C.J. watched Sam pace back and forth in the doorway of her office. "No. You know what? I think she likes you."

Sam paused. "Why would she -- she's a Southern Republican, I'm a Californian Democrat; that doesn't make any sense! Why would she like me?"

"Because you're pretty," C.J. said simply, walking past him into the hall.

"I am not pretty!" Sam insisted, following her.

CJ stopped by her assistant's desk. "Carol?"

Carol looked up. "Yeah, Sam's pretty."

"See?"

"I don't understand you people," Sam grumbled.

"It's the cheekbones," C.J. informed him.

"And the hair," Carol added.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I am not pretty!"

"You are pretty, Sam," Ainsley said, coming up behind him. "In a very California way."

Sam blushed brilliantly. CJ laughed softly and walked back into her office.

"We're still on for tonight, right?" Ainsley asked.

He waved her off. "I've gotta work on the thing."

"Thing?" she repeated, doubtfully.

"Yeah, the thing. The... education thing."

"I took care of the education thing for you yesterday!"

"Oh."

She frowned. "So, you're just looking for excuses now."

"I'm not--"

"Let's go." She pulled him along down the hallway, casting a dubious look at his suit. "Are you wearing that?"

Sam was confused. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Lose the tie, and the coat. Trust me, Sam."

"You're not going to make me wrestle an alligator, are you?"

She smiled playfully. "The night is young...."

He stopped in his tracks. "Oh, my God."

"Relax. I'm joking. Come on, pretty boy."

* * *

"Okay. Now, I promise, these people don't bite."

Ainsley was wearing a T-shirt and jeans; Sam had changed into a sweater. He hesitated nervously outside the bar. "Why do I keep hearing dueling banjos in my head?"

"Because you're being stereotypical." She led him inside. As they sat down at a table, she gestured to the band. "Gotta love these guys."

"You do?"

"Is it so much to ask that you keep an open mind?" Ainsley demanded, signaling the waitress for two beers. "Charlie Daniels is the best fiddler in the country!"

"Okay, you have to understand that when you say that to me, it's like saying someone's the best pogo-stick guy in the country."

"He's like Hendrix with the guitar. He's a genius. Except he's not on drugs."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it."

Ainsley sang along with the band. "I done told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best there's ever been!" She laughed and applauded. "You wanna dance, Sam?"

He demurred. "I'm not the world's best dancer."

She rolled her eyes. "It's line dancing, Sam. It's not hard. Look...." She pulled him to the dance floor and joined in.

He stood on the edge, watching. "They made us do the Alley Cat in gym class when I was in sixth grade, and I swore off line-dancing forever."

"This is country line dancing, Sam. Here." She stood in front of him and put her hands on his hips. "Follow me."

Sam tried to resist, but found himself following along, slowly getting into the rhythm. He missed a beat and stepped on someone's cowboy boot, falling over sideways. It earned him several disapproving stares, from other dancers who found him in their way.

Ainsley said a silent thank you as a slow song started. "Come on, get up. Surely you can handle this?"

He moved closer to her and they danced. "So," he began, "The thing with Baker and Shugman--"

She spoke in a warning tone. "Sam, if you start talking about work tonight, I'm going to hit you."

"--Okay."

She rested her head on his shoulder as the music played.

*Baby, I've been drifting away
And dreaming all day
Of holding you, touching you
The only thing I wanna do is be with you
As close to you as I can be...*

"This is a good song. What's it called?"

Ainsley blushed and mumbled something he couldn't hear.

*Let's make love, all night long
Until all our strength is gone
Hold on tight, just let go
I want to feel you in my soul
Until the sun comes up
Let's make love....*

Abruptly, Sam stopped dancing. He looked at her face with dawning realization, and backed away, heading to their table. She tried not to let the hurt show on her face, and went after him. "Sam--"

He sat down; she followed suit. "Look, Ainsley. Here's the thing."

Her voice was falsely light. "You use that word an awful lot."

"I know." He looked uncomfortable. "Listen. This isn't a date. I think it's really sweet that you asked me here tonight, but this isn't -- this can't be a date."

"You think I'm sweet?"

"Ainsley...."

"Sam, I'm kidding. It's not a date. You're a Democrat, after all. I'm a hated Republican."

He chuckled softly. "So you're saying you would never date a Democrat?"

"No, I'm just saying my father would probably shoot you." Sam's face turned pale, and Ainsley clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, God. Open mouth, insert foot. That was really the wrong choice of words." She looked at her glass and sighed. "I... I'm sorry. I just don't think sometimes. Where I come from, shotgun weddings are acceptable."

He gazed down at the table. "No, it's okay. I--"

"I should've watched my mouth. I talk too much, I don't think first, I babble, I--"

"Ainsley?" he interrupted.

She threw up her hands. "See?"

"It's really okay," he assured her.

"Okay." She bit her lip.

He played with his drink for a long moment. "It's been kind of rough lately, is all."

"Since the Newseum?" she asked, quietly.

Sam's voice was low. "People haven't been themselves. My friends -- I've known Josh for years, and it's just been -- I don't know if I can talk about this."

Ainsley watched his face. "You don't have to. But... I'll listen."

He continued slowly. "I wasn't hurt that night, you know."

"I know."

"I was fine, and -- Josh was the reason I joined the campaign." She nodded as he went on. "I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have this life, if it wasn't for Josh. And we almost lost him, and then... we just went back to work. We didn't think."

"You had a country to run," she reminded him gently.

He shrugged sadly. "I'm supposed to be his friend."

"You are his friend." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You defend him instantly, without a thought. You're there for him as much as you can be. You *are* a friend, Sam."

"Yeah." He took a swallow of his drink. "Thanks."

Ainsley stood up suddenly. "I've got to go to the bathroom, okay?"

Sam called after her. "Hey."

She turned back. "What?"

He seemed to search for the right thing to say. "You did a good job on the education memo."

"I thought I told you not to bring up work." Ainsley smiled faintly, but she was visibly upset. "I'm going to the bathroom."

When she returned, she found Sam listening to the band play, and clearly enjoying it. She had been crying, and it was obvious.

"I told you," she said. "The band is good!"

He looked up at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She sat down across from him.

"You're a very bad liar."

"Yeah."

"If you wanted to talk...." He leveled a serious look at her and waited.

She was unnaturally calm. "My friends don't speak to me and my father is close to disowning me."

"Because you work for us?"

"Yes."

"That seems incredibly closed-minded," Sam commented.

"They assume the same things about you that you assume about them." She shrugged. "Politics is a nasty, nasty business."

"Yeah. Sometimes. Look--"

She spoke at the same time. "Listen, I--"

They both stopped and looked at each other. Finally, Sam spoke. "You wanted to say something?"

"Just -- I'm glad you came with me tonight. That's all."

"I had fun," Sam admitted.

Ainsley brightened somewhat. "See? I knew you would."

He smiled and inclined his head toward the dance floor. "Would you like to...."

"Oh..." She shook her head. "No, Sam. It's okay."

"Come on! You said you wanted to show me your idea of a good time." He grinned warmly at her. "I won't even fall down this time."

She looked at him, considering. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I probably won't fall down," he amended. He stood up and offered her his hand.

Ainsley joined him slowly. "Okay."

"You know something else?" Sam asked, as a new song began to play. "Your friends are missing out."

"So are you," Ainsley murmured under her breath.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks, Sam," she said, and they began dancing.

*Strawberry wine and seventeen
The hot July moon saw everything
My first taste of love, oh, bittersweet
Green on the vine
Like strawberry wine....*