A/N: The ride continues. Once again with some dialogue from the actual episode. Credit for everything lifted from 'First Date' goes to Daniel Palladino, who wrote it. I was happy to discover that he worked on 'Who's The Boss?' because I was a huge 'Gilmore Girls' fan in my youth. And the way I see it, there are a couple more Palladino episodes in the future of this series. :)

Ch 7 – First Date (1)

On Monday afternoon, Tony and Angela came home to an empty house.

Both kids were with friends after school, and Mona was holding down the fort at the Bower Agency. At least that was what Angela had asked her to do. Who knew with Mona, she might be out shopping or on a coffee date instead, but Angela decided not to worry about the Agency until tomorrow.

The front door fell shut behind them, and after they had shrugged out of their coats, they found themselves staring at each other uncertainly. Now what?

"Is the house off-limits, even when nobody else is home?" Angela asked, realizing that they hadn't discussed the details of their plan.

Tony frowned. "Good question."

"I mean, it would probably be smart."

"Oh, for sure," Tony said earnestly. "I mean, one of the kids could walk in here any time. Or Mona."

"Yeah," she agreed.

But even as they were talking about this, their bodies began to act of their own accord, inching closer and closer together in the entryway until they stood facing each other.

"I guess we can still hug," Tony said, and it sounded almost like a question as his arms slowly came around her waist. "We used to hug before."

"True, we did. I'd say that makes it okay."

Angela gladly melted into his embrace. It had felt strange enough, having to keep their distance from each other as soon as the plane touched down in New York.

In the cab from the airport to the station, they surreptitiously intertwined their pinky fingers, as if holding on to the last remnants of the weekend, but as soon as they boarded the train, any form of physical contact had to cease. It just seemed too risky. What if another member of the Fairfield Parents' Association happened to travel in the same car, or one of their neighbors on Oak Hills Drive?

At least inside their own – empty – house, they could be sure that nobody was watching.

Angela nuzzled her head against Tony's shoulder and inhaled his cologne. He smelled so good. Warmth began to pool in her belly as she thought back to this morning, waking up with him and continuing to snuggle in bed for a couple of minutes before they had to start their day.

They hadn't even taken off any of their clothes the night before – well, except for her bikini top in the jacuzzi –, but being together had still felt more intimate than anything she had experienced in a long time. Tony's sheer physical proximity was enough to drive her to distraction, and so his hands as they stroked her through her lacy nightgown, his lips all over her jaw and throat (he'd been so careful not to give her another hickey), and then his tongue in her mouth and his weight on top of her ... all of that combined had been pure bliss.

"I think I'm going to feel a little lonely tonight," Angela whispered, her fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I know," he sighed. "But we really shouldn't-"

"No, of course not. We agreed, and it's fine," she interrupted him gently. "I look forward to Friday." At least their first real date hadn't been difficult to schedule. They would tell the family that she'd be working late and that Tony would go visit some people in the old neighborhood.

"Me too," he hummed, and she felt his thumbs slipping underneath her belt, gently tugging.

Angela pushed her hips forward against his, he pushed back, and she was just beginning to wonder whether their embrace might take a turn for something a little more daring when they heard the kitchen door go.

"Hello?! Anybody home?" It was Sam's voice.

Immediately, they flew apart like two birds roused by the sound of a shotgun, and yet they barely managed to achieve a respectable distance before Sam walked through the door into the living room.

"Oh, you guys are back already!"

Angela was leaning against the banister at the foot of the stairs in a pseudo-casual manner, and Tony had taken a couple of hasty steps over to the bureau.

"Samantha!" he exclaimed a little too loudly. "My favorite daughter! Yes, yes we are."

"So, how was it?" Sam asked, visibly bewildered by his exuberant greeting. "Did you make your favorite daughter proud?"

"One into the bleachers, just like you asked," Tony beamed.

"Your father and I had a very nice time," Angela chimed in more calmly.

"And what are you doing now?" Sam was giving them both quizzical looks.

They were still standing rooted to their respective spots. Tony had picked up some of the papers that were stacked on top of the bureau, and Angela felt as if she had forgotten how to take up space in a room neutrally and naturally. She didn't know what to do with her hands, or how to position her feet.

