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Chapter 15: Passions and Pen Names
*****
If one thing was to be learned from this whole experience, it was that you didn't have to eat a lot to be an amazing cook.
"Spike, this is delicious. When did you learn to cook?" Andrea asked curiously, chewing thoughtfully on a spoonful of steamed rice. He shrugged modestly.
"Oh, I just picked it up here and there." He slowly took a bite of the roasted chicken he'd cooked them for lunch.
"You know, you don't have to eat that." She looked pointedly down at his plate of food.
"I don't?" He frowned. "Why do you say that, love?"
"I stocked up on blood before you got here. I'm not dense. I'm not just going to let you starve for two days, you know." He smiled, setting his fork down on his plate.
"I should have known you'd have the foresight."
"It's in the fridge."
"I didn't see it when I was cooking."
"I hid it behind the grapes. Didn't want anyone dropping by and getting wigged. Although, now that I think about it, who would drop by? You, Buffy and everyone else are the only people in this town I know." Jill purred softly from her cushy cat bed on the floor next to the table as she disinterestedly watched Spike move to the refrigerator. "I think my cat loves you."
"Understandable. I'm quite the hottie," he joked. She smiled and sipped the Pepsi sitting in front of her plate. He returned to his seat, a mug of blood in hand and peered at her over the rim as he took a long swallow of the thick liquid. Buffy was right. He did have a way of making the room seem much smaller and hotter when he looked at her like that. She rubbed her neck uncomfortably, trying to ignore the shiver of desire that flowed up her spine. "So what are you going to do today?" he asked, obviously amused by her attempt to dismiss the electricity that flowed between them at every touch, every glance.
"I wanted to get a little bit of writing done today, and then we could go to The Bronze." Yeah, whatever. You just don't want to be too close to him for a lengthy period of time. Might lead to smoochies and other, more dangerous, consequences.
"Alright, pet."
"What are you going to do while I'm writing?"
"I'll find something to amuse myself with. 'Passions' is on at three." She rolled her eyes.
"That's lame, Spike." He shot her an unimpressed look.
"Go ahead and mock me, feeble woman." She grinned slowly as she stood and carried her dish to the sink and began to wash it off.
"I just did." She screamed when he grabbed her roughly by the waist and tugged her between his legs. Her hands flew to his silky blond curls and he kissed her passionately. She moaned. He pushed her back and held her at arm's length as she struggled to get control of her ragged breathing. The woman would be the death of him. He smirked sexily at her as the red tinge of arousal slowly faded from her cheeks.
"You'd better get going if you intend to get any work done. I might change my mind, say bugger the writing, pull you onto the floor and have my way with you. Remember, I don't have any trouble laying on hard surfaces." She gazed at him for a moment, before completely removing herself from his grasp and making a hasty exit.
* * *
Andrea breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door to her office behind her and sat down at her desk. Spike was so. . .aggravating. Intoxicating. Damn it, why did she have to feel this way? What did she do? Why couldn't she fall in love with a guy with a normal job and a normal life? Nope, it had to be a vampire. Wait a second. Rewind. Love? Nah, that wasn't right. She couldn't be in love with Spike.
She fired up her laptop and began to pound out her frustrations on the tiny keyboard, spilling chapter after chapter of unsated lust into the diminutive machine.
* * *
Spike was startled away from the wonderfully written novel he'd been absorbed in my the shrill ringing of a telephone. He frowned, more than a little pissed off at being torn away from the intriguing plot line. He snatched the phone off the hook.
"Hello?" he growled into the receiver.
"Hi. Whose this?" asked a feminine voice on the other end of the line.
"Spike. Who're you?"
"April. Is Andie there?" April sounded amused.
"Who, Andrea? Yeah, she's here. It's her bloody house."
"You don't have to get snippy, Wonder Boy. Put her on the phone." He laid the phone down on the end table next to the couch he'd been reclined on and jogged upstairs before knocking politely on the door to Andrea's study.
"Come in," came a tired voice form behind the door. He opened the door and gazed at Andrea. She was rubbing her temples in frustration. She glanced up at him. "What do you need?"
"April's on the phone, love."
