I hate Iowa. I hear the hotel door slam automatically behind me as I drop my bag on the bed with a sigh of relief. I'm exhausted. To think that only sixteen measly hours ago I believed that all I would have to do tonight was leave work at the questionably early hour of six pm, drop Josh off at the airport, and go on a date for the first time in months. I was looking forward to this date immensely, because no matter which way you looked at it, a date could only have two possible outcomes: either an evening of sex or me getting to sleep before midnight for the first time in two weeks. It's a testament to the sad state of my mind that I view both these scenarios as equally pleasurable.

Instead, I find myself in a seedy hotel in a small town halfway across the country, after spending a long and stressful day juggling about seven different tasks, not the least of which was scrambling to book myself on an oversold flight and arranging for a hotel room in Podunkville, Iowa for a Friday night. Don't ask me how I got shanghaied into doing this. Josh has had this meeting with Congressman Rawston on his schedule all week, and then suddenly, this morning, he decided he desperately needs my assistance in Iowa. When I reminded him that I'd already prepped him for the meeting, he started spouting off some crap about intimidation in numbers, or something like that. I fought him for a little while, coolly and rationally pointing out that my presence was hardly likely to induce Congressman Rawston to change his vote on the new trade bill. That was my first mistake. Coolness and rationality have no place in an argument with Josh Lyman.

My second mistake was allowing him to convince me that we needed to be on the same flight, instead of catching one a half hour later on a different airline. That was how I ended up spending half my afternoon bartering my soul with a ticket agent for a seat in coach, and the other half contending with a giddy Josh. He was in a state of gleeful anticipation because he was on his way to do what he loves best– confronting a hostile Republican who didn't have a leg to stand on. Gleeful anticipation meaning in Josh's case obnoxious arrogance that made him hell to work with. I was almost ready to forgive him, even though he refused to give me his seat in business class, because not only was there an extremely good-looking man sitting next to me on the plane, but he introduced himself and turned out to be a single doctor named Ted. Of course, then Josh turned up and interrupted a conversation which might have led to a lovely future for Ted and me. Ted foolishly offered to change seats so Josh and I could sit together. Much to my chagrin, Josh accepted the offer before I could tell Ted no, I don't actually want to be in spitting distance of my boss right now.

Josh made me take Ted's seat in the middle, which was upsetting not only because I no longer had any leg room, but also because this really creepy guy with a mullet was sitting in the window seat and monopolizing the armrest. So instead of planning my future with Ted, I spent the rest of the flight trying to lean as far away as possible from creepy mullet guy while watching Josh languorously stretch his legs out in the aisle. Suffice it to say that I was not at my most cheerful state when to top it all off, Josh made me drive the rental car the hour it took to get to this God-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere.

However, all of that is behind me now. I left Josh downstairs at the front desk to check himself in for once, and all I have to do now is take a nice, hot shower, put on my favorite pajamas, and crawl into bed. I head into the bathroom and flip on the hot water tap with a sigh of anticipation and peel off my clothes. When I get in the shower, I exhale as the hot water scalds my skin, melting the tension from my muscles. I revel in the sensation of the soap on my skin as it washes the grime of travel from my body. I feel about ten times more relaxed by the time I massage the shampoo into my scalp, and I even hum happily as I shave my legs and I climb out of the shower. I quickly towel dry my hair and then wrap a towel around myself to go get my pajamas out of my bag. I pull open the door and my heart nearly stops when I see a figure hovering in the doorway.

I scream. Loudly.

I have a brief image of myself as Janet Leigh in Psycho before I realize that the figure is Josh, and he looks as scared as me. His eyes widen in surprise when I open the door and he stumbles backwards into a luggage rack, tripping over it and landing in a heap on the floor. It would be funny if my heart had stopped racing and I weren't so damn mad.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" I snap. He scrambles to his feet, knocking over the luggage rack again in the process. So much for a relaxing evening to myself. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. His eyes are wide open in shock and his jaw opens and shuts without anything coming out for a minute before he finally splutters, "Your room?"

Honestly. Does he have cotton in his ears or something? I put my hands on my hips and frown at him. "Yes, Joshua, my room. If you think I'm going to do any more work tonight, you are out of your tiny little mind."

"This is my room," he says uncertainly.

I shake my head. I knew it was a mistake to let him check himself in. "No, Joshua, this is my room. Now, if you don't mind leaving the same way you came, I'd like to go to bed." I frown. "How'd you get in here anyway?"

"Key?" he says, looking nervous.

"Why did they give you a key to my room?" What kind of place is this? I mean, it's okay because it's Josh, but what if they really had let some deranged killer have a key to my room while I was in the shower? I shudder at the thought.

"They said this was my room," he tells me.

"I don't believe this," I groan. "Why were you taking a shower in my room?" he asks. "As a proposition, it's not very subtle, but it would be a lot more effective if you waited for me to– "

"Joshua, this is not the time," I say through gritted teeth. "I'm standing here naked, dripping wet–"

"I noticed," Josh smirks.

"– and you're standing there doing nothing to improve the situation when all I want to do is go to bed!" I shout.

"Well, now that I know you want a take-charge kind of guy, I certainly have no problem doing whatever is necessary to get you into bed," Josh quips, stepping dangerously close to me. "I am a man of action, after all," he whispers in my ear. Oh dear God, I can feel his breath on my neck.

"Since you're such a man of action, you can go downstairs and get the desk clerk to give you a key to your own room, so you can go hang out there instead of harassing your sleep-deprived assistant," I tell him, trying to ignore the fact that he is standing so close I can feel the heat radiating from him in waves. I hear him inhale deeply.

"Okay," he sighs. He walks towards the door, glancing over his shoulder at me. I'm oddly disappointed that he is moving away from me, as disconcerting as his nearness was. He glances back at me as he steps outside, but his gaze is broken when he steps in a puddle and slips. His arms flail and for a second I'm terrified that he is going to pitch over the railing and fall into the parking lot below, but his feet fly out from under him instead and he lands flat on his back.

"Josh!" I cry, rushing out after him. I fall to my knees beside him. "Are you all right?"

He stares at me dazedly, blinking slowly.

"Josh?" I say worriedly. "Say something."

He blinks again. "I like your towel, Donnatella."

I smack him on the side of the head and stand up, disgusted. I leave him to struggle to his feet on his own, noting with satisfaction a large damp spot on the back of his dress shirt from landing in the puddle. Serves him right. I turn to go back into my room and find the door has closed itself behind me. I put my hand on the knob to turn it. It doesn't turn. I jiggle the handle. Nothing. I turn around and extend my hand towards Josh. "Give me your key," I say tiredly.

He looks at me, then looks at the door, and then reverts his gaze back to me again. "Uh... I don't have it," he says.

"Sure you do, you just came in. Look in your pocket," I tell him, shivering a little bit. It's cold out here and believe me when I tell you that in my towelled state I can feel every breeze that blows by. Now, if he would just hurry up, I could go inside where it is breeze-free.

