Icebreaker (8 page)

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Authors: Deirdre Martin

Tags: #Women lawyers, #Contemporary, #Legal, #General, #Romance, #Hockey players, #Fiction

BOOK: Icebreaker
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“What are you doing tonight?”
“Why?”
“I’ve got nothing going on, and I know for a fact
you
don’t, so why don’t we go have a drink at your parents’ pub?”
“Okay.” She’d call Quinn and see if he wanted to join them, since he and Oliver got along well. Going to the Hart would let her see her folks, too, so if she needed to bow out of Sunday dinner, her mother couldn’t bitch that they hadn’t seen her all week.
“What time do you think you’ll finish up here?” Oliver asked.
“Sevenish,” said Sinead.
“Perfect. We can head over there together.”
“There’s a new part-time bartender now, you know. Christie. She’s actually a firefighter.”
Oliver’s eyes lit up. “Hot?”
“Yup.”
Oliver looked mischievous. “Maybe I’ll set my head on fire, and she’ll throw herself on me to put out the flames.”
“Bit extreme. I’m sure if you just exude your normal, manipulative charm, you could talk her into a date.”
“Your faith in my abilities never fails to move me.”
“See you at seven.”
Mission accomplished, Sinead
thought to herself. Leaving poor Christie to deal with Oliver, she popped back to the kitchen to chat with her folks. She loved them, but they worried about her too much.
You look tired. How’s your blood pressure? Here with Oliver, hmm? Why don’t you go out with him? He’s nice. He makes money.
She walked out of the swinging doors of the kitchen, wishing she could turn right back around. There, sitting at the bar next to Oliver, was Adam Perry.
Shit
.
The smile on Oliver’s face was unmistakably impish as Sinead joined them.
“Ah, here she is, the lovely Ms. O’Brien,” he said jovially. “I was just telling your client that your folks own this place.”
Adam nodded approvingly. “Nice. Has a real neighborhood feel. Do you spend a lot of time here?”
Not anymore,
Sinead thought. If she could have gotten away with pinching Oliver hard, she would. She knew him: any minute now he was going to claim he had some work to finish up and he’d leave her alone with Adam, a ploy so painfully obvious that Mr. Ego would probably think she’d told Oliver she was attracted to him.
“I’m usually here to visit my parents,” Sinead told him. “And I waitressed here with my sister when we were in high school.”
“You guys play Toronto tomorrow night, right?” Oliver asked Adam.
“Yeah. It will be a tough game,” said Adam, accepting the beer Christie handed to him.
“Bullshit,” Oliver responded, shocking Adam. “Toronto blows.”
“You a hockey fan?”
“Not hard-core, but yeah,” said Oliver. “I was there when the Blades won their last Cup. Amazing night.”
Adam regarded Sinead. “I can explain to you why it was such an amazing game, if you’d like.”
“No thank you,” Sinead said politely. “I’m in the process of figuring out the game on my own.”
“You should go to one,” Adam continued helpfully.
“Will there be a quiz afterward?”
Adam cracked a small smile. “No. I’m sure you’ll figure it out on your own.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
Sinead ordered a martini for herself, uncertain of what to do. She had never been in a social situation with a client before.
Ever
. It felt wrong somehow. Unprofessional. But her instincts were sharp enough to realize that casually chatting with Adam outside her office might loosen him up a bit and make him more willing to talk about himself. Maybe Oliver was right; maybe this was the way to go—
sans
seduction, of course.
“Can I ask you a question?” Adam asked.
“It depends.”
“Why is there an urn with a picture of a parrot next to it behind the bar?”
“That’s Rudy. He came in here for years and years with one of the regulars, Mrs. Colgan. When he died, she asked my folks if his ashes could be put behind the bar, and they said yes.”
Oliver glanced around the bar, disappointed. “None of the regulars are here tonight. Pity. Usually there’s quite the group,” he explained to Adam. “The parrot lady, a guy who won’t shut up, some novelist who hit it big with a book about leprechauns and salmon . . .” He turned to Sinead, alarmed. “Wait. Where’s the Major?”
“He passed away three months ago,” said Sinead sadly.
“Bummer.” Oliver turned back to Adam. “Anyway, if you turned the regulars into fictional characters, no one would believe it.”
Adam looked disappointed. “Sorry I’m missing them.”
“Yeah, me, too,” said Oliver. “One night with them, and I think to myself, ‘Maybe I’m not so fucked-up after all.’ ”
Adam laughed.
“They’ve all started going to bingo together,” said Sinead. “Except PJ, the novelist. The rest of them could use the extra money.”
Just as Sinead predicted, Oliver drained his glass and stood up. “Sorry, kids, but I’ve gotta run. I’ve got a ton of paperwork to do back in the office.” He wouldn’t look at Sinead. “Adam, good to meet you. You’re in good hands with Ms. O’Brien handling your case, believe me.” He winked at Christie behind the bar. “Call me, babe,” he said, putting his business card on the bar next to a twenty dollar tip.
Christie snorted. “Yeah right.” But Sinead saw her casually slip Oliver’s card into the pocket of her jeans.
I’m going to kill him,
Sinead thought, as she watched Oliver leave.
“Seems like a decent guy,” said Adam.
“He’s a great attorney.”
She was hoping that Adam would turn his attention back to the hockey game on TV, allowing her to make an excuse to slip away. But no: he was studying her like she was a pinned butterfly under glass. She didn’t like it one bit.
