I know it will not be even in the same class as the wonderful stuff I've read here, but you all have inspired me. Comments would be most appreciated. As always, anything Law & Order is NOT owned by me, but by Dick Wolf. This story is for fun not profit!!

Damn the man. Jillian Dennison looked at the clock above the stove. 9:00 p m. Jack McCoy was now exactly two hours late for dinner. Damn him.

The first call came at 6:45. "Jill, its Jack...just got back from court. Have something's to go over with Serena, and then I'm on my way."

Expected. Forgiveable.

7: 57. The phone rings again. Dennison, in the midst of draining pasta, let's the machine get it, once again. "Jill, it's Jack, pick up...listen, I'm still at the office...maybe we should reschedule...I'm really-"

Dennison, almost dropping the colander in one hand, grabs the receiver with her other, just before McCoy can make a clean get away.

"sorry to do this..again,"she finishes the sentence for him.

"Jill?"

"Yes, Jack, I know," she said making an unsuccessful effort to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Look, this happens a lot with me. It's really not fair to you, maybe we should-"

"Listen, Jack," she said cutting him off," dinner at my place was your idea. I understand things come up. I'm a big girl, with my very own career. Stuff happens, I get that. I also get that I have dinner for two sitting here. And it's not out of a take out box or the microwave. You need to eat whenever you're done at work. Just drop by," she paused thinking, I'm too damn old for this high school crap,"or not. You're choice."

McCoy was quiet. Just a few seconds and he would have left the message and avoided this. She was right. He had suggested a quiet dinner at her place, challenging her to show him she could cook. To his surprise, she rose to the challenge and promised him not only home cooking, but a gourmet meal that would, in her words," put any of your la-de-ad Manhattan restaurants to shame, any day!"

And he had stood her up. He was a dog and he knew It.

"Jill, that's sweet of you, but it could be late."
"Not a problem. I have papers to grade and lessons to write. I know I'm not "Hang um' High McCoy", but I do have a few things, other than making you dinner, to do. I'll be up for awhile. Tell Serena "hello" for me."

Dennison wasn't happy with the exchange, nor the fact she had spend half her food budget, as well as half of her day, on a meal that was getting colder by the minute. She began packing the meal into plastic containers, regretting the tone of her last comment.

She knew he wasn't involved with Serena Southerlyn. He was in his office with his other mistress.

A case.

When Jamie Ross had set her up with Jack McCoy, two months earlier, Dennison had been warned.

"He's a work-alocholic. He's the most stubborn man I've met...and that includes Neil," Jamie had said.

Dennison had laughed," Gee, Jamie, don't sell the guy so hard!"

Ross had grinned back." Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. Jack isn't an easy man. He's been in the D A's office twenty years. You'll never win an argument with him. He's like a dog with a bone when he thinks he's right. Which is most of the time. But, he's the most passionate, big hearted man, I've known as well. If you can get past the walls."

Ah yes, those walls, Dennison remembered exactly when they went up. The morning after they first started sleeping together.

She put the last of the meal into the fridge and poured herself a glass of merlot. Two divorces and numerous unsuccessful relationships had left Jack McCoy wary of anything that looked, smelled, or felt like commitment. Including home cooked meals.

"Damnit, I knew this was coming. I saw the signs," she said to herself, as she sat down and looked out out the snow falling outside her living room window," I should have told him to go to hell and finished it myself."

She drank down some of the merlot, knowing her pride was talking, not her heart. She, herself, had been wary of meeting anyone, when she arrived fresh from her divorce, in New York.

Dennison had left California with her divorce settlement and teaching credential. Her old friend from college, Jamie Ross, had been more than happy to help her find a new home, a new job, and was determined to help her find, a new man.

Jack McCoy was not the first man Jamie had tried to set Jill up with. The accountant from Queens, Jamie's husband, Dave's, best friend, the guy from legal aide who was longing to settle down and start a family (like at 47, Dennison needed a baby and menopause to deal with), the recently divorced homicide detective who was doing the single Dad thing. By the time Jamie got to Jack, Jill was out of excuses.

Besides, Jack McCoy might be the perfect guy to meet, she had thought. A workaholic, older, twice married. This guy isn't gonna want a lasting relationship, she thought at the time.
Quick drink, "hi" & "bye" and were done. Neat and clean. Most important, Jamie might give up.

She hadn't count on the legendary McCoy charm.

"No tan," he had said frowning, the night they met," I thought all California girls were tan, blonde, and tall?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and met his dark eyes with a winning smile," and bikini clad with a surf board, as well? Sorry, Mr. McCoy, no tan, not blonde, either. Myth and fantasy started by middle aged Eastern men, who are bored with the slick, polished women of the East. However, she said, extending her hand," you yourself, clearly possess the charm, New Yorkers are famous for."

