"Victoria is an outstanding attorney," her mother jumped in to praise. "We're extremely proud of her. Walter is delighted that she's taking this step. She'll be a valuable member of the firm."
God, this was worse than she'd expected. Now even her mother was alluding to her affiliation with Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder as if it were permanent. Then again, she shouldn't be surprised. No doubt her father had issued clipped instructions to his wife before the party.
"Speaking of which, I want Victoria to circulate," Walter inserted, furthering his cause. "It's important that our clients get to know her."
"Of course." Alfred Tatem waved them away. "Go ahead. Mingle. I'm off to refill my drink. Ladies?" he asked his wife and Barbara Kensington. "May I refresh yours, as well?"
"You go ahead," Barbara said brightly. "I'm going to make sure our other guests are comfortable." With a practiced smile that came from years of experience, she went to do just that.
"Father," Victoria said quietly as her father steered her in whatever direction he had in mind. "I'm of counsel to your firm, remember? Temporarily of counsel. I haven't joined you in any real or permanent sense. So I don't appreciate your misleading—"
"Not now, Victoria," her father cut her off. "I see George Placard, the founder of Placard, Knotts, and Riley. His advertising company's worth about two billion, and growing. He's a long-standing client of ours. Let's go."
Victoria didn't do much breathing over the next hour.
She moved from client to client, attorney to attorney, wishing the damned introductions were over so she could work the room on her own. She certainly couldn't ask any probing questions with her father glued to her side.
Ironic, isn't it? she thought dryly. He hasn't spent this much time with me in all my twenty-eight years combined.
Every chance she got, she scanned the room for Benjamin Hopewell. Twice she caught sight of him. Once he was in heated discussion with Elizabeth Bonner, the second time he was in equally heated discussion with Zach.
She'd give anything to hear the details of that conversation.
Finally, when her father decided he'd made enough inroads for the time being—a decision that coincided with having almost no one left to introduce her to but a few of his junior partners, coincidentally the four female ones he'd blatantly ignored during Thursday's introductions—he excused himself and went off to join two of his colleagues.
The first thing Victoria did, before even beginning to poke around, was to seek out the junior partners her father had slighted and to introduce herself.
Karen Hollerman and Joy Carlson were both in their mid-thirties, attractive, intelligent, and more than a little wary of her. Lillian Pershing, in her later thirties and intent on following in Elizabeth Bonner's shoes to someday become a senior partner, was more than wary. It took all her efforts to mask her open resentment of Victoria. Only Marsha Blythe, who was about forty and stunning in an elegant, cosmopolitan way, was friendly and pleasant. Even so, Victoria could sense a certain amount of tension emanating from her. Like the others, she viewed Walter Kensington's daughter not only as a competitor, but as an unfair and unwelcome intruder.
The truth was, Victoria couldn't blame them. These women had sacrificed a great deal to get where they were. They'd relinquished their social lives, killed themselves working for affluent clients they didn't necessarily believe in, and, on a daily basis, fought a tough, uphill political battle. They'd made a choice that Victoria had no desire to make.
She did her best to put them at ease, but short of changing her mind and not working at their firm, there was little she could do to appease them. There was no way they'd believe she didn't have her eye on a partnership. Not if she explained her priorities from today until next year. Their thought processes were just too different from hers.
Having mended fences to the best of her ability, Victoria began making her own rounds. She went into the dining room, waited while the attendant carved two slices of filet mignon and placed it on her plate along with some fresh asparagus spears, and surveyed the room. Miss Hatterman, who was included in all business affairs, was moving about, checking out the efficiency of the dining attendants and the quality of the waiters. Nothing unusual there. Victoria often thought that Miss Hatterman acted more like a wife—without the physical intimacy—than a secretary. Then again, after all these years, maybe she was entitled to regard herself as Walter Kensington's other half. She doubtless knew him better than anyone, including his family.
Victoria's fork paused halfway to her mouth. Miss Hatterman. What an excellent place to start.
