A/N: Thanks to all of you who have continued to read! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Washington D.C.

The West Wing

The correspondent's dinner seemed to be creeping up on Sam quickly. The target date had almost arrived and had Sam not been so wrapped up in Ainsley recently, he would have started writing the President's jokes two weeks ago. But of course he hadn't. Sam had actually been busy outside of the White House for once in his life. Busy spending long nights with Ainsley cuddling on his couch while they watched movies or dancing in his kitchen while they cooked a nice dinner. He loved just sitting next to her, or holding her hand during a scary movie, or even debating the constitutionality of whatever the Bartlet administration was trying to sneak into Congress. It was like Sam found himself when he was with her.

Of course, as they had agreed they were taking it slow. So painfully slow in fact that they hadn't had sex yet. And Sam wanted too, God he wanted too so badly. When she was wrapped in a blanket in his arms and the lights were off in his apartment, Sam desperately felt the need to kiss her until she couldn't breathe. To roll her underneath him on his couch and slowly yet urgently remove every single piece of clothing she wore until she was begging him to make love to her. He couldn't help but have those desires, but, being raised a gentleman, Sam never did anything too forward.

Once, while they were taking a mid-afternoon stroll through Williamson Park on a lazy Sunday, Sam had been pushed into her by a man the size of a linebacker who had appeared to have been running from the police. As Sam fell into Ainsley, his hand grasped at one of her luscious boobs instinctively, which she yelped at and he quickly apologized, even though she said he didn't need to worry. That however, that public incident was the closest they had gotten to touching each other like that. They had kissed a lot, now it seemed like they had been kissing their entire lives, yet they had laid out ground rules.

Ground Rule #1.) No kissing for more then ten seconds. This one was Sam's idea, an idea he quickly came to hate himself for. He had feared that if they became too wrapped up in the heat of the moment one night, well, they would become wrapped up.

Ground Rule #2.) No PDA in the West Wing. That meant no touching, not even a handshake. Ainsley's idea, which Sam agreed with. Besides the fact that they both didn't want their coworkers to know about their little…relationship yet, Sam knew that they couldn't act too comfortable in the presence of other people. One might become suspicious.

There were a few other rules as well, but none that were as important to their mostly friendly relationship as the first two. And with a little luck and a lot of self-control, neither Ainsley or Sam had broken those rules. But now the correspondent's dinner deadline was approaching, and after that, Sam knew they would either have to have a serious talk, or end it. Which is one reason why when he walked into his office today he screamed in shock.

"Hello, Sam. I take it Toby didn't tell you I would be here?"

Sam stood frozen to the spot at the sight of his ex-fiancé standing behind his desk like she owned the place. What the hell was she doing here?

Sam stared back at her and held up his index finger. "Uh, give me, just…one minute." And then he shut his office door and whirled around the corner three feet into Toby's office, shutting his door closed and taking the older staffer by surprise.

Toby was sitting at his desk chewing gum and throwing his stress ball up in the air.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Toby said plainly as he threw the stress ball up in the air again.

Sam stared back at the man absurdly. "Why didn't you tell me that my ex-fiancé was going to be in my office today?"

"I feel like that's more a question for Ginger, but just as a heads-up, your ex-fiancé is going to be in your office today," Toby said without any change in emotional state.

Sam threw both of his hands up in the air. "Gee, thanks Toby! Maybe you can give me a heads-up on why she's here right now and not 3,000 miles away!"

Toby spit out the gum he had been chewing into the small trash can next to his desk and continued. "She's working for Politico now, doing a piece on speechwriting for the President."

The frustration in Sam had built up to an almost dangerous level. He was almost positive that his ex-fiancé could hear him yelling at Toby through the thin office wall.

"Well why isn't she talking to you, or anybody else on speechwriting staff?" Sam demanded.

Toby got up suddenly and waved his arms around like he did when he was angry. "Because Sam, for the past three days, I've been drafting the President's speech for the correspondent's dinner along with the speechwriting staff while you've been off doing whatever you've been doing. Enjoying whatever free time you think you have I suppose! So, since I've already done 75% of the work, you get to be the one interviewed by your ex-fiancé, since apparently you have the time!"

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if I haven't been able to devote all of my time to you Toby, but lately-,"

"You're not devoting your time to me!" Toby shouted. "Your time is devoted to the President, as it has been since you started working on his campaign! Now get back in your office and answer your ex-fiancé's questions so you can actually begin to help me draft the speech."

Sam knew Toby was right, but he couldn't admit that to him, not while he was still angry with him. Sam stormed out of Toby's office and back into his own and shut the door.

"Hi Lisa," Sam said more calmly as he moved around her to sit down at his desk.

"Hi Sam," Lisa Sherborne said mockingly, "I take it I caused some trouble."

"It's fine," Sam answered motioning for her to take a seat in front of his desk. She did.

"Really? Because, I can go if you want me-,"

"No," Sam said cutting her off. "We both know that's not true. Toby told me you're working for Politico now. That's great, though I never took you for one who was interested in politics."

It was a dis on her, and she knew it, but she continued smiling anyways.

"I'm a reporter Sam," Lisa said firmly, "If that doesn't cry public service to you then you might want to try doing CJ's job sometime."

He smirked back at her. "So you need an interview with a speechwriter."

"Yes, and Toby's informed me that you're the only one available," Lisa answered devilishly.

He was going to kill Toby. "It seems that way," Sam said while grinding his teeth. "Do you know how long this is going to take because I've got-,"

"Oh, no, Sam," Lisa said consecutively, "I can't do it now, I've got an appointment at the Capitol in fifteen minutes, I'm just dropping by to let you know I can do dinner tonight."

This was not good, but Sam kept up his fake grin. "Dinner?"

"For the interview," Lisa clarified. "I think I can get it done in one sitting, plus, I'll be around Washington for a while so it would be nice if you pointed out a good restaurant to eat at."

"You want me to take you out to dinner?" Sam questioned, heavily suspicious of his ex-fiancé's true intentions. "For the interview? After nearly two years of not speaking to one another?"

Lisa Sherborne glanced at her watch and stood up from her seat in front of his desk, grabbing hold of her purse as she did. "Seven o'clock tonight, pick me up at the Marriot in Georgetown. I'll see you then." And with an evil smile, Sam's old flame left his office and presumably the building. For a second he almost thought about calling Secret Service and having them apprehend her on the way out, just for suddenly coming into his life for no reason whatsoever. He knew he couldn't do that, even though she was acting completely ridiculous.

Who was she to walk into his office and demand that he take her out to din…oh shit. That thought reminded him of another fiercely independent woman who had done the exact same thing just a few weeks ago. Ainsley was not going to like this one bit. Maybe he shouldn't tell her, maybe it would be best to just keep this small get together to himself for now. Yeah, he thought, that's what he'll do. It's just one night, one dinner, he could hide that from her. It would be fine, everything would be fine.