Rating: PG-13 for now, R-ish later on.
Spoilers: None for Buffy and Angel, but if you haven't seen the movie Pretty Woman, this spoils the whole thing.
Summery: A rewrite of Pretty Woman with the Buffy and Angel characters.
Series: Number 1 in my Movie Rewrite Series.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, they belong to Joss and Co. And Pretty Woman belongs to the people who created it. I'm not sure who.

part One

Angel O'Reilly stood in the study window of the enormous, ornate house in Hollywood Hills, impassively watching the small outdoor dinner party in progress below.

Angel was a handsome, well-groomed man in his late twenties. He looked tired; the kind of fatigue that couldn't be cured by a good night's sleep.

Down below, a magician was entertaining the guests by making playing cards and coins appear and disappear in his nimble hands.

"Left pocket," Angel murmured.

And indeed, the magician pulled the coin from the left pocket of an incredulous woman's silk blazer. The crowd roared in laughter and applause.

The study where Angel stood, was in keeping with the rest of the house. Luxurious. Everything the best. Lindsey McDonald, Angel's contemporary, a crafty looking lawyer who was the host of the party, along with Xander Harris, an investment banker, Xander's assistant, Daniel Osborne, a financial researcher, and three other investment bankers in dark suits and power ties, were in the room with him, sitting around a long, oak table in the middle of the room. There were stacks of documents and folders, with the name 'Finn Industries' prominent on many of the folders, on the table.

"Our bank certainly doesn't want to discourage O'Reilly Enterprises from investing in California. We think this is a great new venue for you but you've got to understand the mergers and acquisitions market is changing. With the upswing in inflation we have to make these offerings tempting to offset the risk," the first investment banker said.

"Look, we're talking about hard assets and straight liquidation," Xander said. "We have more than a thousand man hours in this deal."

"This is a 'no brainer'," Lindsey exclaimed, losing patience. "There's no risk for you. No one has ever lost money backing Mr O'Reilly."

"Not yet," the second banker argued. "But ship building is new endeavor for you..."

"Come on," Lindsey cut him off. "You know we're not going to go into ship building. Besides, you're the ones with the troubled track record, not us!"

"Lindsey, be reasonable," the third investment banker replied. "If you're really going to digest Finn Industries that quickly eighteen should not be such a problem. Besides, I don't think there's anywhere else you can go for the money in the time you have."

"It's unacceptable," Angel spoke up from his spot in front of the window. He turned to face the group at the table. "Draymen Huex has offered me seventy-five in the pool at sixteen and a half. I can secure the other half personally. You have until tomorrow morning to make me a better offer."

The bankers stared speechlessly at him.

"This meeting is over, gentlemen." He turned away.

The bankers looked at one another, rose from their seats and left in silence.

When the door closed, Lindsey exploded with laughter. "Hah! Did you the look on their faces?"

"You don't think we pushed too hard?" Xander asked.

"No way!" Lindsey snorted. "They'll come back. They can't afford not to. Angel, the bluff was beautiful."

"Maybe I should have made it rhyme," Angel replied, with a smirk.

The others stared at him, uncertain. Lindsey began to laugh and the other followed suit.

Angel looked at his watch. "Well! It's late. We've been at this long enough."

Lindsey stood as Angel ushered Xander and Oz toward the door. "Gentlemen, enjoy the party. The magician's wonderful."

As they exited the room, Angel called after them, "Watch your left pocket."

A butler entered the room. "Phone call, Mr. O'Reilly. It's Miss Lockley."

"Kate?" Lindsey asked. "Is she coming out?"

"We're about to find out," Angel replied. "Go on. Take care of your guests." Angel crossed the room and picked up the telephone as Lindsey left.

"Where are you Kate?" he asked into the phone. "I see..." There was a paused and his face became angry. "No, I do not expect you to be at my beck and call. Are you coming out or not?"