"Oh. Thank you."
"No problem." He heard her pick up the extension in her office as he closed the door.
"April?"
"Hey, Andie. How's things in Sunny-D?" Andrea smiled at her friend's reference to the small town.
"Alright. How's Canada?"
"Pretty good. Ben keeps complaining about the heat, though. He's an annoying little jerk when he wants to be." Andrea heard a vague 'Shut up' screamed in the background. "So, what's with Wonder Boy?"
"Who? Oh, Spike. Don't go there, please."
"Oooh. Andie's got an British love-muffin."
"Hardly. He's a vampire, April."
"Wow. I always said you weren't like other girls, my friend. That almost qualifies as kinky."
"April, my God! Ben's corrupted you. So when are you gunna come visit me?"
"Actually, that's why I called. Ben says he's able to get off work in a few weeks."
"Awesome. Lemme talk to him."
* * *
Andrea rushed down the stairs and into the living room to find Spike laying on her couch reading. He turned at the noise.
" 'Ello, pet. How goes the writing?"
"Okay. I'm all typed out. Did you watch 'Passions'?" He moved his feet as she sat down on the other end of the sofa.
"Yeah. Timmy's got himself into a bind, let me tell you-"
"Save it. Timmy freaks me out. He's so little and weird." She shuddered melodramatically. "So what did you do after 'Passions'?" He held up the book.
"Oh. You found those, did you?"
"You're good. Why did you use a pen name?"
"Didn't want people digging into my past when they read my books."
"Makes sense, I guess." He smirked at her. "You're very. . .descriptive."
"Huh?" She wrinkled her nose. Spike began to read aloud from the book.
" 'Matt dragged his lips down her silky skin. 'You taste like-'" She roughly snatched the book out of his hands.
"I know what she tastes like; I wrote the damn thing."
"Well, my point is, pet -"
"- Oh, you have one? -"
"- that you're very . . .talented." His blue eyes flashed dangerously and his crooked grin corroborated the double entendre. She leaned close to him, her breath tickling his ear. He wants to play double meaning? Alrighty.
"You have no idea. . ."
If one thing was to be learned from this whole experience, it was that you didn't have to eat a lot to be an amazing cook.
"Spike, this is delicious. When did you learn to cook?" Andrea asked curiously, chewing thoughtfully on a spoonful of steamed rice. He shrugged modestly.
"Oh, I just picked it up here and there." He slowly took a bite of the roasted chicken he'd cooked them for lunch.
"You know, you don't have to eat that." She looked pointedly down at his plate of food.
"I don't?" He frowned. "Why do you say that, love?"
"I stocked up on blood before you got here. I'm not dense. I'm not just going to let you starve for two days, you know." He smiled, setting his fork down on his plate.
"I should have known you'd have the foresight."
"It's in the fridge."
"I didn't see it when I was cooking."
"I hid it behind the grapes. Didn't want anyone dropping by and getting wigged. Although, now that I think about it, who would drop by? You, Buffy and everyone else are the only people in this town I know." Jill purred softly from her cushy cat bed on the floor next to the table as she disinterestedly watched Spike move to the refrigerator. "I think my cat loves you."
"Understandable. I'm quite the hottie," he joked. She smiled and sipped the Pepsi sitting in front of her plate. He returned to his seat, a mug of blood in hand and peered at her over the rim as he took a long swallow of the thick liquid. Buffy was right. He did have a way of making the room seem much smaller and hotter when he looked at her like that. She rubbed her neck uncomfortably, trying to ignore the shiver of desire that flowed up her spine. "So what are you going to do today?" he asked, obviously amused by her attempt to dismiss the electricity that flowed between them at every touch, every glance.
"I wanted to get a little bit of writing done today, and then we could go to The Bronze." Yeah, whatever. You just don't want to be too close to him for a lengthy period of time. Might lead to smoochies and other, more dangerous, consequences.
"Alright, pet."
"What are you going to do while I'm writing?"
"I'll find something to amuse myself with. 'Passions' is on at three." She rolled her eyes.
"That's lame, Spike." He shot her an unimpressed look.
