Campaign travel sucked.

Case in point: Donna had had a terrible flight back from a last-minute policy briefing in DC. First the Delta jet was delayed on the tarmac at National for over two hours, and then the beverage cart was out of Diet Coke by the time it reached her seat. How could they be out of Diet Coke? How was it possible that whoever was in charge of beverage selection didn't have the sense to stock up appropriately on one of the most popular soft drinks on the market? If Santos won the election, Donna would really have to make it a point to look into that.

This unexpected privation had made her even more grumpy than she already was, and as a result she'd snapped at the guy sitting next to her when he'd asked her her name, which was totally unlike her, and she had to blame it all on the idiots at Delta, because really, how could a woman expect to behave herself decorously under such execrable conditions? She was only human.

The cherry on top: when she arrived in Atlanta at the Peachtree Westin, where the Santos campaign was bunking for the next couple of days, it was to discover that her room wasn't ready yet, and wouldn't be for another hour. She almost cried until she realized they sold Diet Coke in the gift shop, and then everything got just a little bit better.

So she bought her soda and headed up to Josh's room instead, figuring she could hang out there until the Westin deigned to make a room available to her. It was nearly dinnertime; she half-expected him to be in the hotel restaurant, choking down sub-standard chicken marsala. But for the first time that day something went right: he answered her knock. "My room isn't ready yet," she said by way of greeting. She swigged Diet Coke.

Josh stepped aside for her, a smile on his face. It was a smile that she was still getting used to seeing; the kind of smile he'd only recently started sending her way. It sort of turned her insides into pudding. Pathetic. "Welcome back," he said. Still smiling.

"Thanks."

"They didn't have your room ready?"

She nodded. "I'm homeless for the next hour." It was probably silly that she and Josh continued to book separate rooms, but for some reason Donna just couldn't bring herself to break that last taboo. So they continued to have their own quarters on the campaign trail, even though one of the rooms usually didn't see much action during any one particular stay.

"You want to leave your stuff here for now?" he asked her.

"That was in fact my brilliant plan," she said.

"Mi casa es su casa," he said expansively. Like she wouldn't be sleeping here tonight anyway.

She let her overnight bag fall to the floor, put her Diet Coke bottle down on the desk. Turned back to him.

"Hey," she said softly, starting over.

That smile again. "Hey yourself."

He took her in his arms and kissed her; and why did it feel like it had been days, and not in fact hours, since they had last done this? She opened her mouth to his, tasted coffee and Josh. The kiss was hot and deep and wonderful, and she finally felt herself begin to relax. She tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, ran her tongue over his teeth. He sighed into her mouth and moved his hand to her breast --

And there was a knock at the door.

"Dammit," Josh cursed, breaking away from her. He ran a hand through his hair, then pulled his white dress shirt out of his waistband so that it covered the front of his pants, which made her smother a grin. He shot her a look that said he was well aware that she was laughing at him, then opened the door.

"Hey," Bram said. His tall frame filled the doorway. "We're all going down to dinner. You coming?"

"We'll be right there," Donna said over Josh's shoulder. The food on the plane had been lousy -- naturally -- and she was starving.

Josh made a frustrated sound that caused Bram to look at him oddly. "Yeah, we'll be down in a minute," Josh said with a sniff.

"I'll save you two seats," Bram said, as if he wanted to lock down the cool kids table in the cafeteria.

"You do that," Josh said, and shut the door.

"When this is all over," he said, turning back to her and taking her in his arms, "we're going to go somewhere private, just you and me."

"When this is over, we're going to have a country to run," she pointed out.

"Technically, not for another two months after the election," he said, resting his head against hers.

"Yes, I'm sure we won't be at all busy during that time," she said dryly.

He sighed, and his breath stirred her hair. "Yeah."

She squeezed his waist. "I'm not complaining, Josh. You know I'm not complaining, right?"

"I know." He cleared his throat, didn't look at her.

"Hey. You are all I need, Joshua Lyman," she said firmly. "Let's face it, you're actually more than I can handle."

"Many women have tried," Josh said with bravado. Then, off her look, he mumbled, "Okay, not that many women."

"Mmm." Donna smoothed the front of his shirt. "Come on, Casanova, let's go downstairs before the others start lewdly speculating on what we're doing up here."

"You say that as if it would bother me," he said.

"I assure you it's not your reputation I'm worried about," she retorted.

He gave her an insouciant grin and opened the door.

*****

Later: "Enjoying yourself?" he asked from the doorway of the bathroom.

"You bet I am," Donna said without opening her eyes. "I was fantasizing about this all during my travel odyssey through hell today." The bubbles mostly covered her up as she lounged in the bathtub, but enough skin peeked through the gaps to give him quite a show.

It was at times like this that Josh half-expected to suddenly wake up from this ongoing pornographic dream he seemed to be having.

He walked over to the tub, his bare feet cold on the tiled floor. She didn't open her eyes, but he could see a smile begin to play at the corners of her mouth. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

She opened her eyes, then, and wrapped her soapy arms around his neck. "Get in here, Casanova."

And that's when the pornographic dream Josh seemed to be having took a decidedly explicit turn.

"So where am I taking you on our private getaway?" Josh murmured sleepily some time later. Sex in the tub and then in the bed had taken a lot out of him, not that he would ever admit it aloud. He ran his fingers lightly up and down her upper arm, trailing goose bumps in his wake.

She tilted her head up to look at him. "You're acting like it's actually going to happen."