He shakes his head. "I put it in my jacket pocket and threw the jacket on the bed."

I close my eyes. Could this day get any worse? I hop a little bit from one foot to the other, trying to get a little feeling back in my toes. "Fine. We'll go downstairs and get another one from the front desk."

"What?" he squawks. "You can't go downstairs like that!"

I glare at him. "Well, I don't exactly have a lot of choice, do I?"

"No! People will see you! I mean– yes! I'll go. You could stay here," he suggests.

"I'm not staying out here. It's freezing!" I snap.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a little bit? It's a nice night out," he protests.

I glare at him. "Josh, I'm wearing a towel, my hair is wet, and it's October. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say it's cold out here. Now, come on."

I turn around without waiting for a reply and march towards the stairs. I walk briskly in an attempt to get the blood flowing again, as I seem to have lost whatever body heat I started out with while standing outside arguing with Josh. When I reach the hotel lobby, it is blessedly breeze-free, but it is not exactly toasty warm, so I'm forced to rely on my anger to keep me warm enough to see me through the task at hand. I march up to the desk clerk, who gets a look at my face and blanches.

"Can I help you?" he asks nervously.

"You'd better hope so," I say grimly. I feel Josh standing behind me, but I don't turn around. "I have two problems. The first is that this man locked me out of my room, and I need you to let me back in. The second is that you gave this man a key to my room in the first place. Is this establishment in the habit of giving strange men keys to the hotel rooms of their other guests?"

The desk clerk, whose name tag reads "Stewart," looks between me and Josh. "No?" he ventures.

"Then why did you give him a key to my room?" I ask reasonably.

"I thought you two were together," Stewart says.

Is he being purposefully difficult? I lean dangerously forward, ready to shake some sense into Stewart if I need to. "We are traveling together, but we have separate rooms. Why didn't you give him a key to his room?"

Stewart's gaze drops down to the level of the knot holding my towel up. "He didn't have a reservation."

My eyes narrow suspiciously. "What do you mean, he didn't have a reservation? Of course he had a reservation."

Stewart doesn't remove his eyes from the region of my chest. "No, ma'am, he didn't. I checked."

"I suggest you check again," I say through clenched teeth.

Stewart finally looks up and swallows when he sees the look on my face. "What was the name again?" he asks.

"Josh Lyman," I say.

Stewart types on his computer for a minute. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we don't have a record of a reservation for that name."

I frown. "That doesn't make any sense. I called twice to confirm that reservation. One of those calls was this afternoon, when I booked my own room. The woman I spoke to assured me that we had two rooms booked for this evening. How could there be no record of that?"

"Maybe the day clerk made a mistake," Stewart suggests. His eyes drop down to my towel again.

Jeez, I wonder with disgust, are all men pigs? Right, stupid question. I feel a stab of irritation. "Excuse me," I say icily. "I would appreciate it if you would look at me when I am talking to you, instead of admiring the hotel linen."

His gaze jerks upward and I nod in satisfaction. "Okay, fine. There is no reservation for Josh Lyman, for some incomprehensible reason. Nothing we can do about that now. Just give him another room right now and let me in my room and we'll call it good."

"Uh..." Stewart looks nervous. Twitchy, even. He's kind of creepy looking now that I think about it.

"What?" I demand.

Stewart swallows. "There's no vacancy."

I swear to God, this guy is trying to sabotage me. He has an evil plot to singlehandedly destroy what's left of my sanity. "Are you telling me that there are no available rooms in this entire deathtrap of a seedy hotel? Why is everyone suddenly flocking for no reason to this tiny God-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere?" I ask wildly.

"There's a high school reunion tomorrow night," Stewart says unhappily. "Lots of people in from out of town." Stewart looks around uncomfortably, trying to avoid my gaze. I never feel you can trust someone with shifty eyes like that. I think shifty eyes are an indication of a violent nature.

I close my eyes. At least I already took my shower. If Stewart wants to attack anyone, he can have Josh. "Listen, Tony Perkins, I don't suppose there's another hotel in town, is there?" I ask without much hope that he'll say yes.

"No. This is it," Stewart says.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Fine. Just– let us into our room."

"Yes, ma'am." Stewart takes a large ring of keys from a peg on the wall behind him and leads us outside.

I start to shiver immediately. While I was arguing with Stewart in the reception room, the breeze outside seems to have reached gale force. I'm not sure if this is true or if I just wasn't appreciating how magnificently warm the reception room was. I reach forward and wrap my fingers around Josh's strong, warm bicep so I can catch up with him. I tuck my arm in his and lean against his warm, solid frame. I'm still freezing, but it's better than nothing. Josh wordlessly puts his arm around me and pulls me closer to him. Ah. Much better. Still quite cold, but now my whole left side is protected from the wind by a nice, warm Joshua. He rubs my right arm vigorously to warm me up, and I think a little of the feeling comes back.

We reach our room, and I shift from foot to foot to try to get a little feeling back in my toes. Stewart takes forever looking for the right key. Josh moves behind me and envelopes me in a cocoon of warmth. His legs are pressed against mine and some of his heat seeps into me. He wraps his arms around my waist, crossing my arms over each other and then covering them with his own. I lean back into his embrace, feeling much warmer with my back pressed against his chest. He leans over my shoulder and presses his cheek to mine. I rub my cheek on his a little bit, marveling at his warmth and wishing I could just burrow into him so I could become completely warm again.

Stewart finally finds the right key and turns it in the lock. The door swings open and I rush forward, ecstatic at the prospect of putting clothes on, drying my hair, and burying myself in a pile of blankets, where I plan to remain for the rest of my natural existence. Josh follows me. "Thanks, Stewart!" I call before he pulls the door shut behind Josh. "Sorry about the Tony Perkins crack!" Anyone who can deliver me into such a well-heated enclosed space can't be all bad. I head over to my suitcase.

Josh runs his hand through his hair distractedly. "I'm going to take a shower, 'kay?" he says, jerking his head towards the bathroom.

I rummage through my bag, looking for my pajamas. "'Kay."

He goes into the bathroom, and I change for bed. If I'd known what the evening had in store, I would have packed a thermal suit instead of a pair of blue silk shorts and a matching tank top, but after wearing damp terry cloth in the cold for a half hour, anything is an improvement. I take my hair dryer out of my suitcase and knock on the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" Josh calls.

I open the door a crack. "Josh, I sent Tony Perkins home. You don't have to worry. It's just me. I wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Do you need something, Mrs. Bates?" he asks.

"I'm just going to blow dry my hair," I tell him.

Silence. "All right," he says finally, his voice cracking a bit at the end of the sentence.

"Thanks!" I chirp.

I go in the bathroom and plug in my hair dryer. I take a nice, long time, because I am still a little cold, and I want to make sure every hair on my head is warm and dry.