****

Angel descended the long, curved stairway with Xander in tow. "Prepare the filing papers," he ordered in an all business tone. "Have them ready by the middle of the week. I'll tell you when to submit them."

The people talking and drinking on the stairway gravitated toward Angel.

"Angel!" one man called.

"Yes?" Angel replied, turning on the charm.

"Will we see you at the polo matches Wednesday?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he answered before turning abruptly to Xander. "I want this done fast and easy. No slip-ups. I want to be back in New York by Saturday. Got it?" He deftly kept making his way through the crowd.

****

Lindsey was sipping a drink and talking to a beautiful woman in a tight sheath of an evening dress. An elegant woman, Lilah McDonald, approached from behind him. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned startled.

"Lindsey?"

"Oh... Hi, honey..." he said, flustered. He gestured to the other woman. "This is Millicent, uh, uh, Millicent..."

"Lowell," she supplied.

"Lowell, right. My wife, Lilah," he introduced the to ladies.

"Is Angel leaving?" Lilah asked ignoring the other woman completely.

Lindsey looked up to see Angel moving quickly toward the door. Lindsey abruptly left the two women together and followed him.

****

Angel walked out of the house. Jags, a limo with a driver and two BMW's packed the circular driveway behind a black Ferrari. The limo driver leaped to attention at the site of Angel. Angel stood, making an obvious effort to keep his patience under control.

Lindsey came out of the house and down the walk. "What's up, where are you going?" he asked.

"Give me your car keys, will you? I'm going back to my hotel," Angel told him.

"At least stay for a drink. This party's for you," Lindsey insisted.

Angel shook his head. "Apologize to Lilah for me."

Lindsey groped uncertainly in his pocket for the keys to his car. "Listen, there is some major local talent inside just dying to meet you..."

"Really?" Angel asked as if he were delighted. "Some high class gold digger who speaks French better than I do?" He turned away. "No thank you. I just got off the phone with one."

"Kate's not coming?"

"No." Angel grabbed the keys out of Lindsey's hand, walked to the black Ferrari and got in. "Let your driver take you. We'll move the cars..." Lindsey trailed off, glancing nervously at his car.

Angel ignored him and started the car.

"Can you drive a stick?" Lindsey asked.

The car lurched forward with a squeal of wheels and promptly stalled.

"Angel, give me a break!" Lindsey cried.

With a squeal of tires, the Ferrari bucked out of the driveway and... stalled again. "Love this car!" Angel exclaimed. "Is it new?"

"Yes!" Lindsey shouted in an exasperated voice. "And you don't even know where you're going!"

Angel started the car again and headed uncertainly uphill. Lindsey watched and threw his hands up. "That's the wrong way!"

****

The Ferrari moved fast through Hollywood Hills, passing large, beautiful homes. Angel shifted, grinding the gears.

Angel came to a red light and pulled up next to a Dodge Colt. The girl driving the Colt looked at him and his car admiringly. Angel, feeling confident, revved the engine. The light turned green, and he immediately stalled the car. The Colt left him in the dust.

Angel kept driving. He blinked and shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of his own tired thoughts.

He came to the intersection of Outpost and Franklin and stopped the car. He got out and looked at the street signs. He sighed. He had no idea where he was. He got back in and took off on Franklin heading east.

Part Two

Buffy Summers stared at herself in the grainy, cracked bedroom mirror. She was a twenty-year-old prostitute. Her make-up was applied to give her a hard, older look, although it doesn't quite succeed. She was innocently beautiful without it.

She was wearing a tiny miniskirt, an even smaller halter top and knee high fake leather boots. She stared at herself not liking what she saw.

After a moment, she sighed, turned off the light and walked out of the bedroom.

****

Buffy locked the apartment door behind her, before starting down the dim hallway, with faded, peeling walls and a thread bare, dirty carpet.

A door opened, startling her. An unshaved, enormously pot bellied man in a stained T-shirt stared at her with pig like eyes.