"Oh, it's going to happen," he said. "I have made a decision, Donna. And once I make a decision, it is decided. It is done." He shifted a little beneath her weight. "So what's it gonna be? Bermuda? Hawaii? Fiji? The Bahamas?"

She put her head back down and was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke her voice sounded odd. "I...don't know, Josh. I'm not crazy about any of those places, really."

"No?" He thought some more. "Aruba? Puerto Rico? Is there someplace in particular you like?" Was there a secret girly place he didn't know about?

"It's not that, it's just..." Her fingers opened and closed against his chest. "Those are all beachy places," she said.

"Yeah," he said, puzzled. He coiled a strand of her hair around his finger. "I thought that was the type of atmosphere most conducive to ravishing you all day long, but if you want to go someplace where we can do some sightseeing or something instead, that's okay too..."

"That's not what I'm saying," she said. "At least, it's not what I mean. I'm just -- I'm just not much of a beach person these days, is what I'm trying to say."

"Okay," he said. So much for seeing her in a bikini, he thought.

Oh.

Oh.

She didn't want to go to the beach because she didn't want anyone to see --

Shit.

"We'll figure it out," he said, letting the subject drop for the moment.

"Okay." He could hear a note of relief in her voice. She kissed his chest before laying her head back down upon it. "Night."

"Night," he said, but he stayed up a while longer, thinking.

*****

Donna had a feeling this was a new low. Seriously, if her father could see her now -- okay, best not to think about that, especially not now, with the handle of a vacuum cleaner digging into the small of her back.

But the utility closet at the New Paltz Conference Center? Really? "Josh..."

"No one's gonna walk in on us," he said. He nuzzled her neck, tongue flickering out to tease the skin near her collarbone.

Dammit. He knew that was going to make her weak --

She traced his ear with her forefinger, felt her nipples harden beneath her bra. She shifted against him, pulled him closer. Gripped the hard muscle of his bicep.

He lifted his mouth from her neck and kissed her hard, tongue scraping against hers --

And the door flew open.

"Oops," Bram said. "Uh, sorry. Or, you know, way to go."

"Thanks?" Josh wondered. Donna hit him in the back of the head. "Ow!"

"I was looking for a linen closet," Bram said, who didn't appear the least bit embarrassed. "Mrs. Santos wanted to wash her face in the ladies' room before she went on stage."

"Yeah, this is a utility closet," Josh said, as if that explained the entire situation. He reached for the doorknob.

"You sure there aren't any towels in there?" Bram asked as the door shut in his face.

"So going away when this is over," Josh muttered.

*****

"Election night sex is the best sex," Josh panted. He rolled off of Donna and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, still breathing hard.

"Can we have an election every night?" Donna wondered, which he took to mean that she agreed with him.

"I don't see why not," he said. "We can make up our own elections. Like...Bedroom President." Awesome.

"Kitchen King," Donna suggested.

"Bathroom Baron."

"Solarium Senator."

"Wait. I don't have a solarium."

"Yeah, you should do something about that."

"I'll get right on it." He rolled back over so he could kiss her some more (and get in a little boob action at the same time).

"We won," she said a few minutes later.

He lifted his head from her breast. "Yeah, we won." They'd been randomly repeating it to each other all night in the hopes that eventually it would sink in.

"Two months," she said with a sigh.

He swallowed. "Yeah."

*****

"So we're going away next weekend."

Donna paused in her consumption of day-old pork lo mein to give him the fisheye. "You know what I love about that? That you're telling me, instead of asking me. And by love I mean, you know, pissed."

"That's...some really interesting sentence structure you just used there, but I think you're missing the point, which is that we are going away next weekend, just you and me." He smirked, clearly proud of himself.

"I'm missing the point," she said, feeling her eyebrows go up.

"Yes."

"Okay, whatever," she said. So not worth it. "Where are we going, and why?"

"Where we're going is a secret," he said, "and why is so we can have sex. Lots and lots of sex."

"I'm pretty sure we can do that right here," she mused, and slurped up a noodle.

"Are you giving me a hard time about taking you away for the weekend?" he asked disbelievingly.

She put down her chopsticks. "I'm only giving you a hard time for being a jackass," she explained. "I'm thrilled that you're taking me away for the weekend."

"Oh." He tried to puzzle that one out, then clearly discarded the effort. "So..."

Poor thing. She got up from her chair and went over to him, straddled his lap, put her arms around his neck. "So thank you," she said. She kissed him in a way that could leave no doubts as to her gratitude.

She felt him respond immediately. He slipped his hands underneath her shirt and caressed her bare skin, and god he had nice long fingers and knew exactly what to do with them. She made a happy sound, then pulled her shirt up over her head, pleased at the way his eyes lit up when she did so.

"You give the best thank-yous," he said, staring at her black satin bra.

"I really do," she agreed, and reached for his belt buckle.

*****

"What should I pack for our mystery trip?" Donna asked, surveying the contents of her closet.

"I don't know," he said. He was lounging on her bed in a t-shirt and boxers and doing the New York Times crossword puzzle, which reminded him of Leo, which was both a good and a bad thing. He tore himself away from it long enough to suggest, "Clothes?"

"Really? 'Cause I was planning on just walking around naked," she said, whirling to look at him.

"I would have no problem with that," he said. "What's a three-letter word for food scrap?"

"Ort."

"Thanks."

Pause.

"Josh," she whined. "Give me a hint. Warm or cold? Casual or formal? Preppy or trendy?"

He didn't understand that last one, so he ignored it. "Casual," he said, giving in a little.

She crossed her arms across her chest. "Do I have to pack a bathing suit?"

