Author's Note: It is with a heavy heart I post this chapter. It was finished by Friday, but I really couldn't post it. I wish this was an inspirational chapter about Leo, but it isn't. I wish I was a better writer and could do John Spencer a fitting tribute, but I am not. So instead I will post a chapter where Donna and Josh hook up. This chapter is the first one that really earns its Mature rating for smut, watch for the rise and fall of the mood and tone. I hope it brings a smile to your face, once or twice. Thank you for your feedback as always.

Josh's POV

"She's fantastic, Sam." Ok, so I'm gushing a little bit, but I think I'm allowed. I've had more sleep in one night than I've had in six years. I woke up next to Donna Moss, an event that needs to be repeated. Sam and I are standing at the omelet bar waiting, the line is moving painfully slow.

"Are you wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday?"

I ignore the question and said, "I don't think I've ever met anyone this cool before." Sam grumbles and pretends to be hurt. "She's funny and smart and hates "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory"..."

His eyes grow wide and his voice slightly horrified, "But it's so magical."

"I know, but she hates it. I could tell her anything, everything… Sam I told her about Joanie." He doesn't say anything but nods. He understands the significance of this; we had been friends for six months before I said anything about my sister. I was engaged with Amy before Joanie came up in conversation and hell, I don't think I ever said anything to Mandy about her.

Sam changes the subject, sort of. "It's refreshing to see you this happy."

"Thanks." I start to order my omelet.

"Still…"

"What?" I don't like where this is going.

"She's a remarkable woman and I don't want her to get hurt." He utters with the deepest sincerity.

"I'm sold on her. You don't need to say any more."

"Oh, but I do. I don't want you getting mad at her if things start moving too fast. You can't be a hit and run guy." He hits a nerve there, and he knows it. I'm not good at relationships; they're hard and all the women I date are harpies.

"I know." I try to appease him, but it isn't working.

"I'm just saying I owe Donna a lot. She's the one that introduced me to Ainsley."

"Oh, I've got Donna to thanks for that do I?" I snip at him.

"Keep Ainsley out of this…" Its not that I don't like Ainsley, it's just that she's a Republican. Oh God, how far have you fallen, Sam?

"You were the one who brought her up and after a year and half of you constantly talking about her, let me rant about Donna." The chef hands me my food and I stand around waiting for Sam. "I told her the "snake" story."

Now he finds it hard not to smile. "Why would you tell anyone that story?"

"I don't know. Something about her made me tell her the truth." Sam gets his food and we find Toby already eating at a table. He looks up from his coffee.

"You're wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday." Then his eyes go back to his half eaten plate.

"You have amazing observation powers, you know that." I snark and sit across from him.

He keeps eating, but I can feel another lecture coming on. 5, 4, 3 "I swear to God if you hurt her I'll kill you with my bare hands." Ok, wasn't expecting that.

"You want to overact there?"

"I'm serious Josh. She's valuable." His emphasis on the final word lingers for a second. "She's the reason I'm still married. Donna's got a way of putting things in perspective. I don't want to think about what my life would be like without her, and if you hurt her, may the wrath of God crush you."

Toby's gruff, and spends most of his life pretending not to care, but he's one of the most thoughtful people I've ever met. Sam will be bugging me about Donna for the rest of the day like a hangnail, but Toby, he's a punch to the gut and leaves you with the pain.

A fourth man sits down next to Toby, young, dark hair and slightly recognizable. Toby scoffs, "What are you doing here?"

The young man fakes being insulted, "What? You're too good to eat with the help?"

Toby glances over to me, I guess ready to offer some form on an introduction. "Josh this is Jefferson." He points to the newcomer with his fork and starts to dig in. Sam gives Jefferson a little nod.

Jefferson eyes me up over his coffee cup like a beast ready for the pounce. "So Mr. Lyman…"

"Josh." Mr. Lyman is my dad; I feel the need to correct people.

"Well, Josh, did you know I could kill you with several items on this table? Hell, I could do some serious damage with what's on your plate."

I instinctively look down at my omelet, breakfast potatoes and toast. "Toast, you could kill me with toast?"

He stops and stumbles a little, "Um, yeah…"

Ok now I'm going to call his bluff, "Ok how?"

