Title: Chance Meetings

Author: Razorbackgal0225

Rating: PG-13-A little language, but that's all.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, laws or situations from Suits, but I sure wish I did. Anything you don't recognize is mine.

Author's Note: Here's the next installment. I hope everyone enjoys it, I tried my best to keep everyone in character. Let me know what you think; I love hearing people's thoughts. Thanks for reading!

The Sixth through Eighth Times

Even with the less than encouraging outcome of my last encounter with the great Harvey Specter, I was still wishing for another shot at impressing him. What can I say; I was a glutton for punishment. Since Mason's bold proclamation and my subsequent though hesitant acknowledgement of the tiny thing I had for Mr. Specter, I had the right to occasionally daydream about the next time we would meet. I was determined that this time, I would put my best foot forward. I might not be model material, like his date at the football game, but I wasn't too shabby either. Unfortunately, I would have to wait, as meetings six, seven and eight were rather lacking in actual contact. Supremely disappointing, to say the least.

Episode six happened in my firm. I was coming back from lunch and saw Harvey exit Mr. Matthew's office. I was too far down the hall to say anything, not that I would have known what to say anyway; he didn't appear to be the type to engage in meaningless small talk. I was proud that I managed to keep walking without tripping in my new heels. I kept a steady pace, entirely unsure of whether I wanted to catch up to him or not. It was decided for me when he shook Mr. Matthew's had and turned to leave. I passed by my boss just as Harvey reached the bank of elevators.

"Oh, Ms. Walker, we were just talking about you," Mr. Matthews said as I walked by him.

"You were?" I asked, surprised, especially since I knew with whom he had been meeting.

Mr. Matthews smiled at me and answered, "Yes, Mr. Specter was asking if you could be the primary forensic accountant on the projects he sends to the firm. You've impressed him with your work on the last couple of assignments you've done and would like for you to work on as many as possible."

I could have been knocked down with a feather. Without meaning to, I looked over to where Harvey was boarding an elevator. As usual, he was smirking at me, as if he knew how surprised I was by this news. I turned back to my boss and said, "Well, thank Mr. Specter for me the next time you speak to him." I bit my tongue to keep from saying "I have no idea what to think of this."

Time number seven happened a week later and was even less memorable. I was walking back to my office building and saw his unmistakable figure walk out of a building a few yards away from me, phone held to his ear. He was quickly followed by Mike and they approached a shiny, black Mercedes sitting at the curb. Mike saw me first, smiled and waved. I waved back. Harvey must have noticed Mike's actions, because he pivoted before sliding into the back of the car. I was still smiling from Mike's greeting and would have felt weird not acknowledging Harvey the same way, so I gave a small wave. I received a slight grin and a head nod in reply.

Number eight occurred at Pearson Hardman. I was delivering one of the five projects of Harvey's I had been assigned since his meeting with my boss. I quickly found my way back to his office. This time, it wasn't an exuberant Mike that greeted me.

A beautiful red-haired woman was sitting at the desk outside of Harvey's office. I smiled as I approached her. "Hi, I'm…"

"Walker, the accountant," she completed for me. She held out her hand, I was guessing for the report that I was holding. She tilted her head a little as she looked at me and I felt like I was being inspected. For what, I didn't know. "You're late, Harvey expected this an hour ago," she finally said.

I frowned and glanced at my watch. I had been given a 2:00 deadline and it was only 1:00. I was actually early. "I'm sorry?" I said hesitantly, not sure why I was apologizing to someone I didn't know for something that I didn't do.

"You've lucky," she replied, gesturing with her head to the office behind her. "It's a bad day in there, I doubt he's noticed."

Since she had brought it up, I didn't mind how obvious I was as I looked past her into the glass office. I could see Mike sitting in one of the chairs in front of the wall of records that I had noticed before, looking more serious than I had seen him when we met previously. Harvey was standing with his back to me and I didn't need to know him very well to tell he was tense by the set of his shoulders, very different than the normal relaxed, in-charge of everything attitude I was used to seeing on him.

"Oh," I responded eloquently. "Well, I'll just get out of here then." I didn't mention that I technically was early on my assignment; I didn't know who she was, but this woman had managed to intimidate me with only two comments.

"Donna," Harvey's voice coming from the intercom startled me, "Get Harrison on the phone. And tell Walker to rest up, she's about to have a lot work to do." I looked back into the office. I didn't know how Harvey had known I was there, since he didn't appear to have moved since my last glance. Donna shrugged and picked up the phone to follow his request. I made as graceful a retreat as I could.

See, disappointing. But a week later, number nine…well, it made up for those.

