Brother from another mother

Samantha Ronson [Part-1]

"Harvey," Donna poked her head through the glass door of the office and Harvey glanced up at her, "your three o'clock is on her way up."

Harvey nodded and went back to his lap top. "Thanks Donna. Send her in as soon as she gets here."

Harvey's fingers flew over the keys with ease born of practice, but not so much so that he was not reminded of how much he tended to hate the thing, high tech electronics as a whole actually. While his smart phone came in handy most of the time, he still preferred the old corded one he kept bolted to his kitchen wall, no matter how many odd looks it got from the occasional woman he brought home. He was a pen and ink, records and white noise kind of guy, societal pressures be dammed.

He glanced up from the screen and saw a slight, well dressed woman in Coach heels and long blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail striding toward his office. Finishing up his email to Jessica, he stood, closing the lid on the laptop and buttoning the second button on his suit jacket.

Harvey rounded the corner of his desk toward the door just as his three o'clock was sent through, ignoring the raised eyebrow Donna sent him over her shoulder. And of course, the redhead was right. The woman was attractive, doubtless, but she was a client, first and foremost, and it was against Harvey's policy to mix business with pleasure.

"Ms. Ronson I presume? Nice to meet you, Harvey Specter."

The woman was young, younger than some of their associates he guessed, with bright blue eyes and black nailpolish. She shook his outstretched hand and gave him a confident smile, but the tight grip she kept on her last season Prada bag gave away her nerves.

"Mr. Specter, so nice to finally meet you. You come highly recommended at Birch Books."

Harvey smiled charmingly at the compliment and waved his hand toward the couch, indicating they should sit. The woman crossed her legs at the ankles, and laced her fingers, laying them lightly in her lap.

"It's always nice to know Mr. Birch hasn't forgotten about me."

The woman smiled, shaking her head, "no. He certainly hasn't. Hardly an office party goes by when he doesn't rave about how well he did after both his divorces due to your careful eye."

Again, Harvey smiled, pleased, and leaned forward to the pitcher of water on the table, turning over a couple of glasses.

"Water?"

She nodded, and Harvey saw her swallow hard, her smile becoming more forced by the minute.

"Mr. Birch says you're the best."

Harvey looked up from the pitcher. It wasn't a question, but the look in the woman's eyes seemed to be searching for assurance of the fact.

He nodded, "I am."

For the first time a bit of fire lit in her blue eyes and she smirked.

"Cocky?" She challenged.

He handed her the glass of water and went to pour himself one. "You know my record, Ms. Ronson. That's why you're here."

He sat back in the chair, crossing his legs and asked smoothly. "Do you think I'm cocky?"

She stared at him a moment, and then shook her head, looking at her water.

"I suppose we'll see."

Harvey nodded, allowing a moment of silence to settle in. Obviously she was nervous, be it from the nature of the case she was bringing to him or the fact that there were very few people he'd met over the years who didn't find him somewhat intimidating, he wasn't yet sure. But behind the nerves he could also see a shadow of the strength and intelligence that had gotten her up the ranks to Editor at one of the biggest book publishers in New York at such a young age.