He taps his finger to his chin, "Ok I couldn't kill you, but I could scratch off a bunch of crumbs and blow them into your eye. That would hurt a lot."

My face falls flat, and I look over at Toby, "Is he kidding?"

Toby shakes his head, "I honestly can't tell anymore."

"Let me guess. You're that Secret Service agent following us yesterday with the fake mustache." I take a rather large bite of my toast.

He sips his coffee. "How could you tell it was fake?"

"It was lopsided." Toby almost chokes on his fruit salad; even Sam cops a smirk.

Jefferson's eyebrows go up, ever so slightly. The game's on now. "Ok, Mr. Josh Lyman, you wanna play this game… I'll play. I know far more about you then you might think, Mr. Two Ivy League Educations. During your time at the White House you learned every Agent's name who worked on your detail and about 50 of the Presidents. You insisted everyone call you Josh, which by the way was really cool. You've locked your keys in your car at least seven times in four years; you normally leave the office between 1 and 2 am. You were a "one night stand" kind of guy, which is one of the reasons why I threaten you with toast. You like hockey…"

"No, I don't."

"Sure you do, why else would you have the hockey puck on yourself?" Oh the hockey puck, my face betrays me and smiles, recalling who gave the hockey puck and her logic.

"Um, it was an inside joke." I look down at my plate and push my food around.

"And I know why you're wearing the same clothes as you did yesterday… You think you hot shit Lyman, you know nothing."

I look up, wide eyed, "You know my room number?"

A devilish smile crosses his lips and the corners turn upward slightly, "Yep."

"Is it next to Sam's room?"

Sam offers, "Unless you've got a two year old screaming child I don't know about or your name is Tad and you're having loud sex with a girl named Trish, I don't think you're room is near mine." Sam digs back into his food.

I raise one eyebrow; I know this power play and turn my attentions back to Jefferson. "But you aren't going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope."

"What do you want?"

"I want to watch you go down to Guest Services and ask about your room number."

"I couldn't just buy you something?" I frown.

He takes one more sip of his coffee, "Nope."

We finish up and Toby, Sam and Jefferson follow me down, three feet behind, making snide remark and giggling. That's right, Toby Ziegler is giggling. Or at least that's what I'm going to tell people, if I ever have to retell the story. I wait in line, mostly people are complaining about their luggage, and step forward. Cheryl, according to her nametag, reminds me of a bee, constantly moving and eying me up and down.

"How can I help you sir?"

"Um, I was wondering if you could tell me my room number."

"I don't understand sir." She blinks at me.

My fingers run through my hair, "Um I can't remember my cabin number, could you tell me what it is?"

"I don't understand. Where did you sleep last night?"

I shift my weight from leg to leg, "Um, with a friend."

She looks past me and glares at the three amigos. "Did you stay with one of them?"

I shake my head. "No."

Her eyes squint together and her lips purse, "I see. Sir, do you even remember her name?"

I reply snidely, "Yes! Now can I get my room number or now?"

She looks at me and back at her computer screen, "Name?"

"Josh Lyman." She pauses for a second as she types it into the computer.

Oh shit, she recognizes my name, "You know there used to be a man who worked for the president with that name."

"It's not me, but I get that all the time." I run my fingers through my hair again.

"Hmmm." She looks at me. "I've read his book."

"Really? I'm sure it was good."

"It was ok, a little dry." See what she's trying to do is to goad me, bait me, but it doesn't work. No reaction from me whatsoever. "Yes, Mr. Lyman, I see you right here, would you like me to write down your cabin number on your hand so you don't lose it?"

"On a piece of paper will be fine." I smile sweetly at the bitch. With my room number in hand I return to my so called friends, who happen to be cracking up.

Jefferson laughs, "Totally worth it!"

See, he's made a mistake and I'm going to call him on it, just after I get information from him. "Well, I know my room number now, what I don't know is what Donna did for you to make you so painfully loyal." I point to Sam, "She gave the Tin Man a heart". Next to I point to Toby, "She gave the Scarecrow a brain. But what did she give, you, Cowardly Lion?"

He blinks at me, "Donna Moss makes the best damn holiday cookies in DC." See that, he's lying. He's got another reason, so now I've got to unleash the big weapons. Sam and I head towards the elevators, I press the button.

