Rating: R (at least)
Pairing: B/A
Category: AU, Romance, Humor
Disclaimer: nope, not mine – nuh-uh, don't even want them, and I promise to give them back, happier and more sated *g* in the end
Feedback: yep, I love it – send it to me at mariavelasquez1945@hotmail.com
Summary: AU, Buffy lives in New York and is in her late twenties – and she needs Angel for a special reason
Dedication: to Jill, who gave me the courage to post this! Thanks, honey.

Note: I'm from Buenos Aires, Argentina! I use English in daily life and work, but it's still not my first language! So please be kind.

Humiliating. That was what it was. To be laughed at by the man of your dreams – especially after presenting him with your proposition. As usual, I should have known better than to have trusted Angel Connor O'Rourke with this.

"I just love this! Wait a minute, let me get this right." Casually folding his arms across the *wide* expanse of his chest, Angel stood still for a moment and flashed a singularly sinister grin at me. As if trying to understand what I had said, he slowly gestured to himself and then to me. "You need me. You, Buffy Anne Summer, you need me."

"Shut up!"

So it was one of the most bubbleheaded plans that that I had ever come up with. Give me a break. It was not my best plan as yet but it was the best that I could come up within the space of six hours. Which was roughly about the time I had taken yelling, panicking and generally freaking out after I received the fateful message from my parents telling me about their imminent arrival. As usual my spontaneous parents – who had obviously never heard of an invention called a telephone – didn't bother in the least to give me a week's preparation in advance but had sent an SMS just before boarding their flight at the airport. Had it ever occurred to them that I could have had other plans?

I doubted it. It certainly never occurred to them that their daughter, the dutiful Buffy Summers, could have any other priorities in life apart from her work. Sure, they knew that their older daughter was a single white female in big, scary New York, and probably thought I was doing all the things they saw in "Sex and the City", namely practising deviant, unspeakable acts – though I certainly hadn't been doing any of those for an unspecified amount of time – but that certainly didn't mean that I couldn't provide them with a grandkid one day. For some odd reason, my parents simply couldn't fathom the revolutionary idea that living single and being happy was something I could wish for. The fact that my younger sister had already done the deed and provided two crying little bundles – therefore relieving me of that particular role – was also lost to them. Ever since their retirement, it seemed as if the two insane workaholics had pooled their relentless ambition into a single goal – trying to get me settled down – with or without my consent.

Despite my protests and fervent reminders that I was happy the way I was living, they persisted in inviting this and that handsome man into my life. Somehow Mr. X's son would be travelling by and stopping over in town, desperately in need of some guidance through big, bad New York. Could I possibly … ? Before they could wave their list of single available men in my face again, I blurted out the closest excuse I could find. Asking Angel to be my pretend boyfriend was not my primary intention. The intention was just to get them off my back – and let me get back to my own life. At that moment, it certainly had never occurred to me that my parents would want to come over to inspect their prospective son-in-law.

"Don't make it more than it is." The man hadn't stopped smirking and I glared at him. "It is just for a day. At the most for three days."

"This certainly messes up your plans, doesn't it?" he grinned evilly. "Sweetheart. Baby. Sexy bee."

"Sexy bee?" I was outraged. "Fuck you!"

"From what I've heard, we've done that before."

God, Angel O'Rourke as a boyfriend. Not that any red blooded female – and probably most of the gay males too – wouldn't have fantasies of having Angel O'Rourke for a partner. A lover. A very hot one-night- stand. A quick, hasty ten-minute fuck in a stalled elevator. One look at the man was evidence that God might possibly lean our deviant way.

How else did a man look so sinfully good? Dark brown hair framed a face that would drive a sculptor scrambling for his tools. Perfect cheekbones, thickly lashed eyes so dark you could drown in them, a finely carved nose, thick, sensual lips that were now curved into a teasing half-smile as he looked at me. Add to that the incredible hard-muscled, minimum fat body that had graced the covers of International magazines not too long ago and you had quite the package. Six feet and more of unadulterated testosterone-splashed male. Hard torso. Heaving pecs. Tight abs. A butt to die for. Big dick – not that I had seen it, but I had certainly heard rumors. He was perfect, and a definite winner in the gene pool stakes.

Even right now with that smug smile on his face – that I was frankly more than tempted to slap away, I still felt the irresistible force to throw him down on the nearest flat surface and have my way with that hard, tight body. Life certainly wasn't fair at times. Why did he have to be that beautiful? Though beautiful wasn't the word for him. It smacked of femininity and that was one thing Angel wasn't. He was all Man with a capital M. Ever since the first time we met, I'd been battling the insane need to drag him into a dark corner and find out if the rumors about his … burgeoning assets were true.

After all, what did I possibly have in common with the reputed richest, most sought-after bachelor in New York? He certainly wouldn't have anything to do with a struggling writer just starting out to make herself known – like me. My whole life was carefully, meticulously planned – at least I hoped it was – and I liked it that way. For me, planning was key and I hated surprises.

But nothing could have prepared me for the man that fate dropped in my lap. Our paths wouldn't even have crossed if it hadn't been for that faulty elevator in that office building where I had just sold my first full-length novel that fateful evening almost six months ago. From the moment he first offered me a lewd proposition in that elevator, we had clicked. Funny how that happens, the moment when you knew that someone was a kindred spirit. In that short time, he'd grown to become one of my best friends, if not the closest. Plainly platonic due to my insistence.

Of course that certainly didn't stop Mr. O'Rourke from throwing out his tempting lures. From the moment we met, he had poured his considerable charm trying to get me in his bed and I continued refusing him. It had almost become a game with us and my stubborn refusal had become almost a instinctive, knee-jerk reaction. Though God only knows, I had to bite my tongue from moaning a surrender each time. All my friends wondered at my turning him down since it seemed as if half New York was lining up at his door waiting. Even saintly Willow, my very best friend in this world had admitted a need to fuck him just to get over the need – who cares if she was a lesbian? Or happily married to the woman of her dreams?