"Buffy."

"Yeah, what?" she demanded, turning on her "tough" attitude.

"Rent. You're late," he told her.

"Don't give me that. Faith gave it to you yesterday, in cash."

"Faith gave me nothing?," the landlord informed her.

"You bullshittin' me?" she asked, suddenly uncertain.

"Of rent I do not bullshit," he replied.

Buffy turned and hurried at a run back down the hall to her apartment.

"By the end of the week or you're outta here," he shouted after her. A second later he called, "By the way, you look very nice tonight."

****

Buffy pulled a coffee can off a shelf in the kitchen. She pulled the top off and peered in. Empty. She tossed the can away.

She went to the door, opened it, and peeked down the hall. Her landlord was standing in front of his open door, talking to a rather large woman. They both glanced up when they heard her door open.

She quickly closed the door, not wanting to deal with tonight. Leaning against the door, she tried to figure a way out of the apartment. Her gaze caught the window leading to the fire escape.

****

Buffy walked urgently along the street looking for Faith. A babbling street-type wearing an 'I Love Hollywood' T-shirt buzzed by her happily talking to himself.

She passed a groups of tourists but didn't notice them any more than she payed attention to the vagrant she passed further on, huddled in a doorway.

A long-haired kid on a skateboard sped past her, dropping off little bags to various homeless people.

A man stood in front of a photo store urging tourists to come in and take a photo with a cardboard cutout of a movie star.

Buffy hurried past a group of rubber-necking Japanese tourists. A black prostitute in a mini shirt strolled toward her. A passing car slowed as the driver stared at Buffy with interest. She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder and kept on walking, completely ignoring him.

The black prostitute approached the car. "Hey, baby, you lookin' for a date?"

The driver looked her over and reached across the passengers seat to open the car door. The prostitute got in and the car drove away.

A group of men, mostly drug dealers, hanging out in an all night coffee shop, whistle and make obscene gestures and sounds as Buffy hurried by. She ignored them and next to the falafel stand.

Behind the stand, a man and a woman, Vietnamese cooks, were frying food, trying to ignore the unsavory crowd camped in the shop.

"Chan, you seen Faith tonight?" Buffy asked woman.

"Hi, hi!" Chan replied. "No see nothing."

"You do, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Looking good, bay-bee," the man said after a long wolf whistle.

"Yeah, you too, D&

768;Nai," Buffy told him, flashing a flirty smile. "If Faith comes in here, tell her stay."

Both of them smiled and nodded at her as she left.

****

As Buffy exited the shop, she saw a police car and an ambulance parked at the entrance to an alcove. A crowd had gather, waiting to see what was happening.

The man with the 'I Love Hollywood' T-shirt was engaged in a tense conversation with a police officer.

"They just pulled her body out of a dumpster in the back. Now talk to me," the cop ordered.

"I tell you, man, I don't know who she hangs with," the man insisted.

"She have a pimp?"

"Cocaine her pimp, man. She a strawberry. She be out on these streets, day in, day out, tradin' her sorry ass for crack. And now she dead from it."

Buffy rushed to join the outskirts of the crowd as the body of a young girl was pulled out of an open dumpster and carried to the waiting ambulance.

"Oh god, please don't let that be..." she trailed off as she got a glimpse of the girl's face and realized that it wasn't Faith.

She sighed a sigh of relief and grimly turned away, surveying that dark street. She scowled when she finally spotted her friend, trying on wigs with some guy at a store across the street.

****

Spike draped his arm sloppily across Faith's shoulder and they both giggled about something, obviously high.

Faith looked, bleary-eyed and suddenly stopped laughing. Buffy was standing in front of her, scowling.

"You spent it on drugs, didn't you?" she demanded.

"Hey, B," Faith greeted. "Spike, you know my roommate, B."

"Lookin' good, baby," Spike slurred.