"Hmm, holiday cookies? Well, for the record I know a lot more about you than you might think. For instance you were the youngest agent ever to be assigned to the President of the United States." I don't look at him as the elevator door opens and I step in. I press my floor and face him, the snide and cocky look on his face is slowly fading, and "You were also the first agent to request a transfer from the President's detail to the Vice President's. Yes, Jefferson Kane, I know exactly who you are." As the doors close, I see his face change with doubt and fear. Yeah, it was worth it.

Honestly the only reason why I recall him is because I remember thinking, "what does he know that I don't?"

January 26, 8:00 in the morning, a few days after the Second Inaugural Ball

The morning was overcast and below freezing, Vice President Bartlet was teasing Leo about the one of the many things they tease each other about. It was four days after the ball and The VP was ready for four more years. What he was not ready for was Ron Butterfeild standing in his door way, with two agents, both named after former Presidents looking nauseated and depressed. "Sir, I am sorry to bother you, but there will be some "restructuring" in the Secret Service and two of the agents wanted to say goodbye personally."

The Vice President stood up and Leo turned to face the agents. No one spoke for a moment. The silence became deafening. Toby pushed his way through the agents to discuss foreign aid with the VP. Toby stood the in center of the room before he noticed something was off about the situation.

Leo blinked, "Is there a reason for the restructuring?"

The three agents in the doorway showed there discomfort in different ways. One looked away, another shifted his weight and the final one rubbed his head. Ron offered an answer, "There was an "incident" last night."

Toby turned, "What happened?"

Ron cleared his throat, "I am afraid I am not a liberty to tell you at this moment."

The younger agent, whose eyes were firmly planted on the ground, looked up brief second, "Is Miss Moss ok?"

Leo blinked, "She called in sick today? Why?"

Once again the agents shifted. The air became thick with uncertainty.

Toby swallowed, "Did something happen to Donna?" None of the Agents spoke. "But she was with the President last night, I sent her over there for a meeting." The Agents avoided all eyes. Toby's thoughts started to ooze out of his mouth and he starts to put the pieces together, "But she should have been safe… Rule Number One." Toby started to shake with rage and he pressed passed the Agents.

The Vice President coughed a little, "Leo, send CJ to Donna's apartment to check up on her."

One of the agents crossed the room solemnly and reached his hand to the Vice President, "It has been an honor and privilege to serve you, sir." No one would see that agent again for nearly a year. Toby was a force of nature storming through the White House. No doors or pleasantries would stop him, even when the President's assistant told the speech writer he was busy didn't Toby stop.

Hoynes barely looked up from his papers, "Toby."

"You unbelievable son of a bitch!" Toby's hand firmly planted on the President's desk.

"No, Toby don't hold back…tell me what you really think."

"There were rules! They were clear and cut out. Lyman set them up for your protection!"

Hoynes glared up from his papers, "but Lyman doesn't work here any more. I'm a free man."

"I swear to God if you laid a finger on her…"

A snake smile smirked on Hoynes' face. "Oh I did more than put my fingers on her. And what are you going to do? You're nothing. I am the goddamn President of the United States; you are a fucking speech writer. America elected me for four more years… you can be fired tomorrow. You've got nothing. And her, she's not strong enough to fight me. Weak, like everyone who works for Bartlet."

Toby's knuckles were white as he turned away from the President. His hands were still shaking as he drove to his bank and opened the safety deposit box where he put the tape recorder that had been in his pocket during the entire encounter.

Donna's POV

"CJ are you going to lecture me?" I ask her after our massages. There was a little mix up at the Salon desk, when George came out ready to work his magic hands on me. I'm pretty sure all color drained from my face, I don't think I screamed, but CJ switched and had her back felt up by the very attractive George while I had Pam. See, the thing is I still have a hard time with the idea of a man touching me. Not Josh, but a stranger.

CJ looks over at me with her left hand dipped in water. "Do you think I should give you a lecture?"

I shrug and move my hand against Debbie's, my manicurist, wishes. "I'm sort of expecting one."

