“I brought lunch,” he says proudly as he walks past my desk waving a Morton’s take out bag in front of me.

I look up from the carrot stick in my hand. “For you or for us?”

He looks at me strangely. “Why would I mention it if it was just for me?”

“Out of spite.”

He smirks. “Yes, that would be fun.”

I choose to ignore him and focus on the excitement of not having to eat my carrots. “What did you bring me?” I ask, reaching for the bag.

He pulls it out of my reach and smiles. “You’ll have to come into my office to find out.”

I jump out of my chair and beat him into his office. “Beth, hold my calls!” he yells over his shoulder as he shuts the door. Hold his calls?

As soon as he says that, I begin reviewing the details of the last two minutes:

1. He’s wearing his navy suit that he’s caught me checking him out in on more than one occasion. He’s using his sex appeal.
2. He shut the door. He knows I’m going to yell.
3. He bought me lunch. He’s trying to suck up.
4. He’s pulling the visitor’s chair up to his desk for me instead of having me do it myself. Oh yeah, something’s going on.

“Josh,” I say calmly. “What’s going on?”

He wiggles his eyebrows at me and starts pulling things out of the bag. “Chicken fettuccini and a salad with the house dressing. And I had them warm up the bread,” he says proudly. Ok, he’s playing hardball.

“My favorite.” I smile, but in my head I’m trying to devise an attack plan. What could he want?

“Anything for you, Donna,” he says, flashing his dimples. Damn it, not the dimples.

Ok, what could it be? Did he threaten a senator? Did he piss off Leo? What kind of damage control are we talking about here? “I haven’t seen much of you today,” I say cryptically. “Anything I need to know?”

He pulls out a Caesar salad for himself. He never eats salads, it’s worse than I thought. It must’ve been CJ he pissed off. “Nothing I can’t handle. You’ve got enough on your plate today.”

What????????????????? “I do?” I ask around a mouthful of fettuccini.

“You work very hard, Donna,” he says with a smile on his face. “And I don’t say it enough. So I’m saying it now. You work hard and do an excellent job. You deserve an award of some sort.”

Ok, now I’m just scared. “What kind of award do I deserve?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Just an award.” He takes a bite and looks up at me with that same look Blaire used to get on The Facts Of Life when she had one of her ‘brilliant ideas.’ They were never brilliant. “You should get some time away from here.”

“Time away?” It’s so bad he’s willing to give me time off?

“Yes. The government should buy you a plane ticket someplace. Someplace happening, someplace with things to do. Someplace with nice hotels and good food and activities. Some place like…”

“Europe?” I say innocently.

He smirks. “I think the government only thinks you work hard enough to go someplace in the US.”

“Does it?” I deadpan.

He nods. “Maybe…”

“Hawaii?”

“The continental US.”

“Of course. California?”

He takes another bite of his salad and looks up at me. “If I checked around, I think I’d find out the government only thinks you work hard enough to go away for two or three days, a long weekend per say. California’s too far.”

I just have to say it. There’s no way around it. “Maybe the government should just give me a raise instead.”

He shakes his head and takes a bit of his salad while eyeing my fettuccini. "Nah."

“How’s that salad?” I ask with a sly smile as I take another bite of my food.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at me. He knows I’m onto him. “It's horrible actually, but you’ve mentioned I should take better care of myself, and therefore I’m trying.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Because I said you should.”

He nods and smiles adoringly. “Anything for you.” Oh Lord, it’s worse than I thought. He’s dating Amy again.

“Amy likes you to take care of yourself too,” I say, giving him a lead in.

“I doubt it and I couldn’t care less,” he says. Ok, maybe he’s not dating her again. Thank goodness.

We’re quiet for a minute while we eat. “How was the hill this morning?” Come on Josh, spill. Who wants you fired?

 “It was wonderful, thank you for asking.” He studies me for a minute. “I really don’t deserve you, you know that?”

I drop my fork. “Ok, what the hell’s going on?”

He looks up at me innocently. Too innocently. “What are you talking about?”

“I do good work, you’re eating a salad, you bought me lunch, you think I should get away for a weekend…something’s going on.”

He smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you’re using your dimples!”

His smile turns into a smirk. “Those are just part of me Donna. I can’t help it if they make me irresistible.”

“Did you piss off CJ?” I yell.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Leo?”

Now he's laughing at me. “Nope.”

“The President?”

“I haven’t pissed anyone off today Donna.”