How could I possibly explain? It definitely wasn't from any lack of feeling. If anything, it was from way too much feeling. God knows the man was wonderful and it would be damned easy to fall for him – a disastrous sin that I feared that I already had committed. After all it wasn't only his looks, his smile, his shiny, rippling muscles that drew me. In time, I grew to realize that there was much more to that shiny façade that Angel showed to the world. The world saw a sexy, charming playboy, a never-do-well who jaunted from one high society party to another, carelessly spending his inheritance. But I realized that his image only hid the brilliant mind and the hard-working ethic behind the flashy smiles, that savvy business acumen that had managed to increase the personal wealth he had inherited more than three-fold at last count. No one saw the sweet man who volunteered at the orphanage each week, who played hide-and-seek with children. Nobody knew of the immense amount of money that he gave away to charity. No one saw the man who visited a crochety aunt in Central Park West each week with a basket of Godivas in torrid bodicerippers. All they saw was a fucking sex machine with lots of dole to throw around which was a pity since underneath it all, he was something wonderful.

And that terrified me even more. Without a doubt, I knew that if I started on that first step towards a relationship with him, I'd end up with a broken heart. The man was a heartbreaker and even before I'd met him, I'd heard of his reputation. Who hadn't? Everyone I met, heck, half of Manhattan had heard of him. Love them and leave them. Although I'd never really spoken to any of his ex-lovers since they were notoriously tight-lipped about Angel, everyone I knew knew someone who knew someone who knew one of his ex-lovers. And from all the rumors, it seemed that the streets of New York were literally strewn with the wrecks of his former lovers. I had no intention of becoming another notch on his extremely battered bedpost.

My curious gaze crept up to his rooms upstairs as I wondered about the state of his boudoir. It wouldn't have surprised me at all if the man had to add another bedpost just to accommodate newcomers. For convenience, his bedroom probably had a revolving door.

After the space of five minutes, the man still hadn't stopped laughing and it started to get annoying. Giving him a quelling frown, I pointed out, "Well, since you find it so damned funny, I'll ask Spike then."

"What?" His laughter came to an abrupt stop and for a moment the man looked almost insulted, his dark eyes flashing. "Ask Spike the weenie to play me?"

Knowing that a blow to his ego was something that he couldn't withstand, I shrugged. "Since you don't want it, I don't have much of a choice."

"I never said I wouldn't do it," he hedged.

"So you will do it?" I asked.

"I never said that either," he answered non-committally.

Turning his back on me, he walked by the floor-length windows and looked out in contemplation. It afforded me a spectacular view of New York – and his aforementioned butt encased in tight jeans and the fact that I was more interested in the curves of his ass than the gleaming spires of New York irritated me. "Tell me quick, Angel. I don't have all day to play around with this. I've got to get a pretend boyfriend fast. ASAP. My parents are dropping by tonight."

Rocking back on his heels, he looked across his shoulder and frowned. "Tell me again why you're doing this."

Leaving the drink he'd shoved at me earlier on the kitchen counter, I stalked over to where he was standing. The scent of his cologne wafted to me and I was immediately intrigued. Spice. Heat. Male. What was it with this man? At time, he could irritate me like hell but he could still arouse me all the same. The sexy pest, I could call him. "Listen close, O'Rourke, `cause this is the last time I'm gonna explain," I said patiently. "You know Willow, my best friend-"

"Good God." He leaned back and eyed me with horror. "You mean, I am not your best friend?"

"Angel."

He laughed. "Okay."

"You know how my parents are always after me to get attached. Even after I told them I'm happy as a single in New York," I reminded him. It was the story of my life. Months ago after agonizing about telling them that I would move to New York, I'd finally told them and the rest of my family. Surprisingly, they took it quite well, especially since I'd half expected tearful recriminations and threats of leaping from the nearest tall building. To my utmost surprise, my mother had just nodded knowingly and my father had given me a long, deep look and a short warning about safe sex, even though he was totally uncomfortable, stuttering all the time. To be on the safe side, I'd escaped before he'd started giving out a pack of Trojans. "Well, they are starting to think that it might be a phase. You know about the infamous matchmaking scheme. Well, I've gone overboard, they even tried to give Xander hints that we should get attached. Xander and me." Xander and I had grown up together. He was a great guy, but apart from friendship nothing would ever happen between us.

"You know, your parents might be on to something." Eyes narrowing, he looked closely at me. "I am starting to think that too. You haven't dated anyone – as in someone with a Y chromosome – in months," he commented with a grin. "Are you sure you're alive?"

"Knock it off, asshole," I said dryly and gave him a gentle, playful shove. Under the white cotton shirt he'd pulled on earlier, warm, hard muscles came alive under my fingers and I reluctantly pulled away. "Well, anyway, after months of nagging, I finally gave in and told them I had a live-in boyfriend."

"Aha, you lied," he pointed out with a gleeful smile. "Lil good girl Buffy Summers finally told a lie. Didn't know I'd live to see the day."

"Can it, O'Rourke." Restraining my urge to hit him again, I shoved my hands in my pockets. Not that it would do any good if I did sock him one since I barely reached up to his shoulder. Were all assholes tall? "Damn it. Yes, I lied."

"And you picked me," he gestured to himself with his thumb.

The wide smile on his face was extremely suspicious but I continued hurriedly. "Yes, I picked you. It was the first name that popped into my head. After all, you were my closest friend in town, you're good looking and you were not seeing anyone at that time. After all, you'd dated plenty of women, slept with plenty and … You were …" I had to face the truth. He was the man I'd chosen first and what a godawful mistake that would be. Tall, dark, oversexed Irishmen with dicks the size of Long Island and the libido of an alley cat certainly didn't fit into my plans of a becoming a successful writer, then charming suburbia and happily ever-after. Trying to imagine Angel O'Rourke in domestic repose boggled my mind. Sure, his apartment looked like something out of a homemaker's dream but I suspected that the dream was the combined effort of his super-efficient housekeeper, Fred, and his interior designer, Cordelia Chase. And wasn't it telling that both of them were women?

Sensing my growing discomfort, he stopped me. "Don't spoil it, Summers."

Taking a quick rest, I breathed a sigh of relief. God knows, I couldn't tell him the real reason why I picked him. Did a big dick and a body made for sex count as a valid reason? "I never expected them to drop by so I never really thought that lie would come out. Until this morning."

"When they told you they were planning a visit. And they spoilt all your pretty plans," he nodded knowingly. "There goes your busy schedule for the week, Buffy. Did you write them down in your PDA?"