"Did you lecture me about dating Danny, the VP's Press Secretary dating a reporter? Did you lecture Sam and Ainsley? Zoey and Charlie? Nope. You were nothing but supportive. So here I am, being supportive and I am not going to say anything like it's a really bad idea dating to guy who used to work for the President that you got impeached. Or that it might look like you planned it this way the whole time. Or hiding the truth from him will only hurt you both. Nope I'm not going to say that, you have my undying support, Donna."

Gee, thanks CJ. "He's just not like I remember, he's different and kinda the same. He's funny and vulnerable, kind, smart and yet, very stupid. Charming, that's the word that sticks in my mind."

CJ coughs out a laugh, "Josh Lyman? We're talking about the same guy right?"

"Whatever, CJ."

As my various beauty treatments continue Jackson hovers over me and huffs, sighs and pouts. His objections go unnoticed for a long time, well not unnoticed, and uncommented. When CJ and I deem ourselves relaxed and stunning, we head out to leave.

I skip over to Jackson and place my head on his icy, hard shoulder, look up at him with my dear like eyes and pout ever so slightly, "Hey Jackson, you wouldn't happen to know Josh's cabin number would you?"

His face is ridged, carved out of stone, "Yes."

My bottom lip quivers just slightly, "Are you going to tell me?"

His neck spins around so quickly, I'm afraid it's going to snap. "You're kidding right?" I shake my head. "Damn it, Donna, how stupid are you? This is a HUGE mistake, I can see the shit flying in the air towards you and you aren't even ducking. This will end very badly. You're going to get hurt and it isn't a matter of if but when. I am officially stating your relationship with Josh Lyman is a bad idea and I won't be there to dry your tears."

I lift my head from his shoulder, "Duly noted." Spinning on my heels I turn and face Simon Donovan. In a singsong voice and with my eyes wide and lower lip pouted, "Simon?" He's a sucker for the pout.

He swallows, "Yes, Donna?"

"Do you know what his room number is?"

"Yes."

My pout grows bigger by the second. "Are you going to tell me?"

He stutters and looks at Jackson and then me, sighs and puts his head down in shame, "He's in cabin 7123." Ha HA! Sucker! His sacrifice and inevitable ass kicking from Jackson earns him a quick peck on the cheek.

I stick my tongue out at Jackson and start heading towards the stairs. "Bye guys. I'm going to say a quick hello."

I don't hear or at least pretend not to hear Jackson warning, and I nearly hop down the stair. I laugh when I get to his door, recalling during our tour of the ship, Josh pointed that the luggage outside this door looked lot like his.

I knock on door, gently at first, when there's no answer, slightly harder. Did Simon give me the wrong number? Would be betray me for Jackson's approval? The door swings open. Nope, Simon's still loyal to me. Josh stands there doing his best deer caught in headlight imitation.

"Hi." I lift my hand up and give a small wave.

He swallows, "Hi." He's got that whole, "I just took a shower and fell asleep on my bed look". His hair is disheveled but he smells clean. I stand in the doorway, feeling slightly vampire waiting for an invitation to come in. Rather quickly and randomly he states, "I got a dog."

"What?"

"A towel dog, do you want to see it?" He opens the door further and points with his hand in the direction of the famous towel dog. I walk in and he follows behind me; I'm pretty sure he slaps himself in the head and mutters something about being stupid.

"I like your room." I look around.

"It's identical to yours."

"That it is. How's Sam?"

"Fine."

"Hmm, that is in fact a towel dog."

"Told ya."

"Very mature." I turn and face him. Ok there are times it's very easy to forget you're on a moving vessel. Cruise ships are designed so the passengers feel a minimal amount of movement, but when you are traveling on an unstable surface like water, occasionally you'll lose your balance. I guess the boat hit a rough spot because I fall into Josh's chest. My hands look good on his blue tee shirt. I look up at him, wanting to apologize for being a klutz, but I don't. Butterflies on crack are doing a Russian Ballet in my stomach, my eyes focus on his lips before everything goes black.

Did I just go blind?

No, I just shut my eyes. Why would I do that? OH. I feel his lips lightly graze mine; it isn't wet and sloppy, but delicate, tentative. He's testing the waters. Or I am.

The waters are fine.

The second kiss is a little harder; our mouths open just a little wider. I feel nearly weak when he touches my cheek with his thumb. Each kiss brings us closer to each other. I move my hand up his chest and closer to his neck; he lets a noise almost like a whimper. Aside from sleeping, this is the longest stretch of time we've gone without speaking.