“And you’re not dating Amy?”

His head jerks up. “God no. Don’t even say that out loud.”

I stare at him for several seconds and he just keeps looking at me with a sincere smile on his face. “I’m sorry, I must be paranoid.” Is that it? Am I paranoid?

He takes another bite of his salad. “I’m telling you, you need time away. You’ve been stressed since the Carrick thing. Everyone else relaxed during the shutdown, but you were taking care of me. You need a break.”

Is he worried about me? Is that what this is about? “Maybe,” I say quietly. It has been a rough couple of months.

“You know where you should go? New York.”

Oh, how awesome would that…. Fuck. “Josh!”

“Donna…” he says in a calming voice. I’ll kill him.

“No!”

“Think of it Donna. A weekend in the big apple, paid in large part by the government.”

"Josh!”

“Shopping, eating, relaxing by the pool….”

“Going to the Democratic Caucus meetings!” I stand and start pacing and he puts his fork down calmly.

“Only on Friday, you’d still have all day Saturday and Sunday.”  He keeps using his reasonable voice.

“Ah hah!” I spin around and point to him. “Except for Saturday night’s reception!”

He holds his arms out and smiles widely. “Which is how you get your hotel and food paid for both nights.”

I stick my bottom lip out. “I thought you didn’t have to go this year,” I pout.

“It got tossed back to me last night. It’s gonna be a blast!” He’s overly cheery; it’s a bit scary.

“But the Caucus sucks!”

“Donna, the Democratic Caucus is made up of the leaders of our political party. The discussions that take place there are important and confidential and…”

“Boring!”

“Dinner in Chinatown.” Damn it, he’s bringing out the big guns.

“Hand cramps from note taking,” I shoot back.

“A walk through Central Park,” he says with raised eyebrows.

“A conference room without windows.”

He sighs. “Art shopping in SOHO,” he says a bit weakly.

Damn. That was below the belt. “Being talked to like I’m twelve and couldn’t possibly understand the Democratic Party.”

“Not fair,” he says, pointing to me.

“I agree,” I say in a less that lady-like shrill voice.

“You pick two meetings you want to go to without me.”

I stare at him for a minute. “As a participant?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Any two?”

He shrugs and smirks. “Well, there are certain meetings I have to go to, being the all important man that I am.”

“I’m gonna be sick." I stare at him for a few seconds. "Any others though?”

“Agreed,” he says with a big smile as though he’s won. Hardly. It takes more than a free lunch and looking hot in a suit to get me.

“I want more,” I say stubbornly.

He bangs his head on his desk. “Donna!”

“I want to pick Friday night's activity.” He looks up to say something but I cut him off. “No questions asked.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Fine, but I get to pick Saturday’s.” That was too easy.

“You already have?”

He nods hard once. “Yes.”

I hate him. “Fine, but I get Sunday too.”

“No fair!” I swear, he’s a child. “You get Friday and Sunday while I only get Saturday!”

Now I act like the calm one. “But you get all of Saturday, I only get part of Friday and Sunday.” Make him see things my way.

“But the reception’s Saturday night!” Damn. I was hoping he’d forget that.

“But this is my weekend for being an amazing employee. Remember? That’s what you said.”

“I said excellent, not amazing, and I was just sucking up.”

I walk around and stand right in front of his chair, leaning over and getting in his face. “This was going to be my weekend off. I haven’t had one since before the shut down. Since before Carrick. Since before Amy. This was my weekend, we already agreed.”

He leans back, a little frightened. Good. “But now I need you to work.”

I stand up and cross my arms over my chest. “You need me to work? You have my demands.”

He stares at me the way he does congress, I imagine. Fortunately, he doesn’t scare me the way he does congress, so I don’t cave. Finally he spits out, “Fine! You get two meetings on your own, and you get to plan Friday evening and Sunday afternoon.”

“And you pay for Friday evening,” I say, going for broke.

“What?” he screeches.

I hold up a hand. “I’m not asking for Sunday, just Friday.”

“Fine,” he says through gritted teeth.

“And we stay someplace nice.”

“We have to stay at the convention hotel.”

“That’s the Plaza,” I say excitedly.

“Yes.”

“That’s nice.”

He gives me an evil glare. “I know.”

“Ok. Agreed.”

“You’re ripping me off,” he mumbles as I walk towards the door.

“Thanks for lunch,” I say triumphantly as I open it and walk out.