"Nothing, nothing," Tony said. "Just, you know, making sure everything is as we left it." He lifted the papers in his hand and then went as far as to open and shut one of the little drawers in the bureau. "Looks good!"

"O-kay," Sam said, laughing under her breath.

Angela was struggling to suppress an embarrassed grin. They were doing a horrible job of pretending nothing unusual was going on.

She cleared her throat. "Sam, sweetheart, how was your math final? That was today, wasn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. It went alright. Bonnie and I compared answers after, and mine weren't anything like hers. That's always a good sign."

"Poor Bonnie," Angela said.

Sam shrugged. "We did the same amount of studying, so I don't know what it is. But anyway, I'm just here to pick up my books. Bonnie and I are meeting at the library in half an hour. We've got History tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah," Tony said with a bright smile. "History. History's important."

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam said. "Are you sure you're alright, Dad? Angela, is he alright?"

"Absolutely, honey," Angela tried to reassure her. "He's just … tired. We're tired. Late nights. You know. Talking. To you dad's old friends."

"Uh-huh." Sam looked back and forth between the two of them one more time. Then, with a slight shake of her head, she continued up the stairs.

ooooooooo

The week dragged by slowly.

They were extremely careful, just as Tony wanted, and the incident with Samantha remained the only one of its kind. It was Mona's and Jonathan's return home on Monday evening that forced them to really keep it together: One slip of the tongue, a lingering stare, or any unwarranted touching, and Mona would be on their case, that they could be sure of.

But as far as Angela was concerned, they had let the genie out of the bottle in St. Louis, and try as she might, she couldn't get it to go back in. She found that she craved Tony's attention with an intensity that almost scared her, and she wondered whether he felt the same way or whether his fear of discovery trumped any and all longing he might feel.

Even the smallest everyday interactions between them were incredibly fraught and tempting: Saying good morning in the kitchen. Sitting in the passenger seat when Tony took her and Mona to the station. Unexpectedly running into each other somewhere in the house. Watching television together and talking about their day. Saying good night in the upstairs hallway.

The hallway was probably the most difficult part.

Rationally, Angela understood Tony's need to take things slow. He was her employee, at least on paper. She had stopped feeling that way about him a long time ago, but of course that didn't change any of the hard facts: She still wrote his paycheck every week, she took care of his and Samantha's insurance, they lived in her house and ate her food.

But there was a small, adventurous, and surprisingly vocal part of Angela's brain that wanted nothing more than to finally live and feel. This part simply didn't care about any of the obstacles that came with their unique situation.

She wished that they could just give in to what was clearly in the air between them on those late evenings when they stood facing each other in their pajamas. Realistically, what were the odds of them getting caught were Tony to slip into her bedroom for a couple of minutes – or she into his, for that matter? The children weren't that young anymore, they didn't wake up needing their parents in the middle of the night.

They didn't even need have to have sex. Some kissing and holding each other would be more than sufficient to … scratch her itch. Well, yeah – there was no other, more delicate way to put it. She yearned for him, and when they parted ways for the night in the dark and silent house, both worn down by their respective days, she felt it most acutely.

Still, she respected Tony's wish to be as discreet as possible about this, and she was resolved to follow his lead.

His words in the jacuzzi the other night had been encouraging. He had been on the cusp of saying something to her, she could feel it. Just like the day when she almost managed to tell him she loved him after Frankie's proposal. Looking back, she was glad not to have said anything. Going first in matters of love had never worked out to her advantage.

Something would push Tony over the edge sooner or later, it was only a matter of time.

ooooooooo

"Do you believe that guy!?" Angela laughed as she unlocked the front door for them. "That was the longest speech in the history of advertising."

"And he's probably still talking," Brad said.

"Yes," she agreed and turned around to let him help her out of her coat.

Only then did she realize that they were not alone in the living room. Her mother was sitting on the couch, watching them.

"Oh, Mother, you're here," Angela said, immediately wary.

"Yes, dear. I'm here quite a lot. It's kind of like home to me." Mona smiled and got up. As she came towards them, she asked, "So, how were the Ad Awards? Win anything?"

"I was a runner-up in one category," Angela summed up an all-around pleasant, but unremarkable evening.