She strolled over to the older woman. "Miss Hatterman. As usual, you've arranged a lovely party."
The unsmiling, sharp-featured woman inclined her head. "Your mother did most of the work. I merely assisted her. But I'm pleased you're enjoying yourself. The party is, after all, in your honor."
"I appreciate that. Everyone has been very welcoming. Although I feel as if I've met hundreds of clients tonight. I hope you'll help me keep them all straight."
"Of course. But it won't be necessary. You're your father's daughter. And no one retains more information or has sharper instincts than he. You'll be just fine."
"Thank you for your vote of confidence," Victoria replied. Sharp instincts, huh? Well, hers were telling her she was heading down the wrong path. She wasn't going to get a thing out of the tight-lipped Miss Hatterman, willingly or otherwise. If pushed, the executive secretary would clam up, become suspicious, and end Victoria's attempts before they began.
Time to get out of this dead end.
"I'm going to find my aunt and uncle," she told Miss Hatterman. "I've scarcely waved hello, and I've been here over two hours. Will you excuse me?"
"Of course."
Victoria put down her plate and left the dining room, trying to figure out her next move. She'd chatted with enough of her father's clients to realize there was no visible link between any of them and the Hope Institute. Except, of course, Benjamin Hopewell, who her father had somehow managed to bypass when he'd paraded her around the house. True, she'd met Mr. Hopewell several times over the years. Still, she would have thought her father would want to make her highly visible to such a major, long-standing client, to drive home the fact that she was now on board at Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder.
It was high time to find Benjamin Hopewell.
She found him without a problem. Making her way over to him was another matter entirely. He was surrounded by a group of people, three of whom were Elizabeth Bonner, Ian Block, and Zach.
As it was, Ian spotted her first and disengaged himself from the group, flashing her a charming smile as he walked over. "Ms. Kensington. I was wondering where you'd disappeared to. I half thought you'd collapsed from exhaustion"
Half thought? Victoria wondered. Or half hoped?
"I'm not that fragile, Mr. Block," she returned with an equally charming smile. "But I appreciate your concern."
He took the cool retort in stride. "Of course not. Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Enjoying myself and learning a lot. Matching names to faces will ease my way when I get started at Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder."
"Which is Monday, as I understand it."
She nodded, wondering if he'd already formed a strategy where she was concerned. "Monday afternoon. I have two client meetings at my own firm that morning."
He ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw, studying her thoughtfully. "I'd imagine the transition would be difficult, going from a small firm that's just getting off the ground to a large, prominent one that's been thriving for decades."
She met his gaze head-on. "In some ways, yes; in others, no. Each type of firm has its benefits. Obviously, the monetary compensations are much greater at a prestigious firm, as is the notoriety. But there's something very fulfilling about providing legal counsel on a more personal basis. Then again, money has never been my prime motivator. Neither has a desire for power." She shrugged. "I'm no
t saying I'd toss either of them away—if I could have them on my terms. But if not, not. Life's a trade-off, Mr. Block. I'm sure you know that."
"All too well." His tone was casual, but his blue eyes were intense. "Do your partners share your altruism?"
A warning bell sounded in Victoria's head, telling her that Ian Block was going somewhere very specific with this. "I wouldn't call it altruism. But our goals'are similar, yes. Why do you ask?"
"Because your father made it clear that Mr. London is avidly seeking referrals. I was wondering why, if wealth isn't an incentive."
Ah. Paul. So that's what this was about. Now the question was, why? Was Ian Block trying to needle her about her firm's underdog status, or was he reminding her that he controlled Paul's advancement opportunities?
Either way, it smacked of a power trip.
"Paul's interest in solid referrals stems from a couple of things," she stated flatly. "First, as you pointed out, ours is a fledgling firm. We need a few lucky breaks to gather momentum. And second, Paul is a superb corporate attorney who's eager for a challenge."
"Gather momentum," Ian repeated. "Is your firm struggling financially?"
