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probably the first time she’s tried to date her work.”
     
    She shook his hand.
     
    “I’m Molly.”
     
    “Joe.”
     
    “You know she’s trying to destroy you, right, Joe?”
     
    “With those legs I just might let her.”
     
    Sierra found herself blushing like a schoolgirl and desperately hoping he hadn’t noticed. Joe produced a business card from his wallet and held it out it to Molly.
     
    “Give my secretary a call on Monday. I’d like to buy one of your paintings.”
     
    Molly snatched up the business card.
     
    “I think I like him.” she said to Sierra.
     
    “It’s good that you approve.” Sierra replied. “Shall we be going?” she asked Joe.
     
    “Of course,” Joe said. “You can give me the grand tour later.”
     
    Joe swept her out the door of the apartment and down to the parking garage to his waiting Range Rover.
     
    “So,” he asked as he pulled out of the garage, “are you really planning to destroy me?”
     
    Feeling less sure of herself by the minute, Sierra paused before answering, “I haven’t decided yet.”
     
    He smiled at her.
     
    “Good.”
     
    La Petite Maison was located in a charming little white house. The maître‘d greeted them enthusiastically and didn’t seem in the least perturbed that the Governor had not bothered to make a reservation. They were led up to their table on the balcony outside. overlooking the cobblestone courtyard below. The menu was almost entirely in French, the wine was fantastic, and the service was excellent.
     
    Sierra waited until the bread course to ask, “So what were you doing out there in the woods?”
     
    “Is this an interview or a date?” he asked.
     
    “You tell me.”
     
    He chose another brioche a tete before answering. “I would like to think you’re here because you’re beginning to enjoy my company, but I can’t flatter myself that much. Still, I suspect I am growing on you.”
     
    “Are you trying to say that you’re here for a date and I’m here for an interview?”
     
    “I am most definitely here for a date. And you’re still here for an interview, but I think maybe I can turn that around.”
     
    “Does that mean you’ll answer my question?”
     
    Their first course arrived; a perfectly seared sea scallop on top of a dollop of wild mushroom risotto.
     
    “The truth is, I feel a lot more comfortable in the woods then I do at political functions or French restaurants with ridiculously small portions.”
     
    “That’s it?” Sierra said, disbelieving. “You drove for two hours in the middle of the week to go on a nature walk?”
     
    “I also fish.”
     
    “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
     
    He smiled at her mischievously. “What else could I have been doing?”
     
    He was taunting her. He’d brought her to a $100 a plate restaurant just to taunt her.
     
    “Ok.” she said. “It’s a date.”
     
    “It is?”
     
    “If this were an interview, you’d actually answer my questions.”
     
    “Really? Have you interviewed many politicians?”
     
    Sierra stood up to go.
     
    “Wait!” He grabbed her hand. “Don’t go. I hear the chocolate soufflé is excellent, though also tiny. And if you stay, I’ll tell you where the money went.”
     
    Cautiously, Sierra sat back down.
     
    “It was a payroll advance for a camp employee. Her daughter’s sick and she really needed the money. It wasn’t a strictly above-board, but I wanted to help her out. That’s an honest answer.”
     
    “That was one hell of an advance, Joe.”
     
    “Like I said, sick daughter. The cost of health care is deplorable. Can we talk about something else now? You did say this was a date.”
     
    “What should we talk about?”
     
    “How about how you look in that dress? Or how I’d like to take you to the woods sometime to look at the stars at night, only this time you should wear better shoes, unless you’d like to roll around in the mud with me again, because that’s really