"Did you blow it all, Faith?" Buffy questioned. "Is it all gone?"

"Spike had some great rock," Faith giggled.

"I'll bet," Buffy replied sarcastically. "That was our rent!"

Spike attempted to put his arm around her shoulders. "Calm down, chica."

Buffy pushed him off.

"Ey!" he grumbled. "What is it you wan', baby? I can fix you up."

"Beat it, asshole!" Buffy ordered, glaring at him.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth? Your frien' still owes me 200."

"Let's go," Buffy said, grabbing Faith's arm.

Spike moved in front of them, blocking their path.

"Get out of my face or your gonna regret it!" Buffy shouted.

Spike snickered at her, grabbing her shoulder. "What's gonna happen to me? You gonna beat me up?"

"As a matter a fact... yes!" Buffy grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back on the ground. She placed her foot on his chest. "Stay away," she hissed.

She grabbed Faith and dragged her down the street. "Wow, where'd you learn to do that?" Faith whispered, glancing over her shoulder.

"Don't take any dates tonight, chica, you got one with me," Spike called threateningly after Buffy.

****

Buffy and Faith sat at a table at the falafel stand, sipping tea. Buffy was still steaming mad at her.

"We worked hard for that money. We were gonna put together enough to get out of that dump we live in, get off this street."

"Don't be stupid, B," Faith said. "We're whores."

Faith instantly regretted her words. Buffy looked like she wanted to weep. Or scream. She did neither.

Buffy slowly nodded. "Yeah, whores," she whispered softly.

"So, I blew our stash," Faith shrugged. "We could make it back in one good night on the streets."

"I just saw somebody's body pulled out of a dumpster. I wonder how much she made tonight?"

"Don't be mad at me," Faith pleaded. "I'll pay you back. I promise."

"I thought you were giving up that drug shit."

"I will. I'm trying," Faith told her. "Meanwhile, I got some crack left, you wanna get high?"

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, let's got work. Okay?"

"Okay." Faith reached out and touched Buffy's hand. "I'm sorry I said your dream was stupid."

****

Buffy and Faith were out on Hollywood Blvd. trying to hustle guys in passing cars. Buffy struck a sexy pose at the bus stop. Faith was talking to another prostitute, Rachel.

"No, no, honey. You see these stars on the sidewalk. Me and Buffy work from Con Ameche all the way up to Roy Rogers. This is our office. We got seniority. Get off our corner," Faith ordered.

"I was just taking a rest," Rachel defended. "Besides," she pointed at Buffy, "she's new."

"But, I'm old," Faith informed. "Go rest up by Monty Hall or Debra Paget where you belong."

Rachel glared at her and stalked off up the street.

"Locks slow tonight," Buffy stated, watching the passing cars.

"Maybe we should get a pimp. Spike likes you and..."

"Forget it," Buffy said. "We work for it, we keep it. Besides, I don't think he likes me much now."

"Oh, yeah," Faith laughed, thinking back to the earlier encounter with Spike. "Where'd you learn that anyway?"

"I used to take self-defense classes."

"Oh." Faith looked around the street and sighed, bored. "I can't handle this tonight. I'm going home."

Buffy stared at her. "That crack burning a hole in your pocket. There isn't even milk in the fridge. The rent's due. Now come on!"

Faith looked up to see a black Ferrari pull onto Hollywood Blvd. "Hey, hey! There's rent!" she exclaimed, pointing to the car.

"He's not gonna want us."

The car pulled to stop by the curve near the girls. "Excuse me!" the man driving called out to Buffy.

"Don't take less than a hundred," Faith told her excitedly. "You look hot tonight. And remember, don't mouth off. They don't like that."

"Okay," Buffy nodded, taking a breath. "Go home. But take it easy on that shit."

Faith gave her a quick hug. "You're the greatest. I'll wait up for you. Take care of you!" She took off quickly down the road.