I hear the water in the shower stop and see movement in the mirror's reflection. Josh's long, wet arm reaches out from behind the shower curtain to grope blindly for a towel, so I take one from the rack and hand it to him. He freezes for a second when my fingers brush his, then he snatches the towel away from me, yanking the curtain tightly closed in front of him. I shrug and turn back to the mirror to finish drying my hair.

When I'm through, I leave the bathroom and head over to my suitcase to put my hair dryer away.

Josh comes out with a towel wrapped around his waist. I take a minute to admire the hotel linen and everything above it, too. Josh ignores me and goes back into the bathroom after grabbing some stuff from his bag.

I take some lotion from my bag and am slathering it on my legs when he comes back out clad in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

He stops short when he sees me. "Are those your pajamas?" he asks incredulously.

I look at him, surprised. "Yeah."

He points at me. "You can't wear that to bed," he declares.

"Why not?" I ask, confused.

"They're not appropriate," he says.

"They're pajamas and I'm going to bed. Sounds appropriate to me."

"No, I mean... they're not appropriate for me."

"That I can agree with. They wouldn't really do much for your figure anyway."

"I mean, why did you bring those, instead of something else?"

"These are my favorite pajamas, Josh."

"Do you wear them a lot?"

"I guess I wear them a lot," I say, unsure where he's going with this.

"Don't you think they're a little revealing for a business trip?"

"Well, I didn't think anyone else was going to see them, because I thought I would be sleeping in my own room," I say pointedly.

"I thought you were cold," he says– irrelevantly, in my opinion.

"I am cold," I reply, confused again. He's changing tacks at the speed of light, and I'm having a little trouble keeping up.

"Don't you have anything warmer? Those aren't going to keep you very warm, are they?" He gestures towards the offending pajamas.

"I don't have anything else, and these are going to keep me a hell of a lot warmer than sleeping naked would," I point out reasonably.

He swallows. "Okay."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Are we done talking about my pajamas? 'Cause I'd like to brush my teeth."

I brush past him on the way to the bathroom without waiting for a reply.

When I come out, Josh jumps up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed and goes into the bathroom without a word.

He's acting strangely, but I'm not too concerned about it. All I care about right now is getting in that bed, burrowing into the blankets, and going to sleep. I crawl into the bed and pile the blankets on top of me. This is so much better.

Josh comes out and starts pulling the top blanket off the bed.

"What are you doing?" I cry, grabbing the blanket and pulling it back towards me.

He tugs on his end. "I'm taking this blanket."

"No, you're not," I say with authority.

He looks at my face and sighs, releasing the blanket.

I pull it around me and watch as he takes a pillow and throws it on the ground.

"What are you doing?" I ask curiously.

He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "I'm getting ready to go to sleep on the floor."

I yawn. "Don't be silly, Josh. I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor."

He hesitates. "I don't mind– "

"There's no reason we can't share," I inform him. I smile at him mischievously. "Besides, I've got plans for you that require your presence in this bed."

"Really?" He looks intrigued.

"Yup."

"You're sure?" he asks.

"I'm sure. Get in bed."

He complies, grabbing the pillow from the floor and tucking it beneath his head as he slides between the sheets. He looks at me with a mix of trepidation and eagerness. I wink at him and proceed to place my feet under his legs.

"Donna!" he yelps, jerking his legs away. "Your feet are freezing!"

I pout. "I know, Josh. That's why I thought you might help me warm them up."

He scowls. "That was a dirty trick, Donna."

I grin. "It worked, though."

He grumbles, but he covers my feet with his leg. Josh really can be very sweet sometimes. And warm.

I pat him on the shoulder. "Thanks for keeping me warm," I mumble through a yawn.

"Any time, Donnatella. Anytime," he whispers, but I'm so drowsy I think I might be dreaming.

xxx

A loud noise jerks me awake.

Oh, shit, it's the phone. Someone calling me must mean I've forgotten something important.I reach for it, but something heavy is weighing me down.

I fling it off of me and scramble for the phone, a process which is impeded by a large object on the mattress between me and the bedside table. I throw myself across the large object and grab the phone from the cradle on the second ring. "What?" I snap into the phone.

"Ms. Moss?" asks an unfamiliar male voice.

I frown. "This is Donna Moss. Can I help you?"

"Yes, this is Bill Rawston. I was hoping you'd let Mr. Lyman know that I can't make it to the eight o clock meeting. If it's not too much trouble, would you have him come by around one o clock instead?"

"That's fine. I'll tell him," I say, fighting back a yawn.

"Thank you."

"Good-bye," I say, and hang up after he responds in kind.

I flop back down and drop my head back onto my pillow with a thud.

Wait. Pillows don't thud. They don't say 'Oof,' either.

I freeze. I look up and see Josh's tousled head in front of me, and I realize that I am sprawled diagonally across his chest.

Belatedly I realize that the heavy object that prevented me from reaching the phone was Josh's arm wrapped around my waist. And that the reason he was able to wrap his arm around my waist was because I was curled up against him with my head resting on his chest and my arm thrown across his stomach.

Josh is staring at me, and I panic as the implications of the situation sink in. I'm lying on top of him in my favorite silk pajamas and he's patting me awkwardly on the back. I'm just about to scramble off of him and begin apologizing profusely for putting us into such a compromising position when something wonderful happens. Josh starts to laugh. Hard. Tears of mirth stream down his face. "You should see the look on your face," he chortles.

"Yeah, well, it's not every day a United States Congressman wakes me up while I'm spooning my boss," I say wryly, relaxing a little now that I know we can keep this a joke.

He pats my back again. "I've never seen you move that fast before," he laughs, slipping his hand under my tank top to rub the small of my back.

"I don't really react well to being woken up suddenly," I tell him. "I tend to be much happier if I'm woken up slowly and gently."

"I'll keep that in mind for future reference," he grins.

I try not to think about what he means by that. Or about how good his hand feels on my back.

"You do that," I say, and roll off him. I find my pillow– my real pillow– and collapse back onto the bed.

Josh turns on his side and props his head up on his hand so he can look at me. "What did Rawston say?"

"He said he had to reschedule the eight am meeting for one this afternoon," I tell him.

He glances over his shoulder at the clock and frowns. "It's a good thing, because we would have slept through it if he hadn't called. It's past seven. Who schedules an eight am meeting on a Saturday morning, anyway?"

"You do," I inform him. "You wanted to schedule it as early as possible. I believe your exact words were, 'I'll be damned if that hick is going to sleep in when he's making me fly to Iowa on a weekend just to talk to him for an hour.'"

"Well, at least I had a good reason," he says.

I roll my eyes instead of dignifying this comment with a response.

"What should we do with our newfound freedom?" he asks.

"You should go get me breakfast," I say decisively.

"Me? Why don't you go get it?" he asks.

"What am I? Your maid?" I demand.

"We could go together," Josh suggests.

"It's probably cold out there, Joshua. I'm finally warm in all these blankets, and you want me to go outside in the freezing cold?" I pout.

"Fine." He sighs, but I can tell he's not mad.