The Ninth Time

Glasses clinked all around the bar as people were toasting and celebrating. Pearson Hardman, with the help of Matthews and Phillips Accounting, had successfully kept one of its biggest clients from falling victim to a hostile takeover. Out of gratitude, the client had booked one of the nicest bars in downtown New York and was hosting a party for all members of both firms. I had worked on the project since the day Harvey had warned that I would be busy and he was right. I had pulled financial records and completed analysis until my eyes had crossed, so I was ready to let down my hair and relax. The party had been underway for an hour and I was two drinks in, knowing that I would be calling a cab to get home. I have to admit, I was feeling that special confidence that comes from a decent buzz.

I was sitting at the bar talking to a couple of colleagues when I noticed the man that had stopped next to me. I waited until he had placed his order before speaking. "Hi Mike."

He turned to me grinning. "Hey, Walker," I noticed he looked as tired as I felt, slight circles under his eyes that I knew I had as well, only mine had been covered up with makeup. "You look great tonight," added, causing me to smile in response. I had taken extra care in selecting my outfit for the night, even though I refused to admit to why. I was wearing my favorite dress, one that I felt was flattering. It was long enough to be professional and short enough to show off my legs. Mike continuing to talk brought me out of my thoughts. "How glad are you to be done with this case? I feel like I could sleep for two days straight."

I nodded in agreement. "If I haven't been working on this case, I've been dreaming about it. It's been nonstop for a solid week. I'm sure it was even worse for you."

He shrugged before answering, "I guess it wasn't that much worse than normal, but Harvey's been stressed out over this one. Which means I've been yelled at a little more than usual."

I was surprised to hear that. I wouldn't have expected that Harvey would ever be forced to shout to get things done. I probably shouldn't have asked, since that showed a little more interest than I was comfortable expressing, but the drinks I had consumed were making decisions for me. "Harvey yells?"

Mike accepted his beer and thanked the bartender before turning to me again. "I supposed he doesn't really yell; he just has this tone that he uses when he's especially upset. Which happens about once a day with me." His expression didn't match what he was saying; he was still grinning. I couldn't help but smile back. "I'm pretty sure it's his way of saying he cares."

I laughed. "That's weird."

"That's Harvey."

"Oh, are you talking about how scared you are of your boss again?" a new voice interrupted our conversation. I leaned forward a little to see who had joined us uninvited. I recognized the speaker as one of the cubicle-dwellers I had noticed during my first visit to their office. One I had immediately labeled as a tool. "It's kind of pathetic, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised based on your track record with authority figures."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Really Kyle, you don't have anything better to do than to bother me while we aren't at work. Shouldn't you be off trying to roofie your date or something else that you consider productive?" From his tone and his response, I could tell this wasn't the first time Kyle had been an issue. I was trying to decide if laughing at him would help Mike's cause any, when the offender spoke again.

"At least I have a date and aren't pining over a paralegal that cost me the mock trial." Well, this guy was a major dick. Letting vodka make my next decision, I laced my arm through Mike's and addressed the guy on the other side of him.

"Oh Mike, is this the guy you're telling me about from the office? The one that's overly proud of a fake trial result?" I had a lawyer for a best friend, I knew what a mock trial was. I lowered my voice to a loud whisper, one that Kyle could still hear. "I thought you said he was taller."

The conspiratorial grin on Mike's face was worth my impulsive action. "I might have exaggerated," he said, mirth in his voice.

"I'll say," I responded, pleased to see that Kyle didn't enjoy being on the other end of the joke. "Now I see why you feel sorry for him." I waited to see if I had gone too far; Mike's shoulders were shaking as he tried to conceal his laughter. Kyle looked ready to explode.

"Mike, Walker" a pause and "Guy whose name I'm not going to learn," yet another person entered the conversation. This one however, wasn't unwelcome. After not being confronted with the entire Harvey package for some time, I was a little breathless on first sight. He looked stunning as normal, the tension I had noticed at his office last week no longer evident. He stared down Kyle, until I almost had sympathy for the kid, until I remember how he had spoken to Mike. He finally ducked his head and muttered some excuse to leave, his tail tucked firmly between his legs. Then Harvey turned to us. "Nice performance," he said.

Mike bumped my shoulder with his. "That was awesome Walker. You deserve another drink," he signaled for the bartender. I glanced down and saw that I had finished my third glass. Oh well, I was celebrating.

Mike and I chatted for a few minutes, with Harvey throwing in the odd comment every once and awhile, generally sarcastic and witty. I was thoroughly enjoying myself, getting to be around Harvey, with the buffer of Mike between us. Then the inevitable happened.

"Oh, there's Rachel," Mike said, taking the last drink of his beer. "I'm going to go say hi," he patted me on the arm as he left. Leaving me with Harvey.

I sort of expected him to make an excuse to exit as well; there were plenty of his associates around. To my surprise, he took a step closer, filling the space that Mike had left. He signaled for another drink and I searched for something to say. Generally in my daydreams, this is when I said something charming and enchanting. Instead, I sat in silence. Oh hell, I thought, this was going terribly.