"You don't have to do anything," he said reasonably.

"I don't know if I even own one anymore," she warned him. "It's been so long since I've worn one."

"Then don't worry about it," he said. "Just pack whatever. I don't plan on you being clothed all that much anyway."

"You act like you don't already get to see me naked more or less whenever you want," she pointed out.

He looked up from the crossword. "'More or less?'"

"You wanna test it?"

"No," he said hastily. "Besides, vacation nudity is different."

"Did you just say 'vacation nudity?'"

"Why do we keep repeating each other's sentences?" he wondered.

She blew out a loud breath and turned back to her closet. "So not seeing me naked tonight," she mumbled.

Oh really. "I know a challenge when I hear one," he said, and put aside the crossword puzzle.

*****

It wasn't until they checked in at the airport that he finally had to cop to where they were going.

"New York?" she said when she saw the tickets. Her eyes sparkled, and his stomach sank. "We're going to New York?"

"Well --" he began.

"Are we staying somewhere exciting?" she asked, plowing right over him. "Are we going to a Broadway show? You know I've always wanted to go to one --"

"We're not going to the city," he interjected.

"But --"

"We're going to New York state, not New York City."

Her brow furrowed, and he could practically hear the two words that popped into her head: New Paltz.

He panicked. "Hamptons," he blurted.

"What?"

"We're going to the Hamptons."

"Oh." She processed that for a moment. "Isn't that a beachy place?" she asked suspiciously.

"Trust me," he said. He put all the reassurance he could into his gaze.

Worked every time. "Okay," she said. She looked down thoughtfully at the ticket in her hand, but didn't say anything further.

*****

Upon arrival at JFK they rented a car, a snazzy red Mini Cooper that turned Josh into a complete car geek. She hadn't realized he could drive shift -- for some reason, she wouldn't have thought it of him, probably because even though he displayed the typical male predilection for drooling over cars, his innate ineptness with most things mechanical would seem to preclude any facility for...what was her point again? Oh. The point was, she was kind of impressed. Josh, for his part, was so giddy that he seemed to take actual pleasure in navigating the insanity that was the Long Island Expressway, so long as he was doing it from behind the wheel of the red Mini.

Eventually they got off the LIE and headed toward Southampton, and after minimal bickering over the directions Josh had scrawled on a piece of yellow legal paper, they found themselves on a secluded street, intermittent homes scattered far enough apart to provide the utmost privacy. Large, sprawling, imposing homes. Old money homes. Donna chewed on her lower lip.

"I think this is it," Josh said suddenly. He made a left at a freestanding white mailbox.

They pulled up the winding drive to a large Dutch colonial with white clapboard siding and royal blue shutters. It didn't look to be an inn, or even a bed and breakfast, as Donna had suspected, but a private home. "Josh...what is this place?"

He shut off the ignition and undid his seatbelt. "It's owned by Ralph Goodman at the D-triple-C. He was looking for a way to thank me for winning the election, so I suggested we be his houseguests for the weekend. The catch is, we're the only ones here. Guess we'll just have to find a way to amuse ourselves." He waggled his eyebrows at her and got out of the car.

Donna opened and closed her mouth a few times, then finally undid her seatbelt and disembarked as well. "Is that ethical?"

"I think so," Josh said with a shrug. "We're not getting any monetary gain out of it, and neither is he. If we weren't here, the house would just go unused. No harm, no foul." He unlocked the trunk and pulled out their bags. "Wanna go check it out?"

"Yeah," she said. If the inside was half as nice as the outside... She followed Josh up the walk and waited as he fished a key out of his pocket and inserted it in the front door lock.

"After you," he said, and pushed the door open wide.

She stepped through and found herself in an intimate foyer that led into an airy living room appointed with plush white loveseats and a mahogany coffee table polished to a reflective gleam. Wide windows on one side looked out onto Agawan Lake. Beyond a wooden arch that divided the living area she glimpsed a more casual room with lounge chairs, a widescreen TV, and built-in shelves overflowing with books.

"Not bad, huh?" she heard Josh say behind her.

"Not bad," she agreed.

"Kitchen's back this way."

She followed him down a short hallway to a spacious kitchen with white wood and chrome accents, dominated by a glass dining table with chrome-finished chairs. It was an interesting mix of traditional beach chic and modern minimalism, and somehow it worked. "You're not expecting me to cook, are you?" she asked suspiciously, eyeing the stainless steel appliances. She supposed that if you were going to cook, this would be the place to do it, but...

"Are you kidding?" Josh snorted, in a way that made her wonder if she should be offended. She wasn't that bad. "Although..." He opened the refrigerator to find someone had stocked it with cheeses, fruit, a couple bottles of local Riesling. "Plenty for snacking."

"Great," she said, feeling a little like Cinderella discovering she can go to the ball.

"Ready for the best part?" he asked.

The eagerness on his face made her smile. "Sure," she said. She let him take her by the hand and lead her outside to the large backyard, bordered on two sides by leafy trees and on the third by the lake, dark blue in the sunlight. And there, before them, was the most beautiful in-ground pool she had ever seen; inset into a mottling of different colored stones, and with deep gray cement walls that gave it the appearance of a Zen rock garden. Free-standing heat lamps lined the entire perimeter of the pool and adjacent patio, so that you barely knew it was November outside. "It's amazing," she said, not sure why he was so excited about it.

"And heated. And completely secluded," he said. He took off his sunglasses and looked into her eyes. "I thought -- I thought that you'd feel comfortable swimming here. Not like -- not like a crowded beach. Just you, me, and the trees. You know?"