"Yes. And stop smirking, Angel," I warned him. "So I need a fake boyfriend pronto or they'll sic another of their oh-so-fitting men on me again." The note of panic in my voice was all too real and I knew Angel would understand. Especially since he'd had to rescue me from at least two of those unfortunate dates. Remembering the last incident, I had to smile as I thought of the outlandish story he'd spun to get me out of that predicament.

"So that's your newest plan." Taking a quick stroll around the living room expanse, he returned to his chair and sat down with his head thrown back. Closing his eyes, he pretended to give it some consideration for a moment before nodding his acquiescence. "Fine, I'll do it."

"You will?" His easy acquiescence should have made me happy but it made me suspicious instead. After all, I knew this man far too well to believe that he'd do anything out of the sweetness of his heart. That bright, helpful smile didn't fool me any. Angel O'Rourke didn't do anything for free – not for me anyway. What was going on in that gorgeous head of his?

"Yeah, for one day, I'll be your hot Irish lover, your boyfriend, your trophy husband, your-"

"Angel!" I felt, however, that I should warn him. "My parents aren't gonna be pushovers, you know. You will be interrogated to hell."

"Don't worry about that, Buffy." He smiled, the slow, sexy smile that always caused my temperature to rise, a fact he probably knew. "After all, sweetheart, I managed to charm you into my arms, didn't I?"

"You wish." Still amazed at his quick compliance, I had to make sure. "So you'll do it?"

"You know I do have my conditions," he said quietly.

Aha, that clinched it. I knew Angel wouldn't agree to my proposition that easily. But I certainly hadn't prepared anything as a barter so I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. "I'll wash your cars."

Angel's left brow went up. "I have a mechanic who does that."

"I know. I will." What the hell did you give the man who had everything? A sudden inspiration came to me. The man never could resist it. "I'll cook for you. Your favorite lasagna. Promise!"

"I …" He closed his eyes in homage – my lasagna was my best bargaining chip with him – and he remained silent for a moment. Then shaking his dark head vehemently, he replied, "You almost clinched the deal, but no."

"Then what do you want?" Some dark, perverted part of me had already weaved some explicit x-rated ideas that involved the both of us and a flat surface but I prayed that he wouldn't ask that of me. Not only would that blow up in both our faces, I doubt our friendship could survive that encounter. One quick slip between the sheets and it would be bon voyage for me.

"I haven't thought about it yet actually," he admitted ruefully, biting his full lower lip. Resting on the arm of the settee, he leaned back and his jacket flung wide open to reveal his tight white tee-shirt. My gaze was immediately drawn to the dark, chocolate colored male nipples perched on the hard swell of his pecs.

Giving myself a hard shake, I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from his delicious torso and looked back up at his face. There was a knowing smile playing around his sensual mouth that I tried to disregard. "Won't you do it just for old time's sake?"

"Old times?" His eyebrow went up again. I hated that trick of his. "When did we have … any times?"

Looking at that all too earnest face, I started having doubts. "Actually, I think I-"

As I fumbled over my words, he suddenly stood and moved towards me. Leaning forward so that his face was barely inches from mine, Angel growled. "Come on, do you want me to do this or not?"

His warm breath burnt my cheeks and he was close enough that I could practically breathe him in. The scent of O'Rourke and sex started tantalizing me. If he'd just come closer, I could bit on that pouty lower lip. "Y-yeah, but I know you, Angel O'Rourke. And there's something brewing in your head."

Obviously taking pity on me, he pulled back a little and grinned innocently at me, blinking his deliciously thick lashes – something women would kill for – with seeming innocence. "Moi?"

"Yes."

"My lips are sealed." Seeing my doubtful expression, he smiled reassuringly. "But you can always interrogate me. The cuffs and whips are in the store room."

That was a vision I didn't want in my head. Whips, chains and a naked, writhing Angel was something my pounding heart probably couldn't take. Even now, I could imagine his torso, the sleek, finely muscled proportions, the smooth, golden tan, the lightly furred male nipples capping his firm pecs. The quick slash of the whip across his rippling back. My breath caught and I could barely make a sound.

Was that a whimper?

Guessing the direction of my thoughts, his voice dropped to a low, sexy purr. It was his fuck-me voice, the voice that haunted me during the night. "Yeah, just think about it. Make me scream, Summers."

An alarm bell started ringing in my head. Hot man alert! At some other time with any other man, I'd probably have shed all inhibitions – and my clothes too – and had a wonderful time, but not with this man. He meant too much. And it'd probably last until just after he comes. So before I gave in to what would be a huge mistake, I quickly made my exit with the flimsiest of excuses after pushing Mr God-damned-irresistible away. Picking up my jacket and downing my drink, I was out of his door in a New York minute before he could even recover from his surprise to stop me.

But not before I caught a glance at Angel O'Rourke standing in his doorway, his eyes burning with desire and a burgeoning erection snaking down his blue jeans. Oh God. As usual, part of me was pleading to stay and have at least a quick bite. Just one good taste to ease the hunger that had been burning in me ever since Angel first dropped into my life. Even with only thoughts of him in my head, I was already hot and wet, and my the lower part of my body felt so heavy, I was surprised I wasn't simply sinking down to the floor. But I was a practical woman and that practical side forced me to ignore my darker, x-rated desires. "D-dinner," I managed to stutter. "Be early or face my wrath. Come at six."

"Will you promise to punish me if I'm late?" he whispered, his voice still husky with desire.

"In your sick dreams, Angel."

His teeth flashed in the dark of the hallway. "See you tonight, Summers."

His rich laugher followed me out into the streets and I knew that I'd be spending at least half an hour alone in the bathroom with my own sick fantasies.

Part 2

Checking on my blouse, I made sure it was crease-free. Didn’t want my mother muttering silently about the state of disrepair that I’d lived in ever since I’d moved out. Adjusting the collar and giving my make-up a last critical glance in the hall mirror, I smiled at my reflection. I didn’t look too bad for a woman of 29, who hadn’t really achieved anything so far in her life. Sure, I could have been taller, but my body was in good shape – thanks to Ivan at the gym – and my breasts weren’t too bad either. They were filling out my blouse quite nicely, even though I certainly couldn’t aspire to the realm of goddesshood like Cordelia Chase – thanks to the plastic surgeon she’d been dating for the past three years. I was blond, and kind of cute, maybe even sexy – yep, I’ve been called all those things. I sighed, it would have to do.

