“Good morning Margaret,” Toby said, walking into her office, juggling his expandable file under his arm. “And how are you this morning?”

Margaret looked up from her keyboard and raised her eyebrows. She looked him up and down, checking that the voice matched the face. “Toby?”

“Yes, Margaret,” he answered with a slight upturn of his lips.

“You’re freaking me out,” she deadpanned.

“Can’t a man be cheerful without everyone wondering what’s up?” Toby growled.

“Now that’s more like the Toby we know and love,” Margaret chuckled, a small blush tinting her cheeks. The L-word just slipped out, not that it was the first time. She had once, more than a little drunk, told him she loved his writing. All perfectly innocent enough, except where Toby was concerned, she had a habit of turning many shades of red.

“Is he in?”

Margaret shook her head. “He’s with the President in the Oval but he shouldn‘t be long. Do you want me to call over when he’s done?” she asked, returning to her keyboard and her high speed clicking.

Toby positioned himself against the filing cabinet and waited to see how long she would stay silent. “I’ll wait.”

Margaret’s head bobbed up and down in acknowledgment as she lifted the next page of the document to her face. “Damn! What the hell?” she muttered, forgetting his presence.

“Problem?”

Margaret scrunched her face up in consternation. “That man will be the death of me.“ She lifted her eyes to look at him and waved the paper at him. “Leo’s made notations but I can’t read what the hell they say.”

Toby moved over to the desk and took the sheet from her hand. He frowned at the scrawl and rubbed his forehead. “That’s worse than my handwriting.”

Margaret didn’t respond. Toby’s close proximity was having a profound effect on her. The mixture of his cologne and the cigars he liked to smoke were overpowering her better sense.

Margaret leaned in a fraction closer and she couldn’t help but take a deep breath. The only way to describe him was the essence of a real man. She closed her eyes dreamily. Realizing what she was doing Margaret pulled back. This isn’t a romance novel, she told herself, snap out of it.

“Don’t worry about it.” She gave him a grin. “So why are you so happy?”

Toby rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his grin barely concealed behind his beard. “I have the weekend off. And there just so happens to be a Yankees game and I have tickets.”

“You’re this happy because you get to watch grown men run around a stadium, waving a club thing around?” Margaret asked, staring at him. She really didn‘t understand men‘s obsession with sports. Chuckling she said, “I thought maybe you’d ‘got your leg over‘.”

Toby coughed and flushed pink at her comment. He stuttered as he tried to find the words. “I . . . Um. . . Margaret?”

She shrugged. “It was an easy mistake to make.”

Toby stared at his shoes as his embarrassment got the better of him. He couldn’t believe Margaret, prim and proper, efficient Margaret, had just made reference to his sex life.

Margaret grinned as she debated whether to torment him further. “If things are that bad, maybe I can have Ginger pull you a copy of the sex ed report.” She couldn’t help but enjoy herself, it was almost as easy as teasing Sam, and he was as naïve as the day was long.

“It hasn’t been that long,” he mumbled, his eyes darting to the open doorway, fully expecting to see CJ or Josh loitering. Not that long at all, if you counted the endless stream of women Abbey tried to force on him on official functions.

“Really?” Margaret asked, her voice high pitched. She mentally slapped herself for being as presumptuous to think he sat at home of a night alone, of course he dated.

Toby glared at her. “I can get women. You think I can’t?”

Margaret stifled her laughter at Toby’s expression. It was boarding on incredulous with a touch of hesitancy as he mentally debated the last time he had a date.

“I can be romantic. I can be personable,” he continued, now flustered. He couldn’t believe what had gotten into him. Now he was trying to prove his sexual prowess to Margaret. No, not to Margaret, but the rest of the assistants she would no doubt tell.

“I can believe it,“ Margaret said, dreamily. “And what’s your idea of a perfect date?“ Margaret challenged, her head now leaning on her hands as she gazed up at him.

Toby drummed his fingers against his forehead. “My ideal date would be a Yankees game and pizza. But . . .,” he stressed, “. . .if we’re talking romance, then dinner at the Jefferson and dancing at Columbia Station. And maybe a romantic walk along the Potomac to end the evening.”

Leo came bustling through the door and dropped a pile of folders on Margaret’s desk before he noticed Toby. He turned back to Margaret. “You aren’t tormenting the man with muffin matters again, are you?”

“He’s here to see you and said he’d wait,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Okay. In that case, is he bothering you?” Leo asked, his tone playful.

Margaret gave Leo a small smile before gazing back up at Toby. “Nope, actually I’m getting fixed up,” Margaret stated, giving Toby a lopsided grin.

Toby’s “Deer in the headlights” look was enough to make Margaret laugh. That, and the look of total shock horror on Leo’s.

Leo looked between them before focusing his attention on Toby. “You’re asking my assistant out?”

Toby shrugged as words failed him. He wondered where exactly he’d lost control of the situation and stared at his feet.

“And if you wouldn’t mind leaving us alone Leo, I’ll give him my answer,” Margaret said, handing him a stack of messages without her eyes ever leaving Toby.

Leo grumbled and stalked off into his office.

“It’s okay. I was playing around. It was worth it just to see the looks on both your faces,” Margaret chuckled, grinning before she started typing again. “You might want to go on in. He has a meeting in ten minutes.”

Toby continued to shuffle his feet and scratch the back of his head. The only thing stopping him from calling her bluff was CJ’s voice in his head-- It wasn’t bad enough that Sam dated his daughter, now you want to date his assistant. What next, Josh and Leo’s sister?

Finally he sighed and took two steps in the direction of Leo’s office. So it was a crazy idea, but then he’d come to work for a New Hampshire academic who had no chance at the Presidency and look how that turned out.

He stopped at the door and looked back.

“Margaret?”

She looked up, expectantly.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” Toby offered nonchalantly as he disappeared into Leo’s office.

Margaret stared after him, not really sure if she was hearing things or whether he had actually agreed to a date. Her stomach started to somersault as she replayed his words in her head.

Finally she shook her head and returned to her keyboard, but after a few seconds she was grinning widely and staring back off into space.

“Margaret!” Leo yelled. When she didn’t reply he walked out into her office. He leaned over her shoulder and shook his head at the gibberish on screen. “Margaret?”

“Sorry, Leo,” she mumbled, turning to look at him. “What do you need?”

“The 1998 Campaign contributor stats.” He watched as she crossed to the filing cabinet and extracted a file, before coming back and handing it to him.

“You have a meeting in five.”

“Yeah, I know.” Leo turned to walk back into his office but stopped to glance over his shoulder. Chuckling he teased, “If he brings this sort of reaction when he asks you out on a date, god help me if he ever asks you to marry him.” Without waiting for a reply, Leo closed the door behind him.

Margaret stared at the door, her eyes wide, before her face broke out into an even wider grin as she imagined the scene that sentence invoked.

The End