Oh.

Oh.

It hit her, the reasoning behind this locale, and the effort that he went to in order to make it happen, and -- "I love you," she said without thinking.

He blinked. "That's good, right?"

She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. "It's good," she told him, and kissed him to prove it.

"I didn't bring a swimsuit, though, remember?" she said when their lips parted.

"That's why we're going shopping next," he said, starting back for the house.

She raced to catch up with him. "You mean I'm going shopping, right? You hate shopping."

He stopped, looked at her. "In what universe do you think I would not want to watch you try on bikinis?" he said, and his voice went up a little at the end, there.

She grinned. "Do you really think they'll let you come in the changing booth with me?"

Dimples flashed. "I'd like to see them try to stop me."

*****

Later, when they returned from buying Donna swimwear and picking up takeout from a local cafe for dinner, they sat and ate at the patio table outside, luxuriating under the heat lamps, chatting easily and watching the sun set off the water.

They had just finished off the lemon tarts they'd bought for dessert when Josh's cell phone rang. "It's the Congressman," he said apologetically, before opening the phone. "'ello. Yeah. Uh huh." He got up out of his chair and wandered off. Donna began clearing the table, knowing the phone call could take a while. Josh appeared to be arguing with Santos about a cabinet appointment -- probably McCulskey, since the two of them had also been discussing it the previous night. She managed to completely clear off the table and start on the dishes by the time Josh was done with his conversation.

"Sorry about that," he said, joining her in the kitchen. "I told him not to call unless it's an emergency, but with the mood he's in right now, everything is an emergency."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "Was it about McCulskey?"

"Yeah." He leaned against the kitchen counter. "Except now he's talking about Wallingford, instead."

"Brooke Wallingford?"

"Yeah. An extremely pregnant Brooke Wallingford."

She raised an eyebrow. "As opposed to being just slightly pregnant?"

"You know what I mean."

"That depends. Are you saying you don't want her to be Secretary of Health and Human Services because she's about to have a baby?" Donna asked. "Because I know that can't be what you mean."

"It's not what I mean, but you have to admit, the timing sucks." He drummed his fingers on the granite countertop. "She'd essentially be off the job for three months."

"That's assuming she takes that much time off, first of all, and second of all, so what?" Donna said. "The Family and Medical Leave Act was put in place for a reason, Josh. Besides, I'm sure she'll stay in the loop, and she'll have good people under her taking care of things, and it's only twelve weeks. Twelve weeks out of four years."

"During the first term," Josh persisted. "Overlapping with the first hundred days of the administration. Like I said, the timing couldn't be worse."

"Well, I guess she didn't take your political priorities into account when she got pregnant," Donna sniped. She turned the kitchen faucet back on and washed her hands. "Don't worry, Josh, when I decide to get pregnant I'll be sure to consult you first." She turned off the faucet and reached for a dish towel and had she really just said that? She looked warily over at him.

He was gaping like a fish out of water. Yep, she'd really just said it. "When?" he squeaked, then cleared his throat. "When?" he repeated, his voice at a more normal register this time.

She rolled her eyes. "It was just a hypothetical, Josh. Forget I even said anything."

"It's just --" Of course he was ignoring what she just said, when did he not ignore everything she said? -- "You want kids?" he said.

"I...yeah, I guess so. What would make you think I didn't?" she said.

"Well we've never talked about it, so how would I know either way?" he yelped.

Panic fluttered in her chest. "Are you saying I don't seem maternal? Oh my god, Josh, are you saying you think I would make a bad mother?"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Because I did kill that plant that one time, you know, and I never really fed my roommate's cats, I mean I liked them well enough but I left the caretaking to her, I just didn't think it was my place, and --"

"Donna, I think you would make a great mother," he said.

She stopped and took a breath. "Really?"

"Of course you would," he said, as if it were a given. "You've already got the whole bossy thing down, which is pretty much half the battle."

"Right," she said, ignoring the left-handedness of the compliment. "Thank you."

"And I'd like to think I'd make a good father, but --"

"So you're assuming you'd be the father of my hypothetical child?"

His jaw dropped, then he realized she was teasing him, and grinned. "Cheeky of me, isn't it?"

"Just a bit," she said with a nod, "but luckily I like that about you."

The grin widened, then faded. "But seriously, Donna, is this something we should talk about? Like, more than we're talking about it now? And, you know, soon? Because I hadn't considered all that happening for a little while yet."

She walked around the curve of the counter so she could put her arms around his waist. "We should talk about it," she said, "but we don't have to do it tonight if you don't want to."

"Okay," he said, and she could feel him relax beneath her touch.

"I guess there are still things we need to learn about each other, huh," she said, her chin on his shoulder.

"It's weird, isn't it?" he said. He ran his hands over her lower back. "We've known each other for years, but..."

"But it's different now," she finished for him.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of that --"

"Mmm?"

He pulled back just enough to tilt her chin up, then kissed her, cupping her face with his hands. She returned the kiss, letting herself get lost in it.

"Let's go upstairs," she whispered against his lips.

Everything else could wait.

*****

Josh stripped off his shirt, shucked his flip-flops, and dove headfirst into the pool.

The water was warm, obviously, but still refreshing. Comforting, too. He swam to one end of the pool, touched the side, and surfaced.