Buffy stared at the Ferrari, loathing it and all it represented. She sighed, fluffed her hair, threw her shoulders back, thrusting her breasts out and sashayed toward the car, a sexy, friendly smile plastered on her face.

part Three

Angel set in the driver's seat of the Ferrari, a furious and distracted look on his face. Buffy leaned over the window on the passenger's side.

"Hey Sugar, you lookin' for a date?" she drawled.

Angel looked up at her. "What's that?"

"You lookin' for some company?"

He shook his head. "Uh, no. How do I get to Beverly Hills?"

"What?" Buffy asked, dropping the come on. "You gonna tell me you lost?"

"Yes."

"Great," Buffy groaned. "What do I look like? A tour guide?"

Angel looked her up and down, taking in her extremely small skirt and shirt. "No, you look like a hooker."

"Actually," Buffy said sarcastically, "I'm a movie star out for a walk."

"Good," Angel rolled his eyes. "Can you tell me how to get to Beverly Hills?"

"Sure," Buffy answered with a smile. "For five bucks."

Angel snorted. "That's ridiculous."

"The price just went up to ten."

"Why don't you just do it out of the kindness of your heart?"

"Sit... and spin," Buffy said sweetly.

"Sit-and-spin," Angel repeated, amused. "All right... why not," He pulled out his wallet.

Buffy froze when she saw Spike and another guy she didn't recognize coming toward her. He flashed her an evil, menacing grin.

Angel held up a bill. "You have change for a twenty?"

Buffy pulled open the door of the car and jumped in. "For twenty, I'll show you personal. Drive."

Angel stared at her. She smiled sweetly. "Make a "U-ee", she told him. "Beverly Hills is the other way.

Angel pulled the car away from the curb and sped away, passing a very pissed of Spike.

****

"Nice car," Buffy commented. "Yours?"

"No," Angel winced as he once again grinded the gears.

"Stolen?"

"Not exactly," he smiled.

Buffy smiled back. "Mind if I turn on some heat? I'm a bit chilly."

Angel eyed the small shirt she was wearing. "I bet. If you can figure it out, be my guest."

Buffy reached out and pushed a button, turning on the heat with no problem.

"Very good," Angel said, impressed. "You're obviously mechanical."

Buffy laughed. "You're not from LA, huh?"

"New York," he told her.

"What motel you staying at?"

"Hotel," Angel corrected.

"Oh, excuse me. My bad. What *hotel* are you staying at?"

"Regent Beverly Wilshire. I bet you know it," he said knowingly.

"Yeah, I peed in the fountain there once," Buffy snapped, annoyed with his tone. "Give me a break."

Angel glanced over at her. He never noticed before, but without all the heavy make-up she would be a very beautiful girl. "What's your name?"

"What do you want it to be?" she replied, seductively. After a moment she answered, "Buffy. My name is Buffy."

"You like being a hooker, Buffy?"

"It pays."

"So do day jobs."

"Day jobs, yeah," Buffy said, sarcastically. "I've tried them. Ooh, turn right here." She pointed to a street sign.

"Must be dangerous," Angel commented. "Hooking."

"Tell me about it," Buffy agreed. "LA is suffering from a wacko epidemic. And who knows where half the guys I pick up have been. I mean, I use condoms. Always. And I get checked out once a month at the clinic. Not only am I better in the sack than an amateur, I'm probably safer."

"Very good. You ought to have that printed up on your business card."

Buffy looked at him from the corner of her eye. "If you're making fun of me, I don't like it."

"Sorry. If I did, I didn't mean to."

Buffy looked out the window and unconsciously started biting her finger nails.

Angel noticed this. "Ugly habit, bitting you nails."

Buffy put her hands in her lap. "You don't know habits, you think this is ugly." She continued to stare out the window. They were far enough away from Hollywood Blvd. that she would be safe from Spike. "Okay, pull over. Let me out. I've got to get back to work."

Angel pulled the to the curb.