"There's a bagel place across the street," I tell him helpfully. I love a man who feeds me.

Josh comes back twenty minutes later and we spread an assortment of muffins and bagels out on the bed. He even brought me a hazelnut latte. I pick up a container. "Strawberry cream cheese?" I ask with approval.

He shrugs. "I know you like to start the day with something sweet." He takes a big bite of his bagel and gets a big gob of cream cheese on the side of his mouth.

I burst out laughing. "You're sweet," I tell him, reaching over to wipe the cream cheese from the corner of his mouth. Of course he forgot to get napkins so I lick the cream cheese from my fingers. Mmm. I look up to find him staring at me. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says.

"Okay. What do you want to do now?" I ask.

"Let's watch cartoons," Josh says, moving the leftover cream cheese and muffins to the bedside table.

I smile at him. "You want to watch cartoons?"

He shrugs. "It's Saturday morning. It's the only thing good on."

I grin. "That is so cute." Who knew? The Deputy Chief of Staff likes Saturday morning cartoons.

Josh smiles broadly. "I'm cute?"

"I think the fact that you like cartoons is cute," I clarify. It's a bad idea to feed the ego, even though I do think those dimples are awfully cute.

Josh flips on the TV. He settles on "Muppet Babies" of all things, and we climb back under the covers, sitting shoulder to shoulder with our backs against the wall.

"I can't stand Miss Piggy," I comment.

"Yeah," Josh agrees. "What does Kermit see in her?"

"Beats me. I think Kermit should hold out for someone else and Miss Piggy should get together with Gonzo."

Josh frowns. "Which one's Gonzo?"

"The blue one with the big nose. Cute, but annoying."

"Which one's your favorite?" he asks.

I think for a minute. "I kind of like Beaker. One of the sciency ones."

"I like Animal," Josh says.

"Animal is very cool," I agree.

"Muppet Babies" ends and a rerun of "Saved by the Bell" comes on.

"Zack Morris is so hot," I sigh.

"What's so great about him?" Josh asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

"He gets away with murder by charming the socks off everyone he meets. Plus, he's got a great head of hair."

Josh frowns and runs his hand over the top of his head.

I laugh and ruffle his hair. "You've got good hair, too. Nice and fluffy."

"You think my hair is fluffy?" Josh asks, horrified.

"Fluffy's good," I assure him. I pause, thinking that's not always true. "It's good on you, anyway," I qualify. I turn back to the TV. "What an adorable smile. You've gotta love those dimples."

Josh glances over at me. "You do realize you're lusting over a fifteen-year-old kid, right?"

"It's an old show. He's probably at least thirty now," I tell him. "So who do you think is hottest?"

He pretends to debate for a minute. "Well, Zack isn't really my type, so I'll have to go with Slater on this one."

I shake my head. "What do you think of Kelly?" I ask.

"She's got a funny shaped head," he says.

"How 'bout Lisa?"

"She's very cute. Jessie's the hottest, though."

"So you like her because she's a brilliant, voluptuous woman with curly hair?" I prompt.

"It's more the fact that she's a tall leggy blonde who never shuts up," he says.

Before I have a chance to process this comment, he adds, "She's not as hot as Screech, though."

Ah. Back to safe ground. "Screech is the man," I agree.

We do a little work and Josh checks in with Leo, but mainly, we just veg out in front of the TV, sitting rather close together, because of my brilliant insight that the best angle from which to view the television is from the exact middle of the bed. In an unusually civil debate about who had rights to claim the best spot, we quickly decided that we should share.

Despite spending the entire morning watching cartoons, we still manage to be ten minutes late to our meeting because Josh gets us lost on the way there. In his defense, neither of us anticipated that the address we were looking for would end up being not an office building, but a large Victorian house on a quiet residential street. We exchange glances and walk up the steps to knock on the front door.

The most drop-dead gorgeous man I've ever seen answers the door. I feel a sudden fondness in my heart for the state of Iowa despite its Bates motels and its towels, and everything Josh put me through to get here.

The beautiful man smiles. "Mr. Lyman? Ms. Moss? I'm Bill Rawston. It's good to meet you. Won't you come in?"

I lean over to Josh and whisper, "I forgive you."

Josh frowns, but the Congressman beckons us inside before he has a chance to respond.

He leads us to the back of the house, bypassing a living room, a den, and a staircase to bring us to a sunny kitchen with a range stove and a small kitchen table. "Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Soda? A beer?"

Surprised, Josh and I accept his offer and we sit down around the table with three beers.

Josh opens his mouth and I can tell he's about to launch into his spiel, but Congressman Rawston speaks before he can say anything. "Mr. Lyman, I'm really glad to finally meet you. I'm a great admirer of your work."

"Thank you," Josh says, looking disconcerted. Josh isn't being complimented in the first five minutes of an encounter with a Republican he's out to destroy, and I can tell he's unsure how to proceed.

Congressman Rawston turns to me. "If I may, Ms. Moss," he says shyly, "you are even lovelier than I envisioned you."

What? "You envisioned me?" I ask faintly.

To my utter amazement, he blushes. I made this handsome, beer-serving, god of a man blush, and I can't stop myself from grinning like an idiot.

"What I meant to say was– ," he says, flustered. He clears his throat. "Well. When I called this morning, I could tell I'd woken you up, and I felt really bad. But I was impressed by how composed you were, and I thought you had a nice voice, and I just sort of idly wondered... what you looked like." He looks mortified. This is so cool. "Ms. Moss, I'm really sorry if I offended you in any way– "

I pat him on the arm. "Call me Donna."

He looks immensely relieved. "If you'll call me Bill."

We both look expectantly at Josh, but his face remains impassive.

"You'd better call him Josh," I say to Bill. "If you call him Mr. Lyman he might get some crazy idea that you respect him."

"And that's a bad thing?" Bill asks.

"Trust me. The last thing you want to give Josh is respect. He takes it as a sign he intimidates you and then he'll just be unbearable," I assure him.

"All right. If you don't mind, Josh," Bill says, nodding to Josh.

"Of course not," Josh says in a strained voice.

"Well, anyway, I'm sorry about switching the meeting at the last minute like that. I'd forgotten my son had a soccer game this morning, and I really had to be there. I've had to miss so many of them because of trips to Washington."

Damn. Guess it was too much to hope a handsome, successful man who thinks I'm lovely and composed would actually be single, too.

He runs his hand distractedly through his hair. "That's why I've been trying to stay in my district as much as possible and I made you guys fly out here this weekend. I'm committed to my work, but he needs to be my first priority."

"Understandable," Josh says cheerfully.

"I think it's admirable that you're working so hard to put your family first," I tell him sincerely. "What's your son's name?"

Bill brightens. "Matthew. He's six."

"So he plays soccer? What position does he play?" I ask.

"Defender," he says proudly. "Well," he admits, "at that age they don't really have positions. They just all run around after the ball in a big clump. But Matt runs in the back of the clump and stops the clump from taking the ball towards his goal."