He rubbed his eyes and leaned against the side of the pool, letting the sun beat down on him. The heat lamps were turned up high to simulate warm weather as much as possible, but there was still a cutting of cool air that raised gooseflesh. It felt good, though; he wasn't complaining. He hadn't put on sunblock yet, which he knew was probably a mistake, but the water had looked so inviting that he couldn't resist jumping in immediately. Besides, he'd rather wait for Donna to arrive at the pool so she could apply his sunblock for him; wasn't that supposed to be one of the unspoken side benefits of being in a relationship? He was pretty certain that was the case.

As if on cue, Donna emerged from the house, wearing a knee-length, nearly sheer white tunic over a pale blue bikini. When they'd been at the swimwear shop, she'd actually tried to buy a one-piece, but Josh had persuaded her otherwise. Now, looking at the hesitant way she approached the edge of the pool, he wondered if that had been the right decision.

"Water's great," he said, hoping he sounded encouraging. "Nice and warm."

"Uh huh," she said doubtfully. She walked over to a dark green chaise longue and dumped her beach towel and a bottle of SPF30 onto it. She fingered the edges of her cover-up, but didn't remove the garment.

Josh swam over so he was closer to where she stood. "Donna."

"What." She didn't look at him.

"I've seen you naked, you know. It's just me."

She looked heavenward, shook her head irritably. "I know. I know I'm being stupid. It's just..."

He didn't push her to elaborate; just watched, and waited. He had been there himself, knew the terrain. In the end, she had to do it on her own.

She stood still for a moment longer, then closed her eyes and took one deep breath. Finally she lifted the edges of the tunic and pulled it over her head. Josh flicked his eyes over the crisscrossing of scars that marred her chest, trailed down her leg. The tissue was white and shiny in the sunlight.

"You look hot," he said, trying to get a reaction from her.

It worked; she grinned, then picked up the bottle of sunblock. "You didn't put on any of this, did you."

Back to her old self. He shrugged. "I'll be okay for a little while," he said.

"Didn't you end up with sun poisoning the last time you said that?" she asked.

Well. Technically. But really, who put on sunblock just to go sailing? Sam hadn't warned him about that possible side effect. Like Josh was supposed to just know these things.

"At least put some on your shoulders, and your face," she persisted.

"Come on in and do it for me," he said, and pushed back from the side with his feet. He floated out into the center of the pool.

Donna rolled her eyes, then stepped down onto the first stone stair that led into the water.

Donna rolled her eyes, then stepped down onto the first stone stair that led into the water. "It’s hot," she said in surprise. She kept walking in, but didn't completely submerge, merely sank in to her shoulders, holding the small plastic bottle up out of the water.

"It feels good," Josh said. "You need to go completely under to get the full effect."

She shot him a look, but continued to make her way over to him. He stood up and allowed her to smooth sunblock over his shoulders, down his arms, on his upper chest; then he took the bottle from her and quickly slathered some on his face. "Happy?" he asked.

"Ecstatic."

Josh threw the bottle of sunblock back in the general direction of the chaise longue.

Then he dunked her.

"You jerk!" she sputtered, coming up for air.

"Doesn’t that feel better?" he asked innocently.

She lunged for him, but he darted out of reach, swimming freestyle to the other end of the pool. She came after him, surprisingly fast, and he kept up the chase for a while longer, almost making it to the ladder before she grabbed his legs and pulled, hard, sending him under. He resurfaced and splashed her; she splashed right back. "Truce!" he yelled.

She was laughing by this time; at his plea, she stopped splashing and jumped into his arms instead, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Holding her was made easier by the water; he said a silent prayer of thanks for buoyancy. He floated them over to the side of the pool and pulled her head down for a kiss. Her hands were cold against his face, but her lips were warm, and her thighs were snug around his hips at just the right angle. They kissed and kissed, slowly, thoroughly, the cool breeze off the lake cutting through the heat, playing across their exposed damp skin.

He cupped one breast, ran his thumb over the hardened nipple through the thin fabric of her swimsuit. She shuddered against him. "You're beautiful," he told her.

"Josh," she said, embarrassed.

He ran his hand over scar tissue. Skimmed the waistband of her bikini bottom. Heard her breath hitch.

Then she disengaged from him and propelled herself backward, tunneling through the water.

"Hey!" he yelped.

She grinned at him. "Plenty of time for that later," she said. "I want to go swimming."

"I sense another dunking in your future," he warned her.

"You'll have to catch me first," she said.

It took a while, but he did.

*****

The air smelled of salt and fish and expensive perfume. Donna wondered if there was nothing some well-placed heat lamps couldn’t do, then took another sip of Pinot Grigio and tried to make a selection from the intimidating menu resting on the table in front of her. After spending the day at the pool -- and indulging in some extracurricular activities afterward -- she was starving. Her hunger was making choosing all the more difficult, because just about everything sounded appetizing. "What are you getting?" she asked Josh, hoping his answer would help her decide.

"I'm not sure," Josh said.

He was wearing sunglasses against the piercing rays of the setting sun that reflected off the water. His khakis looked regulation Hamptons, but the light plaid shirt over a gray t-shirt, not so much. It amused her endlessly that he always seemed to not quite fit in whenever he was dropped into affluence. She felt fairly insecure in her own teal GAP sweater and black peasant skirt, herself, so she supposed they made an appropriate pair.

"What about the lobster?" he asked, snapping her out of her covert assessment of their respective attire.

"What about it?"

"Do you want to split the lobster special for two? Swanky place like this, I'm guessing it's pretty good."

"Sure, Josh, I would love to eat the lobster. It's the dying afterward that might be a problem," she said.

His head jerked up. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm allergic to shellfish," she said. "Have been my whole life. Well, I didn't actually know that I was until I was thirteen, but I'm assuming I was allergic before that, even though I never subjected it to empirical testing."