My blouse was neatly tucked in, my skirt ending just a hand above my knees. The fragrant red wine chicken was already done, the salad just waiting for its dressing, and the herbal soup was being kept warm in the slow cooker. Perfectly times. just as I was about to turn around to check on my backside, the doorbell rang. My eyes narrowed until I heard the deep voice calling my name.

The man was always right on time. That was one thing I liked about him. Okay, one of the many things I liked about him. As I swung open the door, he stood there at the foyer and struck a playful pose, all the time grinning at me. “Reporting for duty, Captain Summers. How do I look?”

Tall, dark, handsome and grinning cockily at me, he looked incredible. On any other man, tight black leather pants and the dark shirt would look great. On him, it looked positively sinful. For once I saw no use in trying to hide my admiration. “You look good enough to eat and you know it, O’Rourke.”

“Really?” He flashed his wicked grin. “Then, why aren’t you taking a bite?”

“Get back, tiger.” Giving him a nudge as he came closer, I answered back flippantly. His scent tickled my nostrils again and I could feel myself getting warm between my legs. It seemed to be an occupational hazard whenever he was near. “You’ll break my diet.”

“Fuck that.” Flicking my hand aside easily, Angel pressed forward, pushing me against the closet door. “That’s not a diet. You’ve been having a self-imposed starvation with meagre sprinklings of boring, unattractive men.”

Which was miserably true. How could I date anyone when I kept on coming back to Mr. Wonderful himself – who for some twisted, perverted reason known only to him – insisted on waiting for me when I came home from a date! How could any ordinary man possibly hold up to Angel O’Rourke? Angel was a sinfully rich, devastatingly sweet, orgasm-inducing chocolate mudpie, the kind that could only do you good and definitely the kind you’d regret the morning after. After years of denial, I certainly wasn’t going to break my diet for that.

I made a half-hearted protest for form’s sake. “They weren’t so bad, Angel.”

“Please.” Giving a disgusted snort, he sneered, his lips quirking up in a damn sexy tilt. “That jerk Riley and that weenie Spike. That limp dick, Scott. When are you ever gonna date a real man?”

Not one to be intimidated, I countered stare for stare. “You see any around, O’Rourke?”

It was a direct challenge and I knew he wouldn’t back down. Eyes flashing, he moved forward and cornered me against the door. The length of his hard, sculpted physique pressed against mine and my breath caught. A different glow had come into his eyes, a glow that I could only describe as predatory. I’d seen it used on other women before and I always thought that I’d be immune to it. I was wrong. One look from those devil eyes and I was all ready for some hot-loving.

“You want me to show you how much of a man I am?” he whispered, his firm lips barely a hairsbreadth away.

I knew how much of a man he was. He didn’t have to show it to me because it was pressing down my hip, hot, pulsing and … thrillingly large. Faced with the reality of a hard piece of meat burning down my hip, I was about to throw my diet out of the window and devour the feast of masculinity being offered to me when the doorbell rang. And my sanity returned.

“O’Rourke,” I hissed. “The doorbell.” My voice practically croaked when I spoke. For the first time, I was glad that my parents had the knack of coming at an inappropriate time. The times that they had interrupted me from achieving the big O were legend.

His lips quirked up a little. “Fuck that.”

“It’s my parents.”

The look in his eyes changed and he took a step back, releasing his hold on me. What I always termed as his devil-smile returned. “Your parents won’t always be around, little girl.”

*****

To make our party complete, I invited Willow over. She was my best friend, and I had the feeling I would need one as the evening progressed. And for old time’s sake, I also invited Xander. Not only was he the apparent victim of my parents’ matchmaking attempt, he was also my second best friend, and to my utter surprise had ended up in New York as well. At not quite six foot, and already a little beefy, Alexander Harris perpetuated the myth of the devoted, loving future husband, his gentle eyes and boyish smile charming the hell out of the gullible women in New York before they realized that behind all the boy-next-door attitude hid something entirely different. After two love-affairs having gone bad, Xander had no intention to become a husband any time soon, and remained resolutely single.

It took barely minutes to explain before Xander and Willow fully understood what was going on between Angel and I. A few minutes before the fallout, I’d called them to brief them on what was happening. Loyal friends though they were, Willow still couldn’t resist a few juvenile jokes at my expense. “Buffy and Angel sittin’ on a tree…”

“Nothing’s going on between us, so stop it,” I complained in a furious whisper.

The meeting with my parents had gone on without a hitch. Seeing that Angel was keeping my parents well entertained in the living room, Willow pulled me aside into the hallway, where Xander joined us. “I couldn’t help it,” she whispered, giggling like a teenager. “You two look so great together. And here I thought you’d finally got the balls to leap into the sack with Mr. Hubba-hubba O’Rourke.”

“Well, try helping it,” I hissed. “He’s only doing this as a favor to me. A huge one at that.” Angry at myself, I wiped my sweaty palms at my skirt in frustration. “And knowing him, I bet I’m gonna pay in spades.”

A sly smile lit up Willow’s gentle features. “You sure Angel doesn’t want to remain in that role forever?”

“Now I need to throw up,” Xander said, making gagging noises and rolling his eyes in disgust. Even though he and Angel were getting along – albeit just barely – and although I was almost thirty years old, my friend couldn’t stop trying to protect me. As endearing as it was, it was also deeply annoying at times – not to say downright embarrassing.

“Stop that.” Looking to see if Angel had heard, I confirmed for myself that he was still telling one of his many amusing anecdotes and started hurrying Willow and Xander down to the kitchen.

“Hey, what’s the hurry!” Willow giggled again. That was it. No more aperitifs for her! “The hunk’s behind us.”

“Uh … Will … not to burst your bubble here, but you’re still a lesbian, right?”

“Xan is right, Will.” Running my hands through my hair, I sighed. “Shouldn’t you be married happily or something? Besides, you and I know it’s never going to happen. Me and O’Rourke, we’re a disaster waiting to happen. One, I don’t want it to ever happen. Two, the man only wants a satisfying romp in the hay, the sink or the next flat surface he finds. Heck, he’d fuck anything in skirts if he could. Once the deed’s done, we’ll be over and I don’t want that. I bet the word relationship would have him screaming out of the house.”

