Back in her hotel room Grace checked her emails, sent a list of instructions to her assistant, and tried to digest what she'd learned so far about the Shell-Morr litigation. But her thoughts kept going back to Jack. Grace liked to figure people out. And she realized she had no idea what to expect from her co-counsel. Worse, she was starting to question what to expect from herself.

Jack was stirring up feelings she hadn't had in a long time, and she better just stop herself from thinking in that direction. In a few months she would be up for partner at her law firm. It was everything she had worked for and dreamed of for the past five years. This would be the worst time possible to let herself get distracted, especially over a guy who didn't even live in the same state. Apart from which, any sort of personal involvement with a lawyer she was working with was a conflict of interest.

From now on, she promised herself, she'd make sure her interactions with Jack were strictly professional.

* * *

He wasn't stupid, and he certainly didn't seem lazy. The only explanation was that he was out of his mind. Why else would Jack have walked away from a partnership at an international powerhouse firm like Graham, Spalding to open his own office representing a handful of small businesses, individuals and, basically, whoever walked in the door? She wasn't buying his explanation for the career change. Why even be a lawyer if you didn't want to shoot for the top? Grace was unapologetically pondering this question as the court reporter rearranged furniture in preparation for Shelley Sherman's deposition.

Morrie insisted on attending his ex-wife's deposition in the state court case, and Grace was sitting in. Robbie was sitting in as well, since his mother was represented in this case by her divorce lawyer, a stylishly groomed woman in her 50's named Margaret who wore narrow reading glasses, a no nonsense manner, and what looked like a vintage Chanel suit. Probably had a lot of rich divorce clients.

Grace was used to holding depositions in the spacious conference room of her firm or whatever opposing firm was involved in the case, with a glass encased panoramic view of the Philly skyline as a backdrop. The lawyers would conduct their questioning and objections in sedate tones, while a legal assistant slipped unobtrusively in and out, making sure there was plenty of hot coffee and other accouterments on a long sideboard underneath the oil on canvas paintings of the founding fathers of the country or, barring that, at the very least the founding partners of the law firm.

This deposition was taking place in the cramped office of the court reporter, around a table that was clearly meant for four people. There was a vending machine in the hallway that dispensed really bad coffee. Packets of powdered nondairy creamer were available. Jack was already seated at the table. He was wearing khakis today, and a sports coat, but no tie.

The court reporter smiled apologetically and settled herself in her chair.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize there were additional people attending. I should have booked the larger room, but it's not available now."

"Don't worry about it," Jack said, and Grace noticed again that the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She mentally dressed him in a Brooks Brothers suit. There. Now that would be an attractive package.

They had pulled as many chairs into the windowless room as possible, and Grace was wedged between Robbie and a small end table that held a phone, a lamp and some brochures about the court reporting business. The court reporter was at one end of the table, with Shelley seated to her left. Shelley's lawyer sat opposite the court reporter, squeezed in front of another small table that held a fake plant in a bright pink pot, and a glass candy dish someone had forgotten to refill.

"Good morning, Ms. Sherman."

"Good morning, Jack," Shelley said, and smiled sweetly.

"Let's take a look at your contract," Jack said, skipping the usual preliminaries. He handed the court reporter a copy of a document. "Please mark this as Exhibit 1."

The court reporter put a sticker on the first page, then passed the papers over to Shelley.

"Can you tell me what this document is?"

"You know very well what it is."

"For the record."

"Fine. It's a copy of my employment agreement. The agreement your client breached when he fired me for refusing to sleep with him." She leveled a steely look at Morrie and he scowled back at her.

This could get interesting, Grace thought. Shelley apparently had no intention of being cooperative. She had to admit though that, suit or no suit, Jack was obviously a seasoned trial lawyer perfectly at ease handling a difficult witness. Watching him in action made her wonder again why he would walk away from a career at a prestigious law firm that represented Fortune 500 companies, and start his own small office. There had to be more to it than just wanting to wear khakis to a deposition.

"You were engaged in a consensual sexual relationship with Morrie Goldstein, the president of Shell-Morr Industries," Jack continued.