"Sounds thrilling," Josh comments.

"Well, the finer points of soccer are lost on me anyway," Bill says. "I'm more of a baseball fan, myself. Give me a Mets game any day."

"Josh is a Mets fan," I inform him. "He got to meet Mike Piazza."

"You got to meet Mike Piazza? Dude!" Bill cries.

Okay, what is up with this 'dude' thing and Mike Piazza?

"Mike Piazza called me dude," Josh says smugly.

"That's so cool," Bill says enthusiastically. "Hey, do you guys want sandwiches? I have to get Matt's lunch ready, and I make a mean tuna fish sandwich, if I do say so myself. Then we can get down to business."

"Sure," I reply.

Bill jumps up and starts preparing lunch.

I look over at Josh. He's got that gleam in his eyes he gets when he's gearing up for a fight. Oh, no.

"Josh," I say warningly. He turns his gaze on me and I swallow. Sometimes I forget how sexy the intensity of the pre-fight gleam is, but this is no time to ponder that, or to jump Josh's bones, for that matter, so I focus on the task at hand and glare at him instead. "Play nice," I tell him.

He looks at me innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I know that look, Joshua. You're thinking about how to tear this guy down. You're in a belligerent state of mind, because that's what turns you on. Don't attack him. I'm telling you, it's not appropriate."

"Why not? Because he's so busy flirting with you?" he says snidely.

"Don't be stupid. It's inappropriate because he's going out of his way to serve you tuna fish and beer, in his home, on a Saturday. He's complimented you, talked about his family with you, and apologized for inconveniencing you. For you to treat him with hostility in this situation is not only going to kill any chance you have of getting him to switch on this vote, but it is going to make you look completely ridiculous. So don't do anything stupid, for once."

"Donna, you have to fight dirty to get these guys. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"Fine. If you want to make a fool out of yourself and President Bartlet, go ahead," I say.

Josh grimaces, but he deflates somewhat. Josh can't stand the idea of hurting the President. That may have been a blow below the belt, but sometimes you have to fight dirty to get Josh to realize that he's being an idiot.

Bill comes back with sandwiches for each of us and a plate of brownies. "So, I understand you want to talk to me about my vote on the new trade bill."

Josh nods. "That's right. We need your vote to pass it."

Bill shakes his head. "I'm afraid I can't help you out. That bill will close down factories all over the country and send them out of the U.S. My constituents need the jobs those factories represent."

"Oh, please. You know those jobs are going to out of the U.S. anyway," Josh says, leaning forward with that gleam in his eye.

I nudge him with my foot but don't say anything. He shifts slightly, and while he doesn't lean back, I know the point is taken.

"Actually, I don't know that. I think that if this bill doesn't go through, those jobs will stay here," Bill says calmly.

Josh shakes his head. "No, they won't. Those factories can't afford the price of labor in this country. If this bill doesn't go through, those businesses will close down and we'll be buying those product at twice the price as imports from other countries."

"That's a nice story, but it doesn't really help the workers in this country."

"It helps them because as consumers, they'll be able to get better prices on those products."

"That's not a lot going to do them a lot of good if they don't have the money to pay for those goods because they don't have jobs."

"The President won a Nobel Peace Prize in Economics, and he thinks this bill is in the best interests of the United States for the long term," Josh informs him.

"The long term is exactly what I'm talking about. But I'd like to see some short-terms solutions to get us on our way."

I silently slide Josh an index card across the table.

He glances at it and sighs. "You want money for your district to provide training and job placement for factory workers."

"That's right."

"I can't give it to you. If I give it to you, every Congressman in the country is going to be demanding money for pork barrel spending on the basis that it will help their constituents make an economic transition."

"Then you should give it to them," Bill says resolutely. "For all you know, it will help them make an economic transition."

"No, for all I know, it will reduce education spending to fund research on grasshoppers in Alaska," Josh snaps.

Bill is silent for a moment. "I've met President Bartlet. I have a good deal of respect for him, and his understanding of the economy. I think he would agree with me that helping the workers of this country make this adjustment is of utmost importance not only to my constituents, but to his."

Josh toys with his beer bottle. Normally at this point in the conversation, he would be yelling that the President won't be blackmailed by an insignificant Congressman from a tiny district, but Bill's words have resonated with him. He doesn't want to admit defeat, but he also knows Bill is right about the President. He would want these people to have the opportunity to learn new ways to provide for their families. Finally he says, "I'll see what I can do."

Bill grins. "Okay."

"So we can count on your vote," Josh says.

"You can," Bill affirms.

"Wonderful," I say.

Bill smiles at me. "When do you have to go back to Washington?"

"Our flight isn't until tomorrow morning. They don't exactly have shuttles running every hour between here and D.C.," I tell him.

He hesitates. "Listen, do you want to stick around here for a while? I mean, there's not exactly a whole lot to do in town, or anything, and I think there's a Mets game on in a little while."

"We don't want to inconvenience you," Josh says.

"It's no trouble," Bill says earnestly.

"It's got to be more comfortable than the hotel, right? Kick back."

"We'd love to," I tell him.

We go into the living room, taking the plate of brownies, and see a little boy sitting on the floor in front of the television.

"Hey, Mattie, is your movie over?" Bill calls. "I want you to meet some people."

The little boy gets up and walks over. "The Lady and the Tramp got married," he informs us.

I bend down to greet him. "You must be Matthew. I'm Donna, and this is my friend Josh."

"Hi," Matthew says.

"Your dad says you're six. What grade are you in?" I ask.

"First," he replies.

"He reads on a second grade level," Bill interjects proudly.

"Really? You must be pretty smart. Josh and I work for the President. I bet he could use a smart guy like you. Do you think you might want to work for the President someday?" I ask.

"Can I be a firefighter for him?" Matthew asks excitedly.

"Sure. If you're a firefighter, you protect people, and the President always needs people to help him protect everyone else, 'cause that's one of the most important parts of his job," I tell him.

"I have a fireman hat," Matthew informs me. "Do you want to see it?"

"Sure," I tell him. I look up at Bill and Josh. "You guys get started on the game. I'll be back in a bit."

Matthew leads me up the stairs to his bedroom, where he proceeds to show me his fireman hat, his G.I. Joes, his soccer trophy, his Pokemon collection, his Legos, his baseball glove, and a very worn teddy bear named Sophie. Matthew comes over to where I've perched on the edge of his bed with a book in his hand and thrusts it towards me.

"What's this?" I ask, taking it and turning it over so I can see the cover.

"The Velveteen Rabbit," he informs me.

"I love this story. Do you want me to read it to you?" I ask him.

"Okay."

"All right." I pull him onto my lap and scoot back on the bed so I can lean against the wall. I open the book and start to tell the story, absentmindedly stroking Matthew's head as I read. When I finish, I look down and see that he has fallen asleep in my arms, and I wonder if I will ever have a son of my own to read to and cradle in my arms.

I ease Matthew onto the mattress and cover him with a blanket before dropping a kiss on his forehead and quietly leaving the room.