"Stay on this street and you'll hit Beverly Hills," Buffy told him.

"What do you charge for company, Buffy," angel asked suddenly, surprising not only himself but her too.

"Company would cost you... a hundred dollars."

"For the whole night?"

"For an hour."

"You're joking."

"I never joke about money."

"Neither do I," Angel replied, amused. "A hundred bucks an hour though. That's pretty stiff."

Buffy reached across the seat, her hand went in his lap. "No, but its getting there," she smirked.

Angel gave her a pointed look and removed her hand. "Buffy, how much to put with me for the entire night?"

"You couldn't afford it." She started to get out of the car.

"Try me."

She flashed him a sexy smile. "Three hundred."

"Fine."

Her smiled faded to shock expression, then the smile returned. "What's you name, lover?"

"Angel. My name is Angel."

"Angel... pretty name. You got it!"

Angel got out of the car. Buffy looked at him confused. "Get in the other side."

"What?"

"You know how to drive a stick?" he asked her.

Buffy moved around the car. "Better believe it."

"Then let's go," Angel smiled. "It's worth three hundred just so I don't have to drive."

They both got back into the car. This time Buffy was in the driver's seat and Angel was in the passenger's.

Buffy started the car and revved the engine. "Here we go, Angel."

The Ferrari peeled away from the curb, fishtailed madly and squealed up the street.

****

Thousands of tiny white lights sparkled along the walls of the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel. Bright flags were illuminated by carefully placed spotlight.

The Ferrari screamed into the driveway and came to a jarring stop by the front door.

Angel took a minute to get his breath. He gestured to the back of the car. "My coats in the back. Put it on."

Buffy frowned. "Why?"

"You may feel more comfortable. This is not the kind of place that rents by the hour."

"You mean they don't have hookers," Buffy stated, bluntly.

"Every place has hookers, but if this hotel has hookers, they don't look like they're..." Angel trailed off.

"Off the boulevard," Buffy finished for him.

"Exactly."

part Four

Buffy and Angel walked into the lobby of the Regent Wilshire Hotel. Buffy was putting on Angel's long leather duster.

"Oh, great," she complained. " Now, I look like a hooker in a trench coat!"

She looked up and stopped in her tracks. The lobby was bright and spacious, filled with thick carved wood panelling. Even at the late hour there was a great deal of activity, men in business suits and women in furs and jewels were passing by.

Buffy's face quickly concealed the sudden awe she felt at the site of all this luxury. She reached and took Angel's arm. "So, let's go."

Angel guided them across the lobby. They reached the elevator and went inside.

The young elevator operator was dressed in a clean red uniform that seem just and bit too tight. As the elevator doors closed he nodded toward Angel. "Evening, sir."

"Good evening," Angel greeted. "Penthouse."

"Penthouse," Buffy smirked. "My, my." She noticed the operator glancing at her. "The penthouse. And step on it!"

****

Buffy and Angel walked out of the elevator into a hallway leading into a single doorway with two heavy wood doors. Angel pulled out his key and unlocked the doors. With a gentle push the sled open in unison. Angel motioned for Buffy to go inside. She did and he followed, closing the doors.

As Buffy stepped into the room she had the sensation of falling off the top of the building. In front of her the living room was sunken in with massive windows revealing the sparkling lights of the city below. For the first time, she was speechless.

Angel walked past her, down the stairs, into the living room and picked up the phone, while stood where she was, checking out the room.

"Room service," Angel said into the phone. He looked over at Buffy. "What do you drink?"

"Diet coke," she answered.

"Send up a bottle of Crystal champagne," he ordered, ignoring her request.

"Can I have some chips?"

"And a bowl of strawberries," he added. "Thank you."

Buffy made her way down the steps to the living room. She stared at the view from the windows.

"Impressed?" Angel asked.

She was, but she wasn't about to admit it. "You kidding? I come here all the time," she teased. "As a matter fact, they do rent this room by the hour."