He raised an eyebrow slightly and took her hand." Another myth, Ms. Dennison. I acquired my charm in Chicago."

She did her best to not let her gaze waver and to keep her handshake formal and firm, to hide her phyiscal reaction his touch .

Was it the eyes? The half smile? Dennison still hadn't had her finger on it. When they touched for the first time, in such a formal, public way, she wasn't expecting her body to react in such an instinctive, surprisingly primal, way. It was like a switch had been flipped that brought her back to life as a sexual being.

She shook her head. Damn him, she thought again. She put the wine glass down and thought about her options.

Jack McCoy looked at his watch and sighed. 9:45, no call from Jillian. Just as well, he thought. My own fault. Never should have let it go this far. He picked up his empty coffee cup and frowned.
She was right. Dinner at her place had been his idea. He'd forgotten she had a week of winter break left from the high school she taught at. Damn, he thought, with sudden realization, she probably spend all day on it.
McCoy felt genuinely bad about the night. He could have been out of his office hours ago. The case was solid. Serena was capable of ironing out the few minor details that were left.

"Tell Serena "Hello" ". You didn't have to be a gifted trial lawyer to know where that remark came from or what was meant by it. Same old song, he thought, and pretty damn funny, although he was damned if he'd admit that to Jillian Dennison or any other woman.

"Jack, here's the prelim file you wanted," Serena Southerlyn said handing him the file as she sat down." You know, Jack, it's getting late. I can finish this-"

"Thanks, Serena, but you go. It's been a long day. we didn't even order anything. You must be starved. Any coffee left?"

"Sorry, you finished the last of it at 7:00,"she said watching him reach into the bottom drawer of the desk." Jack" she hesitated "..Jack, what are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious," he said as he poured the scotch into his cup," I'm making up for the lack of coffee around here. Care to join me?"

Southerlyn shook her head," That would wipe me out, now. Besides, I want be sharp for tomorrow. I want to be ready for anything Danielle Melnik has."

McCoy nodded," Danielle is not a person to underestimate. Really you should go. I'll be right behind you."

They both knew Southerlyn was not referring to the scotch. His friends had warmed up to Jill immediately, when he took her to a bar associate fundraiser, earlier in the month. Southerlyn had commented the next day on Jill's quit wit and
ability to easily keep up with McCoy's verbal sparring. Southerlyn liked her. Jack had been noticeably more relaxed. Then something unknown to Serena had changed. It was as if he was deliberately sabotaging a good thing.

Before she could say more McCoy's phone rang.

"McCoy.."Jack was surprised to hear the voice of the night security guard," Joe, what is it?...Yes, just a second," he turned to Serena handing her the phone.

"Southerlyn,"she said, her tone abruptly changing from weary to almost mysterious. She turned away from McCoy,"really?..yes, yes, come.. I mean , yes...I'll be right out,"she hand the phone up and started to leave.

"Serena," McCoy said with interest," what's going on?"

"Just a delivery from the courthouse. I'll sign for it on my way out, "she said quickly, without facing him,"goodnight."

McCoy sat back in his chair and watched the door close. They both knew nothing came from the courthouse at this hour. He absently picked up the file before him.

Probably something from her significant other; flowers, wine for a romantic evening, he thought. Serena was pretty private about her personal life. He studied the file folder as he remembered a time when he did those unexpected, romantic things, hoping to, if not win a lady's heart, at least win favor and eventually, the opportunity to seduce...
Claire. Claire was the last time.

He drank the last of the scotch and opened the file.

It had been years...there had been other women..a marriage..there is another woman he thought as he tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on the contents of the file.

McCoy threw the file down and got up to grab his jacket and the door opened.
"What-"McCoy began, as he watched Serena hold the door open for Jillian Dennison, clad in a black trench coat and very high, very narrow black heels that made it impossible for him to keep his eye from her well shaped, black stockinged legs.

"Hello, Jack," she said lightly," what? Forgot what you wanted to say? Gee, not good for a D A. Does this happen in court, as well? Maybe it's a sign of age."

Serena tried not to laugh, but McCoy heard a suppressed giggle.

Dennison with one hand swept McCoy's files to one side. As McCoy began to protest, she began laying out plastic containers on the desk, removing the lids, emitting mouth watering smells.
McCoy's stomach began to grumble.

"Jill, you must be freezing. It's snowing and you're running around Manhattan in your California coat, in the middle of the night.."

"We have winter in California too, Jack",she turned to face Southerlyn", Serena, grab a plate," she said ignoring McCoy," there's plenty of food and I'm sure this guy didn't even order Chinese."

