As she slips through the door one slender leg brushes against his and an immaculately manicured hand is placed on his shoulder as she steadies herself, leaning slowly towards him and pecking him on the cheek. He watches as she places her soft, black, leather briefcase beside his red Government one at the end of the cream leather sofa and takes a seat, stretching her long legs out in front of her as he takes the seat opposite her, the seat that affords a marvellous view of her entire body; even though this arrangement is purely business, and she has made it abundantly clear that it will remain so, he can see no harm in maximising his enjoyment of their exchanges and it seems that neither can she for she flirts mercilessly at any opportunity that may arise.

'Did you bring the papers?' she asks in cold, clipped tones 'because I refuse to act until I know that I'm not just being played by your department…'

'They're in the briefcase' he murmurs, smiling with appreciation as she leans forward and picks up the case, passing it to him and in the process giving him a gratuitous glimpse at the crimson bra, clearly purchased as a pair with the thong, and the sumptuous cleavage that nestles snugly within it 'here…' he passes her the papers and she takes them without a word, flicking through them and raising an eyebrow at some of the less usual details of the case 'so you see why I need the case to be heard by someone reliable…'

'The managing director of one of the Government's largest telecommunications companies being accused of rape and all manner of corporate theft, yes, I understand perfectly' she gives a slow smile and licks her lips in a manner that is designed to entice him, to make him as pliable as possible before she delivers her request, whatever it may be. They both know that he'll be unable to refuse; to do so would be both personal and professional suicide – she'd be singing to both the PM and George before the night was out and by the morning he'd be jobless, wifeless and homeless.

'Go on…' he states wearily, fearing what is coming and already planning his route out of the country if she chooses today to demand the impossible as opposed to the highly complicated practices of dubious legality that she has requested thus far.

'I want to be made a presiding judge…' she states silkily, running a hand through her hair and flashing him a dazzling smile 'of Highfield Crown Court…''But Mr Justice Everard…' he protests weakly, knowing that it is futile – as demands go, this one is relatively easy to fulfil 'Alright, consider it done. Give me until the end of the week…' he sighs eventually, mentally earmarking Everard for a seat on the appellant bench and away from Highfield 'Oh and that vacancy on the appellant bench…' she adds and the sinking feeling overwhelms him.

'Jo, call me…' he states for what feels like the thousandth time in the evening but is, in reality, probably only the second or third time he's called her, wondering where she is, what she's doing and why he has been stood up for dinner. He's not accustomed to being the one wasting an evening sitting at a table in an expensive restaurant minus his dining comparison while getting steadily more drunk and it isn't an experience that he has enjoyed being on the receiving end of, especially when it is her who hasn't appeared. It just isn't his style – she is well mannered to the point of being prim and will always, always call if she's going to be late, let alone not going to appear at all '…just let me know that you're okay…'

'I'm okay John' the voice on the other end of the phone is husky with unshed tears, alcohol and, if he's not mistaken, desire 'I've had a difficult day…'

'Problem with Marc?' he asks, ever hopeful that finally, at long last, the sham that is their relationship has fallen to pieces. It is inevitable that one day it will and he is ashamed to say that it is a day that he longs for.

'Problem with me, more like' she states bitterly and he hears her down another drink, probably the latest in a long line to be consumed while she should have been meeting him for dinner 'Marc can't understand why it is that I'm compelled to keep on seeing you and, to be honest, I can't understand it either'

'Because you love me' he states with certainty, knowing that she isn't going to admit to it 'because you want to be with me, not Marc, and having platonic meals with me is the next best thing until you admit that…'

'God you're an arrogant man John Deed' she spits venomously and he hears another drink being downed, a sound that concerns him to the point that he finds himself searching for his car keys so that he can, if need be, drive to her aid and stop her drinking herself into a coma.

'I prefer confident' he states with a smirk and crosses his legs so his perch on the kitchen stool becomes even more precarious 'and I have every reason to be, Jo, I know you'll come back…'

'Arrogant' she repeats 'and to say that I'll come back implies that you ever had me in the first place. You didn't; for a long time I was the other woman and for even longer you've had women other than me but it was never just us, was it John…'

'It can be…'

'Until the next short skirt calling itself a legal clerk walks into your court room' she states with certainty 'you only ever want me when you can't have me…'

'The only short skirt I'm interested in is yours…' he winces at the line as he says it and feels that her amused snort is thoroughly deserved – either he really is turning into one of the lecherous old Law Lords who he despises or the current situation has robbed him of any imagination that he may have possessed. Before he has a chance to contemplate this further she replies…

'Well in future I shall be sure to wear trousers when appearing in your court, not that appearing before you is a situation that I won't try to avoid at all costs'

'As long as we're both inextricably drawn to the most controversial and interesting cases, I'd say our working together was a foregone conclusion, wouldn't you?'

'You and I both know that isn't how it works; it's the cab rank principle and you always make sure that we're both going for cabs at the same time…' she hiccups sadly and he takes the opportunity to cut in…

'That's because we're starting from the same place…'

'No John, we aren't, and we're not going to end up in the same place either; one day your legendary gift with women will desert you and you'll end up with no concept of personal space and the improprieties of touching up young barristers, just like dozens and dozens of judges before you…'

'Has someone been harassing Charlie?' he cuts in with concern and she merely laughs…

'No. You're going to end up old, sad and lonely and I'm going to end up happily married. Again. That's how it works, John, that's how all of this ends…'

'You're wrong Jo; it ends with you and me together…'

'In which case you'll still have an eye for young barristers John; you always did or have you forgotten how we started out…'

'I could never forget that, Jo…'

'Goodbye John…' she states sadly and he hears her hesitate before putting the phone down, the dialling tone ringing in his ear for several moments before it pierces his reverie and he gets up, collecting his coat. He needs some sympathy and he can think of only one place where he is likely to find it.