“He’s not the only one,” Xander muttered, then held up his hands when Willow and I glared at him.

“You’re such a liar!” Willow gave my shoulder a shove. “’I don’t want it to happen’,” she mimicked my voice and gave in to another fit of giggles. “Come on, we’re talking about Angel O’Rourke. Even knowing he’s got the sex drive of an alley cat, and that I’m supposed to be happily married, I’d jump his sexy bones in a sec. Any woman in New York probably would.”

“You know, this image is just too disturbing for me,” Xander said and wandered off towards the bathroom.

Seeing that Willow wasn’t going to stop, I tugged her into the kitchen. That’s for telling your friend your secrets. Since we were kids, we had been friends but ever since she found out about my feelings for … Angel, I’d seriously reconsidered having her as a friend. Putting on my fierce face, I growled at her. “Stop it, Willow!”

Wiping her eyes, Willow let out a gurgle. “Oh, you love the man so much it’s driving you totally daft.”

“Shut up,” I gritted out.

Sensing that I was serious, she subsided. “Why don’t you just admit it to him? I bet he already knows. Angel’s not stupid, you know. Big dick and cute butt aside, he strikes me as a highly intelligent creature.”

“Stop it.” My best friend ogling the man I loved certainly wasn’t an edifying thought and stupid me, I couldn’t help feeling jealous. Willow was so openly a lesbian, it was ridiculous to even think she’d make good on her words, but ever since Angel had popped into my life, I had been plagued by the green eyed monster almost daily. With his meltingly good looks, Angel drew the attention of women – and men, everywhere he went and I’d be standing beside him, slowly eaten up with jealousy. Each time a pretty girl batted her eyes at him, each time a cute guy gave him his number, I felt like branding Angel O’Rourke with a hot iron, pinning my name on his chest, marking my territory. The man was slowly, inexorably pushing me towards madness and there was nothing I could do about it.

Leaping up onto the counter, Willow made herself comfortable. “You should just go tell him.”

Eyes narrowed, I leaned back onto the kitchen counter. “Tell him what? That I’ve been secretly in love and lust for him since we first met? That I want to tear his clothes off and do it with him on the kitchen table? That I’ve been dreaming of stropping him and licking him from head to toe?”

“Hmmm…” Biting her lip, she tilted her head in serious consideration. “You could rephrase that but the gist of it is fine.”

“You know why I can’t tell him,” I said quietly.

“And you know how absolutely stupid those reasons are. How could a guy as smart as you be such a moron about this!” Shaking her red head in frustration, she gave me a quick bump on my head with her palm. “Wake up, Buffy. Stop your stupid planning and take a chance on the man. He obviously cares for you more than just a bit. Why don’t you give him a chance?”

“Because I don’t want a quick number in some dark doorway. I don’t want to be Miss September or whatever the month I’m being fucked in. I might be a single, but I’m certainly not part of “Sex and the City.” I don’t just want multiple orgasms with multiple men. I want him to stay, Willow. And I know damned well he won’t.” We’d gone over this same issue time and again. And each time, I found myself wanting to give in. After all, having him for a moment or so was better than never having him at all – and my willpower could only last that long.

“Stop putting yourself down, Buffy.” She caught my face in her hands and looked at me seriously. “You’re a wonderful woman – a little wacky at times, not to mention a crazy planner – toss that damned diary away, by the way – but still wonderful. If you were interested, I could seriously fall for you, and I bet Angel can see that too. Don’t sell yourself short.”

I gave her a warm hug. “Nothing like my very own cheerleader.”

*****

I should have known that no one could resist Angel. Although the first meeting had been less than auspicious, I knew that I shouldn’t have underestimated him. It took barely minutes for the renowned O’Rourke charm to work its magic.

For myself, I thought I’d never see it happen but within minutes, Angel had managed to charm my father into submission, wrangling a trip for the both of us to the family beach house. For a man whom my parents thought of as a monster who tried to seduce their darling girl, it was amazing how easily he managed to change their perception of him. At one time, it looked as if my father was ready to sign adoption papers. It took another five to ten to persuade my mother to part with one of her recipes, something I thought I’d never see in my lifetime. And here, I thought my tough, no-nonsense mother was immune to charm and flattery. Her familiar laughter filled the air as she gave Angel a quick, fond pat on the cheek.

Ad if sensing my frustration, he glanced back at me and tossed me a teasing wink, I glowered in return but as he immediately went back to his obviously riveting conversation with my mother, I kept my nasty comments to myself and stared daggers in his broad back instead.

Sitting at my other side, Xander grinned cheekily. “Must be frustrating to see, huh?”

Obviously I couldn’t hide my annoyance but schooled my features into a calm smile. “What?”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Buffy.” Leaning over, he whispered to me. “Seems like Angel’s managed to charm both your parents. In barely seconds. My, my, my, the man certainly licked the damned Blarney Stone.”

“Lying snake,” I muttered grumpily.

Giving me a gentle nudge under the table, Xander raised a questioning brow. “What is it? I thought you’d be happy that your parents obviously love him.”

“Not too much!” I replied in a stage whisper. Picking up my glass of wine to hide my expression of displeasure, I turned to Xander again. “I mean, talking about cooking? Come on, since I’ve known him, all he’s ever cooked was scrambled eggs. What is he going to do with her rice-wine chicken recipe anyway?”

“You’re just jealous because he’s got your mom wrapped around his fingers,” he remarked wisely.

“Damn right, I am.” I glared balefully at him. As far as I know, the only cooking Angel O’Rourke usually did was in the bedroom and it certainly didn’t need any homemade recipes that I knew of. Certainly none of my mother’s.

The man was a veritable monster and had to be stopped. Pasting a fake adoring smile on my face, I moved my attention back to him and said as sweetly as possible. “Angel.”

Turning away from his conversation with my mother, he smiled at me. If he could patent that look on his face, Angel could make another million easily. It looked almost like love and I was staggered. How could any man possibly look that sincere?

“Yes, darling?” That deep voice was positively dripping with love of the sweaty, bodice-ripping type. The man was obviously a better actor than I thought. And where had he stolen that slight ‘Gone with the Wind’ Southern drawl from?