"You did good work this week," Harvey finally broke the silence. "Mike said you found some of the accounting errors that helped us break the takeover." I took a deep breath, determined to not sit there like a lump without a personality.

"Thanks," I said. "I'm glad everything worked out okay." I was wracking by brains to come with an intelligent conversation topic. "So you're a Giants fan?" I asked, even though he hadn't been wearing any team paraphernalia when I saw him at the game.

He smirked, as though he knew that seeing him at the game had been on my mind for weeks. I obviously needed to invest some time in working on my poker face. "Yes, I am" he answered, "and a Knicks fan. And a Yankees fan."

Again, not the best poker face. "Yikes," I commented, "the Evil Empire. I'm surprised you're not a Patriots fan too."

"Now that's blasphemy," he said, taking a step closer to me. I caught the faint scent of his cologne and of course he smelled delicious. "Let me guess, you're a Mets fan."

If I hadn't been trying to impress the man, I would have snorted in amusement. "Not at all. I'm a Braves fan."

"Ah, a National League fan, how quaint," he responded, sarcasm heavy in his voice. And we were off. His statement started a healthy debate between us regarding the merits of both the American and National League that lasted through another round of drinks. He was charming, funny and informed, just adding to his overall appeal. I felt my tiny thing for him growing a little bit bigger. I had finished explaining to him why he was wrong about the designated hitter, when he took another step in my direction, closing the small gap of space remaining between us. "You're very vocal with your opinions tonight. And here I thought I intimidated you," he said, the smirk returning to his face.

I narrowed my eyes. I had enough alcohol in my system to loosen my tongue, plus, I was beginning to feel slightly comfortable with him, in this relaxed setting, so I answered, "I wasn't intimidated. Just annoyed. You also seem to be laughing at me for some reason."

The comfort level I had been proud of seconds before dropped dramatically as Harvey leaned close enough to me that his arm was flush with mine. I tilted my head to meet his eyes and was hit with the most seductive look that had ever been sent my direction. My breath caught in my throat and the butterflies in my stomach that had calmed down took flight again. "Well," he drawled, his voice a little deeper than normal, "I'm not laughing now." I blinked a couple of times, trying to process what was going on. I had died and gone to heaven, because I could swear that Harvey Specter was hitting on me. And I wasn't sure I had the strength or desire to say no.

Fate intervened when Harvey's phone rang. A look of frustration flew across his face as he pulled the phone out of his pocket. He frowned at the display, then turned to me. "I'm sorry," he explained apologetically, "I've got to take this." Before I had time to finish my nod of understanding, he had moved away from the bar and towards the door. I looked at the empty space next to me, wondering if I hadn't missed my best chance to get to know him outside of work.

I moved around the bar for a little while longer, talking with some people from work and meeting Rachel, the paralegal. If Harvey came back in, I didn't see him and he didn't seek me out. Feeling pretty discouraged, I noticed it was getting late and as it was a weeknight, I had to go to work the next morning. I headed towards the exit, telling Mike and Rachel goodnight as I did. I walked out into the brisk night air, glad for the cool breeze that cleared the vodka cobwebs from my head. What was I thinking, I wondered as I walked to the curb to hail a cab, there's no way Harvey Specter was interested in me. I wasn't a gorgeous six-foot tall blonde, I knew way too much about sports for a girl and I would never be that interested in being glamorous. Based on the woman at the game, these weren't traits he looked for in a companion. Better that I accept this fact, enjoy having someone pretty to look at during work and move on.

My plan might have worked if not for what happened next. As I raised my hand to catch the attention of the next passing cab, a shrill whistle split the quiet night. I spun around and saw Harvey, sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket, sauntering towards me. The cab obeyed, as I'm sure it had no choice, and pulled in front of me. As I was still basically gazing starry-eyed as he approached me, he had plenty of time to open the cab door for me. "Calling it a night?" he asked quietly, invading my personal space yet again. The ever-present smirk was there, but was somehow softer. I remembered that he had asked a question.

"Oh, yeah, gotta be at work in the morning," I answered, taking a step towards the cab. He followed me, placing one hand on the open door and one of the roof on the car, effectively blocking me in, not that I wanted to escape. "And it's getting kinda late."

He leaned into me even more and I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing. He brushed his lips slowly across my cheek and murmured in my ear, "Have a nice night, Madison." He stepped back after a second and I slid into the backseat of the car. He shut the door behind me and the cab pulled into the street.

It took two blocks for me to realize what had happened and then I couldn't stop smiling, even as I prepared for bed. He used my first name. Harvey Specter knew my name. Score one for the not-so-glamorous brunette.

TBC