He stops kissing my lips and moves down to my neck, as he whispers, "I met Jefferson today."

Oh Shit.

His palm is at the base of my skull and his fingers, he leans my neck back to expose more. My God his lips feel good.

"Yeah?" Concentrate Donna. Is he sucking my neck too? Yep. I cling to him in order to keep my balance.

"He threatened to kill me with toast." He exhales into my hair.

"That sounds like him." I move my neck to return the attention. Before I make my way to his neck I stop off at his lips. He tastes like mint and coffee. Our tongues dance and search together. His fingers still massage my head and I run my left hand up his arm.

For a moment I'm just grateful to have this part of my life back, to feel like a woman, desired, and longed for, to be touched, to touch someone. None of the anxiety has entered my mind like I thought it would. He makes me feel relaxed and weak. I need to sit down. My legs are quickly turning to jelly. As if he's reading my mind we start to head backwards, that's three steps (the cabins are ridiculously small) to the bed. When the back of my legs touch the bed, my arm pulls away from his neck and I start to feel for the bed.

His voice is husky; his eyes open as he breaks the kiss, "Donna, why do you have Secret Service?"

My eyes fly open and my brain screams, because I toppled a President. Because everyday five new death threats are delivered to my desk, house or childhood home. Because I find dead animals on my door step… But all of those seem like a mood killer. So I settle for misdirection, "Do you really want to talk about this now?" I sit down on the bed, doe eyes wide and hair trestle. Over the years I formed a habit of biting my lower lip, not in a pout, but nervous and painfully cute. Some men find it sexy.

His eyes grew wide for a second as he seems to be taking me in, studying me. "Um, no." He doesn't launch himself towards me, but it wasn't as slow the first kiss, smooth and steady, like he's gliding. He continues to kiss me, but one of his knees are on the bed, and his arm around my waist he pushes me farther up the bed.

So here it is, the moment of truth. Am I going to panic and freak out because a man's on top of me? I hold my breath, and open my eyes to see him, lust burning in his eyes and at the same time, asking for my trust; sweet tenderness as he strokes my cheek with his lips slightly parted. The husk in his voice makes it nearly unrecognizable when I hear, "God, you are so beautiful."

Yeah, I'm going to be fine.

We resume kissing each other. Hot. Passionate. I'm getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. We share each breath, almost cursing the biological necessity of breathing because it takes away from the kissing. His body quivers above me, our bare legs touch, sending electricity through my body. Suddenly I am grateful I decided to wear a skirt today. While his lips move between my lips, neck and nibble at my ears, his hands stay in neutral zones; my waist, my hair or intertwined with my fingers. I want him to touch me, feel me; do I have to make the first move?

I pull at the back of his shirt, touching his back. Flesh on flesh, new and exotic places, uncharted. Man, I am being redundant here. My fingers move up his spine and his shivers under my touch. My eyes open to watch his reaction, he head lifts back and a moan leaves his lips. I launch myself to him, catching his moan in my mouth through a kiss. I made him moan, I want to keep it.

His thumb lifts my shirt just enough to expose my stomach, which his fingers are making slow circles around my belly button. Now it's my turn to moan.

"You're skin's so shiny"

What? Oh, "It's from the massage oils."

He breathes me in, "Its smells nice." Last night he was bragging about his 760 SAT score. Now all he can come up with is "nice". I must be doing something right. I start to pull his shirt up higher and until he finally has to end another kiss to get his shirt around his head. He's on his knees, sitting straight up, bare chest in front of me. My fingers snake their way up his perfect body. He must have been working out while he was away. I sit up to get a closer look, eyes following where my fingers lead, from his stomach, up past his nipples, his neck, which I've been quite familiar with, finally to his lips. He gently kisses my fingers, his eyes never leaving me.

With a great surge of power I roll him over and the power has switched, I straddle him, feeling his hardness between my legs. Before I close my eyes, to enjoy the sensation, I notice his eyes roll back and his hands are on my thighs. I move my hips ever so slightly, feeling him, his heat on mine. My hands are firmly planted his chest. He yanks me forward and we return to our favorite pass time.