“Can I help you with something?”
Adam shrugged. “No.” He took a sip of his beer. “How’d the rest of your interviews at Met Gar go?”
“As far as I can tell, you’ve got no flaws and can walk on water.”
Adam laughed. “Divinity is a bitch.”
“There were two things I found very interesting, though.”
Adam turned guarded. “What?”
“First, they all seem a little scared of you.”
“Yup.” Adam looked pleased.
“Why is that?” Sinead prodded, running an index finger along the rim of her martini glass. “Do you threaten them or something?”
“Of course I don’t threaten them. I just refuse to stand for subpar playing, and they know it. I’ve got zero tolerance for lack of focus. Zero.”
“I can identify with that.” She sipped her drink. “Here alone?”
Oh, shit. Did that sound like a come-on?
“Yeah, thought I’d check it out for myself.”
“I would have thought you’d come in with the rest of the players.”
“I might one night, just for a quick beer. I wasn’t brought to New York to be their pal. I was brought here to provide toughness and determination.”
“Aren’t you lonely?” Sinead blurted.
She could tell by the steely expression in his eyes that she’d crossed a line.
“No.”
Liar,
Sinead thought. Anyone so singularly focused on their job usually let friendships fall to the wayside. She should know; her only friend in the world was Oliver.
Adam changed the subject. “What’s the second thing that jumped out at you when you talked to them?”
“How come none of them seemed to know anything about you personally, apart from the fact you’re Canadian?”
“There’s nothing to know.”
“I find that hard to believe. Everyone has a backstory. I need to know yours.”
“Good luck with that,” said Adam, taking a slug of beer.
“Can I point something out?”
“Sure.”
“I know we’re not in a professional setting right now, but I
am
your attorney. There’s no reason to be antagonistic. I’m on your side.”
Adam looked grim. “Right.” He rolled his beer bottle between his hands. “All right, since we’re on the same side, what’s your backstory? You need to know so much about me? How about you tell me a little bit about you?”
Sinead’s guard immediately went up. “It’s not necessary for you to know about me in order for me to do my job.”
“True, but I think it only fair. A quid pro quo.”
Sinead hesitated, and then acquiesced. If this banter was the way to get him to trust her, then what was the harm?
“I like jazz,” she said.
“You can do better than that.”
“I love kids.”
Adam dropped his guard momentarily as his face lit up. “Really? So do I.”
Sinead tried hard to hide her shock, but obviously she was doing a poor job of it: Adam looked insulted. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“I’m not,” Sinead insisted.
Adam changed the subject. “What else have you got on me?”
“You’re pretty demanding.”
“It’s my job.”
“Even off the ice?”
Their eyes caught and held. Sinead saw something behind the steeliness but couldn’t quite put it into words.
“I’m divorced,” she told him.
Adam’s expression softened. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. He was a jerk.” Sinead’s heart was pounding. She was a private person. Why was she revealing something so personal so quickly?
She sipped her martini. “Your turn.”
“I love
The Three Stooges
.”
“More than kids?” Sinead teased.
“No,” Adam said without hesitation. “But I’ve sworn allegiance to the
Stooges
. I’ll always be a fan.”
“I’ll try not to hold that against you.”
Adam smiled.
“
You
can do better than that,” Sinead continued. She put her drink down on the bar, folding her arms in front of her chest expectantly. “I’m waiting.”
“I was engaged once,” he revealed.
“Really? What happened?”
Adam shrugged. “Just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He turned his attention to the TV, an obvious signal he didn’t want to discuss it further.
Sinead made a show of checking her watch. They were dancing a little too close to flirting for her liking, even if it was under the guise of trying to get more comfortable around each other as attorney and client. The problem was, she was enjoying it.
“I should leave. Much like Oliver, I still have a ton of work to do, too.”
“Do you ever slow down?” Adam asked.
“Not pertinent to your case.”
The urge to flee was overwhelming. Sinead could easily imagine herself spilling her guts to him.
Stick to business,
she told herself.
Stick to safety
.
“We’ll talk again soon,” she told him. “In the meantime, if you can think of anything—”
“That would be helpful to the case, call you,” Adam recited in a monotone. “Got it.”
“Good night,” Sinead said.
“ Night,” Adam replied, turning back to the TV.
Sinead walked out of the pub somewhat shaken. Adam could be charming. Still guarded, but charming. She found herself wishing he
was
a bonehead; he was stirring up feelings in her she hadn’t had in a long time, and it was worrisome. From now on, she was going to play it strictly professionally. She had to.
6
Adam was annoyed
with himself. There were rituals he needed to perform before every game to ward off potential injury and increase the odds of a win. First, he needed to put every piece of equipment on, as well as his uniform, from left to right. Then, he needed to find a quiet place, close his eyes, and picture the whole game in his head. The ritual didn’t always work, but it helped focus him so intensely that by the time he hit the ice, all his mental energy was centered on one thing and one thing alone: winning.

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