sure to usher JP into the house ahead of her.

Mary Farrer had soon introduced JP to everyone and after accepting a glass of wine he wandered over towards the dinner table. Sensing Alex was deliberately setting out to sit as far from him as possible he changed course like a flash to slip into the seat next to her. By that time all the other table positions had been taken—she had no choice but to remain where she was.

“So you’re a lawyer?” Peter Farrer lead the conversation from the head of the table, his voice loaded with scepticism.

JP felt Alex tense at his side. She knew what was coming, as did he. That particular opening from strangers had been landed on him all his professional life. Peter Farrer didn’t like lawyers and he was about to let JP know that in no uncertain terms.

“That’s right,” JP replied brightly, turning to thank Mary Farrer as she loaded his plate with three different kinds of steaming hot meat and vegetable dishes that he didn’t recognise but which smelt incredible.

“And you’re a partner, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So how much do you charge an hour?”

“Dad!” Alex protested. “That’s no question to ask at the dinner table.”

“Your daughter is right, Peter,” Mary Farrer interjected as she took her place at the other end of the table.

JP spoke up anyway. “I don’t mind giving Peter an answer to his question if no one else minds hearing it. I charge eight hundred dollars an hour.”

“No!” Peter Farrer protested, staring at JP with sharp brown eyes.

“How can you justify that?” Simon asked, shifting his look between JP and Alex from across the table and then JP sensed Alex lower her gaze to her plate.

“Easy,” JP remarked casually, “That’s market price. If clients want the best litigation practice in town then they have to pay for it.”

“But are you the best?” Simon pressed scornfully. “How do your clients know you’re better than the next lawyer charging half that?”

“We’re not always better but we always get it right. Clients will pay a premium to know their lawyers are getting it right.”

“How can you lie straight in bed knowing you’re crippling ordinary people with your fees?” Simon shot back with barely concealed hostility.

“We don’t act for ordinary people. We act for institutional clients and multi-nationals—although I also have a handful of very wealthy private clients. If a mum and dad matter comes in we refer it out. They can’t afford us.”

“But eight hundred dollars an hour!” Simon scoffed. “That’s a joke!”

“Let me put it this way,” JP persisted. “You’re in the rag trade, aren’t you Simon? The amount of clothing you produce can be almost limitless because no doubt you manufacture off shore. Lawyers can’t do that. We’re always labour intensive. Although I have lawyers working for me, at the end of the day the clients look to me, as the partner, to give them the cold hard facts about their court case. You make your profits in mass production. I make mine out of intensive services, like a heart surgeon.”

“Hah!” Peter Farrer half laughed and half scoffed from the other end of the table. “If I could afford eight hundred dollars an hour I’d hire you Mr. McKenzie. You’re the most persuasive man I’ve ever met.” And with that announcement he laughed again. Mary Farrer and Monique smiled uncertainly.

“How many lawyers you got?” Peter Farrer went on.

“Twenty-six in my section.”

“And they’re all men?”

JP suddenly feared he might choke on his meal. He cleared his throat as he lowered his knife and fork to his plate, wondering whether he may have travelled back in time to the nineteen-fifties.

“More than half my lawyers are women,” he explained quietly to the table when he was able to speak again.

“No way!” Simon argued.

“It’s true,” JP explained suspecting that although he moved in a modern world, in certain quarters people had not changed their attitudes much at all. “Girls have outnumbered the boys in law schools for a long time now. It’s a simple equation: if we want the best we have to hire women otherwise we’d end up with second rate lawyers.”

“But how does a woman raise a family when she’s a lawyer?” Mary Farrer asked in disbelief at what she was hearing.

“That’s a good point, Mrs Farrer. It’s one that my partners and I are still trying to address but we have a flexible working hours policy. I’m also finding that men are taking on more of the domestic duties for their families at home, which is only fair.”

“It’s a load of politically correct tripe if you ask me,” Simon interjected dismissively before addressing the whole table. “I’m sorry. But women and men are not the same and no one will ever convince me that women have the head for law and business that men do.”

JP stared at Simon as indignation rose hot within him.

In that single moment he completely got what made Alex tick. But it didn’t make him feel satisfied. In fact, although there was something warm and honest about Peter and Mary Farrer, JP felt thoroughly depressed. The stifling attitudes were closing in around him, just as they had for his own mother. He knew then that only an iron will within Alex would ever allow her to become mistress of her own destiny within that environment. He despaired for her.

He opened his mouth to respond to Simon’s last comment when the girl herself suddenly slid her hand over his under the table and squeezed it. It took his breath away but it was not an affectionate squeeze. She was sending him a message, begging him to stop, pull back, and not demolish her fiancé in front of all those she loved most in the world, as she knew he could without even trying. JP snapped his mouth shut again, caught her hand firmly in his own and squeezed it hard. ‘Trust me’, he was saying back to her. For although he didn’t want to hurt her he would not back off. There was some excuse for Alex’s parents—they were elderly and from an earlier generation—but there was no excuse for Simon. He was a young man living in a modern country. He should know better.

“Simon, I invite you to open the paper any day of the week and read the winding up and bankruptcy notices,” JP began chattily. “Not even that. Just open up the business section and read about the latest corporate collapse. Men in their infinite wisdom have placed other men at the head of these operations and men have been presiding over financial disasters since business enterprise began.”

Simon opened his mouth to speak but JP would not be interrupted. His hand was unwittingly squeezing Alex’s tighter and tighter as he spoke. He was driven by a need to speak up not only for Alex but for his own mother too; for every woman denied the opportunities they deserved.

“In my experience women are much more likely to come in early and seek advice if their business is in trouble,” JP argued on. “Men are more inclined to sit back and hope it will all go away. Their pride gets in the way, you see. So they try to crash through.”

“Well, there’s no way I’d let a female lawyer loose on my business affairs—no matter how clever you say they are,” Simon tossed in bitterly, visibly overwhelmed by JP’s arguments.

JP’s hand still held Alex’s tightly but he sensed her squeeze one of his fingers as best she could in his iron grip. In the briefest of glances he told her with his eyes he would pull back and not finish Simon off.

“The most important thing is that the client is comfortable with his lawyer,” JP remarked without feeling. “If you’re more comfortable with a male lawyer then you should definitely stick with that. I still prefer a male GP for certain medical examinations, needless to say.”

At that Peter Farrer threw back his head and laughed out loud. “I like this fellow!” he announced to the table. “Even if he is a lawyer and charges eight hundred dollars an hour.”

Across the table Simon took a mouthful of his dinner looking triumphant. His expression said it all: he’d won the argument with the big firm lawyer.

JP could feel Alex relax a little at his side and a twinge of guilt made him hesitate for a split second over what he was about to do, but not for long. If he was going to put the cat amongst the pigeons over Alex’s future then now was the time to do it.

“Speaking of female lawyers,” JP began chirpily. “Alex here has one of the finest legal brains I’ve come across.” He was met with a stony silence that he ignored, continuing to eat as everyone stared at him.

“Alex?” Peter Farrer queried in disbelief as JP stopped chewing.

“Yes, Alex.”

“But she’s not a lawyer.” Mary Farrer’s expression was confused.