on her behalf? Back on,” she told the court reporter.
Joe did not look happy, Sarah thought. Good.
“Miss Lee, what kind of emotional distress did you experience as a direct result of the incident you described to Mr. Chapman here?”
“Well . . . I was . . . ” Again she looked to Joe.
“Were you scared?” he suggested. “Sad? Depressed?”
“Record will reflect plaintiff’s counsel is answering for his client,” Sarah said.
“I’m not answering for her,” Joe said, “I’m clarifying your question.”
“The record stands,” Sarah said. “Miss Lee, did you seek any psychological counseling as a result of your emotional distress?”
“Psychological?” the young woman said. “You mean like a psychiatrist?”
“Psychiatrist,” Sarah recited quickly, “psychologist, psychotherapist, therapist, trained counselor . . . ”
“Oh . . . no.” The young woman turned her eyes to Joe again, obviously hoping for some kind of help.
But he was too busy staring at Sarah.
“So, no medical expenses to support your claim of distress?” she asked.
“No, but I was really scared,” the young woman said. “Really, really scared.”
Finally Joe turned and gave his client an encouraging smile. “Remember what you told me about being afraid to use even a blow dryer for several months?” he asked.
“Off the record,” Sarah said. “Would counsel be more comfortable if he could stick his hand up his client’s backside and move her lips for her?”
“Sarah!” Joe growled, pushing his chair away from the table. “Can I speak to you outside?”
“Certainly,” she said.
Sarah casually closed the lid on her laptop, then took her time following Joe out into the hall. She felt the flush of triumph flooding through her veins. She’d gotten to him. And it was only day two.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked her.
“My job,” she answered pleasantly.
“Like hell you are,” he said. “You’re harassing my client.”
“And you’re trying to answer every question for her. She’s a big girl, Burke. Plaintiffs have to be able to back up their own claims.”
“You’re over the line, and you know it.”
“Take it up with the judge.” Sarah started to open the door again, but Joe shoved it closed.
“Is this is how it’s going to be?” he asked.
Sarah didn’t bother pretending she didn’t know what he meant. “Worried, Number Eight?”
“They only let you beat me because the chief judge liked your tits.”
Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ha! So there it is! That’s what you’ve been telling yourself all these years?”
“I don’t think about it, Sarah. Obviously you do. Whenever you’re ready to stop pouting and act like a real lawyer again, you come back in there and let’s keep working.”
He yanked open the door and left her standing alone in the hall.
Fuming.
That hadn’t gone the way she’d envisioned it—at all. And now he was sitting in there smug and superior, probably holding Miss Lee’s hand and comforting her over the terrible treatment she received from that bad lady lawyer.
Disgusting, Sarah thought. And not something she could let continue.
She pulled open the door and calmly returned to her seat. She opened her laptop again, pretended to consult her notes, then asked, “Is there any history of mental infirmity in your family?”
***
Chapman caught up to her as she waited at the stoplight outside the hotel. There were several different restaurants in the plaza across the street, and Sarah was starving.
“That was good stuff,” Chapman said, chuckling. “Have to say, thought you were being a real obstructionist bitch with all your objections to my stuff, but the way you handled that girl?” He shook his head and chuckled again. “Man.”
The fact that the worst lawyer in the room was complimenting her did nothing to make Sarah feel better. She knew she’d gone too far—she knew it the minute she asked her first question.
If only Joe hadn’t looked so good that morning in his charcoal gray suit. If only he didn’t look so much better than she remembered. If only the young woman hadn’t been so adoring . . .
Sarah shook it off. That was just one deposition, and it wouldn’t happen again. Didn’t have to—she’d made her point. She wasn’t there to make friends, least of all with Burke.
“Where you going?” Chapman asked when they reached the other side.
Sarah pointed to the salad place.
Chapman made a face. “See you later then.”
Sarah was just sitting down to a massive bowl of greens and tofu when a familiar body entered the restaurant. She almost felt him before she saw him.
She cursed under her breath.
There was no use pretending she hadn’t seen him when it was clear he was