Lillian Montgomery awoke as streaming sunlight worked its way past the membrane of her eyelids, warming the blackness inside to a cozy red. She squinted as she blinked her eyes open, attempting to shield her sensitive blue orbs from the harsh sunlight. First day of work, her mind bleated weakly, somewhere behind water, aspirin and clothing. Groaning, she rose to her feet only to find a vaguely familiar, very good-looking figure lying on the floor, not a scrap of clothing on his body save the blanket covering his lower back and ass. Yummy. There went her mind again. Not being able to call the previous night's events to mind just yet, Lily chose to pick up the blanket and drop a pillow on the guy's ass.

He lifted his shaggy head off the ground, awoken by the impact of the pillow, and let out a low groan. That, too, sounded vaguely familiar. He looked around blearily before catching sight of her black, lacy bra on the floor next to his head and lifting it up as though it were crime scene evidence, or a dollar bill whose watermark needed to be inspected.

"This is, uh…" he muttered, reluctantly making eye contact with the gorgeous girl as he struggled to describe the situation. She could have sworn she saw his cheeks flush slightly, and that was when her memory chose to come back to her. The bar, the charming, handsome stranger, and the great fun that ensued. Still no matter how charming, handsome, or adorable he was this had to end.

"… Humiliating on so many levels," she finished his thought for him. "I have to go." She was wrapped in securely in the blanket now, and inching slowly towards the hall, hoping to make her escape sooner rather than later.

He sat up slightly, leaning back on his elbows. "Why don't you just come back down here, and we'll pick up where we left off?" So he was one of those. Ignoring the fluttery feelings deep in the pit of her stomach that screamed, ditch work and have sex with him all day, she continued to protest against the stranger's advances.

"No, seriously, I have to go. I'm late, which is not what you want to be on your first day of work so..." She let the rest of her sentence go to the dogs, not wanting to go spreading her life story to the naked guy on the floor. He seemed to get the hint and rose, the sight of his toned chest and perfect v-shaped torso doing nothing for her self-control. Nor did the idea of what was currently blocked from her view by nothing but the couch. And that could be easily fixed if she just shifted back a little, changing the angle… No. Bad Lillian. Sex with strangers is wrong. For all you know, he gave you syphilis.

"So, you are from here?" he asked as she began to shrug into her clothes. Okay, so he wasn't getting the hint. No personal details. Did this guy not understand the unspoken rules of the one-night-stand?

"No," she denied in response.

"Oh." He seemed surprised, she looked familiar.

"I moved two weeks ago from L.A."

"Oh." He repeated, now sounding more than a little like a broken record. Broken records are not attractive, she insisted to herself. Thus, this guy is not attractive. She was so busy rambling to herself, that she hadn't even realized Broken Record was still talking. "… Nice. Huh. So, do you want me show you the town?"

No, no, no, no, no. This guy had obviously never had a one-night-stand in his life. "You know what? We don't have to do the thing."

"Oh. We can do anything you want." How come everything that left his mouth had to sound dirty? No relationships, she reminded herself. Relationships get in the way of surgeries. And surgeries are important. Besides, boyfriends leave, even husbands leave, as her mother always say. But surgeries don't. Stick with surgeries. She realized that the man was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to return the conversational tennis ball to him.

"Not the thing. Exchange the details, pretend we care." She paused awkwardly when he started to laugh. "You know. That's how my parents met." He said trying to hide his smile.

"This is exactly the kind of thing. So, hum… goodbye... uh…" His name. Damn. Why didn't she even know his name? Somewhere in her many spiels, he had helpfully covered the delicious expanse of his upper body with the green shirt he'd looked so good in the previous night.

"Bailey," he supplied, buttoning said green shirt. Bailey seemed cocky, as if she should have known, but she was relatively sure that he didn't know her name, either. He certainly wasn't exactly forthcoming with his knowledge, or lack thereof. Yeah, he definitely didn't know her name. The idea was comforting.

"Bailey, right. Lillian, "she offered back, smiling shyly as he shook her hand. Damn, he was charming. He swung himself jauntily over the back of the couch, still holding her hand firmly in his, and she was transported back to the previous night, with the firm touch of his hands… elsewhere. And the light was sitting him just right, and that smile... damn.

"Lillian," Bailey repeated.

"Yeah," she confirmed, his smile rendering her unable to come up with anything better. "Mhm."

"Nice meeting you." He sounded genuine. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if they just went out on a couple dates. No one said Bailey-from-the-bar was like the other string of men in her life. Maybe Bailey-from-the-bar was different. But no. She let go of her hand. She was a Montgomery, and she wasn't let a one night stand make her more late for work. She will become a surgeon not a housewife.

"Bye, Bailey," she decided finally, closing the door and hopping that she never will see Bailey again.