The Gift of Love
Josh hunched his shoulders against the early evening chill as he wandered the quiet streets of Manchester on Christmas Eve. The street lamps along Elm flickered to life as dusk fell on the city, illuminating the fat snowflakes falling languidly from the sky. He could hear a group of carolers in the distance singing Jingle Bells and other sounds of Christmas escaping to the street as last minute shoppers rushed in and out of brightly lit shops.
But none of the festive sounds of the Season could drown the lonely crunch of snow beneath his boots.
Growing up in a Jewish household, Josh had never experienced the magical spirit of Christmas. Chanukah held its own magic, but it had been a quiet affair at his house. And, unlike Christmas, it wasn't a holiday that was widely celebrated in his small Connecticut hometown. But then Donna had come along with her childlike exuberance for all things Christmas: the gifts, the carols, the cheer, family and friendly get-togethers, and eventually he began to feel it too. For a while now, he'd secretly looked forward to the days leading up to Christmas.
He regretted never telling her that.
He remembered how he used to tease her about her Christmas gift; he drove her nuts with it right up until Christmas Eve. Once, when she was pestering him about what he got her, he told her it was a gift certificate from her favorite music store. She'd smiled and said it was nice, but she hadn't been able to hide the brief flash of disappointment in her eyes. He didn't have the heart to let her think he hadn't put more thought into her gift, and he'd admitted the lie.
Not that Donna wouldn't have appreciated it had he given it to her. He strictly abided by unspoken rules that dictated what was appropriate to give your assistant for Christmas, which meant that the gifts were never extravagant and rarely personal. Yet she always tore into hers with an eager smile and her face would light up, making him feel that his was the best gift of all.
And that was her gift to him.
As he slowly picked his way through the snow back to his hotel, Josh slipped his right hand into the deep pocket of his jacket and fingered the small red box tied with gold ribbon. When he went looking for her this morning at Russell's campaign headquarters intent on giving it to her, he was told she'd already left for the holidays. A heavy feeling had settled on his heart then, and it had lingered all day. He still couldn't shake it.
Christmas without Donna simply wasn't Christmas.
Back at his hotel, he stomped his feet on the large square of carpet at the door and headed straight for the bar. There wasn't a soul in there except for the bartender, a large, rather stern faced man with a brush cut and a too-tight white shirt. He was watching a college football game on the television set perched above the bar. Josh sat on one of the barstools and draped his jacket over the back.
The bartender—Don according to his nametag—tossed a cardboard coaster in front of him. "What will it be?"
"Tequila and a beer chaser…whatever you've got on tap's fine." Josh turned his attention to the game. "What's the score?"
"Tied at seven in the second quarter." Don looked at him curiously as he poured the tequila. "Hey, aren't you Santos's guy?"
Josh nodded. "Josh Lyman."
"Second-best political mind in the party wasting away chasing a dream," was Will Bailey's sarcastic retort as he dropped into the seat next to Josh. "Budweiser for me."
Ignoring Will, Josh threw back the tequila and then pushed the glass away.
"Drowning your sorrows?"
"Actually I was going for a quiet night of football with my good friend, Don, here."
"I hear you came by looking for Donna earlier."
Josh gave Will a sidelong glance and quickly refocused on the game. He didn't ask the questions he was burning to ask: Where she was. How she was doing. Whether she was seeing someone. He remained silent and emptied his beer mug in two long swallows, motioning for Don to give him a refill.
"You two should really think of patching things up. You know you'll end up working for Russell when he wins the nomination."
"What's more likely to happen is Donna's going to be working for Santos," Josh countered with a confidence he was far from feeling. He honestly believed that Matt Santos was the real thing, but Matt wasn't making it easy for himself, and Josh had begun questioning his commitment to the presidency.
Will snorted. "Won't happen. I wasn't kidding, Josh. You're depriving the Democratic party of a great political mind, which we'll need in the presidential race. You know as well as I do that Vinnick's going to win his party's leadership, and the only candidate who stands a chance against him is Russell."
"We'll see."
Josh kept his eyes glued to the game, but he sensed Will's frustration. He didn't dislike Will, in fact he respected the guy, but he wasn't in the mood for another pointless round of 'you should be working for Russell'. And it frustrated him to no end that Donna was now working for him.
A long silence descended between them, and as much as Josh hated to be the one to break it, his thoughts had wandered back to Donna, and since it didn't look like Will would volunteer any information about her, he eased into it.
"You staying here for the weekend?"
"No. I'm flying to DC in the morning. You?"
"Staying." He took another swig of beer. "Donna in Wisconsin?"
"No."
"She went back to DC?"
"No."
Josh dropped all pretense of disinterest and looked at Will. "Where is she?" When Will remained silent, Josh lost his patience. "What? Is it a campaign secret or something?"
"No, but I figure if she wanted you to know where she is, she would have told you."
"I haven't seen her in a while," Josh said defensively. "And why wouldn't she want me to know where she is?"
"You tell me. Listen, I don't want to get in the middle of anything—"
"There's nothing to get in—" Josh started saying furiously then stopped himself. The last guy he'd had this conversation with ended up dating Donna and almost ruining her career. He didn't want to think about Jack Reese tonight, or any of the other gomers she'd dated over the years. In fact, he was better off not thinking about Donna at all, or for that matter Santos, or the rest of his screwed up life, and he certainly didn't give a damn what role Will Bailey imagined he played in it all.
"Fine," Josh said, a little deflated. He stood, reached into his pocket for his wallet and threw money on the bar. He grabbed his jacket and turned to leave. "Merry Christmas."
"She went to a resort."
Josh came to an abrupt halt, turned, and faced Will, silently urging him to go on.
"In the White Mountains, about eighty miles from here, near North Woodstock," he said.
Josh felt himself go cold. He knew what that meant; she was seeing someone. She was spending Christmas with another one of her gomers, and suddenly he wished he hadn't asked, or that Will hadn't volunteered the information.