"That's right."

"How long had that been going on?"

"Thirty-five years."

"Well, for the majority of those thirty-five years you were married to my client, isn't that correct?"

"I'd still be married to him if he wasn't such a putz."

"Hey!" Morrie said. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Shelley ignored Morrie and smiled at Jack.

"You and Mr. Goldstein divorced seven years ago, isn't that correct?"

"That's right."

"And the employment agreement marked as Exhibit 1 was part of that divorce settlement, correct?"

"That's right. A 'no cut' contract," Shelley said, and glowered at Morrie."

Jack settled back in his chair. "Well, now, that's not entirely true, is it Shelley?"

"What do you mean?"

"A 'no cut' contract means you can never be fired. Your contract did provide for certain circumstances where you could be fired, didn't it?"

"I did nothing to violate the contract."

"Did you ever consider whether having sex on the conference room table with another employee might be a violation of your contract?"

"Are you nuts? Maybe your client should fire himself."

"How soon after you signed your new employment agreement did you resume your sexual relationship with Morrie Goldstein?"

"Object to the form of the question," Shelley's lawyer said.

Jack looked up. "What's the matter with the form of the question?"

"It assumes a fact not in evidence."

"Now you've lost me, Margaret."

Shelley's lawyer peered up over the narrow rectangular glasses that were perched partway down her nose.

"I would think it would be obvious, counselor, that in order to resume something you have to have first discontinued it."

Seriously? These two must really be lunatics, Grace thought, stifling a groan. Jack never missed a beat.

"Point taken, counselor. I'll rephrase the question.

"Did you continue your sexual relationship with Mr. Goldstein throughout your employment at Shell-Morr while you were under the employment agreement?"

"Yes."

"When was the last time you had sexual relations with Mr. Goldstein?"

"Define 'sexual relations.'"

Jack leaned back in his chair. "After thirty-five years you need a definition?"

"Objection." Margaret said.

"What grounds?"

"Sarcasm."

"That's not a legal objection."

"You're intimidating the witness."

"Yes, I can see how she's wilting under my attack." He looked back to Shelley. "Answer the question, Ms. Sherman."

"I forgot what it was."

Jack turned to the court reporter. "Would you read the question back please for the witness?"

The court reporter scrutinized the tape on her machine.

"When was the last time you had sexual relations with Mr. Goldstein?"

"I take the Fifth."

Even Shelley's own lawyer was staring at her now.

"Excuse me?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"The Fifth Amendment. I'm refusing to answer the question, Jack."

The corner of Jack's mouth twitched with just a trace of a smile, and Grace quickly averted her eyes and looked over the notes on her legal pad. Jack was way too good looking when he smiled, and Grace needed to concentrate on the testimony, hoping Shelley would say something they could use to get a dismissal in the federal suit.

"Shelley, the last time I checked, sleeping with Morrie wasn't a crime." He glanced over at Morrie, who was pointedly looking somewhere else.

Shelley's lawyer sighed. "You can't take the Fifth. Just answer the question."

"Fine." Shelley looked at her watch. "What time did we start the deposition?"

"Oh, God." Grace heard a muttered oath to her left. Robbie was trying to look busy staring at his Blackberry.

"We started at 9:30."

Shelley paused a moment, considering.

"I guess about 8:30 to 8:45."

Jack leaned back in his chair. "So, sometime around 8:30 or 8:45 today you had . . . sexual relations . . . with Mr. Goldstein, the defendant in this action."

"No."

"No?"

"From exactly 8:30 to 8:45." She shot a look at Morrie. "It didn't take long."

Robbie emitted a long-suffering groan and sank further into his chair.

Morrie leaned forward and his chair creaked. "Now just a gosh dang minute, Shelley, you're the one who said you couldn't be late for the deposition."

"You could have cancelled the deposition."

"You're the one who's suing me."

"You fired me you miserable son of a bitch!"

"Aww, now honey, come on –"

"Don't you 'honey' me," Shelley snapped, rising to her full height. She took a deep, calming breath and turned to her lawyer. "May I borrow your briefcase, Margaret?" she said politely.