"You're allergic to shellfish?" he said stupidly.

"I'm allergic to shellfish."

"Why didn't I know that?"

Because you didn't really start paying attention to me until I let you sleep with me? she thought, but swallowed the unexpected surge of bitterness. "I guess it never came up. Maybe if you had taken me out to a nice restaurant once in a while..." She tried to make it sound jesting, but it didn't quite work.

"Yeah," he mumbled. She couldn't see his eyes through the sunglasses, but she had a feeling he was currently staring at her as if she had sprouted a second head. "That's...so weird that I didn't know that." It gratified her that he at least seemed to be bothered by the fact.

"It's not that weird," she said softly.

He didn't say anything for a moment. The evening breeze stirred his hair. Someone at the table next to theirs asked for the check.

"You're right," Josh finally said. "It's not. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said with a shake of her head. "That was then, this is now, and any other platitude about time passing of your choice." She was pretty sure she meant it.

He looked at her a moment longer, then cleared his throat and looked back down at the menu. "The duck sounds good," he said, a hint of flatness in his voice.

"Duck it is," she said, and reached for her glass of wine.

*****

When they got back to the house that night, he accosted her almost as soon as they were through the door, pushing her up against the wall in the foyer and crushing her mouth beneath his. His hands were everywhere, seeking, caressing. His breath was hot on her neck. And then he was dropping to his knees, reaching beneath her skirt and tugging down her underpants.

She realized he had something to prove; she let her head fall back against the wall and let him do it.

After all, this was something he knew very, very well.

When his tongue made initial contact with her clit, she couldn't suppress a moan. He didn't let it distract him; just kept up a maddeningly slow pace, his head bobbing beneath her skirt, his lips and tongue teasing her, tracing the lines of her sex, searching, probing. She gathered the loose material of her skirt, lifted it so she could watch him. His eyes were closed as he worked her, his tongue darting out, lapping against her.

"Josh..." she whispered.

He opened his eyes, looked up at her, but didn't stop what he was doing. Their gazes locked.

It was too much. She came against his mouth, clutching at her skirt, almost losing her balance as the spasms overtook her. Too much, she thought. Too much too much --

"That was amazing," she gasped, when she was able to form words. Josh pulled away, and she let her skirt fall back into place. He stayed on his knees for a moment, nuzzling against her, pushing up her sweater and kissing the bare skin beneath.

Impatient, she tugged at his shoulders, willing him back up. He obeyed, and she grabbed his face and kissed him, hard.

"You like that, right?" he whispered when their lips parted. "I know how much you like that." His hands cupped her ass, caressed her hips.

"I do," she said breathlessly.

"Come on." He took her hand and led her up the stairs to the master bedroom, where they quickly undressed each other, eager to get skin to skin, and then fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. She lay on her back while he suckled at her breasts, his body hovering over hers. Every time she reached for his cock, though, he twitched away from her grasp, until she finally gave up, running her hands up and down the corded muscles in his arms instead, letting him rouse her to a fever pitch, his mouth and fingers assaulting her nipples until she thought she would burst. When he pressed a finger to her clit, she came quickly, shuddering and whimpering beneath him.

She was still twitching when he turned her over onto her stomach, got on his knees, and pulled her hips up toward him. "Yes," she whispered, almost to herself. She placed her hands on the mattress, braced herself as he entered her carefully, finding the right angle, before beginning to move in and out of her in a slow, steady rhythm.

"God," she heard him say. She scrunched a wad of bedsheet in her hand. Moved with him, matching his pace. His hands gripped her hips.

"You like that too?" he rasped.

His cock was hot and hard inside of her, and her clit was already screaming for attention again. "Yes," she bit out.

"I know you do. Say it again," he urged her.

"Yes." At the word he shifted position slightly, so that his body was more in line with hers. He kept one hand on her hip and reached around with the other to cup her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

God -- She couldn't take it anymore. She lifted a hand from the mattress and pressed it to her clit, stroking in time with Josh's movements inside of her. The fluttering built in her abdomen. Almost there...

"Fuck," he muttered from behind her. His thrusts increased in tempo. "Oh god, I'm close -- Donna -- shit --" He pumped into her frantically, then spent himself inside her in a hot rush. A wordless moan escaped his throat; his arms encircled her torso with an iron grip.

Donna rode it with him, kept stroking her clit, faster and faster, until finally, yes, "Oh yes," yes, blinding release. She sucked in deep breaths, her head swimming.

After long moments of paralysis, punctuated by harsh breathing on both sides, they finally collapsed back onto the mattress in a sweaty mess. He kissed her softly, trailed feather-light fingers over her cheek.

This was the best time, Donna reflected. Quiet and safe and warm. Their mouths met in a series of small, tender kisses.

"I love watching you come," he whispered into her mouth.

Her lips curved against his. "You certainly proved that tonight."

"I wanted you to feel good," he mumbled, starting to sound sleepy.

"Then the mission was a success," she said.

"Good." He situated himself on his back and pulled her to him; she snuggled between his chest and arm, laying her head on his shoulder. Definitely the best time.

"Donna?"

"Yes?"

"You looked really good in that bikini."

She let out a surprised laugh. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said. Next thing she knew, he was snoring.

She pillowed her head on his chest and went to sleep.

*****

I could get used to this, Josh thought as he set up the overpriced coffeemaker to brew. The morning sun sparkled off the lake water visible from the kitchen window. The occasional gull flew overhead, making its way to or from the ocean shore. And Donna was currently showering in the bathroom above his head, the sound of running water providing a soothing white noise backdrop to the sound of percolating coffee.