When I get downstairs, Bill and Josh are watching the Mets game.

Bill looks up. "Matthew's asleep," I tell him, settling down between them on the couch.

"You got him down for a nap? I'm impressed," Bill says. "Usually it's like pulling teeth, and he's up again after ten minutes anyway."

"I was just reading him The Velveteen Rabbit and the next thing I knew he was out like a light," I say.

Bill nods. "His mother used to read him that."

"Used to?" Josh asks.

"She died in a car crash two years ago," Bill tells us.

"How awful," I say sympathetically.

"Yeah. She was in a coma for a day and a half, and then just slipped away," he says quietly.

"The waiting is horrible, isn't it?" I say, thinking of the fourteen hours Josh was in surgery after he got shot.

"You've had some experience with that?" Bill asks.

"Yeah. We had a happy ending, though. I can't imagine what I would have done if he hadn't made it," I say.

"I was pretty messed up afterwards. But I had Mattie to get me through the worst days."

"He's a great kid," I tell him.

"Yeah, he is," Bill agrees. "Not that I'm prejudiced or anything," he says with a grin.

"You're allowed. So how's the game going?" I ask.

"Mets are winning. If they can hold onto the lead for another inning, they've got it locked up," Bill says.

Josh reaches for the nearly-empty plate of brownies. I grab his wrist and pluck the brownie from his hand. "How many of these have you had, Josh?"

"I don't know. Three?"

"Don't you think you'd better quit while you're ahead?"

"I can hold my brownies, Donnatella," he scowls.

"Blood pressure, Joshua," I say. "Three's your limit. Besides, this way there's more for me." I take a big bite of his brownie. "Mm."

Bill looks between us. "You two have a very unusual relationship," he comments.

"You have no idea," Josh replies.

"I think it's wonderful that you manage to maintain such a close friendship when you work together every day," Bill says.

"It's a ruse. I'm just biding my time until I can get Josh out of the picture and take over his office," I say.

Josh glances over at me. "You know, I could fire you for treasonous acts."

"Actually, Josh, I don't think you could. Many people would think that I was serving the country's best interests if I got rid of you. I'm a patriot, above all," I declare virtuously.

"I'm going to have you deported back to Canada," he grumbles.

A couple of minutes later Matthew comes tumbling down the stairs and runs into the living room. "Hi Donna!" he says brightly. "What are you doing?"

"Gee, son, nice to see you too," Bill says dryly. Matthew ignores him.

"Your dad, Josh, and I are watching a baseball game. Do you want to watch with us for a while?" I ask him.

"Okay." To my great pleasure and immense surprise, Matthew comes straight over to me and climbs in my lap. He snuggles into me and I rub my cheek on the top of his head, thinking how nice it is to have someone so small and warm to cuddle with.

After a little while, all the brownies are gone and Josh and I decide it's time to leave. We collect our coats and stand in the front hall to say good-bye to Bill and Matthew.

"Hey, I'm having my high school reunion tonight. You should come. It's going to be the social event of the season," Bill says to us.

"Aren't those usually reserved for people who actually attended the high school?" Josh asks.

"Nah. I don't think anybody would throw you out if you showed up. When I say it's the social event of the season, I mean it. This town doesn't have much in terms of a night life. They'd probably be thrilled to have a couple extra warm bodies."

"We'll think about it," Josh says.

"It was very nice to meet you," I say to Bill, shaking his hand. He meets my eyes. Damn, he's attractive.

"It was very nice to meet you, too, Donna."

"Are you coming back, Donna?" Matthew pipes up.

I kneel down to look him in the eye. "I don't think so, handsome. But if you ever come to Washington with your dad, I want you to come see me, okay? Otherwise the other girls won't believe me when I tell them what a good-looking guy you are."

He smiles. "Okay."

"Do you think I could get a hug good-bye?" I ask him. He puts his arms around my neck and I give him a kiss on the cheek. "See you later, Matthew."

xxx

Several hours later I'm bouncing on my knees on the bed in our hotel room while Josh pretends to read. "I think we should go to the reunion."

"Donna, why would we want to go to a reunion for a bunch of people we've never met and will never see again?"

"Why not? We don't have anything else to do. Do you have a better idea?"

"We could go bowling," he suggests.

"You hate bowling."

"We could go to a bar."

"I bet they have free booze at the reunion."

"We could stay in and have screaming naked sex on this bed."

"That was sneaky, the way you just dropped that in there."

"You could at least put that towel back on. We can even go down to talk to Stewart if you want."

I bounce impatiently. "Next?"

"We could go to the movies."

"Is there anything good playing?"

"I have no idea," he admits.

I grin at him. "Come on. It'll be fun."

He sighs. "Donna, I make it a point to avoid my own high school reunions. Why would I want to go to someone else's?"

"I'll let you have three beers and as many hors d'oeuvres as you want."

He looks at me. "You just want to go flirt with Rawston some more."

"Excuse me, I did not flirt. However, he does happen to be a moderately good-looking man who finds me terribly attractive and charming, and he did invite us, so if he should express some interest in talking to me, I would be not completely unwilling to respond. Of course, he's not as handsome as you, but I'm willing to trade down a little for one night."

He groans. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

"Really?" I squeal with delight and throw my arms around Josh's neck to give him a kiss on the cheek. "This is going to be so much fun."

When we get to the high school, I snag a couple of blank name tags and a blue pen to write with. When I hand Josh his, he glances at it and says skeptically, "Zachary Smith?"

"Hey, if we're going to crash a reunion, we might as well do it in style. Think of it as an experiment on human behavior. We can see how many people pretend to remember us," I tell him.

He looks at my name tag. "Jessica Murray?"

"Zack and Jessie, Josh!"

He looks up at me. "They end up together, right?"

"No, I think Zack sticks with Kelly, the one with the funny shaped head," I inform him.

"So Jessie pined for the handsome and charming Zachary for the rest of her days?"

"No, she ended up with Slater and they had dozens of muscle-bound geniuses as children."

"Her loss." We go into the gymnasium, which is full of people and very loud music.

Josh leans over and whispers to me, "I don't think this is going to work."

"Sure it will. Come on, I'll prove it." I drag him over to the first person I see, a curly-haired woman in a blue dress.

I glance at her name tag and hug her enthusiastically. "Nancy! I thought that was you. God, you look great. It's so wonderful to see you again!" I gush.

She falters for a second, but recovers quickly. "Jessica? Oh my gosh, how are you? It's been an age, hasn't it? What have you been doing with yourself?"

"I've been out in California working at a publishing company in San Francisco. How 'bout you?"

"I'm a teacher here in town. Second grade. My husband's a biology teacher at the junior high."

"How wonderful!" She nods, and glances over at Josh.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "You remember Zachary Smith, don't you?"

Nancy frowns. "I'm sorry..."

"You probably don't recognize him without the glasses and the braces," I tell her. Josh makes a strangled sound behind me.