But Will must have read his mind for he quickly added, "Not that you deserve it, but to answer your next question, she went alone. She said she didn't feel like being around family this year. She's been working hard and needed time to herself to catch her breath."
Josh started breathing again. "Which resort?"
"I don't know why I'm telling you this. You really don't deserve her."
"I never met a man who did."
Will considered him for a moment then nodded. "Alpine Inn."
"Thanks. And Merry Christmas," Josh tossed back over his shoulder as he hurried out of the bar, only this time he meant it.
At the very top of Donna's agenda after arriving at Alpine Inn was a very long and very hot bath. She'd filled the large claw-foot tub to capacity and added her own Eternity bath gel to the water. Tossing her long hair over the side of the tub, she slid into the water up to her neck, closed her eyes, and cleared her mind of everything that had weighed heavily on it for more than a month. Including Josh Lyman. In fact, she'd promised herself that she wouldn't think about Josh at all this weekend.
Nevertheless, an hour later, feeling rejuvenated and dressed in well-worn jeans and a red crew neck wool sweater she'd purchased in Manchester last week, Donna couldn't stop thinking about Josh. The man had been her compass on her journey to self-discovery, Higgins to her Ms. Doolittle, and she owed so much of who she had become to him.
Josh had given her an opportunity to break away from a life that was leading nowhere, and under his tutelage she had gained knowledge and self-confidence. But she'd also worked hard, became as invaluable to him as he was to her, and through mutual need they had formed a bond of co-dependence that in the end became paralyzing. CJ had tried to tell her as much a year ago, but Donna wasn't ready then to accept that Josh Lyman was no longer looking out for her best interests.
Still, it was thanks to him that she'd had the confidence to break free of him. And look where she was now. She smiled as she rummaged through a drawer for a pair of thick cotton socks. She was a key player in putting the next President in the White House. She was taking a weekend breather at a resort she never would have been able to afford a few weeks ago. She had become a capable, independent woman, making her family and herself proud, and despite the tension between Josh and herself these days, she had no doubt he was proud of her too.
Donna stretched out on the bed, moaning with pleasure as she sank into the thick down comforter. She had planned to catch a couple of hours of sleep before ordering dinner, but she wasn't tired anymore. Nor was she hungry. Before leaving Manchester, she'd called her family to wish them a Merry Christmas. Her parents were disappointed that she wouldn't be with them this year; her sister and her family were already there, her mom told her. The kids were excited about Santa Claus, the tree looked particularly lovely this year, and so on until a wave of homesickness hit Donna so hard she'd briefly considered changing her plans and going home for Christmas after all.
She'd only missed Christmas with them once before, a couple of years ago when she went away with Jack instead, so she wasn't surprised when her mother asked her if she would be spending this one with Josh.
"No, Mom. Josh and I aren't…well, we're not really in a good place right now," she'd told her.
"That's too bad, honey. I hoped—aw never mind what I hoped. It's your life, you know best. Are you all right?"
Donna had assured her that she was, had talked to her father, her sister and the kids briefly, and then, as planned, left Manchester behind for the White Mountains.
She knew, of course, what her mother had hoped would happen between her and Josh. Her mother had met Josh for the first time in Germany after Donna's near-death experience, and later admitted to Donna that while she and her father had been concerned over the years about her obvious personal interest in her boss, it wasn't until her accident that she understood why Donna felt the way she did about him.
Josh hadn't stopped for red lights.
Donna smiled as she remembered the old Moss family yardstick for measuring the depth of a man's love. It was a story that had been retold countless times in her family and that had served her well when Allan—or Dr. Freeride as Josh liked to call him—had stopped for a beer on his way to pick her up at the hospital. When her grandmother was seventeen years' old, she'd gone riding with her best friend whose family owned some of the best horses in the county. She used to love to ride, but one day something spooked her horse and she was thrown. She broke her arm and suffered a concussion. Word of it got to the young man who had expressed an interest in her only two months before, and in his haste to rush to her side he ignored the red traffic light—the only traffic light in town—and was broadsided by a pick-up truck. Her grandmother said that's how she knew how much he loved her; so, on her eighteenth birthday, she married him.
Growing up, whenever Donna or her sister fancied herself in love, either her grandmother or her mother would ask, "Would he stop at a red light if you were hurt?"
Josh hadn't. He'd dropped everything, left the White House in the middle of an international crisis, and flown to Germany to be with her. Neither had Colin, Donna had reminded her mother, pointing out the flaw in the Moss 'love yardstick', but her mother had quickly dismissed her argument saying that Colin himself told her the primary purpose of his trip to Germany was to follow-up on the Gaza incident, which would now be part of his bigger story.
Regardless, with or without the red light metaphor, in Germany, Donna had for the very first time considered the real possibility that Josh might be in love with her. Oh, she'd sometimes suspected he had a crush on her, but she'd never made a big deal out of it. After all, she'd had a crush on him almost from the moment they met eight years ago and it hadn't stopped her from running back to Allan. And for him, there had been Mandy and Joey and Amy, and undoubtedly many more women she didn't even know about. A crush wasn't love. Hers had grown into love, but it was impossible not to fall in love with a guy like Josh once you got past his self-centered, I'm-'da-man persona, puffed-out chest, strut and all, and discovered the gentler, more vulnerable side that made him do things such as not stop for red lights when a friend was in trouble.
And that's what made her sigh heavily now as she lay on the comfortable bed of her gorgeous five-star room in the White Mountains. It wasn't as if Josh had done anything for her that he wouldn't have done for anyone else he cared for, especially if he felt partly responsible for their plight. It was time she put his reasons for rushing to her in Germany in perspective.
