"Yep. New York. Like anyone can live on just two salaries there!"

He understood that all too well. He'd spent a few years trying to cut his teeth in broadcast there.

"Was there myself for a few years," he told her.

If she was surprised, she didn't let him know.

"Then you know of what I speak," she smiled. "I was working three jobs out there. Not how I wanted to spend the rest of my life."

He nodded in agreeance.

"So, uh, where to?"

"It's your town, Sunshine. You tell me," he replied.

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes on him.

"Thought my nickname was Goldie?"

"Nah," he smiled, reaching out for her hand. She gave him hers tremolously. Seeing you in person, I think Sunshine is more suited to you. So... where to?"

"I guess it depends," she told him, her eyes lighting up mischievously.

"On what?"

"On who's buying."

They sat picking shrimp from a bucket at Crabby Joe's. Buffy took in a great gulp of the night air and sighed.

"I offer to take you anywhere and you pick this place," Spike laughed. "I like your style, Sunshine."

"Hey, pal," she said, pointing a buttered finger at him. "This is my favorite place."

She had changed into a pair of denim cut-offs and a black halter top. She traded in the kitten-heeled sandals for a pair of bejeweled flip-flops and her hair was tied in a high ponytail.

"I'm so not knocking it, Love," he assured her. "Just surprised, is all. Figured you to be the filet mignon type."

"Nope," she let him know as she downed a hefty swig of Budweiser. "I'm beer and buckets all the way."

Spike couldn't help but let out a heart-felt chuckle as he watched her peel another shrimp. She dipped it in butter and then lifted it to her lips. He knew he was staring, but there was just something so sensual about the way she licked the lingering butter from her lips and fingers.

They sat side-by-side looking out at the lake when he wasn't stealing glimpses of her.

"So, tell me again why you hated me so much," she told him, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. "Was it because you and Dru had a thing?"

"A thing?"

"Yeah," she smiled, reaching for a hush puppy. "A thing. We're you two an item?"

"What is it with you chits and assuming that just because I was shitty to you that there must have been something between me and Dru?" he wanted to know.

She shrugged, biting into the warm fritter. He did seem awfully defensive for someone who wasn't any more than Dru's colleague.

"I don't know," she told him, not caring that her mouth was half-full. "What chits? Who else thought you had a thing?"

"Dawn," he said with a shake of his head. "And there was no thing, okay? I'm just a loyal kind of bloke."

"You're just a big poop who can't handle change is more like it," she observed.

His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to speak, but she was on a pyschoanalytic roll.

"Somebody comes along and derails your train and you can't see the other track through your own stubborness," she continued. "You're a big radio star. You should be more adaptable than that."

"I am adaptable!"

"No, you only think you're adaptable. I mean," she paused to take a drink of her beer. "Really, Spike. You're great with the ad-lib. You can take anything your listeners or colleagues throw your way. But when it comes to something worming its way into your apple, well... You tend to freak out."

"You know what, Pet?" He looked like he'd been thunderstruck. "I do not freak out. I adapt. I run with the... With the..."

"With the ball," she finished. "Maybe. More fun to run with the bulls sometimes."

"You're saying I'm a staid, boring non-risktaker?" he asked.

"No," she denied. "I'm saying you don't mind the risks when you know the stakes."

She was baffling him. He knew the stakes, didn't he?

"You're trying to distract me, Bleach Boy. And it isn't working," she let him know. "Was there or wasn't there a thing?"

"I told you no!" he said, truly exasperated.

She popped another shrimp into her mouth and nodded.

"But you wanted there to be."

Again, these women and their crazy ideas were getting the better of him.

"No," he said. "I didn't want there to be. Dru was nice. And she was great on the air. She gave accurate reports, had great pipes and a friendly way about her. The audience was... well, they were used to her and so was I. Kind of like a sure thing, you know?"

"They depended on her and so did you," she agreed. "And you were afraid that by bringing in a newbie, you might be making trouble for yourself in the book."

"Nail. Head."

"That's cool," she said honestly. "I get that. But, you know, it wasn't my fault. You didn't have to be a shit to me."

"You're right," he apologized. "I didn't."

"We're past that now, right?"

"Yeah, Sunshine. We're past that."

