“Actually, there is another matter on which I was hoping to get your assistance,” Sam began carefully. “I know we only have you on loan from Chicago for the harassment case, but this wouldn’t be a full-time assignment.”

Taylor was intrigued by this lead-in. She was already working nights and weekends, so she figured this mystery assignment had to be a great opportunity if Sam thought she should squeeze it into her schedule.

“Is it a pro bono matter?” she asked.

Sam leaned back in his chair as he considered this question carefully, like a trapped witness at a deposition. “Well . . . not exactly. I’d call it more of a favor.”

Taylor’s bullshit radar instantly went into high alert. So-called “favors” for partners generally meant wasted non-billable hours preparing a bar association speech or researching the DUI laws of Natchitoches, Louisiana, to help out a wayward-but-good-hearted nephew.

“What kind of favor?” Taylor asked, although she already knew exactly what Sam’s response would be. “It’s a very interesting situation . . .” he’d begin. All partners described the criminal activities of their ne’er-do-well relations as “interesting situations.”

Sam leaned forward in his chair. “It’s a very interesting situation . . .” he began.

Bingo.

Taylor tried to appear enthusiastic as he continued.

“It’s a favor to one of the partners here, Bill Mitchells,” Sam said. “I’m sure you’re familiar with him—he’s head of the tax group. One of his clients asked him for a favor.”

Taylor could barely keep from rolling her eyes. Great—client criminal relations. The only thing worse than the spoiled prep-school offspring of rich partners was the spoiled prep-school offspring of insanely rich CEOs. She steeled herself for the rest of Sam’s pitch.

But what he said next surprised her.

“As you likely are aware, Bill does tax work for most of the big names in Hollywood. One of his clients, an actor, is about to start filming a legal thriller. He’s asked to work with one of our litigators to get a feel for how real lawyers act in the courtroom. You know, demeanor, where to stand, those kinds of things.”

Sam paused once again for dramatic effect. This provided Taylor an opportunity to digest what he was saying.

Babysit an actor when she was just three weeks from trial?

Preposterous.

It had to be a practical joke. Ha ha, yank the chain of the new associate from the Midwest who thinks everyone in Los Angeles is obsessed with celebrities.

Taylor smiled and shook her finger at Sam to let him know she was in on the gag.

“I’m guessing you’re joking.”

But Sam’s face turned serious, and he gave her that “what’s the problem?” look partners give associates when assigning a three-month document review.

He wasn’t joking.

Balls.

“Let’s be honest, Taylor,” Sam said in his best we’re-all-buddies-here tone. “I’m not going to put a partner on this. I’ve got better uses for those of us that bill out at eight hundred dollars an hour.” He winked at her. In public and around clients, partners loved to put on a big show of feigning embarrassment over their ridiculous billing rates. But behind closed doors, they were a source of great pride.

“However, it’s an excellent client development opportunity,” he went on, “so I need an associate who will make a good impression. You.”

Taylor folded her hands in her lap and thought quickly of the best way to graciously decline Sam’s offer. She knew he meant the opportunity as a compliment, but working with some prima donna actor on his overly melodramatic “You can’t handle the truth!” courtroom scenes was hardly her idea of serious lawyering.

So she flashed Sam her best soft-rejection smile.

“Sam, I’m flattered. But don’t you think one of the associates from this office would be better suited for this kind of project? I’d hate to waltz in here as the new girl and steal their opportunity to work with a Hollywood actor.”

That didn’t sound half bad, she mused. Apparently, she had a bit of a flair for acting herself.

But then Sam topped her with his trump card.

“Well, Taylor, Chicago assures me that you’re the best litigation associate this firm has. If that’s true, then don’t you think it should be you representing us?”

A direct challenge to her skills as a lawyer. Taylor’s kryptonite.

She sighed, having only one answer to that.

“When would you need me?”

Sam grinned victoriously, looking ever fox-like once again. “Thursday.”

For a brief moment, Taylor saw a possible way out of this situation. “Oh . . . that’s too bad,” she said. “I have to argue those motions to compel on Thursday.” She snapped her fingers. Damn.

But Sam was not about to let her off so easily.

“And as much as I know it will kill you to miss a chance to be in court, I’m sure you can get someone else to cover it.” Then he folded his hands politely, indicating that the discussion was over.

And so Taylor stood up to leave. She gave Sam her best team-player, I-couldn’t-be-more-thrilled-to-squeeze-this-shit-into-my-schedule grin.

“No problem, Sam, I’ll work it all out.”

She turned to leave and had made it all the way to the door before she realized something. She glanced back over her shoulder.