Previously: Nora and Holly tried to insert themselves into the Ojai workplace, and Holly prevailed, while Nora did not; Robert invited Kitty up to his ranch for lunch 'n' flirting; Tommy and Julia conceived successfully; Joe and Sarah clashed over Gabe; Kitty took the job with Robert.

Fade up on Das Boringhaus, where Tommy is in the shower and wocka wocka wow jazz guitar is playing. I hate pregnancy-hormones "story"-lines; I hate "isn't it funny when horndog guys don't want to have sex every single second and the so-called gender roles get reversed" subplots even more; and if the show isn't going to care about Tommy and Julia in any meaningful way, I can't either. Naked soapy Balthazar Getty does have his blandishments, but... still. The short version: Julia climbs into the shower with Tommy, refers to the sex they just had, calls him "stud" (just a reminder: nobody talks like this, estrogen tsunami or no), and drops to her knees for an out-of-frame encore.

Robert is addressing what looks like a Republican women's fundraising lunch with a story about how he learned to cook in his mother's kitchen, hit puberty, decided cooking didn't qualify as manly, and took a ration from his mother as a result -- she told him that taking care of people is not gendered, but rather a privilege and an honor. Sounds like someone might have rewritten Mama McCallister, since a direct quote probably would have sounded more like "you can get in here and help me peel some potatoes or I can ground you 'til you're thirty -- this isn't a restaurant." Robert goes on that taking care of people is how he sees politics, and his role in it. The GOPettes eat it up; from the back of the room, Kitty watches with a skeptical duck face on. He glad-hands a few prospective donors, then asks what Kitty thought; she's like, "It's a Republican group -- not exactly a tough room," and he wonders if, since it's her first week, maybe she shouldn't kiss up to him a little more. Which Kitty Walker did he think he hired? Just then, he's approached by the fantastic Caroline Aaron, who tells him there's nothing sexier than a man who loves his mom, and that he's "so much sexier" than he looks on C-Span. Nobody looks good on C-Span, Robert says: "It's the lighting." Not always; I don't know how you could light Dennis Hastert where it would make any difference. Anyway, as Kitty looks on with a mixture of jealousy and incredulity, Caroline Aaron rates Robert "a 94.5 -- I have to take off something for the divorce." It turns out that she's an executive matchmaker (as well as a big donor), and she refers to Robert as "the 200-pound tuna of bachelors," a great catch who doesn't have time to find a suitable partner, and that's where she comes in. Kitty is having none of it, in her usual graceless fashion, and herds Robert away for a meeting with the governor. He walks off, examining the matchmaker's business card, which Kitty demands that he hand over; he refuses; she calls the matchmaker "objectifying, pushy, and judgmental," which is rich coming from Kitty, and reminds him that the press would have a field day if they found out Robert used a madam; Robert objects to the term "madam"; Kitty's all, "It's so unromantic," splutters on for a while about arbitrary numbers, and finally realizes Robert is "trying to get" her. "Not 'trying' -- 'succeeding.' And spec-tac-ularly, I might add," he says, smirking, and out the door they go, still tussling. Just do it already, you two.