The patio doors that led to a private balcony gave her a fabulous view of the ski slopes, which were now all lit up. Coaxing herself to stop thinking about Josh, she watched the skiers sliding down the hills for a while. From her room, they looked only slightly bigger than multi-colored stickmen against the stark white of fresh snow. Having read extensively on the subject of Alpine skiing a few years ago, she even recognized some of their techniques. She'd wanted to take up skiing that year. She couldn't remember why now, but it probably had something to do with meeting men. That year, Josh had given her an antique book on Alpine skiing for Christmas.
Josh. She couldn't even think about skiing without it bringing back memories of him. She wondered where he was tonight, how he spent his time away from work these days. She considered calling him, but dismissed the idea just as rapidly. What would she say? Or worse, would he resent the intrusion? For all she knew he could be on a date and the last thing he'd want is a phone call from his needy former assistant who just happened to have left him on very bad terms.
A short month ago she wouldn't have thought twice before calling him. And now—
Frustrated, Donna hopped off the bed. Deciding she needed a diversion and a stiff drink, she grabbed her handbag and room key and headed downstairs to the Après-Ski Lounge. Perhaps she'd meet some great guy who would make her forget all about Josh Lyman, even if only for a few hours.
DONNA WONDERED WHAT it was about her that attracted losers. She hadn't been at the bar two minutes before some guy too stupid or too full of himself to recognize a polite brush-off started hitting on her.
The lounge was noisy and almost filled to capacity with an après-ski crowd. Donna had taken the only seat available at the bar, which unfortunately happened to be next to this live personal ad. 'Successful, forty-ish, white male, desperately seeking babe for a night of meaningless sex.' She should have recognized him immediately and veered off to one of the vacant tables. After all, he looked exactly like all the other losers in all the other bars in the country. She saw the way his eyes scanned the crowd, pausing appreciatively every now and then on some young woman, trying to make eye contact, then leering at them when he did. But as Donna approached, his gaze immediately shifted to her and lit up, and then deliberately roamed her body pausing on her curves in a way that made her skin crawl, like an unwanted caress.
"Well, well, well," he drawled. "What have we here?"
Donna gave him a curt smile as she ordered a whisky sour.
"I'm Bob," he said. After another curt smile, he asked, "And you are?"
"Donna." Clipped, one-word responses were supposed to say, 'not interested,' weren't they? Oh, but this was a loser, she reminded herself.
"Donna…," he repeated, drawing out her name as he conspicuously eyed her left hand. "It must be my lucky night."
Not if by lucky you mean, 'I'm going to get laid.'
"Thank you," she said to the bartender who gave her a knowing wink as he placed her drink in front of her.
Twenty minutes later, Donna had had enough of the barfly on her left. She didn't care that he lived 'near here', or that he was a volunteer firefighter, or that he was a Republican—though according to Josh that alone should have made him attractive to her. And it wasn't as if the guy was completely unattractive. He had a nice physique, his eyes were an unusual shade of grey, his teeth were straight and looked real, he even had all his hair, and he was smartly dressed. But he was the king of smarmy and the way he looked at her made her skin crawl.
After using just about every trick in the book to get rid of him short of telling him flat out to get lost, she grabbed her bag from the floor and reached into it for her wallet, Mr. Macho next to her following her every movement.
"You're not leaving already," he said incredulously. "The night is young and I still have to learn all about you."
Donna plastered a fake smile on her face. Her jaw was beginning to hurt from them. "Oh, but we've covered so much ground already with the story of your life…I need to pace myself."
"Will you be here tomorrow night?" he asked, and she could have sworn he did a suggestive thing with his eyebrows.
Giving him a don't-count-on-it look, she reached into her bag then frowned when she noticed the flashing green light on her cell phone indicating that a call was coming in. "Hello."
"Merry Christmas, Donnatella."
Her heart lurched. "Josh?" she said on a breath. She put two fingers over her right ear to block out the background noise.
"Yeah. Where are you? It's very loud."
"At a resort in the White Mountains."
"Sounds like you're at a party."
"I'm in the bar at my hotel. It's…busy."
"Having fun?"
"Uh…Not really. Josh—"
"Some gomer hitting on you, Donna? Let me guess…some bozo who thinks he's God's gift to women…probably a Republican too, which means he's too stupid to understand Donna-speak for take a hike?"
She almost giggled at the accurate description. God she missed him. "Josh—"
"But you can hardly blame the guy for being bewitched, Donna. I would be if I came across a gorgeous blonde in some sexy red thing sitting alone at a bar on Christmas Eve. And that habit you have of licking your lips after each sip of your Whisky Sour is like catnip to guys on the make."
Donna half frowned, half smiled. "You've either spent way too much time with me in bars, or you're—" Psychic. Donna's heart raced as she swiveled around on her stool and scanned the crowded lounge, searching…and then her breath hitched, "—here."
Sitting at a table at the back of the room, his jean-clad legs casually stretched out in front of him, and his lips curled up in a ghost of a smile, was Josh, watching her. She stared at him mouth agape as he stood, disconnected the call and dropped his cell phone in the pocket of his jacket. He slowly crossed the room to her, his eyes never leaving hers. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, only that she was suddenly so incredibly happy. And then he was in front of her, reaching for her phone—which she still had pressed to her ear—disconnecting it before handing it back to her.
"A speechless Donnatella. I don't know whether to be flattered or really, really worried," he said with a warm smile.
"Josh—"
"I thought you said your name was Donna," barfly interrupted in an accusing tone.
In retrospect she was glad she hadn't let him buy her a drink. She ignored him, but Josh didn't. He shot him a menacing glare, and the guy—she couldn't remember his name—clamped his jaw shut and quickly moved on to his next prey, conveniently vacating his seat.
"Thank you," Josh said under his breath as he removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the stool. He glanced at Donna. "You really should thank me for my chivalry, you know."
By this time Donna had composed herself enough to return her wallet and her cell phone to her bag, but she was still a little stunned to see him. "What are you doing here, Josh?"
"I came to see you," he said simply.
He waved to the bartender and ordered a beer as Donna looked at him suspiciously. "How did you know I was here?"