Could definitely get used to this. He was surprised that the domesticity of it appealed to him. He flipped through the Sunday Times that he'd picked up after dinner the night before while he waited for the coffee to finish brewing, then took the op-ed section and a mug full of java into the living room. He got comfortable on one of the couches and settled down to a relaxing Sunday ritual of agreeing with Paul Krugman.

"Josh?"

"Yeah." He looked up from the paper to see her framed in the doorway, dressed in a pink t-shirt and jeans, wringing her hands in front of her at waist level. Her brow was drawn in that way she had when she was worried about something. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I have to talk to you," she said. She walked over and sat down next to him on the overstuffed white sofa. Her hair was still damp, and she smelled like that expensive peppermint shampoo she used. Their knees touched.

"What is it?"

"It's kind of funny, really," she said, not looking at him. "We were just talking about this, the timing couldn't be more bizarre --"

"Donna --"

"I'm late," she said. She glanced at him, then away again. "I thought I would be getting it this weekend, so I brought my next month's supply of pills with me and was going to cheat and start the new pack, but then I forgot, and...well, I never got it. I'm late. Just by a few days, but being that I'm on the pill, I'm about as regular as you can get, so I don't know, maybe it's nothing, but I was thinking maybe we could go into town and pick up a pregnancy test?" She stopped to catch her breath.

Josh for his part felt like he was losing his. His chest tightened and black spots danced in front of his eyes. "Pregnant?" he squeaked.

"Maybe. Maybe not," she said quickly. "It's entirely possible that I'm not. But we should probably make sure so we don't have to worry about it anymore. Right?"

"Right." He got up from the couch and started pacing the room, as if he were an expectant father outside the delivery room and boy was that the worst possible analogy to be thinking of right about now. "Okay," he said, trying to regain some control of the situation. "We'll go to the drugstore, and get the test, and you'll take it, and everything will be fine. Everything will be fine, because it has to be. We can't..." He steepled his fingers over his nose, drew in a breath. "We can't get pregnant right now, Donna."

"We?" she said, and he knew he'd made a mistake. "Did you develop a uterus in the last five minutes and not tell me?"

Well, there was an argument he was never going to win. Still: "You know what I mean, Donna."

"No, Josh," she said, her voice taking on a harder edge. "No, I don't."

"I mean that we can't have a baby right now. How can we have a baby right now? I didn't know that you're allergic to shellfish!" he yelled. His fingers were vibrating. Why were his fingers vibrating?

Her brow crinkled. "What does your not knowing I'm allergic to shellfish have to do with whether or not we should have a baby?" she asked.

"It has to do with my apparently not knowing you at all!" he said. He heard hysteria creeping into his voice, but couldn't seem to stop it. "I didn't know you're allergic to shellfish! I don't know your favorite color! I had no idea whether you even wanted kids in the first place, and now -- and now -- this!"

She was silent for a moment; he kept wearing tracks in the carpet, breathing hard. He chanced a glance over at her; her eyes met his, and her face softened. Her mouth quirked up on one side. "Red," she said.

He stopped pacing. "What?"

"Red is my favorite color. And -- you know that I once tried to snatch back a letter I mailed to Ilie Nastase." She got up from the couch and walked over to him. "You know that I once lost my underwear in front of Karen Cahill. You know that I have a weird sense of humor and that I too often let my emotions get the best of me. You know my mother's first name, and how I once helped put a guy through medical school because I thought he loved me. You know I...you know I have scars on my chest and leg, and that I was afraid to go swimming in public, and I didn't even have to tell you that last one. You just knew." Her blue eyes met his. "You know me, Josh," she said. "Better than you think. Maybe better than I realized."

He swallowed hard, not sure how to answer that. He decided to go with the safest response possible. "I'm sorry," he said. Then added, "I love you," making it a one-two punch.

"I know," she said, and put her arms around his waist.

"Good." He took a deep breath, drawing her in. "I'm just a little freaked out."

"Me too," she admitted. She pulled abruptly away from him. "Oh my god, Josh, what about my job?" Her arms flailed and the words spilled out of her in a rush. "The new administration is just starting! This is the worst possible timing! We'll have to hire a nanny, and maybe I can work from home, or go in once a week until --"

He heard someone snicker and realized it was him. He stopped, cleared his throat, but it was too late.

"What?" she snapped. "What's so funny?"

He didn't answer, just looked heavenward with as innocent an expression as he could manage.

"Oh," he heard her say. "Right. I...Hi, have we met?" She stuck out her hand. "Donnatella Hypocrite Moss."

"A pleasure," he said.

She closed her eyes. "I'm an idiot," she said.

"You're not an idiot. Let's just...not get ahead of ourselves yet. Either of us." He held out his hand. "Come on, Donatella Hypocritica, let's go for a drive."

She took his hand, and he wasn't sure whose fingers were trembling, hers, or his.

*****

"How long has it been?"

"Twenty seconds later than the last time you asked."

"Yeah." He sniffed, rubbed his face. "Is this the longest three minutes of your life? It's the longest three minutes of my life."

"It's the longest three minutes of my life," Donna agreed. She was sitting primly on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap. "Well, longest four minutes of my life, since peeing on a stick was no walk in the park."

"I...really didn't need to know that," Josh said.

"Too bad."

"What time is it?"

"Oh my god. You're wearing a watch, Josh."

He checked. "I think we have about thirty seconds left."

"Okay."

