"You know what I mean," she said shooting him a dirty look. "It's just dinner. Like if I went with Giles."

"Whatever you need to say to get you through the night," Faith mumbled.

"Children!"

Thank God for the voice of reason.

"If Buffy wants to fill us in on her date, she can do so after the fact," Ethan winked.

Buffy's jaw came unhinged as she stared saucer-eyed at Ethan. He winked when he saw her staring and then cleared his throat.

"Back to traffic," he said sternly, although his eyes still sparkled.

Buffy settled into the towel-covered sand. The warmth of sun warmed her body from head to toe. She had left for Los Angeles as soon as her shift was over. By 11:30, she was laying blissfully on a beautiful beach enjoying the sound of the gulls and surf while sea salt and coconut oil tickled her nose.

She had just dozed off when her cell phone rang.

"Buffy Summers," she answered groggily.

"Has anyone ever told you how sexy you sound when you're covered in oil and little else, Pet?" the deep male voice at the other end wanted to know.

"How would you know what I'm covered in, Bleach Boy?" she smiled in spite of her fear that he was nearby.

"I've got the bird's eye view of your perfect little ass from my perch at Al's Crab Shack."

Buffy bit her lip. He was behind her. She wasn't sure exactly where, but he was watching her.

She remembered telling him her plans the night before when he'd surprised her with a call on her cell phone.

"Are you naked?" he'd asked teasingly.

"Uh, actually, quite," had been her honest response.

She'd been chin-deep in Calgon when he'd called.

"Really?" she could hear his smile in his voice.

"I'm taking a bath," she'd replied.

"Mmmm... nice. Warm, slippery, naked Buffy. That's a picture that I don't mind haunting me for the rest of the night," he'd told her, his voice dropping down to a bone-melting rumble.

"Wh-why did you call?" she'd stammered.

"Wanted to make sure we were still on for tomorrow night," he'd let her know. "Make sure you hadn't found a way to weasel your way out of it."

"Me? Weasel? I think not, Bub," she'd replied putting on an air of defensiveness.

"Then when will I see you?" he'd wanted to know.

"I'm going to hit the beach right after work."

"Where?" he'd immediately asked.

"Up by First," she'd responded. "I talked to Dawn this morning before you were in the studio and she told me her favorite place to go on the beach."

He'd tucked that little morsel of information away.

"And then?"

"Um...I'd only gotten as far as the beach. After that, I really wasn't sure."

"You can check in at the Adam's Mark at three," he'd told her, grateful that he'd been able to comp the room for two nights. "You've got it until Sunday morning."

"That's very generous, Spike," she'd told him. "I don't know that I'll stay until Sunday, but just the same... thank you."

The sun reflected brightly off of the sugary sand. Her sunglasses were barely a shield for its intense blaze. She sat up and looked around, trying to suss out just where he was.

"Look behind you, Sunshine," he told her. "Up here."

Her eyes went to the expansive deck overlooking the beach. Al's Crab Shack. She saw him wave from the distance.

"Throw on those shorts you've got next to your bag and come have lunch with me."

He didn't wait for her response. He simply snapped his phone shut and waited for her to arrive.

She stood and dusted the sand off of the side of her thigh where it clung to the suntan oil. She shook out her towel and stuffed it into her bag and then slipped into the denim cutoffs that were laying beside it. She stepped into her sandals and silently squealed as her feet hit the hot rubber. She hadn't expected them to get so hot so quickly. She fished through the bag for some lipgloss and a brush. In a few swift strokes, her hair was brushed, twisted and clamped into place with a clip and her lips were glossed to a juicy peach shine.

She threw the bag over her shoulder and headed up to the sandy slope to Al's Crab Shack. The steps to the deck were steep and weathered. She took them two at a time, telling herself it was to ascend them quickly. She didn't want to admit the possibility that it could be because she was just as anxious to see Spike as he was to see her.

He was sitting at a little umbrella-covered table with a margarita in his hand. She sat her bag on the floor and took the seat across from him. Her eyes were shielded by her sunglasses and for that she was glad. She didn't say a word as her eyes roamed lazily over him. He was adorable in a pair of camouflage cargo pants that had been cut off just above the knee. He wore a faded moss-colored tank top that read: Sin City Poker.

A bikini-clad waitress arrived with a margarita glass filled with something pink and icy.

"Pink lemonade margarita," he told her. "Figured you'd like that after working up such a sweat."

She took the glass and tentatively sipped it. Delicious!

"It's very good," she admitted before taking another sip.

She tried to keep her mind off of the fact that all she was wearing was a tiny black bikini top and a pair of dangerously short cut-offs. That was hard to do when his eyes were shamelessly raking over her svelte figure.

"You're squirming," he pointed out.

"You're staring," was her quick response.

"Take off the sunglasses, Love," he instructed her.

She took them off without question, mesmerized by the gently commanding tone of his voice.

"We're going to have lunch and then I'm going to show you to your hotel," he told her. "You're going to call me when you're naked and up to your chin in bubbles just to give me my cheap thrill for the day."

Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened to protest, but nothing came out.

"Then, you're going to put on something pretty that shows a lot of skin and I'm going to come pick you up for dinner," he continued. "We're going to eat too much steak and drink too much wine, and then we're going to walk down to 701 South to make an appearance. At some point, there's a very good chance that my tongue will find its way into your mouth. I'm not sure when or where, but I'm willing to bet that it won't take me long."

Just when she was sure her eyes couldn't get any wider, they did. He made no apologies for what he said. He simply smiled, handed her a menu and then began studying his own.

"The conch fritters are very good here, by the way," he offered, acting as if he hadn't just told her that he was going to kiss her senseless at some point during the day.

She swallowed hard and nodded, letting her eyes rest on the menu.