i.

He asks her out to lunch one day, and she smirks at him. It's not a date, he insists. It's a power lunch between the White House Counsel's Office and…the Communications…department. She just nods and lets him think whatever he wants to think. It's a date. He orders a tuna sandwich and she orders the Caesar salad and they sit in comfortable silence, when he opens a manila folder. He asks her a simple question about deposing witnesses, and she answers it, and pretty soon, they get into a heated debate. "Sam, do all your dates go this way? Because I've heard things."

"Oh? What have you heard?"

"Something about you dating the boss's daughter."

"I never dated Ma—" But she smirks at him, and he steals a tomato from her salad. "You should be glad we're not talking about school vouchers."

"Well, I didn't make an appointment." His palm flies to his forehead and he sighs. She laughs. "It's okay, Sam." She leans in and kisses him. "I don't need an appointment to do that, do I?"

"No," he says, blushing slightly. "But feel free. I mean, I have an hour free on Wednesday."

ii.

The air conditioner is running full blast when she walks into the crowded auditorium. She runs her hands over her arms, hoping the goosebumps will go away. He shrugs off his jacket and hands it to her. "Sam, what is this?"

"Shh, it's a surprise."

"Is it a good surprise? Or a bad surprise?"

"I, uh, I'm not really sure yet."

"Well, this bodes well." He rolls his eyes and she settles on a seat. "There's a lot of people here."

"The speaker is, uh, pretty famous."

"Is it the President?"

Sam makes a face, like someone just punched him in the gut, and shakes his head violently. "No. God, no." He takes in a breath. "You should be glad that I am sacrificing brain cells to satisfy your Republican urges."

She winks at him, twines her fingers with his. "Want to satisfy some other urges later?"

"Oh, God," he mutters. "This was such a bad idea."

Her question is stifled by the sound of the announcer. "And now, presenting Mr. Bill O' Reilley!" She turns her head to face him slowly, in a manner that reminds him of The Exorcist.

"Sam…" she drawls. "You're kidding, right?"

"Yep. Bad idea."

iii.

When they're backstage at one of the President's speaking engagements, she walks over to him, leans against him subtly. Donna laughs at her from across the stage. Sam remains oblivious. "So," she drawls.

"How do you think he's doing?"

"He's doing fine. The speech is good, Sam." He just sighs and paces, running his hand through his hair. She decides he looks much too aggravated. "Sam, what does it take for you to relax? Do I have to jump out of a cake looking like a Playboy bunny or something?"

He doesn't even grace her with a response. Just lets his eyes bug out of his head. She sighs. "I bet you were voted 'Best Personality' in high school," he says.

"No, actually. I was pretty dorky." He raises an eyebrow. "No, seriously. Art club and everything."

"Art club?" She blushes. He runs off to fetch some things, and near the middle of the speech, he grabs her and pulls her to a table. Paper is spread across the table, along with some colored pencils and pens. "So…I had this idea about an action-adventure series with Pilgrims, and I wanted to know if you'd maybe want to illustrate it."

iv.

She's at home checking her e-mail when a message window pops up.

Hey, do you have plans tonight?

Flicking on the television, she stares dimly at the wineglass on the coffee table, the bottle next to it. She's an attractive, smart woman in a metropolitan area. Why is it that she can never find a date? She types back to him a frenzied response.

Well, I was planning to go out with friends tonight. To a club or something. I don't know. Why?

She tips her head back against the sofa cushions. She doesn't even know why she lied to him. There's nothing wrong with him knowing that she has no social life at all. So why the pretense? Ugh. If she were still seeing her therapist, he would tell her that she was subconsciously harboring some kind of…father-related illness that stemmed from her beating him in an argument on Capitol Beat, the quack.

Have you eaten yet? You're not going out with your friends until later, right?

Her mouth twitches, and she mulls over what to say. She stares at her Lean Cuisine meal with contempt.

No, she types. I haven't eaten yet.

Good. Knock knock.

The doorbell rings. When she opens the door, he's standing there with a brown paper bag looking a little guilty. "I should have checked with you first. I think your neighbors think I'm a stalker."

"Sam, what is this?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

"This is the best pizza in DC." She laughs, and makes them coffee.

v.

He hears that there's a state fair the night they're in Iowa. He decides to talk over the situation with Josh, which is possibly the worst decision he could ever make. Josh hems and haws (which is a saying he never thought he'd say ever), and he's finally settled that a man who's been unable to ask the woman he's been flirting with for the last few years out cannot be a good source.

He takes Ainsley out on the Tilt-A-Whirl first, gets her a cotton candy and a funnel cake with extra powdered sugar. She accuses him of trying to fatten her up and he takes offense to the fact that she's likened him to the witch in Hansel and Gretel.

He tries to play a game to win her a prize with his pure machismo, but he ends up losing each time (in addition to losing 10 dollars). She takes the gun from him and asks to play one game. She wins the gigantic purple teddy bear. He grumbles about it on the way back to the entrance.

"Oh, Sam, don't worry about it."

"Ainsley…"

"Just because I've distorted traditional male values…"

"Oh, for God's sake. It was a game."

"And you lost the game."

"You're going to rub it in now?"

"Yeah." He groans. "But if you're good…" She flashes him a devilish smile. "We can make out on the bus back to DC."