My voice finally returned and I managed to croak. “Angel, could I have a word with you in the kitchen?”

Giving a helpless shrug and a nod to my parents, he shifted in his chair, “Sure, if I get a kiss in return.”

While I wavered over my answer and had my parents looking curiously, the man took action in a way I’d never expected. Before I could open my mouth to respond, he’d managed to find a sure way to shut me up. The feelings that coursed through me as Angel’s strong arms closed around me and his lips pressed tentatively against mine were indescribable.

Once he was certain that I wouldn’t bite his tongue off, the man really got into his work. Good God, was that his tongue? If so, I wanted to have it bronzed. It was our first kiss and from the man that I loved. Though I knew it wouldn’t last, I wanted it for that moment and greedily clutched his dark hair to pull him close. Some men kiss like butterflies, barely a brush of the lips. Some men kiss like they want to swallow you whole, practically sucking the breath out of you while their tongues invaded with military precision. They all should have taken lessons from the master.

But while I was still busy enjoying his masterpiece, the man pulled abruptly away. Still unsatisfied, my hands reached to catch a hold of him and he grinned wickedly, waving a minatory finger at me. “We’ve got company, darlin’”

Oh My God! Even without seeing anyone’s expression, my ears turned red and I heard Willow’s shocked giggle. I could hardly bear to look at my parents’ reaction. What was I thinking? Making out with Angel during dinner with my parents! Eyeing the man himself balefully, I muttered in a voice only he could hear. “Asshole.”

“You love me anyway,” he quipped with a ready smile. As if suddenly noticing my severe embarrassment, Angel took over the situation with aplomb. All the while there was a glitter of unholy humor in those dancing brown eyes, “Uhhh … excuse us, would you? I think dessert’s about ready.”

The smooth excuse he’d blathered out managed to clear our way as we made our escape into the kitchen. All the while I kept my hand perched on his as he dragged me out of the dining room. As soon as I was out of earshot, I caught his sleeve and pushed him against the kitchen cabinet. My anger managed to surprise him as I’m sure I’d never have managed to push him around. “What the hell was that?” I said sotto voce.

“Huh?” The puzzled expression on his face only infuriated me.

“You know what I mean.”

“I see.” The light of understanding came into his eyes and he nodded knowingly. Leaning over to take out the spoons, he smiled and whispered back to me. “I see what you mean. You may have forgotten what that was but that was actually a kiss. Very pleasurable by the way. Two lips meet at a certain pressure and …”

“Shut up.” Those lips so close to mine were far too tempting and I gave him another quick shove. “Why?”

“Why?” Carefully folding the spoons into the cloth napkins, he paused as if in thought. Then Angel suddenly turned on me and caught a hold of me, his large hands gripping my forearms tightly. “Because if you were mine, Buffy, I don’t think I’d be able to stop. And frankly, at that moment, I couldn’t resist.”

The sudden serious tone in his voice stunned me for a moment but then I shook my head. Evidently, Angel took the things that he did seriously and he’d obviously decided to give his all to this play-acting. “OK.”

“Anyway, I love kisses,” he kidded.

Another thought that I didn’t want in my head especially since I could easily imagine kissing my way down Angel’s naked body. Pressing wet kisses down the broad expanse of his back, following the smooth curve of his spine down and … “Whatever,” I said quickly. “But no tongue.”

He grinned in response.

Part 3

After the dishes were cleared and my parents had gone for a late- night show with Amy and Xander, I finally made it back upstairs to my apartment after sending them off. It was easy enough to say that dinner had been a smashing success. After all, my parents had hit it off with Angel – heck, they clearly adored Angel O'Rourke and he'd readily offered to show them around the city starting tomorrow. It should have made me feel guilty at my deception but all I felt was an overwhelming sense of relief. All I had to do right now was to find an excuse for Angel to miss his appointment with them. After all, I doubted very much that he'd want to continue in this charade for more than one day.

Quietly opening my front door, I walked down the hallway to the living room and saw Angel standing alone by the windows, next to the window seats. My own apartment certainly didn't have the spectacular view that he had but at least it wasn't directly facing another block of apartments. He was looking more serious that I'd ever seen him, his handsome face sober and stern as he stared out of the window at the streets in front of my apartment building. A glass of wine in his hand completed his ensemble and I had to admit that he looked quite a sight standing there brooding to himself. A dark, sexy, modern Heathcliff.

It was times like this when I wondered wheter I really knew him at all. The laughing, flirting man that I knew certainly wasn't this sober, serious guy, the man who was known in Wall Stret as the man with the Midas Touch. The man who wheeled and dealt successfully with the sharks of commerce.

Hearing my approach, he looked up, the stern look fading away, replaced by a soft smile. "Are they gone?"

Since I had arranged for the late-night show and confirmed the arrival of the taxi, I could confirm the fact that they wouldn't be returning. "Yeah, they loved you. I doubt they could ask for a better son-in-law. If they could, they'd exchange their own son for you. If they had one, that is. Thanks."

"No problems." Lifting his glass of wine, he took a quick sip. "Your parents are great."

That was something that I'd never doubted. They might be as spontaneous and reckless as they come but they were wonderful parents. Although they had been disapproving of my lifestyle previously, they had warmed quickly when they had met my supposed life partner. Of course I seriously doubted anyone would have managed to gain their approval in such a short time. "Yeah. I know."

Gently placing his glass on the window sill, he turned to face me with a sharp glint in his eye. "But it's time to pay the piper."

I knew that time was here and I steeled myself. What humiliating thing did he have planned?

Seeing the defensive look on my face, he laughed. "Don't worry. It won't hurt. Much."

"What do you have in that diabolical mind of yours, O'Rourke?" I was apprehensive now and it probably showed. Deciding to sit while he told me of his plan, I made myself comfortable on the seat facing the windows. "Nothing illegal in fifty states, okay?"

That quick charming smile flashed for a moment before he turned serious again. Turning away from me, he stood up and paced up and down along the windows. "Buffy, we've known each other for almost six months now."

That sudden comment threw me off and I wondered where he was going with that. "Yeah, what about it?"

Stopping his slow pacing around the room, he paused and looked at me closely, his deep brown eyes pinning me to the seat. "Do you find me at all attractive?"

