It is late afternoon when Roger pokes his head into Jill's office.

"Closed?" he asks, gesturing to the door.

"Please."

"Should I lock it?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure everyone in this office knows to knock first. And I don't want anyone to wonder why it's locked."

He shuts the door carefully before crossing over to Jill's desk.

"I'm sorry about earlier. Uncontrollable impulse."

She sighs, saving the document she is working on before turning to face him.

"I was just as much to blame. Well, almost. You did start it."

"Guilty as charged. It won't happen again."

"It better not. Did you talk to Seth? Do you think he'll tell anyone?"

Roger smiles. It is not a nice smile.

"I took care of it. Don't worry, he won't be saying anything about it."

Jill eyes him suspiciously.

"Seth is still among the living, right?"

"As far as I know. He was a few hours ago," Roger's breezy lack of concern is noticeable. Jill resolves to be particularly kind to Seth Oliver the next time their paths cross.

"OK. Well, at least that's one less thing to worry about."

She picks up the sizeable stack of papers labelled "Appropriate Workplace Behavior" at the top.

"Pull up a chair. This might take a while."

She hands him a copy of the contract, keeping one for herself. He grabs a chair and positions it next to her desk. They both read in silence for a few moments.

"Any questions?" she asks.

"Hmm…well, this is pretty self-evident. No touching, no kissing, clothing must remain fully on at all times…"

"I thought it should be as comprehensive as possible."

"That certainly is comprehensive. I'll try to resist the urge to disrobe in the courtroom if it strikes."

"Funny." Jill rolls her eyes at the sarcasm, but the thought of Roger disrobing in the courtroom- or in her office, for that matter- has caused her pulse to quicken and images to flit through her brain that are completely unhelpful to the task at hand. She takes a deep breath and focuses on the paper in front of her.

"Anything else?"

"You're actually making an exception to the no-touch rule for handshaking?"

"I thought it was probably unavoidable. In court. If you look a little further down the page, you'll see that I've included some guidelines to keep handshaking professional."

He arches a brow in disbelief as he reads aloud,

"' Any handshakes between parties should last no more than five seconds and should never be accompanied by eye contact lasting more than three seconds.' Are you really expecting me to set a timer whenever I need to shake hands with the opposing attorney?"

"Of course not. We're both perfectly able to count."

She stands up, motioning him to stand in front of her.

"Come on, let's try it. Just for practice."

"God, this is weird," he mutters, but reluctantly obeys.

"Better to deal with the weirdness now in private than in public later, right? All right, pretend I just won a case." His expression is one of incredulity. She sighs. "OK, pretend you just won a case. I don't want to strain your imagination too much."

"That is a bit easier to picture."

"All right then. Ready?" He nods. "Congratulations!" she says holding out her hand. He takes it in his and they shake. "One Mississippi" she counts aloud. "Two Mississippi" His palm is warm against hers. She meets his eyes and the heat she sees there causes her stomach to flutter with desire. She swallows hard, forgetting what number she is on. "Umm…two Mississippi…"

"You already said that. And I'm pretty sure that was already more than five seconds."

"Well, you get the general idea."

She drops his hand and returns to sit behind her desk. She'd never really noticed before how sturdy her desk was. Her desk could probably hold the weight of two people. If it ever had to. Focus! she orders herself sternly. Now is not a good time to be considering alternate uses for her office furniture.

"So are we all set with that? Anything else?"

He reads in silence for a moment, then frowns.

"This here. Term number seven. 'Parties must remain at a minimum of three feet from one another at all times.'"

"There's an exception for handshaking. And another for crowded elevators. I've noted those below."

"I see that. But three feet? Why three? It seems a bit arbitrary.

Jill had been hoping to not have to go into the specifics of this particular term of their agreement, but she probably owed him an explanation.

"Any closer than three feet means I can smell your cologne."

"I thought you liked my cologne."

"I do like your cologne. It's just that if I can smell your cologne, it increases the likelihood that …well, that contracts may be violated. And I don't want that."

Jill has lost innumerable cases to Roger over the years, but she has never seen anything like the smirk that spreads across his face at her admission.

"So… you really find me that irresistible?" he purrs.

"Not what I said!" she protests. "I just…I think it's prudent to minimize any temptations. Are there any conditions you'd like to add?"

He thinks for a moment, frowning a bit in concentration.

"Hmmm… there is one, actually. You know that blue sweater you sometimes wear? The tight one?"

"The powder blue cashmere? With the scoop neck?"

"Yeah, that sounds like it. Maybe you could just not wear that one to work?"

Jill grins, pleased.

"You like that sweater?"

"Yes. I like that sweater a lot. I like that sweater enough that it might be a good idea if you save it for non-work occasions."

"Done" she says cheerily. The sweater has always been one of her favorites, but she hadn't realized it affected Roger so intensely. Making a mental note to wear it for their dinner date Saturday night, she carefully pens the addition in both copies.

"Do you need me to reprint it? Or are you all right with a handwritten alteration?"

"That's fine. "

He scans the last page, then chuckles.

"Seriously? Parties must address each other by given first names, optionally with last names included as well. When have I ever called you anything but Jill?"

"You never know. Sometimes…well, if there are pet names used in private, they might slip out in public. I'm trying to anticipate every possibility."

"I really can't picture calling you "honeybunch" or "baby doll" in the office. Or anywhere else"

She cringes. "Ugh, please stop. I loathe pet names. Even in jest."

"Well, that makes two of us. That one should be easy to follow."

"Thank goodness for that."

Roger helps himself to a pen from the mug on Jill's desk and uncaps it with a decisive click. He scrawls his name with a flourish across each line on the contract. Jill stares at him, shocked.

"Really? Just like that? You're not even going to complain about how unnecessary this is?"

He shakes his head, handing her the pen so she can sign as well.

"No. I'm glad, actually. This isn't going to be easy and it's probably a good idea to have it spelled out."

Jill adds her signature to both contracts and, with a final once-over, passes Roger his copy.

"Well…thank you. That's somewhat surprising, but I appreciate it. Should we shake on it?"

"I think once was enough for today." He smiles ruefully, heading toward the door, but then pauses and turns back. "Do you need a contract for…out-of-work behavior? Is there anything we need to discuss?"

She can tell it is not an easy thing for him to ask. Her heart melts a little.

"Not right now. I can't think of a thing."

"But you'll let me know if there is?"

She smiles.

"I'll let you know. But for right now, I'm happy."

"Good."

Just then the heavy door swings open, narrowly missing Roger's head, and an agitated Sandra Bell spills into the room.

"I need your help with the – oh!" Sandra notices Roger and shoots him a look of barely concealed disdain. "Am I interrupting?"

"We're just finishing up. See you tonight," Jill tells Roger. "They're playing the Royals," she informs Sandra, who is looking at her oddly.

"7:10." Roger confirms before departing. Sandra glares after him.

"I know it's none of my business, but I really don't understand how you can go to games with that…vampire in an expensive suit."

Jill exhales a long breath.

"He's a prosecutor, Sandra, not a demon. Although there are certainly times when I understand how you could be confused." She tucks her copy of the contract safely away in her desk drawer. "Now, what can I help you with?"