Nancy's face clears. "Of course, Zachary. You used to be in the science club, didn't you?"

Josh grunts. I pat him on the arm. "Zachary works in a biotech firm now."

"I see," she says politely. "So have you guys kept in touch over the years?"

"Pretty good touch," I laugh. "We're married."

I figure this is a good excuse for me to be watching out for him while he's in this surly mood. I need to make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid tonight. I ignore how easily the words roll off my tongue, and how my heart quickens a bit saying them.

"Oh, wow! I didn't even know you guys were together in high school," Nancy says.

"Oh, we weren't," I assure her. "Zachary and I didn't really move in the same social circles in high school. In fact, I didn't even see him for years after graduation, but then we ran into each other at a bookstore and got to talking, and then three months later we were married!"

"So you've been together how long now?" she prompts.

I beam at her. "Our ten year anniversary is next week, actually."

"Congratulations! Do you have any big plans?"

"We're going to spend the weekend at Tahoe and go skiing," I tell her.

She sighs. "How romantic."

"Oh, Zachary is quite the romantic," I tell her.

"How did you propose, Zachary?" she asks.

I turn expectantly towards Josh.

Josh looks up, startled, and looks back and forth between Nancy and me nervously. He clears his throat. "Well, uh, I asked her to go to Hawaii with me," he begins. What? I look at him, wondering where he's going with this. He clears his throat again. "And I... uh, bought her a pair of skis. I planted the skis in the sand and hung a bow tie over the poles." He looks at me and I stare back at him, completely riveted. He continues, not breaking eye contact with me. "I got a little kid to take her out to them, and then I walked up to her with a cup of coffee. I gave her the coffee and told her that she made me want to fight for everything good in this world. I told her that I treasured every minute we spent together. I told her that she was the most valuable thing in the world to me, and that I couldn't envision my life without her. And then I asked her to marry me."

Oh my God. I'm choking up over here. I turn to Nancy. "Isn't that the sweetest thing you've ever heard?" I sniff.

"Oh... yes," Nancy says dutifully. She was sold on the whole Hawaii thing, but she looks mystified by the part about the skis and the coffee. That, of course, was my favorite part. The part about being the most valuable thing in the world to him and not being able to envision life without me wasn't bad either.

A tall man in a suit walks up to us. "Hey, Chip!" Nancy greets him. "I've just been catching up with Jessica and Zachary."

The man does a double take. "Jessica Murray? Wow, you look amazing. How are you?"

"I'm great," I reply. "And yourself?"

He shakes his head. "Man, I'm great now that I've run into you. I didn't think it was possible for you to be any hotter than you were in high school, but you've managed it."

"Thank you! You're looking very well, yourself," I tell him. "Do you remember my husband Zachary?"

Chip frowns. "I don't think so."

"Zachary was in the science club," Nancy informs him. Chip's features smooth out. "Oh, right. Didn't you used to wear glasses?" he asks Josh.

"Yeah," Josh replies tersely.

"How'd you manage to snag Jessica? Half the guys on the football team had a crush on her."

"Really," Josh says flatly.

"Yup. I know because I was the worst one."

"I never knew that. Half the football team had a crush on me?" I ask.

"You bet. We all spent weeks writing really bad poetry and trying to think of words that rhymed with Jessica before the junior prom."

"Fascinating," Josh says in a bored tone.

Chip nods at him. "So what made you realize that she was the one for you?"

Josh glances at me. "It was Roethke," he says.

Chip frowns and Nancy asks, "The poet?"

Josh nods. "Yeah. We were reading Roethke in English class, and I came across this line that said, 'I knew a woman, lovely in her bones.' I looked up and saw her across the room and I knew what the line meant. Then I saw her in that bookstore and my first thought was, 'I knew a woman, lovely in her bones.'"

Uh... wow. I hope these two have never actually read any Roethke, because if they have, they might question why a high school English class was reading such a hot poem. I made him know what that line meant? If I was really married to Josh I would drag him behind the nearest bleachers and make violently passionate love to him at this moment. Hell, forget the married bit, I'm about two seconds away from grabbing him by the tie and leading him off right now.

"Smooth," Chip says appreciatively. No kidding.

"So do you two have kids?" Nancy asks.

I'm totally distracted now. "Oh, yes. Three. Triplets, actually. Identical."

"Wow, that must have been a difficult labor for someone with a frame as small as yours," Nancy comments.

"Yes. Zachary still has scars," I tell her. "I broke two of the bones in his hand."

"Are they boys or girls?" Chip asks.

"Girls," Josh supplies immediately. I glance at him, surprised.

"What are their names?" Nancy wants to know.

"Justina, Wilhemina, and Clementina," I tell her. I try not to snicker at the looks of poorly disguised horror on their faces.

I see Bill come in the door and he spots us immediately. He strides over to us and greets us warmly. "Hey! You guys made it!" he says, shaking Josh's hand and kissing me on the cheek.

"Well, the flight from California was a little bumpy, but we seem to have remained somewhat intact," I tell him with a wink. "Zachary and I were just telling Chip and Nancy about our triplets."

Bill glances at my name tag and the corner of his mouth quirks a bit. "Gosh, I haven't seen them in ages. How old are they now?"

"They just turned eight last month," I inform him.

"I see," he says, clearly fighting off laughter. He turns to Nancy and Chip. "It's good to see you two. Nancy, where's Ron? He owes me ten bucks from our last poker game."

Nancy waves her hand vaguely. "I think he got waylaid by Mrs. Pierce. She never gets tired of telling him that he was her prize student of all time, even though she's seen him twice a month at school board meetings for the past eleven years."

"Chip, what's new with you? Are you still seeing Carol?" Bill asks.

"Naw, we broke up last month," Chip says unconcernedly.

Bill shakes his head. "This guy's still a serial dater," he tells us. "The only thing different from high school is that it's a new girl every year instead of every month."

Chip shrugs. "Well, I just haven't been able to bring myself to settle down since I let Jessica slip through my fingers. I had a serious crush on her in school."

Bill looks at me. "Didn't we all? I have been kicking myself all these years because I never had the nerve to ask her to dance. I thought if I could have one dance with her, I would be completely satisfied with my lot in life."

He turns to Josh. "Zachary, do you think you could help me realize a life-long ambition here and let me dance with her for a few minutes?"

Josh looks at him. "Sure, as long as you bring her back."

"Thanks." Bill turns back to me and holds out his arm. "Would you do me the honor?"

I take his arm and let him lead me out onto the dance floor. He puts his arms around me and smiles at me. "Triplets, huh?"

"Their names are Justina, Wilhemina, and Clementina," I tell him.

He shakes his head. "That's sadistic."

"Tina, Mina, and Clem for short," I say.

"That might be worse."

"They're family names."

"Well, I hope for their sakes they're cute," he says.

"They're adorable. Maybe not quite as cute as Matthew, but adorable all the same."

"Matthew has a huge crush on you," he tells me.