It was the question I never seriously thought he would ever ask. Was the answer ever in doubt? The windows were behind him and they made the perfect backdrop for him, standing there looking strong, handsome and incredibly earnest. My heart stuttered. "Yes, of course I do. Everyone does. What does all that have to do with…"

"I'm getting to that." He waved me off. For the first time since I'd known him, Angel O'Rourke looked almost unsure of himself. Filled with nervous energy as unlike the calm, confident man I thought I knew.

Evidently deciding to take another stroll around my room, he started moving, talking to me all the while. "We've known each other for six months. Ever since that first day, we've clicked. I know we have. Perhaps it is different for you but I don't think I've been as close to anyone as I have with you. I've shared with you some things that I've never even told anyone. Shared feelings that I've never thought I had. You wonder what I'm getting to? Its simple, Buffy, I am very interested in you."

The last words echoed in the stillness of the room. I didn't even want to think about that. Was he going to make another pass at me tonight? After all that had happened, I doubt I could resist him tonight. Just one lascivious wink and I'd have leapt at him like a lust-crazed nympho.

In his relentless journey around my room, he came to another stop, this time just a few feet in front of me. Going down on one knee, he met me at eye-level, his dark eyes searching mine. "Look, all I'm asking for is this. Give me a chance, Buffy," he said softly. "Just one chance."

"A chance?"

My innocent look didn't exactly fool him. He looked at me quietly. "Don't pretend you don't understand me."

The man knew me far too well. My hands were starting to tremble and I hid it under a pillow. "This is very sudden."

"It is not and you know it," he answered matter-of-factly. "If I'd had my way, we'd have been busy these past six months banging each other's brains out."

The vision had my pulse leaping. "Get real."

Sensing my own nervousness, he leaned forward and gave me his 1000- watt smile. "Don't you find me attractive?"

"I think you already know the answer." He was so close that I could just stick my tongue out and lick his full bottom lip. As I didn't to face such temptation, I leaned farther back into the sofa.

The smile didn't fade. "I do know that you find me attractive. That's why I find it so to understand why you keep telling me now. I knew my reputation scared you off so I decided to give you time to know me first. To see that I wasn't quite the bastard I was reputed to be. I think you should know me well enough by now."

For a moment I stared in surprise. While I'd always thought of him as a pretty intelligent man, I never really expected him to notice that I'd had a crush on him as wide as Nebraska. It was clear that he'd known all along so I didn't find it hard to speak plainly. "You aren't a bastard but your reputation doesn't lie all that much. I don't want to be another notch on your bed, Angel. Your Miss Money or Miss Weekend fling or something. The woman you dump the morning after."

"It's not going to be that way," he said in protest.

"Cordelia, Darla, Kathie, Helen, Joanna." From memory, I rattled off several names I'd heard linked to his. Funny, come to think about it. It wasn't that a long list but then again, I couldn't name all the nameless women he'd probably had in his bed – or other unspeakable places – before. And according to the rumors, the numbers were legion.

It certainly wasn't a point that he would ever admit. "Fine. I admit that I haven't been very good at relationships. For the record though, I dated all five women and only slept with three of them," Angel confessed, spreading his hands wide as if showing me he had nothing to hide. I could barely restrain myself to ask which of them he'd been sleeping with.

Instead, I asked. "Only three in the past few months?"

His brown eyes flashed. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not the playboy man-slut everyone seems to think I am. If I slept around with that many women, I'd be dead exhausted and worn down to a nubbin in no time."

"How should I know? I certainly haven't seen it." The words left my mouth before I realized I'd put the thoughts into words and my face flamed.

Seeing that I hadn't stopped him yet, he decided to take the advantage and pressed forward. "I've given you plenty of opportunities to find out. I assure you though, it ain't no nubbin."

Even now, there was activity going down in his ample crotch and I could definitely see that it wasn't a nubbin. Not that I could help it, the man's leather pants were so tight, I could already trace the outline of his hard cock snaking down his left leg, backed up by a pretty hefty package of balls. My mouth watered and I could already picture myself being impaled by that …

Oh God, this wasn't going well. This wasn't supposed to happen. At the end of this farce, I was just supposed to shake his hand farewell and let him leave footloose and fancy-free as he always did … certainly not indulge in fantasies about Angel's ample endowments. Shaking my head to dispel his charm, I looked back at him and promised to maintain my gaze above his neck at the least.

He had noticed the direction of my gaze earlier and flashed me a ready grin, his eyes dancing. "Do I meet your rigid standards, Buffy?"

His smug smile prickled my ready temper. "Yes, I know you've got a big … uh … ahm .., you know what I mean. I have always known – and so do half the female population of New York."

"You know that's not true." As calmly as possible, he flatly denied it though I could see the heated sparks of the O'Rourke temper flaring behind his heavy-lidded eyes. Usually extremely cool headed, he kept a bubbling pot of emotions seething just underneath the surface. Since I'd known him, I'd seen the O'Rourke temper explode at least twice. Each time, I had been within the disaster area but I had thankfully remained unscathed since I had not been the recipient.

"I've seen the women you date." And died of jealousy each time they came by, all slicked up, gorgeous and oozing with sex appeal. Determined to rattle him, I decided to go for broke. "When was the last time you had sex?"

"Define sex," he challenged me.

I let out a groan.

Seeing my predicament, Angel decided to take pity on me. "Six months ago."

"Six months? You're joking." It had to be a lie. Hadn't I seen him with that full bosomed blond – Kathie – not too long ago? And not too far back, with his own interior designer – Cordelia Chase, the bitch? "But you dated your … your own interior designer, Cordelia, barely a month ago!"

"I'm glad you noticed but it wasn't a date. It was business. We were talking about redecorating my apartment. We had dinner. She offered more. I refused. She's in a relationship and I'm not into that kind of thing. So we went home. In separate vehicles, I might add." Seeing my surprise, Angel leaned back on his haunches and raised a brow. "Why are you surprised? As I said, I don't exactly have sex on a daily basis, or several times a day like you guys would like to think. I'm not some inexhaustible sexual animal, Buffy." His proper, dignified speech ended with a wolfish smile and the now familiar flash of heat in his dark brown eyes. "Though I could be. With the right man."

His sweet words had me melting and I shook my head. "It's not that simple."