Serena heistated,"Actually, that's true, but I don't want to interrupt-"

"Nonsense." she said as she began pouring Alf redo sauce onto the pasta," there's nothing to interrupt," she said shooting a glance at McCoy.

Serena gave into her hunger and started filling a plate.

"Jill," McCoy said as he moved towards her," this is very generous, especially after- my God your hands are like ice," he said as he began rubbing them with his," Gloves. If you're going to become a New Yorker, gloves are a must. "

She smiled," Thanks for the tip."

"Why are you doing this?"

She squeezed his hand and handed him a plate.

"First of all, because scotch is not part of the four food groups. Second, it was either feed you or throw out a day's worth of cooking. Third," she said lowering her voice as Serena discreetly moved to the door," because you are being a damn fool, Jack, and I won't have it. Now shut up and eat."

McCoy smirked at the comment and took the plate to the sofa. His last wife hadn't talked to him like that. Maybe if she had, every now and then, she wouldn't be an ex, he thought.

He had to admit, it was, an impressive meal. Cesar salad, pasta, the perfectly grilled sole almandine, the vegetables that were sautéed in the some sort of lemon /dill sauce. All perfect. The dessert, a lemon tort that was still warm, with freshly made whipped creme and coffee.

McCoy swiped his mouth setting down the napkin and gazed at the woman in the chair across from him, with bewilderment.

"Admit it," she said waiting.

"I admit it."

"No, Jack, I want to hear you say the words."

He chuckled," Now I know why you did it. Praise. You want praise."

Before she could respond Serena came in buttoning her coat, "Jill, that was the best! I don't usually care for fish, but that was fabulous. Thank you so much."

Dennison nodded and grinned at McCoy.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it Serena. Have a seat. There's some tort left."

"No, thanks, it is really late. My cab is downstairs. I just came in to thank you and see if either of you needed a ride?"

"You go on Serena, I'll see you in court to- I mean in a few hours," McCoy said noting the time.

He turned back to Jill who was cleaning up the last of the food. He came from behind her, putting his arms around her waist.

"Serena's right. You really out did yourself. Not that I deserve it."

"Oh, Jack, it was a dinner. One dinner. Look, if I've been putting any pressure on you.."She said turning to face him.

"No, it's not you. Like you said I talked you into cooking," he took her hand leading her to the sofa." Relationships just haven't worked out for me. I get a little gun shy."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," She said looking up him.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable without your coat," he asked.

"I'm good Jack, really," she said sitting on the sofa.

"I shouldn't have made that crack about Serena. Just for the record, I like her, Jack. It was stupid to imply...besides, even if something were going on, although I know nothing is...we're not married." she paused," God, I'm really making a mess out of this." She stood up," Look, it's almost midnight. You've got court in the morning.."

McCoy stood as well again, slipping his arms around her. "Jill...I don't know," he said looking into her eyes as he pulled her to him." I've been deeply in love twice in my life. First with the mother of my child, then...Claire. I don't know if I can do it again. Maybe I'm getting too old for love and romance. I certainly didn't do well with either in my last marriage." McCoy could feel her trembling. He stopped and looked at her face. No tears...what..,"Jill you still have your coat on and you're shaking? Are you alright?"

"Ah...no," she said blushing slightly," Actually, Jack I'm freezing.
And I feel like an idiot. Look, I am not 25 anymore either. My divorce took everything I had to get through it. It was ugly, and draining and I found it demeaning to go after things...like retirement money and my share of the house. I just wanted out of a loveless relationship. But, hey, I did what I had to do. Just like I did what I had to do tonight. I had to give it a shot. A crazy, impulsive, romantic shot. But, I sure as hell don't plan to chase you, Jack.

"You know, the last thing I was looking for, was any kind of relationship. I certainty don't need you...or any other man. I feel just as passionately about my job, as you do yours. If you have to work all night on a case, I get it and I support it. You'll find, if you decide to stick around, there will be times I'm up all night grading papers or counseling a student and I'll expect the same support from you. Or any other man I am involved with. I am very good at taking care of myself," she said without anger or bravado. She held his gaze," But, God, Jack, I do want you."

As they kissed, McCoy ran his hands over her body and began to untie her belt . As he began to remove the coat he heard her start to protest. He stopped and let his hands explore under the coat to find very little but flesh.

Jack opened his eyes and looked at her, he smiled and removed her coat.

"You came all the way down here, in the snow, in the middle of the night, wearing stockings and a teddy," he asked amazed.

Dennison was red with embarrassment. "And heels. Don't forget the heels. I never wear heels. Thought I was gonna kill myself going up the steps outside. I had to call Serena to help get the food up here and walk in these things! Now give me my coat."

McCoy grinned and tossed the coat on his desk. He ran his hands over her," I believe the Prosecutor is entitled to discovery," he said in a low, horse whisper.