"I though you weren't that kind of girl." He gasps out as I start kissing his neck and make my way ever so slowly further south.

"What kind of girl?" I ask as my tongue makes little circles around his nipples.

"The kind of girl who kisses on the first date."

He lifts my chin up before I can go much farther, "It isn't our first date."

He kisses my button lips and starts to unbutton my shirt. Finally! "Oh, really? second?"

He fumbles a little with the buttons until, VICTORY, my shirts fully open, stomach, bra, breast exposed, while still being protected by the shirt. For a second I forget we're talking, I'm watching him intently, his eyes change, soften, his breathing deepens, and his, um, hardens. In my small gallery of lovers, none of them have looked at me like this. Right now, all of his concentration is on me. His hands move slowly up my arms, creating warmth where they touch and a chill where they leave.

"It's our fourth date." I manage to say.

His eyebrows question me as his fingers continue up to my shoulders, "I'm a little confused." But that doesn't stop him from removing my shirt all together. So here I sit, on top of Josh, with nothing but my lacy black bra, (Thanks Ainsley), lacy black thong, (Thanks again Ainsley) and my blue pelted tennis skirt with little white flowers, trying to explain all of our dates. But quite frankly its been too long since the last kiss, so I crawl up his chest, my breast the only part of me touching his body, and start kissing him again.

The two of us, chest to chest, skin on skin and hearts beating together, "Snake story started our first one."

He's kissing anything he can get his lips on, "uh huh."

I repeat the action, "Dinner was the second."

"When you went off about Willy Wonka." His fingers trace my back in a similar fashion mine did, which feels like forever ago.

He unhooks my bra; it slides off as if it was never there. Cold air crosses my breasts and his hands start to warm them.

"Third date, when was that?" He asks as he rolls me over.

His lips and tongue caress my neck and his whole body slithers down mine. He palms my breast, making me purr or moan or something, "Waking up in your arms, third date." I gasp. His eyes meet mine for a second; each time I look into them, I see something new. Earlier it was desire, then lust, now something I can't really place. A blend of tenderness and passion, maybe.

"Which one was your favorite?" He asks with sincerity.

"The third one, but this one is quickly becoming a front runner; well see how it goes."

His dimples flash, any self control I was holding on to, is officially gone.

His fingers move from my breast, down past my waist and lift my skirt, slowly, painfully. Literally. I've never wanted someone as much as I want him. The pressure is towards the breaking point. His fingers trace the outline of my underwear. I hiss, "yesss."

"ATTENTION LADIES AND GENTLEMAN WE HAVE REACHED LUXURY ISLAND."

Josh and I both jump; in fact I think I push him off of me. Is God in the room? I search for the location of His voice. Clearly catching Josh off guard he sits up and blinks for a few seconds.

"PASSANGERS WILL BE ALOWED TO DEBARK IN A FEW MINUTES TO ENJOY THIS TROPICAL PARADISE."

My dizzying escapades take a few seconds to shake off. "What time is it?"

Josh looks at me as if I'm alien to him, and then looks at his watch. "12:30."

12:30 I was supposed to meet CJ over an hour ago! We were doing that for an hour and half! How is that possible? I jump off the bed and dash to the phone, when I hear CJ's voice. I look in the mirror. My skin is all blushed and lips are lightly swollen and pink. I'm naked! Well, not really but still, I don't feel the need to cover up. Very interesting.

"Hey CJ, um, I got distracted, I'll need a few minutes," and a shower, "Can I meet you in your room in twenty?"

Silence from the other end, then in a tone distinctively CJ, definitely smiling, "Sure, no problem, take your time Donna."

I hear Josh stir from the bed, apparently he has moved since I left. "Great, see you in a few."

In the mirror he stands behind me, holding my bra and placing my arms through the straps. He's dressing me? Don't guys like to sit and stare for a while? He looks down at my back as he fastens the bra and glides me around. Bashfully he looks at my neck, "I'm sorry, I really didn't want it to go that far."

I lift his chin, with drunken eyes, and kindness in my voice, "It's ok, I really didn't mind."

He guides my arms into the sleeves of my shirt; this time able to look me in the eyes. Warmth. That's what's in his eyes this time. "I don't want you feeling pressured or getting hurt or anything like that."