"We're holding our own. We're not rolling in money, but we're not losing any sleep over keeping our doors open, either. And we're certainly not planning to compromise our objectives or our integrity to do so."
"A direct enough answer."
"An honest one. I prefer it that way. It saves my having to extricate myself from a lie. Which is what I'd be doing right about now, I suspect."
"And why is that?"
Her brows arched ever so slightly. "Because you know exactly how my firm is doing. Otherwise, you never would have asked the question. Which means you've now determined whatever it is about me you were trying to determine—be it how frank, how self-assured, or how loyal I am, or any combination of the three. Let me make it easy for you." She counted out on her fingers. "I don't lie. I don't squirm. And I don't hedge about the status of London, Kensington and Stone."
"So I see." Ian gave her an approving, if condescending, nod. "I also see that you're as formidable an opponent as your father."
"The same must apply to you, or you wouldn't be on a fast track to the top." She was pushing it, and she knew it. It was one thing playing who-can-out-psych-whom, keeping things cryptic and indirect. Now she was getting personal. She should probably stop. But her adrenaline didn't agree. Nor did her logic. If she saw this angle through, she just might clear the air and make it tolerable to work with this man.
Either that, or make working with him a nightmare.
"The fast track—is that how you perceive me?" Ian inquired in an offhand tone. "I'm flattered."
"It's not how I perceive you that matters. It's how my father perceives you. And I think we both know where things stand on that score."
"Your point?"
Victoria went for the gold. "Your agenda is to make senior partner before you hit forty. I say, go for it. But here's some advice. It's going to take every drop of your mental energy to go the distance. So don't waste any of that energy on me. I'm no threat to you. I'm not interested in becoming a partner at Waters, Kensington—senior or otherwise. The sooner you believe that, the easier it will be on us both. After that, who knows? We might find we actually work well together. The alternative is to spend the next three months playing cat and mouse. And, let me warn you, I'm very good at that game. I'm never the mouse."
Her final claim evoked a flicker of amusement. "Why does that sound like a warning rather than a reassurance?"
"It's neither. It's a fact."
"I'll have to take you at your word, won't I?"
Victoria inclined her head, gave him a cool, appraising look. "My word is good, Mr. Block. Ask around."
"I will." That charming smile was back in place. "I feel as if I've just been blindsided by a surprisingly compelling closing argument."
"1 have that effect on other attorneys."
He chuckled. "I can imagine."
"Can you also imagine working with me without unnecessary tension?"
"Tension's good for us. It keeps us on our toes." He didn't answer her question—or maybe his next statement did. "By the way, call me Ian. Mr. Block sounds too old— even more so when someone in her twenties says it. I'm only thirty-seven. Don't age me."
"Ian," she agreed, wondering if she'd truly convinced him she wasn't the enemy or if this were some new tactic he'd decided to employ. Only time would tell. "And feel free to call me Victoria. I'm used to a more informal environment. Besides, it'll avoid confusion, since my father and I have the same last name."
"True." He glanced down at his goblet, saw it was empty. "Well then, Victoria, may I get you a drink?"
"Already done." Zach appeared out of nowhere, a glass of wine in each hand. "Here you are." He handed Victoria her cabernet.
She blinked, trying to read his expression. He looked as if he wanted to tell her something. Whatever it was, he obviously couldn't say it in front of Ian.
It had to pertain to Mr. Hopewell.
"Thank you." She took the wine. "Have you two met?"
Ian eyed Zach, clearly trying to assess his relationship to Victoria. "We were introduced earlier this evening, although I've read about Zachary's accomplishments in our alumni newsletter."
"Alumni newsletter? Oh, Harvard." As she spoke, Victoria realized that Zach's years and Ian's years at Harvard Law had probably overlapped.
"Um-hum. I graduated a year after Zachary arrived, so we didn't really cross paths. But his rise in the world of competitive intelligence is written up in glowing terms. And you—how do you two know each other?"