"The feeling is entirely mutual," I respond.

"He kept asking me all afternoon if you were a princess."

"You're kidding. I didn't think little boys held much regard for princesses. I thought they were more interested in, you know, crashing things into each other and making a lot of noise," I say.

Bill blushes. I can't believe I have made this incredibly gorgeous man blush twice today. "He gets that romantic streak from me. I hoped he would inherit Linda's pragmatism, but no such luck."

"It's great luck. He's perfect."

"Thank you." We're quiet for a moment, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. We just dance slowly, both lost in our own thoughts.

Finally he says, "Would it... Would it be okay if I gave you a call the next time I'm in Washington?"

I'm a little surprised, but I smile at him. "Sure."

He looks relieved. "That was harder than I thought it would be. Now that it's done, I feel a lot better."

"I didn't mean to stress you out," I say.

"No, no. I just haven't done this in a long time. The last girl I asked on a date was Linda, and that was eight years ago," he says.

"You still miss her, don't you?" I ask softly.

"Yeah. My friends and family keep telling me it's time to move on, but sometimes it's hard to remember she's really not coming back."

I think of Josh lying on the operating table try to imagine what I would have done if he hadn't come out. "I understand."

"Gosh, I'm really botching this up, aren't I? I have a beautiful woman in my arms and I can't stop talking about my wife," he says with a nervous smile.

"You're doing fine," I soothe. We're quiet for another minute.

I look at him. "Can I say something?"

"Of course."

I pause and bite my lip. "It sounds to me like you need a friend a lot more than you need a date. So next time you're in Washington, why don't you give me a call, and we can get together for coffee. As friends."

"All right." I'm a little hurt by the relief evident in his face, but I remind myself that he did after all, ask me on a date, and I am the one suggesting we keep things low-key.

"Now, if Matthew wants my number, on the other hand, you tell him this princess is hoping to get another kiss from her Prince Charming," I instruct him.

Bill laughs. "I'll do that."

I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for the dance."

"Thank you," he replies.

"I'll see you later, Bill."

"It's been a pleasure, Donna."

I leave him, and spot Josh talking to a woman at the bar. I head over towards him.

"Hey sweetie," I say when I reach him. "Are you having a good time?" I ask, taking the drink from his hand and taking a sip.

"Peachy," Josh says, trying to wrest the drink from me. I hold onto it and take another sip. It's good.

The woman he was talking to says to me, "Hey, weren't you on the cheerleading squad?"

"Drama club," I correct with a smile. I look at her name tag. "Rachel Brown? I remember you. We didn't really know each other, but I always thought you seemed really smart. What did you end up doing?"

"I'm a psychologist."

"Oh really? That must be fascinating."

"I find it very rewarding," she says.

"Rachel, it was great to see you again. Do you mind if I steal my husband for a dance?" I ask, threading my fingers through Josh's.

"Not at all. It was good to see you both again," she says politely.

I lead Josh out on the dance floor. "How's it going?" I ask him.

"Fine. How's it going with you? Have you made yet another Republican conquest?" Josh asks.

"He asked me out," I tell him.

"I figured he would. You two looked pretty cozy on the dance floor," he says.

"He's a very nice man."

"So what did you tell him?"

"I told him to give me a call next time he's in Washington."

"Love blossoms in the Midwest."

I sigh. "Not really. He's not over his wife. I told him we should be friends instead."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No. I'm flattered he asked. I'm holding out for someone else instead."

His grip tightens around my waist. "Who?"

"Matthew. He thinks I'm a princess."

"Smart kid."

"Damn straight."

We're silent for a moment, swaying to the music.

"Who were you talking about?" Josh asks suddenly.

"When?" I ask.

"This afternoon. When you were talking to Rawston about his wife. You said waiting was horrible. I was just wondering... who you were talking about," he says.

I look at him, surprised. "You, of course."

"Me?" he echoes.

"Hello? Fourteen hours of surgery with you inches from death– trust me, that was all the lesson I needed to know that waiting is horrible."

"Oh." He looks upset, and I worry that mentioning the shooting is bringing back bad memories for him. I squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I'm just happy we had a happy ending."

He offers me a small smile. "Me, too."

I glance at my watch. "We'd better go. We've got an early flight tomorrow."

"Okay." He takes my hand and leads me off the dance floor, tucking my arm in his as we go out into the hall.

When we get back to the hotel, we're both subdued. We get ready for bed in silence and when we slide between the sheets, it feels awkward. Yesterday I was so exhausted I didn't give a second thought to sharing a bed with Josh, but now I'm completely preoccupied by the sound of him breathing beside me and the thought that he is incredibly close to me.

This is no big deal, right? Everything was fine last night. Perfectly natural. Even this morning... the thought trails off as I remember waking up nestled into his side, and then my subsequent embarrassment when I found myself lying on top of him a minute later. But that worked out all right. Just a big joke. The trick is to make it seem like it's perfectly normal to be sharing a bed with Josh. I roll over and kiss him quickly on the cheek. "Good night, Josh," I say and quickly roll back over to my side of the bed.

"Good night, Donnatella." We are silent for a few minutes, and I can hear Josh rustling around beside me. I close my eyes and will sleep to come.

"You looked really good today," Josh says suddenly. "With Matthew."

I turn over so I can see his face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... it looked so natural with him in your arms. You'd be a good mom."

I'm touched. "Thanks." Pause. "Do you ever think about having kids?" I ask him.

"Yeah. I'm not sure it's ever going to happen, though. Do you think you'll have kids someday?"

I sigh. "I've always wanted to have kids. But when I go out with a guy, I can't seem to think that far ahead. Usually I'm concentrating on making it to a second date."

"How many kids would you want?" he asks.

I think for a minute. "Two, I think."

"Two's a good number," he agrees. "I'm not sure I could handle triplets."

"I definitely couldn't," I laugh.

He grins at me. "Justina, Wilhemina, and Clementina?"

"I named them after Zachary's grandmother, great-grandmother, and great-great-grandmother."

"What were their middle names?"

"They all have the same middle name. Constance, after your great aunt."

"You are an evil woman. But I thought it was hilarious how you managed to convince those people they knew us."

"You weren't so bad yourself. I was pretty impressed with the Roethke story."

He looks at me. "I was hoping you would like the proposal."

"That was my favorite part," I whisper.

"My favorite part was when you introduced me as your husband," he whispers back, reaching out and stroking my cheek with his hand.

"That was my second favorite part," I tell him.

"My second favorite part was spending half an hour with you while you were wearing nothing but a towel. It was a very close second. If you put it on again, I might have to reevaluate the ranking scale."

I scoot a little closer to him. "You know," I offer. "My feet are a little cold again, tonight."

"Here, I'll warm them up," he says, pulling me to him.

I nestle into him, my back curved into his stomach, his arms wrapped around me, and his foot rubbing up and down my leg. He nuzzles my neck and I think happily, I love Iowa.

But not, I reflect, as much as I'm going to love Hawaii.