Margaret handed it to her.

Morrie scrambled to his feet and tried to back out of the conference room, but there was no way to exit quickly.

Shelley paused and looked down at the briefcase in her hands.

"It's Louis Vitton," Margaret said mildly.

"Oh." Shelley handed it back, then leaned behind her lawyer, picked up the fake flower arrangement from the side table, and hurled it across the room at Morrie's head.

Morrie ducked to the side, not quite fast enough, and the plastic pot grazed his ear before falling onto the floor in three pieces.

"Ow! Get a grip, Shelley!" Morrie shouted, clutching his ear.

"I'll get a grip, Morrie," Shelley replied, starting around the table toward him. "I'll get a nice, tight grip on your-"

"I believe we're off the record now," Margaret said to the court reporter, who was diligently typing every word.

Morrie pulled his hand away from his ear, and studied it for a moment.

"I'm bleeding! You cut me with that thing," he accused, pointing a thick index finger at his ex-wife.

"Jack," Morrie said. "I want to file a lawsuit."

Jack looked up calmly. "Aren't you in enough lawsuits already?"

"I'm suing you for personal injury, Shelley! And emotional distress." He looked down at the sleeve of his jacket. "And I'm sending you my dry cleaning bill. You got blood on my best suit!"

Shelley stopped a few feet from Morrie and leaned her head in closer, peering at his sleeve.

"That's ketchup."

"Huh?"

"You spilled ketchup on your sleeve when we were eating breakfast this morning."

"Oh. "

"This might be a good time to break for lunch," Jack said, and Grace found herself nodding in agreement.

Margaret looked up. "It's 10:15."

The corner of Jack's mouth quirked. "And your point would be?"

Margaret sighed. "I'll cancel my afternoon appointments. Shall we meet back here at, say, 1:00?"

"Works for me."

* * *

"I think they are all out of their minds." Grace was in her hotel lobby, on the phone with Paul Glassman, a senior partner in her firm's mergers and acquisitions department. Although she hadn't gotten back from the deposition until almost 9:00 that evening, she hadn't been surprised to find Paul still at his desk.

"Is there any merit to the claim?"

"Morrie Goldstein admits he fired the R&D Director for refusing to have sex with him."

"Well, shit."

"Exactly. She also happens to be his ex-wife."

"What's the hell is going on down there?"

"I don't know if she's trying to derail the deal with RKO, or if this whole thing is just some twisted game between Sherman and Goldstein. Paul, the whole thing makes no sense. If it was just a termination spat between the exes, they could have kept it all inside the divorce case, let a family law judge deal with it." She didn't even tell him what a bizarre sideshow the deposition had turned into. Witnesses throwing things at the opposing party? Arguing about their sex life while the reporter took it all down?

"Instead," Grace continued, "Sherman files a federal court sex discrimination case, and jeopardizes a multimillion dollar merger."

She could hear a muted thwap in the background and knew it was Paul snapping his suspenders, a tick he only engaged in when he was feeling particularly annoyed. Paul was famous for his sharp legal mind, his killer instincts in negotiating a deal, and his fondness for old-style suspenders, an affectation which led some opponents to underestimate him. Underestimating Paul would be a mistake.

Thwap, thwap, thwap. "This is ridiculous Grace. Get this thing thrown out of court now."

"It's federal court, Paul – I can't file a 'this is ridiculous' motion. As stupid as it sounds, Sherman has a prima facie case. It will take a summary judgment motion to dispose of it, and I can't file that while discovery is ongoing."

"I don't care about the details. Just get me results." There was silence on the other end of the line, broken only by the steady snapping of Paul's suspenders, now approaching a staccato beat.

"Grace, I don't have to tell you what this deal means to our client, and to the firm. I've assured RKO that we will make this problem go away, and complete the acquisition by the close of the year."

"I don't know if that's realistic, Paul –"

"I'm confident you were the right person to send down there."

"I appreciate your –"

He cut her off. "I have another call coming in. Make it happen, Grace."

"You can count on me, Paul," she said, but then realized the line was already dead.