"What did the winner get? Twins?" Mona asked, making suggestive googly eyes at Brad. Typical.

Through clenched teeth, Angela said, "Mother, this my date."

Brad reached for Mona's hand. "Bart. Nice to meet you." Right, right. His name was Bart.

"Mona," she said and clasped Bart's hand with both of hers.

Angela sighed inwardly. Was it too much to ask for her mother to keep her sex kitten persona in check every once in a while, at least in front of her own daughter? Resolutely, she stepped in and pulled Mona's and Bart's hands apart.

"Thank you for this special evening," she said, smiling sweetly at Bart.

"It was special," he agreed and was about to head for the door when he seemed to remember something. "Oh, and Angela?"

"Yeah?"

"There is just one thing I'd like to ask you."

"Mhm?"

"How would you like to pay for this?" His tone was suddenly all business, and Angela felt heat rise to her cheeks the second the words had left his mouth.

Bart pulled a surprisingly thick stack of forms out of the inside pocket of his tuxedo. "Visa or Mastercard?"

"Uh, just send me the bill!" she said quickly, annoyed to have this come to light in front of her mother.

Bart nodded. "Alright." He waved at Mona and opened the door for himself. "Bye, Angela. I had a nice time."

"Oh, yeah. Me too. It was just fabulous. Thanks! Bye-bye!" Angela gave him a hasty, perfunctory wave before throwing the door shut.

Then she swung around and drew up her shoulders, bracing herself as she walked past Mona and on towards the couch. She perched on the armrest, ready to take whatever was going to come her way.

Mona was still staring at her, aghast. "I. Am. Shocked."

"Oh, Mother! Single women executives hire escorts all the time."

"No, I'm saying you got gypped! I mean, you pay for a car wash, you don't leave before the buff and polish!"

Angela blinked and took a deep breath. "Mother, I didn't do this for a 'buff and polish'. I was not going to go to those Ad Awards all alone, and everybody, including Tony, was busy. It's no big deal."

"Oh, I know, I know. But … I would just like to see my daughter go out on a real date. Where the guy pays."

"Well, so would I," Angela fibbed. "But you know my schedule's been so crazy, I don't have time to meet men."

"Tell me about it!" Mona retorted. "You could convert your bedroom into a sensory deprivation tank."

Her mother was in rare form tonight, shifting from compassion to low punches without missing a beat. If only she could tell her how wrong she was. Well, not technically. Nothing had happened in Angela's bedroom in a very long time, this much was true. But in another bedroom, in another state, only this past weekend, things had very much happened.

Reflexively, Angela toucher her choker. All week, she had taken painstakingly hidden the mark Tony had left on her throat under scarves, turtlenecks, or high-collared blouses. The bruise had faded to a light green by now, but it was still very much visible. Especially a trained eye like Mona's would recognize it immediately for what it was.

Angela got up from the couch to put some more distance between herself and her mother.

"I am perfectly comfortable with my life exactly as it is right now, and if you tell anyone about tonight, I will make an orphan out of me," she threatened, at last beginning to enjoy the theatrics a little.

Still, she would put an end to this now and head upstairs. Under no circumstances did she want to risk getting too carried away and slipping up in one way or another.

However, before Angela could set foot on the bottoms step, the front door opened, and in walked Tony, softly singing to himself as he often did when he was in a good mood.

He had been unable to accompany her to the Ad Awards because one of his study groups met on Thursday nights at the library, and finals were coming up. Angela had indeed hired escorts many times before, and they had always been exceptionally handsome, nice and harmless men, which was why neither she nor Tony had any qualms about her arrangement with Brad. Bart. Bart.

"Oh, hi! Oooh, Angela!" Tony took her in, her upswept hair and the plunging neckline of her dress. Their eyes met for a millisecond, making Angela's hands and feet tingle. "You look very nice. So, how was the affair?"

"Costly," Mona deadpanned from behind her.

Angela smirked. "Super, just super," she managed, biting back something between a groan and a giggle. It was fun and unnerving at the same time, having to keep up this charade, pretending Tony didn't know who had taken her to the awards ceremony.

"Well, I'm sorry I was busy," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh, that's alright. I took an old business associate of mine, a terrific guy, Brad."

"Bart," Mona corrected her.