"Go ahead and mock me, feeble woman." She grinned slowly as she stood and carried her dish to the sink and began to wash it off.
"I just did." She screamed when he grabbed her roughly by the waist and tugged her between his legs. Her hands flew to his silky blond curls and he kissed her passionately. She moaned. He pushed her back and held her at arm's length as she struggled to get control of her ragged breathing. The woman would be the death of him. He smirked sexily at her as the red tinge of arousal slowly faded from her cheeks.
"You'd better get going if you intend to get any work done. I might change my mind, say bugger the writing, pull you onto the floor and have my way with you. Remember, I don't have any trouble laying on hard surfaces." She gazed at him for a moment, before completely removing herself from his grasp and making a hasty exit.
* * *
Andrea breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door to her office behind her and sat down at her desk. Spike was so. . .aggravating. Intoxicating. Damn it, why did she have to feel this way? What did she do? Why couldn't she fall in love with a guy with a normal job and a normal life? Nope, it had to be a vampire. Wait a second. Rewind. Love? Nah, that wasn't right. She couldn't be in love with Spike.
She fired up her laptop and began to pound out her frustrations on the tiny keyboard, spilling chapter after chapter of unsated lust into the diminutive machine.
* * *
Spike was startled away from the wonderfully written novel he'd been absorbed in my the shrill ringing of a telephone. He frowned, more than a little pissed off at being torn away from the intriguing plot line. He snatched the phone off the hook.
"Hello?" he growled into the receiver.
"Hi. Whose this?" asked a feminine voice on the other end of the line.
"Spike. Who're you?"
"April. Is Andie there?" April sounded amused.
"Who, Andrea? Yeah, she's here. It's her bloody house."
"You don't have to get snippy, Wonder Boy. Put her on the phone." He laid the phone down on the end table next to the couch he'd been reclined on and jogged upstairs before knocking politely on the door to Andrea's study.
"Come in," came a tired voice form behind the door. He opened the door and gazed at Andrea. She was rubbing her temples in frustration. She glanced up at him. "What do you need?"
"April's on the phone, love."
"Oh. Thank you."
"No problem." He heard her pick up the extension in her office as he closed the door.
"April?"
"Hey, Andie. How's things in Sunny-D?" Andrea smiled at her friend's reference to the small town.
"Alright. How's Canada?"
"Pretty good. Ben keeps complaining about the heat, though. He's an annoying little jerk when he wants to be." Andrea heard a vague 'Shut up' screamed in the background. "So, what's with Wonder Boy?"
"Who? Oh, Spike. Don't go there, please."
"Oooh. Andie's got an British love-muffin."
"Hardly. He's a vampire, April."
"Wow. I always said you weren't like other girls, my friend. That almost qualifies as kinky."
"April, my God! Ben's corrupted you. So when are you gunna come visit me?"
"Actually, that's why I called. Ben says he's able to get off work in a few weeks."
"Awesome. Lemme talk to him."
* * *
Andrea rushed down the stairs and into the living room to find Spike laying on her couch reading. He turned at the noise.
" 'Ello, pet. How goes the writing?"
"Okay. I'm all typed out. Did you watch 'Passions'?" He moved his feet as she sat down on the other end of the sofa.
"Yeah. Timmy's got himself into a bind, let me tell you-"
"Save it. Timmy freaks me out. He's so little and weird." She shuddered melodramatically. "So what did you do after 'Passions'?" He held up the book.
"Oh. You found those, did you?"
"You're good. Why did you use a pen name?"
"Didn't want people digging into my past when they read my books."
"Makes sense, I guess." He smirked at her. "You're very. . .descriptive."
"Huh?" She wrinkled her nose. Spike began to read aloud from the book.
" 'Matt dragged his lips down her silky skin. 'You taste like-'" She roughly snatched the book out of his hands.
"I know what she tastes like; I wrote the damn thing."
"Well, my point is, pet -"
"- Oh, you have one? -"
"- that you're very . . .talented." His blue eyes flashed dangerously and his crooked grin corroborated the double entendre. She leaned close to him, her breath tickling his ear. He wants to play double meaning? Alrighty.
"You have no idea. . ."