"I owe you a pair of stockings, Ms. Street," Perry Mason whispered to his secretary as soon as the courtroom had cleared after adjournment.

"Don't think you can keep the ones I stripped off for your convenience," Della returned equally quiet.

"It wasn't for my convenience," the attorney protested. "I was trying to prove a point."

"And which point would that be?" Della cocked her eyebrows. "How easy it is for you to make me jump through hoops?"

"I would never ask you to jump through hoops!"

"Of course not," Della chuckled. "You would ask Paul to make me."

"As if Paul could talk you into doing something you don't have your heart set on," Perry challenged her with a laugh.

"Don't underestimate Paul's power of persuasion. But we're talking about boundaries here, Chief," Della tried to sound sincere. "I provided you with a necessary tool to find a witness guilty of a lie, now I want it back." She waited. "C'mon, tell me. Where are they, Perry?" Again, she waited. But no response. "Don't think you can keep them." Her voice was getting playfully impatient now. "Where are my nylons, counselor? Speak!"

"I entered them in evidence...," Perry Mason started, clearly amused.

"You did not," his secretary interrupted, hands on hips.

"In evidence for everything you do for me without questioning my motives," the attorney finished with a boyish smile.

"Oh, I questioned your motives all right," Della Street clicked her lips and laughed. "But I trusted you enough to know where to draw the line." She paused. "I am inclined to ask for a raise though." Her eyes glistened with joy or revenge, Perry wasn't quite sure.

"Because in your book this qualifies as …," the lawyer raised his eyebrows.

"Let's just say, business school did not exactly prepare me for your kind of stunts. Although they warned us of your kind." Della shot him a flirty smile.

"My kind?" Perry chuckled. "The kind who chases you around the desk and makes insinuating remarks?"

"No, the kind who doesn't." The secretary held out her hand for him to reveal her stockings from his pockets. "Besides, didn't you agree to give me a raise every time someone illegally uses my name to create a diversion?" Della's eyes glared at him with that mix of relentlessness and charm. Perry Mason's heart dropped for a beat, then pumped again, harder than his head approved of. "I know you tried to hide it from me, but Arthur sang to me like a stool pigeon."

Of course he did, Perry Mason sighed. After all, Arthur Tragg was susceptible to that mix, too: Della's eyes piercing but warm, her smile genuine but without remorse. "Let's discuss this elsewhere, shall we," the attorney tried to wiggle out of her control.

"Gladly," his girl Friday purred. "But wherever we go, I'd like to be decent." Her hand was still waiting for him to present her nylon legwear. "If you don't mind, counselor."

"What if I do," Perry grinned and welcomed her hands diving through the pockets of his sports jacket.

"I see this will be a long discussion tonight," Della rolled her eyes, then laughed.

"Just exactly what I had in mind," Perry grinned, then gently grabbed her shoulders to pull her closer, his lips only inches away from hers. "Any more pockets you wish to rampage through?" His lips met hers for a tender buss, his heart always prepared for her to break away. But this time, Della did not move. Instead, her hands explored his chest, his shoulders next, until her arms reached up around his neck. Huddling against him, she kissed him hard, unwilling to let him go.

"I'm generally inclined to encourage your diligence," Perry suddenly gasped for air. "But I think we should relocate."

Della's face was flushed, her eyes gleamy, raw. She nodded. "Of course."

The air that hit her when Perry pulled away was cold. It made her shiver. Observant as he was, the attorney wrapped his coat around her shoulders, aware that for a moment she was unable to move. Standing still, Della listened to her heartbeat going fast and watched how Perry collected their briefcases, their notes, her purse. Then he pulled her close again, warmed her, at least until they reached the door.

"Finally, there you are," Paul exclaimed in the hall. "Your client is waiting for you! Tragg already wanted to lock her up for the day. He thought you had reconsidered." Giving his friends a once-over, the detective quickly added, "And by the looks on your faces, I think you might've." Paul's eyes barely met Perry's but rested on Della's instead. "Whatever took you so long today? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's just fine, Paul," Della reassured her friend. "We were just discussing Thelma Bell's testimony."

"You two are clearly working too hard," the detective sighed sympathetically. "The lipstick around Perry's mouth proves it." Paul smirked. "I mean, the color suits you, pal. You should really ask Della to share it with you more often."

"If you're planning to get any lippier about this, pal...," Perry started, then laughed at the face his friend was making for him.

"Lippier? Hmm, nice choice of words!"

"I better get changed at the office," Della interrupted the familiar banter Perry usually had the upper hand in. Not so today, Della chuckled and squeezed his hand. "I'll wait for you until you're done."

"That woman is a gem," Paul Drake teased his friend. "You should have her evaluated."

"Are you offering your services," Perry Mason asked, his eyes squinted.

"Of course. How could I not," Paul chuckled. "For a friend?"