"Zach is my date tonight," Victoria supplied. "We're old friends. We met when I was in law school and he was a guest lecturer."
Ian gave Zach a questioning look. "You lectured at Columbia?"
"For a semester or two, yes. I wanted the students to understand how competitive intelligence is practiced within legal bounds."
"Ah." Ian nodded, "That makes sense. It teaches a respect for both our professions. And in the process, it hopefully breeds a generation of attorneys with a conscience."
"That's what I had in mind. A little idealism can't hurt in this high-pressure, blind-ambition world of ours." Zach glanced at Victoria. "Speaking of professionals with a conscience, in addition to present company, of course, I haven't even seen your aunt and uncle. Are they here tonight?"
She took his cue. "Yes. I waved at them twice. I still haven't managed to talk to them."
"Is now a good time, or are you and Ian in the middle of something?"
"No, now is fine." She turned to Ian. "Would you excuse us? The truth is, I feel very rude overlooking my family."
"Please, go ahead." Ian pointed toward the dining room. "I'll get that drink I was alluding to, and rejoin the group I was with."
Victoria's gaze flickered to Benjamin Hopewell. He was smiling and gesticulating to Elizabeth Bonner and Lillian Pershing, who'd also wandered over. "They seem to be enjoying themselves. What's the conversation about?"
"When I left?" Ian shrugged. "The usual—whose golf game is the most impressive."
"Now they're on to health care in the new millennium," Zach updated him. "Poor Hopewell's got his hands full defending the system."
"I'll give him some help." Ian moved off to do so.
"That was counterproductive," Victoria muttered. "Mr. Hopewell is one of my father's biggest clients. Ian will plant himself by his side and field negative questions like a White House press secretary. It'll be another hour before I manage to get Mr. Hopewell alone. And I've already spent two hours trying to find a way to do that."
"There's no need. Let it be."
Victoria's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
"It means the topic we're interested in has already been probed. To do so again would be like waving a red flag in front of the wrong people's faces."
"Already been probed—by you. Without me there. How
convenient."
"Not convenient. Necessary. You were in the middle of your two-hour royal procession. I had to grab the chance when I had it." Zach's tone took on an intimate note. "Believe me," he murmured, "I was no happier about your 232Andrea Kane
inaccessibility tonight than you. And not just for the reason we're discussing."
"Zach..."
He reached out, and his fingers traced the stem of her wineglass, lightly brushed hers. "Drink. After the past few hours of being center stage, you need it. Then, let's go find your uncle and aunt."
She stared up at him, thrown off balance by his sudden change in behavior. Struggling to keep a clear head, she brought her glass to her lips, thereby severing the contact of their fingers. "You're not going to elaborate on whatever you and Mr. Hopewell talked about?"
"Oh, I'll elaborate—later. For now, let's just get through this party and get out of here." He watched her sip her wine, and his gaze darkened, lingering on her mouth as it surrounded the rim of the crystal. "My concentration and tolerance are fading—fast."
Victoria abandoned the sip and opted for a gulp. Zach was pulling out a few more of the stops. She could feel it. And half of her wanted to bolt. But the other half, the brutally honest one, reminded her why she'd lingered over her appearance tonight, cared so damned much about his reaction.
Well, she was certainly getting the reaction she'd hoped for. The question was, what was she going to do about it?
"Stop agonizing," he suggested huskily. "There's nothing to decide now. We're in public. Save the decisions for later."
He wanted her. It wasn't only his pointed innuendos, or even his body language. It was the expression on his face, that intense, heated expression she remembered too well.
A few days ago she would have sworn this would never happen. She'd never walk this path again. And she was terrified to walk it now. Having an affair with Zach—it was unthinkable given what they'd once meant to each other. She knew that. The problem was, her feelings for him were so complicated. And mixed in with the Test was a powerful sex- ual attraction that made her insides burn and her limbs turn watery. If she let herself,..