He whistled a formless tune off-key until she shot him a dirty look. "Sorry."

Silence.

"When used correctly, these tests are up to 99 percent accurate," Donna said. "I think I did everything right, so hopefully that probability will hold. It's almost impossible to get a false negative, so --"

"You're babbling," he said.

"It's because I'm nervous."

"I know." He looked at his watch again. "It's time."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I gave it an extra ten seconds just to be safe."

"Okay." She didn't move.

He got up from the bed. "Do you want me to check it?" he asked.

"No," she said immediately. "I want to do it." She took a deep breath, then stood and walked into the bathroom.

She didn't come back right away; he didn't know if that was good or bad. "Donna?"

She reappeared in the doorway, her face expressionless. "It's a minus," she said.

"That means..."

"I'm not pregnant."

Thank god. He was almost surprised by the intensity of the relief that washed over him. He had to bend over for a minute to let the blood rush back to his head.

"Are you okay?" he heard her ask.

"Yeah." He slowly rose back up; she was standing in front of him, now, but he still couldn't read the look on her face. "Are you okay?" he asked. "I thought --"

"I'm fine," she said, with a slight shake of her head. "I'm...relieved."

"Really?"

"Really." She gave him a rueful, crooked smile. "I'm just surprised. I -- I didn't think I'd be disappointed, but I am, a little. I wasn't expecting that."

"I think that's normal," he reassured her. He examined his own feelings more closely; there was, perhaps, the slightest strain of regret, he decided. But deeper than that was the conviction that it just wasn't their time. Not yet.

"C'mere," he said. He took her hand, then sat down on the bed and pulled her into his lap, settling his head in the crook of her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist. They sat like that for a while, quiet, just being with each other.

"So do I know how to show you a good time or what?" he finally ventured.

"Stop it," she said firmly. "I had a wonderful time this weekend. You know that."

"Sorry," he said. He laced his fingers through hers. "You're right. I did too. Much to my surprise, I kind of like making out with you without constantly worrying that Bram's going to walk in on us."

"That is difficult to believe," she said solemnly.

He grinned. If she was cracking jokes, he knew she would be okay. He pulled back just enough to be able to kiss her, his hand reaching up to her neck, stroking the sensitive skin gently. She made a sound deep in her throat and kissed him back, hard, cupping his jaw, trailing her thumb over stubble.

When they came up for air, she said, "Don't let this be weird, okay, Josh? Please? Nothing's changed. Right?"

"Sure," he said, but they both knew that wasn't true.

They locked gazes for a moment, then Donna broke the contact, jumped out of his lap. "Let's go swimming," she said.

"I --" He started to protest, then thought better of it. If this is the way she wants to handle it... But they'd need a little more than that to truly lighten the mood. "Okay," he said. "But this time, no swimsuits."

He was a little too pleased by the way her jaw dropped. "Josh!"

"You heard me," he said. "What's the matter, Donna? Are you chicken?" He stood up and peeled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes.

"Oh my god," Donna said. "Okay. But on one condition."

He paused in the act of unbuttoning his jeans. "What?"

She gave him a toothy smile. "You have to catch me first," she said, and ran for the door.

Always, he thought, and raced after her.

*****

They got back to Josh's place late Monday night, slightly sun burnt and tired and lost in their own thoughts.

"Back to reality," Josh said as they dumped their stuff in the living room.

"Reality's not so bad," Donna said philosophically.

"Yeah." Josh scrubbed a hand through his hair and glared at the blinking light on his answering machine. "I should listen to those."

"I should listen to mine, too," Donna said, taking her cell phone out of her purse.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Although...later is good too," Josh said.

"I like later," Donna said with a nod.

Josh's cell phone rang. "Dammit." He pulled it out of the front pocket of his backpack; checked the caller ID. "It's the Congressman," he said.

His eyes were apologetic, but she could tell he was actually dying to take the call. "Take it," Donna told him. "I'll check my messages after all."

"Thanks," he said, and hit answer. "Hello, sir. Yeah." He turned so that his back was to her.

Donna opened her own cell phone and was about to hit the voicemail button when she heard Josh say "Wallingford." Her thumb hovered over the keypad without descending.

"So I think maybe she's the right choice after all," Josh was saying. "Yeah. Well, the timing does suck, but it's only three months out of four years."

Donna rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she did so. Men. Well, her man, anyway.

"Interesting conversation," she said when he hung up.

He had the decency to look sheepish. "Yeah."

"You changed your mind about Brooke Wallingford, I take it?"

"Well." He fiddled with his phone. "This weekend may have engendered a slight shift in my priorities," he said.

"Josh..." Say it, or not? Say it. "You shouldn't base cabinet appointments on what you think is going to impress me, you know."

His eyebrows shot up. "I'm not! Seriously, I'm not. It was my decision," he said firmly.

"Okay." She put her phone back in her purse. "And yet, it worked, because I totally want to have sex with you right now."

"That's because women find power to be an aphrodisiac," he said smugly. "Happens all the time."

She shook her head. "You are so lucky I love you," she said.

He smiled that smile, the one that turned her insides to pudding. "I know."

She crooked a finger at him. "Come on, Casanova," she said. "Let's go do things to each other that are illegal in about half of the states we now govern."

"So lucky you love me," he said, starting for the bedroom.

She opened her mouth to make a tart retort, but couldn't, suddenly. "We're both lucky," she said instead.

Josh stopped and turned to look at her. "I know," he said. "That's what makes it so great."

He held out his hand; she took it. Then they walked into the bedroom, together.

End.