Letting out a sigh, he dragged his hand carelessly through his dark hair. "Look, all those women – not that there were all that many – it's all in the past. You can't throw my past affairs at me. I wouldn't say they don't mean a thing to me but I will say that they're definitely behind me. In the past six months, I've looked at no other woman but you. That's the truth, Buffy."

The sincerity in his voice was something I couldn't dispute. Since I'd known him too, I'd never seen him lie outright to my face either. Sure, the man might be a shark in the business but he could never tell a straight lie to his friends since he had never felt the need to lie. Racking my brains to recall, I suddenly realized that it just might be true that he hadn't seen any one else and I felt my heart constrict.

"Trust me?" His big brown eyes pleaded with me and he held out a hand to me.

Leaning forward, I caught hold of one of his large hands. Though his hand was larger and stronger than mine, my hand fit in perfectly. "Angel, I do trust you – or at least I am trying to. But it's not only that. What would happen to us?"

"You worry too much," he remarked, giving my hand a warm squeeze.

"What if we didn't work out? I don't …"

My stammering only led to him laughing at me. "What if the world were to end tomorrow? What if my stocks were to go tumbling down and leave me penniless? What if you turned lesbian? What if my hair were to fall out?" Gently mocking me, Angel replied in a sing-song manner. "What if!"

The teasing failed to make me smile. "But I …"

Without warning, he suddenly pulled me into his arms. And though I put up an initial struggle, he held tight and those steel-like bands he called arms didn't budge even a little. I decided to let him have his way – for the moment at least. My acquiescence made him smile. "Look, there are too many what ifs in the world for us to worry over, my little worrywart. I know my track record with my relationships hasn't exactly been the best but then, I've never felt as much for them as I do for you. I'm willing to give us a chance. Why won't you? I thought you wanted to be more of a risk-taker like me."

A moment ago, I'd put my hands up to at least maintain a distance between us but now they were pressed tight against the solid wall of his chest. And I found that I didn't want him to stay far anymore. "I don't want to risk something as important as our relationship, Angel."

The answer evidently pleased him and he ran one hand up my spine, making me shiver. "It's not a risk, I promise you. I'm not asking for your hand in marriage, a house in the suburbs with white picket fences and a dog named Boo. Not yet anyway. I just want us to have more than a friendship. We've come this far, isn't it time to see if we might have something more?"

"But-"

"Let me finish," he said in his low, commanding voice which I'm sure had his various lowly minions at O'Rourke enterprises leaping to obey. Contrary as I was, I was tempted to do just the opposite but the gentle look on his face stopped me. That look of love had come back into his face, the look I'd seen earlier during dinner. Oh God, it wasn't an act. "Let me raise the stakes for you. I've waited so long to say this but it's time you heard it from me. Buffy, I-"

It was the words that I'd wanted to hear but I stopped him, pressing my fingers on his lips. Having the words spoken would change everything between us. "Don't."

Gently pushing my fingers aside, he spoke firmly and quietly, his gaze intent on mine. "No, you listen. I love you, Buffy."

The words hung in the air, almost palpable between us. If I could reach out and hold those words for eternity, I would have. It was more than I'd ever dreamed of. And so unbelievable I expected to awaken from this weird dream. "Y-you don't."

"Arguing even now. Stubborn girl," he muttered with a shake of his head. Seeing my mulish expression, he sighed and pulled his hands away to shove them into his pockets. "Look, Buffy, we've been living in each other's pocket for the past few months. We're practically living together. If you're not in my apartment, I'm in yours. It was calculated on my part since I do want to be with you and want people to know we're together. Everyone can see it. All our friends can see it. Why can't you see it? Is it so hard to believe that Angel O'Rourke could have a heart after all?"

The sudden sadness in his eyes was more than I could bear and I laid a hand on his forearm. "Angel…"

He turned to look at me. "Just say yes. Try it. It's not that difficult. Forget all the worries, all the doubts. Don't think with that damned logical brain of yours. It's very simple. I love you. I want us to be together."

And I realized that it wasn't all that difficult. A flash of realization came to me. The man of my dreams was mine for the asking. Just like that. A man who'd planned for the past six months, who'd even dreamed of a house in the suburbs and a pet. There was still the niggling worry about the future but I pushed it aside for now. Since when had I ever failed in one of my plans? Damn it, like everything else, I'd make it work! I'd make this relationship work!

So for the first time in my life, I decided to let fate have its way. After all, fate had gotten me this man. "You do realize that if you ever stray, I'd come after you and that big dick or yours with a very sharp machete?"

His dark eyes widened with surprise at my answer but he rose to the occasion with remarkable calm, even grinning foolishly at me. "Planning to keep an eye on me?"

My eyes narrowed in warning. "Under lock and key if need be."

It was obvious that I was giving in and he couldn't help smiling. It was the best smile yet. "I wouldn't take any less."

"It's not that easy, O'Rourke." My conditions weren't over yet and slowly, I went down on my knees next to him and rested my hands on his broad shoulders. "The white picket fences scare me to hell and the dog has to change its name. I couldn't live with a dog called Boo."

"When you make up your mind, you're scary." Tilting his head to look at me, he shook it. "Anything else?"

"That's it. And Angel? Yes."

"Really?"

My arms went around him and this time, I pulled him close. All six feet plus of sweet, wonderful manhood. My hands roamed the large, firm expanse of his back, assuring myself that this was real. "Yes, dummy. Let's take a chance. I want to see where this leads. By the way, you're still on probation though."

"Spank me hard if I go bad," he murmured as he leaned closer. His dimples sprang to life, bracketing his wicked smile.

His male scent filled me and I drank in deeply, sighing as I did so. Sure of their destination, my hands crept down the curve of his spine to rest on the perfection that was his ass. It was just as incredible as I'd imagined. "You bet your sweet ass, Angel."

"I'm counting on that." His whispered words sent a thrill to me even as his lips did a number on my earlobe. "You're trying to fit me into your plans now, aren't you?"

It was my turn to smile. He knew me so well. "I love you, Angel."

Pulling away to look at me, he nodded quietly. "I know."

"And you'd better live up to my expectations tonight."

He smiled, the devil in his eyes. "You bet your sweet ass I will."

And that was the last thing either of us said for the next little while.

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