"Will told me."
"Will? Will Bailey? Why would Will tell you where I am? It doesn't make sense."
Josh was silent, his eyes skimming her face, lingering on her mouth, before returning to her eyes. Then he shrugged, nodded his thanks to the bartender for his beer and said, "He probably thought you could lure me to your side."
"If he thought that he doesn't know you very well."
"He knows me well enough," he said seriously, taking a sip of beer. "Donna…Will also told me you wanted to be alone this weekend. Is it uh…Is it okay for me to be here?"
The uncertainty in Josh's voice stunned her anew. The very fact that he was asking, not just assuming or selfishly disregarding her wishes, was so un-Josh-like that she couldn't speak. She saw that something about him had changed, matured, it was as if he'd lost his spark, and Donna remembered thinking the same thing that day she met him on the street in Manchester.
Her heart hurt a little for old Josh, the man who crashed through life with an air of invincibility, slaying the dragons that needed slaying, never doubting that he would come out the victor. This was not the man facing her now.
She blinked away a sudden rush of moisture from her eyes and swallowed nervously. "Josh…why did you come here?"
A pulse jumped in his cheek. "I miss you," he said in a tone so intimate it made her heart speed up and her vision blur once more. "We have to fix this, Donna. This tension between us is killing me."
"It's killing me too." Without hesitation she slid off the bar stool and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him.
His arms immediately closed around her and drew her fiercely to him. She loved how his mouth lightly brushed her ear over her hair as he let out a long, shuddering breath that ended in her name. For a long moment, they held on to each other without speaking. Donna closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the scent of his cologne and warm skin, the feel of his solid body pressed to hers, and how wonderful his arms felt around her. It was as if the world had finally righted itself.
"Let's go for a walk," he suggested moments later. "It's a nice night for it, and we…need to talk."
Donna reluctantly drew away from him. "I'll get my coat. Will you wait here for me?"
"Yeah," he said huskily as he released her.
DONNA GLANCED OVER at Josh thoughtfully as they set out along the path that led away from the ski slopes to the lake and a skating rink, which had long since been closed for the night. Josh was right; it was a perfect night for a stroll. It wasn't snowing anymore and the full moon reflected off the snow, lighting up the countryside; the air smelled clean and fresh and a layer of new snow muffled the sound of their footfalls.
But for someone who wanted to talk, Josh was strangely quiet. She knew, of course, what he wanted to discuss. She had left the White House rather abruptly, and although he hadn't given her much choice, she expected him to be pissed about it. His behavior on the other hand hadn't riled her as much as it had hurt her. Josh had always been more than a boss to her, so when he had treated her repeated requests to have lunch to discuss her future on par with a meeting with the guy who believed the government hid aliens at Fort Knox, she finally understood how little she had come to mean to him.
It still hurt her, but not as much, she'd come to realize, as losing him completely would hurt. His coming here tonight gave her hope that, if nothing else, they could rekindle their friendship.
She gave him a sidelong glance. "This is nice," she finally said to break the silence.
"Mmm."
"Josh…about the way I left—"
"You did the right thing."
She shot him a surprised look. "Yeah…well I didn't have a choice; I had to report to my new job, but I could have…I don't know, sent you an e-mail or something to tell you I was quitting. It's just that it seemed so cold after all that we…well, after everything."
"Yeah," Josh said absently, and for a long time neither of them spoke.
As they neared the end of the path, a gust of wind rose up from the lake. He shuddered and turned up the collar of his jacket until it reached his ears. After a moment he looked at her and sighed.
"I was stunned when you left, Donna. I went to great lengths in the past eight years to make sure that would never happen."
Donna looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"It was a constant balancing act…giving you just enough responsibility to keep you happy, but not enough so you'd outgrow your job, and then undermining your worth when you outgrew it anyway. I kept you in the office at all hours of the night and on weekends and many holidays, not giving you much time for a social life." He dropped his eyes and, looking a little sheepish, added, "I even did all I could to screw up your dates." After a deep breath, Josh glanced at her. "It's how I made sure you would always be there when I needed you."
If she hadn't already realized that he hadn't given her every opportunity to advance professionally, Donna would have been spitting nails just about now. But she'd figured all this out a long time ago. CJ had planted the seed, but it was Charlie who had clinched it for her when she returned from Germany. How the President treated Charlie, encouraging him to aspire to bigger and better things…Donna remembered thinking how lucky he was to have a boss who placed the needs of his staff ahead of his own. That's when she knew that if she were to become anything more than Josh Lyman's assistant, she'd have to go out and make it happen.
And she had. Still, it was heart warming really that he'd gone to such lengths not to lose her, so she smiled and gave him a playful shove of the shoulder. "Well, I am good."
Josh's lips twitched, but his expression remained serious. "The best," he said. "But no one's irreplaceable, Donna, not even you."
"Hey! You were doing good there for a minute, Josh. I was taking your trying to ruin my life…you know because I was so indispensable to you, as a compliment."
He looked at her. "We all like to think we're indispensable, but the truth is, none of us is. Not in business anyway. The way I treated you…it was crappy of me and I'm sorry. You were right to leave. I never would have encouraged you to go."
"Yeah…CJ told me that. She said you'd never find anyone more capable than me and that's why you hadn't given me every opportunity to move up."
His eyes narrowed. "CJ said that?"
Donna smiled, remembering. "That and a lot of other things."
"Such as?"
"That it was as much my fault because I chose to stay." Donna smiled wanly, remembering. "She said I should go work for some non-profit and have one-night stands with…well, she had a game plan for me."
Josh was silent for a moment. "When…when did she say this to you?"
"When we were discussing the Gaza trip. Why?"
"No reason," he replied, but he was frowning.
"Josh…are you happy with the decisions you've made? I mean, leaving the White House to run Santos's campaign?"
"Yes." He looked at her curiously. "Why would you think I'm not?"