"Bart," Angela repeated diligently before adding, "uh, he likes me to call him Brad." At this, she felt sudden, wild laughter beginning to bubble up from somewhere below her diaphragm. She only managed to bite it back with great effort.

"Mh." Tony looked at her, equally amused and working just as hard to hide it.

Angela sensed an opportunity to cut the exchange short by acting embarrassed.

"Ah, whew! I'm beat. Well, good night." She nodded at Tony and Mona.

Then she turned around, not without giving her mother an especially stern look, and hurried up the stairs. The last thing she heard before escaping into the relative safety of her bedroom was Tony's voice.

"What's with her?"

ooooooooo

Half an hour later, there was a knock on her door. Angela had changed out of her dress and opened the door in her robe. She was surprised to find Tony standing outside, carrying a stack of towels.

"Can I come in?" he asked. "I forgot to replace your towels." He was speaking loudly, for the benefit of any potential listeners.

"Oh, of course," Angela replied. "Thank you. And maybe you could take another look at that faucet while you're in here? It's dripping again."

The corner of Tony's mouth twitched, and he stepped inside.

"So, how was your night with Brad? Or was it Bart?" he asked once she had drawn the door shut behind him.

Angela laughed and slapped his left bicep. "Stop it. It was very uneventful. He's a nice guy, that's all. I didn't expect Mother to be here to intercept us."

"She told me everything. That you had to hire and escort because you couldn't get a date."

Angela sighed. "Why am I not surprised? What did you say?"

"That I'm sure it was just a matter of convenience. And that I can't imagine why a woman like you wouldn't get a date."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah," he said. Having put the towels down on her dresser, he gestured at her. "I mean, you're funny, and beautiful, and smart, and beautiful."

"You said 'beautiful' twice."

"Maybe I think you're two times beautiful?"

Angela's stomach lurched. "Tony."

"Well, I mean it." He shrugged bashfully. "And I told Mona that any man would be proud to take you out."

"Any man, huh?"

"One man in particular."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I haven't made plans with any man for tomorrow night."

"Yeah, about that," Tony said with a sigh. Suddenly, he seemed weary again, just like on a couple of other occasions this week, when the strangeness of their situation seemed to catch up with him.

Angela's heart skipped a beat. Was he going to cancel on her now?

"Mona wouldn't let it go. And I had to go along with it. She kinda talked me into taking you out on a date. I'm going to ask you out tomorrow morning. To help boost your confidence."

"Oh. Did you feel that I was … lacking? In confidence?" she asked suggestively.

Once again, Angela's mind went back to the weekend. To when she decided to join Tony on his side of the jacuzzi. When she let him untie her bikini top. When she straddled him underwater.

"No," he said as he hooked one finger under the tie of her bathrobe. "Not exactly."

"I didn't think so."

He smiled softly. "Look, about tomorrow. I guess nothing has to change, really. The only thing is- it's not a secret anymore. The date, I mean. Mona thinks it's her idea that we're going to go out. And she's gonna want a report."

Angela ran her fingers up and down the button tab on Tony's shirt. "I don't think it's much of a problem. When you ask me tomorrow, I'll say yes, of course. And then we'll go out. Wherever you want to take me, just like we planned. Only Mother is going to interrogate us when we're back."

"So much for being discreet, huh?" Tony said wistfully.

"Yeah. But maybe this is a good thing. Let's say, you take me out on a horrible date? To a comedy club or something. With sticky tabletops and a rude comedian. He provokes us, and I punch his lights out. Then we have a big fight. We'll make up a whole story. Our first and last date," she grinned.

"How do you come up with this stuff?" Tony asked, shaking his head.

"I'm in advertising, remember?"

"Ah, yes. Now that you mention it."

Angela brought one hand up to the side of his face and stroked the stubble there. "It'll be fine, Tony. Mother will nag us for a couple of days, and then she'll grow tired of it and leave us alone because she'll think we're hopeless."

"Hey, yeah. I never looked at it like that before. It's the perfect cover." He sounded relieved.

"See?" Angela smiled.

Then, in breach of their self-imposed house rules, they leaned in for a kiss (or two, or three) before Tony reluctantly left Angela's bedroom, loudly cursing the plumber who had installed the faucet on her bathtub.