Angel smiled and sat down in a comfortable looking chair and leaned back.

Buffy looked at him. "Now that you have me for the night, what are going to do with me?"

"Want to know something? I don't quite know," he admitted. "I hadn't planned this."

"Do you plan everything?"

"Always," he replied with a small smile.

"Well, the meter's running, it's your money. Speaking of which, cash'll do. In advance." She sat on the couch across from him.

"Fair enough," Angel nodded.

He rose from his chair and took out his wallet. Standing over her, he dropped three crisp, new hundred dollar bills in her lap. She picked up the bills, and stared at them, trying not to be impressed. She realized that he was still standing over her, as if waiting for something.

She leaned forward and reached out to unzip his pants.

He abruptly turned away. "Let's talk some more first."

"Right," Buffy agreed, brightly. "So! In town on business?"

"Uh-huh," Angel confirmed, taking off his jacket.

"Let me guess, you're a... lawyer."

Angel loosened his tie. "And why would you say that?"

"I dunno..." Buffy replied with a small smile. "You have that sharp, useless look."

Angel almost smiled. He sat across from her again. "Sounds like you've known a lot of lawyers."

"I've known a lot of everybody."

The doorbell chimed, startling them.

"Champagne." Angel stared to get up.

Buffy motioned for him to stay put. "Hey,. I might as well make myself useful."

Angel sat back down as Buffy waltzed up the steps and opened the front door. A waiter came into the room with a silver cart carrying a bucket with containing champagne and a covered bowl.

"Where would like it?" the waiter asked.

Buffy looked to Angel. "Where would we like it?"

"Here'll be fine." he gestured to the center of the living room.

The waiter carried the cart down the steps and sat it in the middle of the living room. He turned and headed back up the stairs, pausing near Buffy, staring.

She stared back at him. "What are you looking at?"

The waiter glanced away uncomfortably and exited the room. Buffy closed the door behind him and marched back down the stairs.

"I think he wanted you to tip him," Angel informed her gently.

Buffy made a "tsk" sound with her tongue. "Excuse me, I don't think he had change for a hundred."

Angel crossed to the silver stand. Buffy watched with interest as he twirled the champagne bottle in the ice bucket.

"You have a wife?" Buffy asked curiously. "Girlfriend?"

"I have both." angel lifted the bottle out of the bucket. He deftly popped the cork on the bottle without losing a drop of champagne.

"Where are they?" Buffy snickered. "Shopping together?"

Angel chuckled. "They should be. They're both good at it." He poured the champagne into a single long stemmed glass and handed to Buffy. "My ex-wife lives in London in what used to be my home, with what used to be my dog. My girlfriend is in New York moving out of my apartment even as we speak." He held out his glass. "Cheers."

He drank, nodding approvingly. "It"s a very good year."

"Oooh, thank god," Buffy replied, staring at her glass.

Angel laughed softly.

Buffy took a small sip. To her surprise she liked it. Angel lifted the lid on the silver bowl to reveal a dozen enormous strawberries.

"Try a strawberry," he told her.

"Why?"

"Because they bring out the flavor of the champagne."

"Jesus," Buffy swore. "You act like you're seducing some Valley girl you picked up in a dance club."

"Buffy, the meter's running..." Angel mocked. "Cooperate."

Buffy stared at him a moment before picking up a strawberry and slowly biting into it. The juice of it stained her lips.

Her eyes were like smoke as she took a sensuous sip of champagne and licked away the stain of the strawberry. His hadn't left her.

"You're really a very beautiful girl," he whispered softly.

"Just a romantic, that's you," she replied in a husky voice.

"Yes..."

Her mouth was so wet and inviting and leaned in closer.

"Me too," Buffy whispered.

He was about to kiss her when she pulled back slightly. "Not on the lips."

He tensed and was about to pull away when she pulled his down to her breast.

Go to Part 5