Donna shrugged. "You just don't look…you don't smile anymore."
"Sure I do. I smile all the time." And to convince her of that he gave her a huge dimpled grin.
"You don't smile with your eyes," she corrected.
They'd reached the lake and Josh turned to face her. "The thing about being replaceable is that it's not always true," he said, contradicting his earlier statement. "The thing is, Donna, I was far less worried about losing an assistant than I was about losing you. The job went on after you left—not as smoothly I'll admit, they sent me the temp from hell, but—" he paused, then chided, "Would you stop looking so pleased with yourself. Toby was terrified of her."
Donna laughed. "The way I heard it, you were the one that was terrified."
"Women as a group terrify me. I'm used to it."
"You were never afraid of me…"
"Wrong. You scare me most of all." He visibly shuddered, a reflex against the cold, Donna knew, still it seemed to emphasize his point.
"Why? Why are you afraid of me?"
Josh lifted his chin and studied her face. Then he sighed and loosely wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let's get back before I freeze to death."
They started the walk back to the hotel in silence. When he removed his hand from her shoulder, Donna immediately missed his touch. She wasn't sure what they'd accomplished exactly. Josh had explained his behavior—no surprise there—and had apologized for it, but she suspected there was much more he wasn't saying.
She glanced at him, but couldn't read his expression. With his eyes trained to the ground, he looked like a man who was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Something was distracting him, and it wasn't she. In fact, she thought he might have forgotten she was there.
Suddenly she stopped, scooped up some snow, and quickly fashioned a snowball out of it. Just as Josh turned back to look at her, she pitched it at him, hitting him on the side of the neck. The snowball burst into a cloud of flakes that settled on his face and in his hair.
"Hey! What'd you do that for?"
"To get you to lighten up."
A gleam entered his eyes and he took a menacing step in her direction. Donna instinctively took a step back. "Don't say you didn't ask for it," he said as he bent, scooped up snow in his gloved hands, and took off after her.
A burst of giggles erupted from her as she ran, Josh in hot pursuit. He threw the snowball, but it narrowly missed her. "You'll have to work on your aim, Joshua," she tossed back over her shoulder, and then gasped when he wrestled her to the ground face first. Donna managed to roll herself onto her back as she tried fighting him off, but he was faster and stronger. He straddled her waist and held her arms down over her head with one hand while scooping up more snow with the other.
Donna quickly resorted to pleading, but not very convincingly as she continued to giggle. "No…don't you dare, Joshu—"
Josh ignored her and ground a fistful of snow in her face. "What do you think of my aim now?"
Donna gave him a triumphant grin as she sputtered and coughed snow out of her mouth. "Mission accomplished," she said. "You're smiling with your eyes."
Josh's expression immediately turned serious. He released her arms. "That's all you, Donna. You light me up, and that's what makes you indispensable." He removed one of his gloves and gently began brushing the snow from her face. Donna didn't move, she could barely breathe as his warm fingers grazed her skin and then slowed as his eyes locked with hers. "When you left," he said, barely above a whisper, "you took away my reason for staying."
Suddenly she found her heart was pounding. Not just because of what Josh was saying—or implying—but because she couldn't remember him ever looking at her the way he was looking at her now, like he wanted to kiss her. But the moment passed and he shot to his feet, grabbed her hand, and helped her up. They slapped the snow from their clothes before resuming their walk to the hotel.
A few minutes later, Josh glanced at her and smiled. "I brought you a Christmas present."
"You did?"
"Uh-huh."
She grinned. "What is it?"
"You'll have to wait and see."
Donna regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "You like that part, don't you…? Teasing me about my present."
"My favorite part of Christmas," he agreed with a fabulous show of dimples.
She smiled back, relieved to see a hint of the old Josh back.
"WOULD YOU BE inviting me to your room if I weren't bearing gifts?" Josh questioned teasingly when the elevator doors opened on her floor.
"Gifts?"
"Gift," he corrected.
"We'll never know," she replied as she stepped out and started down the corridor.
Josh was still smiling when they reached her room, and a shiver of anticipation crept down Donna's spine as she pulled the cardkey from her pocket and unlocked the door. Inviting him to her room was not what she had in mind when they returned to the hotel. But when they reached the lounge they stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene inside before looking at each other blankly. It was as if everyone had come in from the slopes. The lounge was jam-packed and loud, pop music was blaring, making the walls shake. In fact it was a wonder anyone could hear themselves think in there, and Donna quickly remembered she had a mini-bar in her room.
But now he was standing close to her, so close in fact that she could smell his cologne and feel his heat, making her skin tingle with awareness. Her cheeks felt warm as she pushed the door open and turned on the lights. It didn't make sense to be this nervous. They'd entered countless hotel rooms together over the years; she'd even seen him in his boxer shorts a couple of times; and for a while after the shooting, she'd spent more time at his apartment than she had at the office, often sitting on the edge of his bed as they worked.
But somehow this felt different. Something had changed between them, had become more complex—and at the same time more exciting, she admitted to herself—and she had to fight back the butterflies that invaded her stomach when the door sprang closed behind them.
"Nice digs," Josh said huskily, his eyes scanning the decent-size room, and Donna followed his gaze, appreciating once again the plush décor: the dark blue Berber carpeting with flecks of red and gold, so thick that you could sink your feet into it; the queen-sized bed topped with a thick, white down comforter; scattered pillows in rich reds, blues and gold; and the elegant navy and red striped curtains, which were now open to the view of the mountains. But the focal point was the gas fireplace dominating the far left corner of the room near the patio doors.
"Beats some of the places we've had to bunk in on this campaign," she said, removing her coat and boots.
