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An Innocent Kiss 4/6 by Jo March Disclaimers, etc., in part one.
CJ dropped me off at the US Air terminal, saying that she had a business dinner she had to get ready for. I hoped she had the sense not to let Josh know she was going out with Danny. My plane was ninety minutes late boarding. This sort of delay always happens to me. During the campaign, I once ended up stranded in an airport overnight. Josh got so worried about my safety that he gave me his VIP lounge card. That was where I headed now. The place was full of business travelers. One man, who had obviously had a few too many cups of holiday cheer, was annoying everyone else by singing "Silent Night." That was what made me think of Josh. Josh has a very sensitive system, and the eggnog was spiked. I thought I should call and remind him not to have a second cup, so I got out my cell phone. He answered on the first ring. "Josh Lyman, deputy chief of staff and despoiler of virgins." "I'm not spoiled, and I'm definitely not a virgin." "I thought you weren't speaking to me." "I'm not. Except in my official capacity as your assistant." "Then in my official capacity as your boss, tell me what you got on CJ." "What?" "I figure it was a nice long car ride; and you're doing the whole Thelma-and-Louise, men-are-scum thing. She let some juicy little tidbit slip. Something we can use against her for the next few years. It's about Danny, isn't it?" "Joshua Lyman, there are days when I am ashamed to admit I know you." "Come on; what did you get? Cause I was thinking of getting the IRS to investigate whether her goldfish constitutes an illegal gift, but I might be on shaky ground there." "You think?" "Donna, you must have got something." "Yes, I got a very long lecture about why you were at fault." "Me? If I'm going down on this, Donnatella, I'm taking you with me." At that moment, I heard the click that meant somebody was switching us to speakerphone. "Under the circumstances, Josh," I heard Sam say, "that last sentence was quite the unfortunate choice of words." I put my hand on my forehead. I could literally feel the headache coming on. "Sam?" I asked. "What are you doing in Josh's office?" "I'm providing comfort in his time of tribulation. And can I just say that I'm totally behind the idea of you two crazy kids finding love?" "Oh god, no! Josh, please tell me you didn't tell Sam." "Okay, I won't tell you," Josh replied. "Josh," I asked, "how much eggnog did you drink after I left?" "Three cups." "Okay. Sam, here's what you need to do: you're going to have to take Josh home; he'll never make it there on his own. Then brew some coffee. Just don't let him drink any until after he throws up." "Can't I just put him in a cab?" Sam asked. "No," I answered. "He forgets how to use a key. Stay with him until he's sober because otherwise he'll be calling the Post to issue a denial." "But, Donna, I have a plane to catch," Sam protested. "So do I," I said. "Yes, but you're Josh's co-conspirator here. You're his forbidden love." "Dear god." My headache had reached migraine proportions. "Please tell me he didn't say anything like that." "I get paid to read for subtext," Sam answered. "There is no subtext! There's not even text!" I insisted. "Well, as much as I hate to disagree with you there, Donna," Sam said, "in my experience--" "Would this be your experience with call girls or your experience with Leo's daughter?" I asked. "You know, you were a much nicer person before you started working for Josh," Sam said. He sounded wounded. For a politician, Sam Seaborn has a very thin skin. "However, my point is that when two people spend this much time denying their attraction, they're usually crazy about each other." "I'm not crazy about Josh," I answered. "I am being driven crazy by him, but that's not exactly the same thing." Then I heard a voice in the background-one which was getting less coherent by the moment-saying, "I wanna talk to Donnatella!" "Josh," you're on speakerphone," I said. "I can hear you just fine." "I think I'm drunk, Donna." "Yes, Josh, you are. You have a very sensitive system." "I was not drunk when I kissed you." "Okay," I said. I was kind of curious to see where this was going. "Cause I just wanted to clarify that." "Okay," I said again. "And you did too kiss me back. You were not just the kissee." This did not warrant a reply. "Sam," I said instead, "do what I told you. And remind him that he has an appearance on 'Meet the Press' next Sunday." "Donna," Sam protested, "my plane--" "Look at it this way, Sam. You can reschedule your flight. Yourself. Don't let Kathy do it. She'll ask too many questions. And if you do this, Josh will owe you for three months at least." "Oh, this is worth six months minimum," Sam said. "Done," I agreed. "I do not love you, Donnatella Moss," Josh said. "I don't love you either, Josh," I answered. With that, I hung up. I find that it's always a good idea to try to get the last word when you're dealing with Josh. After hanging up on Josh, I tried to concentrate on the mystery novel I'd brought along to read on the plane. Even though it was the latest installment in a series I love, I couldn't keep my mind on it. For once, I just didn't care whether Amelia Peabody's idiot son would finally get the nerve to tell Nefret he's loved her for years. So I opened the other book I'd been carrying around with me-The Art and Artistry of Alpine Skiing. Not a real page-turner, that one-not that I've ever made it past the inscription. Look, you already get why I deserve hazard pay for putting up with Josh Lyman, right? He's demanding, sarcastic, hostile; I spend half my day trying to keep him from screwing up and the other half apologizing when he does. But Josh can be funny and sweet and oddly endearing at times. Even when he's drunk and telling me he doesn't love me. And when he's buying me some silly book instead of any of the seventeen sensible items he could have chosen from the list I thoughtfully provided him. After all, skis wouldn't have come with a note like this: Merry Christmas, Donnatella. Sorry it's not skis, ski boots, a ski jacket or any of the fourteen other items you suggested. As compensation for the disappointment you're going to tell me about for the next month, I give you this confession: I do not know how I would function without you. I don't just mean your skill as an assistant. I can't imagine what this office would be like without your wit, your compassion or your incredible smile. I'm not sure sometimes why you put up with me; I just know that there is more joy in my life with you here. Josh You see how something like that could lead to a momentary lapse in judgment, don't you? I mean, if the man wasn't such a jerk sometimes, he could melt your heart. In a completely Platonic manner of speaking, of course. ***
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