Buffy wiped her hands off with a napkin, then leaned forward on her elbows, hands clasped beneath her chin. Spike was a bit of all right. Trading e-mails and the occasional chat on the phone hadn't prepared her for him. His e-mails were filled with innuendo. His instant messenges were downright dirty. And their phone conversations were filled with giggles and flirtation. In person, he seemed a lot more wholesome. He seemed like the kind of guy a girl could take home to mom and dad. He seemed like a forever kind of guy.

"What's on your mind?" he wanted to know.

She looked so peaceful as she stared out into the moonlit night. Something was on her mind because her eyes held that faraway look in them.

"Nothing," she lied. "Just enjoying the scenery."

"And the company?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound desperate.

"And the company," she confirmed with a small nod of her head. "Thanks for taking me to dinner, Spike."

"Thanks for letting me."

Spike toyed with the idea of kissing her the entire drive home. Her lips were definitely kissable. The evening had been more enjoyable than he'd imagined. And it only made him like her even more.

Buffy was humming softly to the song on the radio. She'd managed to sidetrack him long enough to switch it to the rock station. She'd mentioned that she could only take so much of the music his station played.

Spike turned the truck into her apartment complex and pulled up next to her Beetle. Do I walk her to the door? He hadn't the first clue on what he should do.

"I had a great time," Buffy told him, not making any move to get out of the truck.

"Me, too."

"You sound a little surprised," she noticed, shifting in her seat to face him.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I guess I am, all things considered. I mean, we made it through the evening with your virtue completely intact and I've proven that I can have a nice time with a woman without her being on her back or having my dick in her mouth."

Buffy put her hand over her mouth in mock-embarrassment and giggled.

"You're lucky my virtue flew out the window years ago, Spike," she told him as she lowered her hand from her lips. "Or I'd have to slap you silly in order to keep up appearances."

"Just in case I've never said it before, Love," he told her. "I do respect you. And if you ever told me to stop, I'd be disappointed, but I'd do it. No questions asked."

"Lucky for you I'm such a Jezebel, then."

The silence stretched between them as they sat in the still-running truck. Buffy hadn't made any motion to leave.

"What would you do if I kissed you, Buffy?" he heard himself ask, his voice barely a whisper, as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Probably I'd like it very much," she told him. "And then I'd spend the whole night lying awake analyzing what it meant and why it happened. And then I'd remember that no matter what some stupid piece of paper says, I'm still married. And I'd feel guilty. And I'd probably get all avoidy on you after that."

"Honesty," he smiled. "You're big with that, huh?"

She nodded, knowing that she hadn't been, not 100. She couldn't. It would hurt too much.

"I respect that," he told her, inching just a bit closer to her. "Tell me again why I shouldn't kiss you."

She closed her eyes and breathed in his cologne. It was fresh and clean, not heavy and spicy like the kind that Angel wore. She could feel him drawing near, the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

If I keep my eyes closed, this won't happen, she lied to herself. And then she felt his lips brush over hers. It was a feeling so feather-light, she couldn't be sure she imagined it. And then it happened again. He wasn't pushing, just testing the waters.

She opened her eyes to see him watching her curiously. His eyes were midnight blue and leaden with desire. She put her hand out to push him away, but managed nothing more than resting it on his chest. His heart was beating thunderously under her palm even though his face never gave it away.

"Spike, we..." She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes again. "We can't."

But I want to, she heard inside her head.

He must have heard it, too. His hand came up to stroke her cheek as his mouth moved over hers more firmly, more insistently. When her lips parted beneath his, all bets were off. He couldn't stop himself from tasting her. He slid his tongue into her mouth and tentatively touched it to hers. Her hand gripped his shirt beneath where it lay and her tongue slid sensually against his.

It took every bit of restraint he had to pull away from her. He looked into her face, her eyes still partially closed and her lips dewy from their kiss. Her flushed cheeks made her look like an angel.

"I'd like to be a gentleman and walk you to your door," he told her breathlessly. "But I can't guarantee I'd be a gentleman once I got there."

She nodded, understanding what he was saying.

"So, I'll just watch from here to make sure you get in safely," he told her apologetically.

She reached for her purse and sighed shakily.

"Thank you, again, for dinner," she told him, her own voice sounding foreign to her ears. "I meant it when I said I had a wonderful time."

"Me too, Sunshine," he smiled as she opened the door and stepped out. "Don't think too much, okay?"

"I promise you nothing," she smiled back.

He watched until she disappeared behind her door.