My heart sinks for a second, does he know? Did Sam tell him? Toby? Is that why he's being so gentle with me? He sees me as just another victim? He leans in and his lips press softly against mine, "I really like you and I want everything to be perfect." Maybe he doesn't know. He's just really sincere and honest. Who knew there were guys like that left in DC?

I kind of feel like I'm in middle school saying this but, "I like you too," I return the kiss, "I'll let you know if it's going too fast."

He gives me a small nod as he finishes buttoning my shirt. When he isn't in the throws of passion, he's a lot more nimble. We dress each other and for a moment linger in each other arms. I rest my head on his chest as he rubs his hands up and down my back. "Waking up with you was one of the best dates of my life." He whispers.

And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I've fallen head over heels for Josh Lyman.

The knocking at the door started and didn't want to stop until our private moment was interrupted.

Josh opens the door, "Hi Sam." Before opening the door wider, he pushes me in front of him, hiding his any remaining "excitement" from Sam.

Sam, of course, has the "I've caught you with your hand in the cookie jar" face.

"Hi Josh." He smirks at me, "Hi Donna." His attentions turn to Josh. "I guess you were too busy to look at the various snorkeling spots, huh?"

Josh scratches his head, "You know I really didn't."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. There's a secluded beach somewhere around here with some of the best snorkeling but its pretty far out, only recommended for people with experience. You up for it?"

"Sure. Um, I need a few minutes to take a shower and get ready."

Sam's eye brow rises slightly, "But you already took a shower, didn't you."

"Nope." Josh is lying and we all know it.

"How about I take Donna back to her room and you get ready?" Sam offers.

"Sure." He spins me around in his arms and looks annoyed at Sam, "Can I have a minute?"

"In all fairness you've had close to two hours."

Josh slams the door in Sam's face.

He kisses my forehead. God, I love those lips! Have my mentioned his lips yet?

I say into his chest. "I'll see you later." I'm sort of hating Sam right now, for making me leave.

"I'll find you." He says coyly.

"Oh, really? How will you do that?"

His dimples and smiles make my knees weak, again, "Oh I have a feeling you'll be on a certain secluded beach near some excellent snorkeling."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep. I'm very clever like that."

I lean in for one last, sweet, loving kiss. "I guess I'll see you later then."

"I guess you will." Josh opens the door and ushers me out.

Sam's standing across the hallway, leaning on the wall with one leg on it. He cocks one eyebrow at me. "You've been busy."

I shrug, "I guess."

We start to walk to the stairs; my room is on the other side of the ship and one floor down. His voice is cold, very unlike Sam. "You know, I threatened to kick his ass if he hurts you."

"How very Lancelot of you." I scuff.

"So did Toby and Jefferson, and it's only a matter of time before Jackson points a gun in Josh's face, stating similar sentiments." I don't answer, knowing he's right. Sam continues. "Did you tell him?"

"Nope."

He sighs rather angrily, "Donna you have to tell him."

"I will when we get back to DC."

"Tonight."

I look up in horror, "NO! Sam, you don't understand, I'm beginning to remember what's it's like to feel happy. Don't take this from me." My lower lip starts to quiver, in fear of losing something I just got. I didn't know I wanted or needed but now that I have it, I'm not sure if I can live without it.

A different sigh escapes his mouth, "Tomorrow night. It's the last night on the cruise."

"The morning we return back to port, before we leave the ship."

"Fine, but either you tell him or I will."

"Fine."

He eyes me up and down, "Did you bring a turtle neck to cover up that hickey?" I slap my hand over my neck.

"WHAT!"

He smirks, "Just kidding. That's for making Ainsley think I was a porn freak."

Oh come on Sam, that was funny. Your little comment almost gave me a heart attack. Curtis and Gina, two more agents on my detail, are already pacing the hallways for me. Sam becomes serious when we get to my door. "Donna, it isn't a matter of if he gets hurt, but when." That's the second time I've heard that today. "And when he does, that's on you." Curtis opens my door. I enter and face Sam one more time, giving him a knowing nod.

Here I am, Donna Moss, "Man Slayer"," and Dream Crusher". I'm going to be the one who hurts Josh, the one person I tried so hard to protect.