"Yeah…"
Josh took off his boots at the door and walked over to the panoramic windows, draping his jacket over the back of one of the two chairs that flanked the small round table there. He kept his back to her as he gazed out at the ski slopes, hands on his hips, and Donna felt a pang of desire low in her belly as her gaze swept his body, taking in how perfectly he filled his jeans, the tautness of his muscular back, the breadth of his shoulders straining against the dark-blue Oxford-cloth shirt he was wearing. And then their eyes met in the reflection of the window and she flushed with embarrassment at having been caught admiring him.
Finding the key to the mini-bar, she swallowed past the grittiness in her throat. "Would you like a drink?"
He glanced back at her. "What have you got?" Turning away from the window, he went to sit in one of the chairs and stretched out his legs in front of him in a relaxed pose.
Breaking the seal, she unlocked the small fridge and made a quick visual inventory of it. "The usual. There's Heineken," she offered, knowing he preferred that brand of beer, "or if you'd like something stronger, I have whiskey—"
"Heineken's fine."
Donna placed the beer bottle in front of him on the table and uncapped a bottle of water for herself. Instead of taking the chair across from him, she sat on the edge of the bed and lit the fire with the fireplace starter remote she'd left on the bed-side table. The flames sprang to life, adding a warm glow to the room, supplementing the existent muted lighting. She looked at Josh as he stared at the fire, his mind seemingly elsewhere for the third or fourth time in the less than two hours since he arrived. She wondered what was distracting him so, and doubted it was the tension between them recently. They'd dispensed with the circumstances surrounding her abrupt departure rather easily during their walk to the lake. He didn't hate her for it, and she had long since forgiven him for playing God with her career.
No. His mood was about something else.
"Josh…" she began, not really knowing where to go from there, and hating this awkwardness between them, wishing they could recapture the easy relationship they once had. But at least, she had his attention again. "Why did you come here? I mean…I'm sure you didn't drive eighty miles just to give me—"
"Right. Almost forgot. Your gift." He reached inside the breast pocket of his jacket and retrieved a small rectangular box expertly wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a gold ribbon.
Donna smiled as she accepted the gift from him. "You didn't have to do this, you know. I don't work for you anymore."
He shrugged. "Old habits die hard. Open it."
She quickly untied the ribbon, ripped the paper, and then eyed him teasingly when she saw the black velvet box. "Well, it's not skis," she quipped. "Is it a pen?"
"Donna—" he growled in exasperation.
Her smile widened.
She flipped open the lid then gasped, stunned. Looped through the most exquisite, most delicate white-gold chain bracelet was a small, stylized diamond heart charm. Donna looked up at him, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. In all the years she'd known him, he'd never given her anything like this. "This is…Josh—"
"Do you like it?"
"Of course. It's gorgeous but, Josh, this is too much."
He slid off the chair and closed the short distance between them. Crouching in front of her, he said, "It's to make up for all the years I couldn't give you something like this." He took the bracelet and carefully fastened it around her wrist. "I wanted to," he whispered as he placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her wrist, sending a delightful shiver up her spine.
"Thank you," she whispered back, her vision blurring. Her heart was overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness and generosity, but mostly it was aching with that familiar ache for him, and she couldn't—didn't want to—hide it from him anymore. "Josh…"
He looked up at her and it was as if something collapsed inside of him. Donna watched his eyes fill with myriad emotions, almost violent in their intensity. "God, Donna, I can't go on pretending that you don't mean everything to me," he rasped out. "I need you," he added passionately as his mouth closed over hers.
She felt the desperation in his kiss, the desire, the need he spoke of, and it sent a jolt of excitement through her. She looped her arms around his neck and he drew himself up, crushing her to him. They tumbled back onto the bed, his body falling heavily on top of hers. When her lips opened beneath his, he emitted a low growl and slipped his tongue into her mouth. And suddenly his pace changed and he began a slow exploration of her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers, tasting, probing, teasing her senses with its hot silkiness, making love to her mouth with slow deliberation akin to reverence.
The flames of desire licked her soul, making her achingly aware that she had never wanted another man quite so desperately. Her control slipped as years of suppressed need rose to the surface, and she moaned softly, writhing beneath him, arching into him, spreading her thighs, welcoming the exquisite evidence of his arousal between them. She lost awareness of everything except for the sensation of his taut body covering the length of hers, the delicious taste of his mouth and the gentle tangle of his fingers in her hair.
When he broke the kiss, her eyes opened slowly, locking with his. His breathing matched her own, shallow and rough, and his eyes were dark with desire and something else that clawed at her heart. Nearly shaking with desire, Donna clutched his shoulders, giving him a pleading look. If he could turn her limbs to jelly and raise her heart rate to dangerous levels with a kiss, act two of Lyman loving couldn't come quickly enough.
"Josh, please…make love to me."
He inhaled sharply. "God, Donna. You have no idea how often I've dreamed of you saying that."
"Really?"
"Yeah…"
She smiled and lovingly flattened her palms on his cheeks. "All I needed was a sign that you wanted this too."
"What? You mean all those times I got insanely jealous of those republican gomers you kept gushing over, it wasn't enough of a sign?"
"I never gushed…" At his good-natured glare, she conceded, "Well, not much. Why didn't you just tell me?"
He sighed heavily. Shifting his weight off her, he lifted her towards the center of the bed and stretched out on his side, next to her. "For one, because I didn't know you felt that way about me," he admitted as he grabbed a pillow and slipped it under her head. "And two, because it wouldn't have mattered anyway. I couldn't have you, Donna. As long as you were my assistant, you were strictly off-limits to me."
Donna reflected on this for a moment as she ran her left hand up his shirt sleeve to his shoulder, enjoying how his muscles tensed under her touch. "So instead you tampered with my life, making sure I didn't have much of one away from you, while you pranced around Washington like—"
"Pranced?"
"Amy comes to mind," she reminded him, not bothering to mask her disgust with that particular choice of a mate.
"I'll raise you Cliff, Commander Wonderful, not to mention Heathcliff …"
"They weren't long term relationships. Besides, Colin was just therapy."
"Yeah…CJ's prescription I bet," he said with an edge in his voice.
"You're not going to blame CJ for this?"
He shook his head. "Though I may tell her to go practice her Dear Abby skills on someone else in the future. But before Gaza, CJ had no way of knowing how I felt about your dalliances with the Princes not-so-Charming of this world, IRA terrorist or not."
Donna laughed. She loved how he always came up with berating monikers for the men she dated. But she wasn't about to tell him that.
He nuzzled her neck and the touch of his lips sent little jolts of electricity along her skin, momentarily throwing off her concentration. But understanding how important this conversation was to their healing process, she forced herself to focus.
She caught her breath. "What happened after Gaza?" she asked gently, knowing those memories would be painful for him.
He looked at her briefly then lowered his gaze, sadness creeping into his voice as he explained. "For a while, I didn't know if you were alive or dead, Donna, only that you were in the car that blew up. When I found out you were seriously injured, I went a little berserk. Leo told me that if I'd rather be elsewhere, he'd understand."
"You didn't stop for red lights…" she said wistfully.
"Hm?"
"The Moss family yardstick—Oh, never mind." Blushing, she turned in his arms and snuggled back against him, sighing softly.
He brushed her hair back and placed a delicate kiss on her neck. "Tell me."
"So, you want to make this confession time?"
"It's a good place to start, don't you think?"
"I kind of liked what you started a few minutes ago."
He planted tiny kisses across her temple, down to her ear. His hold on her tightened inexorably as he whispered, "I've been going half out of my mind with wanting you, Donna. I've wanted you like this for eight years."
His admission caught her by surprise.
"Let's not rush it, okay?"
"So you want a little verbal foreplay? You'll have to promise you won't laugh."
"I miss our verbal foreplay…and your quirky brand of entertainment."
"See, for that, I'm inclined not to tell you."
"But you will," he stated emphatically. "And you know how I know that? I know that because you love to confuse me."
Josh slipped his hand under her sweater and gently stroked the sensitive flesh of her abdomen. Donna hissed in a breath at his touch, quickly losing sight of why they were talking when they could be doing something she'd only been able to dream about until tonight. Yet in its way, this was equally intimate, and she enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed snugly to her back, the little circular motion of his thumb on her skin, and the low timber of his voice as he urged her to talk to him.
"When my grandmother was seventeen she fell off a horse and broke her arm."
"O-kay…"
Donna giggled. "You asked for it," she reminded him and he didn't interrupt again until she'd told him the rest of the story. "So you see," she concluded, "the not-stopping-for-red-lights is the Moss family yardstick for measuring the depth of a man's love. So in Germany, my mother reminded me of that, and you became 'the one' in her eyes."
"Why me and not Blarney Boy?"
"That's what I said, that the yardstick was flawed, except that Colin came to Germany primarily to follow-up on the story, not to see me."
"I knew I should have kicked his—Donna?"
"Hmm?"
"Does this yardstick apply to women too?"
"I suppose it applies to everyone. Why?"
Josh went strangely quiet. His fingers stilled on her abdomen.
"Josh?" Rolling over to face him, she placed her hand on his chest and—Oh! My, he feels good!
"You told me years ago that you wouldn't stop for red lights if I were in an accident."
Donna heard the unspoken question in his voice, and felt herself flush. Suddenly, she couldn't hold his gaze. "Yeah," she said shyly. "I did."
"Donna…" With his fingers under her chin, he tipped her face up and kissed her. She moaned as his mouth moved over hers purposefully, fiercely possessive and full of promise. It was the kind of kiss that said, 'you're mine now and I'm not letting you go.' And when his lips left hers and she opened her eyes, what she saw in his made her heart pound.
"Are we done with our verbal foreplay?" she asked suggestively, toying with the buttons on his shirt.
"Not quite," he said, but his right hand was moving up along the outer edge of her leg from her knee, over her thigh, to her hip, in a long, possessive stroke. When he reached her waist, his hand slipped beneath her sweater and continued its journey up over her ribs to the underside of her breast. "There's more to say."
Her breath was coming quicker at the sensation he created with his hand. "Are you sur—ahhh," she sighed when he flicked his thumb over a taut nipple, adding pressure with each small rotation he made, sending jabs of desire to her loins. She instinctively parted her legs and her thigh grazed the front of his jeans. He was swollen and she yearned for him to soothe the wonderful sweet ache that consumed her. She slipped her leg between his, her hip adding pressure to his groin. "Make it quick," she panted, her head spinning with the need for his possession.
His eyes had never left her face. They gleamed with desire and the force of her response to him. Donna saw him swallow convulsively; his breathing was harsh and his face flushed, and then suddenly, it was as if he abandoned all thoughts of verbal foreplay. Quickly, he divested her of her sweater and her bra and his mouth closed over a peaked nipple. She wanted to tear at his own clothes, but instead, her fingers dug into the bed covers as she arched up pressing her breast more firmly to his mouth and the wet and erotic strokes of his tongue.
His hand moved lower, down her body, his fingers doing quick work of the button of her jeans. He lowered her zipper and slipped his hand inside, one long finger touching her intimately.
"God, you're wet," he whispered.
She reached for him; blind with a ferocious need that was new to her. Her hands pulled at his shirt, clawed at it. "Josh…I need you now. Please."
Within seconds his shirt was off, as were the rest of their clothing, and with a single thrust, he entered her. He held himself still deep inside of her, throbbing. She felt him shudder.
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead to hers, then groaned, swearing under his breath.
"What?" Donna asked absently as she began moving under him.
His hand flew to her hip, holding her still. "I don't have any—"
"It's okay. It's taken care of. Just don't stop," she begged, and her breath caught on a moan of pleasure as he thrust slowly into her, his mouth seeking hers passionately.
Donna knew what it was like to hunger for a man's touch, but nothing in her experience had come close to this raw, primal need she felt for him. When his mouth left hers, she opened her eyes and looked at him, silently communicating all that she felt, and with his hand still on her hip, he lifted her to him and plunged even deeper into her.
His long hard strokes stoked the fires in her belly and her pleasure continued to build until its heat consumed her, and she cried out, her body erupting like a volcano that had been dormant much too long. On a whimper, Josh quickened his pace and she arched, meeting him in his need for release until he lost all control. He crushed his lips to hers on a groan as his body shuddered.
JOSH HURRIED DOWN Elm Street, head bent against the blowing snow. He silently cursed the storm that had delayed his return flight to Manchester. Between the demands of the campaign and an unforeseen trip to Washington, he hadn't seen Donna since they left Alpine Inn early Sunday afternoon. And he hadn't talked to her since Wednesday when he'd assured her he'd be back early on New Year's Eve.
The storm had finally eased up, but almost too late. He was five minutes' shy of missing bringing in the new year with her, and he wanted nothing more than to be the first one to kiss her at midnight . Actually, he wanted to be the only one kissing her at midnight.
He slid on the sleek new snow as he came to an abrupt halt outside The Grill where Donna had said stragglers from the Russell campaign would be celebrating New Year's Eve. Although they'd decided to be discreet about their relationship for the time being, she admitted that Will had been fishing for information all week, and he'd even suggested Josh join them tonight if he was in town.
They'd agreed it wasn't a good idea to go public yet and planned a more intimate New Year's Eve celebration, but the weather had not cooperated. They'd only talked to each other's voice-mail all evening, but when it started to look like he may not make back to Manchester tonight, he'd left her a message telling her to go ahead to the party and that he'd meet her there if the weather let up.
He wasn't surprised to see some of the volunteers from the Santos campaign there as well. He smiled politely if a little absently at the shouted greetings of Mr. Lyman and Josh as he searched the crowd for Donna.
But it was Will he spotted first. He waved to Josh from across the room and must have said something for Donna immediately emerged from behind Will, her face lighting up when she saw him.
Josh's heart jolted in response. He'd become accustomed to that reaction to seeing her. Especially in recent weeks when he'd come across her unexpectedly. He remembered the first time he set eyes on her in Manchester. It was in Will's office. The shock of seeing her had taken his breath away, and it was a full minute before he could bring himself to concentrate on what Will was saying.
His heart was racing now as he watched her cross the room to him. He wanted to rush to her, take her in his arms and kiss her right there, but he knew he couldn't. So he waited by the door, hands in his pockets, hoping that his grin wasn't too goofy or that he wasn't wearing his heart on his sleeve for all the Santos' and Russell staffers to see.
"Hey," she said brightly, touching his arm. "I didn't think you were going to make it."
"I would have chartered a small plane to get to you," he said and she grinned, making his heart beat a little faster if that were possible. "Get your coat."
She gave him a puzzled look. "Don't you want to join the party? It's almost midnight."
"Yeah, and the kiss I plan to give you won't go over well in this room."
"Ahhh… I like the sound of that. Be right back."
In no time they were leaving the restaurant. As soon as the door closed behind them, Josh took her hand and tugged her along, down a narrow alley that ran alongside the building.
"Where are we going?"
"Here," he said as he gently pushed her into an alcove in the brick wall of The Grill. The countdown to the New Year had already begun inside, but Josh didn't wait. On the count of three he'd already captured her lips in a deep, sensual kiss.
They were well into Auld Lang Syne before he broke the kiss. "Happy New Year, Donnatella," he whispered.
"Happy New Year, Joshua," she responded, breathlessly.
He tightened his arms around her, enjoying the feel of her body close to his and wishing there weren't so many layers of clothes between them. "I love you, Donna Moss," he said and she drew back in surprise.
"You do?"
Josh frowned. "I'm crazy about you. You know that." How could she not know that after the fabulous weekend they'd just spent together? He'd come to her a man in love on Christmas Eve, and left her on Boxing Day a man deeply committed to spending the rest of his life with her.
"Yeah…I guess…but—Oh! Josh, I love you too."
He crushed his mouth to hers and didn't let go until the final chords of Auld Lang Syne were only an echo on the cold night air.
"I have something for you," he said, suddenly feeling nervous.
She grinned. "What is it?"
"It's in my right pocket."
Donna eagerly reached into his pocket, and he held his breath as she pulled out the small jewellery box. When her expression changed he came close to losing his nerve and taking it back.
"This is not how I pictured doing this, but my flight was delayed and this is where we are and it's how I want to start the New Year—" He stopped himself, realizing he was babbling like an idiot.
Donna opened the box and she gasped. "Josh…"
"I'm in love with you, Donna. I want to marry you. I want us to raise a family together. If you want those things too—"
She was crying.
"Donna? I know this is fast and you probably want to think about—"
"Shut up," she said through her tears as she wound her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I want all those things too, Josh. I just never expected this…not tonight."
"Is it okay? Is this too soon?"
"It's been eight years, Joshua. I'd just about given up on you," she said and his heart started beating again. She pulled back and looked at him. "I want to marry you."
"Thank you," he whispered without thinking whether it was an appropriate response or not. He removed his gloves, and then taking her left glove off, he slipped the ring on her finger. It was a beautiful ring; three large round diamonds set into a platinum band. The minute he saw it he knew it was the right one. "It's really an anniversary ring," he told her, "but I knew it would look great on your hand, and the jeweller said a lot of people buy it as an engagement ring."
"It's beautiful. The most beautiful ring I've ever seen."
He grinned and pressed his lips to it. Then, looking up at the sky, he said, "It's snowing again."
"Yeah…"
"Let's go inside and wish everyone a happy New Year so we can get out of here. I have this burning desire to make love to my fiancée." He took her hand and moved to leave, but with a hand on his arm Donna stopped him.
"Josh…"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for everything. For hiring me, for mentoring me, for being my friend…for loving me."
Josh smiled and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Thank you for waiting for me, Donnatella."
THE END