Chapter Two
"Ugh," he groaned, blinking at the bright sunlight.
"Here," she forced a mug of coffee into his hands. He wobbled, then set the cup on the coffee table and pushed himself into a sitting position before taking possession of the coffee mug again.
"What happened? Where am I?" he asked, taking a sip of the hot liquid.
"You had too much to drink, and then you passed out in an alley. I was, uh, walking by, and I couldn't exactly leave you there…you're in my motel room."
"Thanks so much," he said, "I don't generally drink that much," he said, not sure why he was explaining himself to this stranger, "I don't know what came over me," he groaned, "A beer or two or five with friends, a few glasses of wine at dinner, a drink or two at the club…"
"So you remember…?"
"Not a lot, just snippets. Oh, I'm Liam O'Connor, by the way."
"I know who you are, Mr. O'Connor," she said with a brief smile, "I'm Jessica Winters," she said, remembering her alias in time. "Would you like something to eat? I'm not that good a cook, but I think I can manage not to burn some cereal," she laughed, not sure why she was offering.
"No, I don't want to chance it. I'm generally pretty good at being hung over, spent most of my twenties like that, but I'm not sure I can handle food right now. Would you let me pay you back for letting me use your couch by allowing me to take you to dinner?"
She hadn't slept much that night, and she had had enough time while he was unconscious to get a good look at him, and she decided he reminded her too much of Angel, she had been avoiding looking at him, finding other, more interesting things to look at. But at his question, her eyes snapped up from the plain carpet, and she held his gaze a moment, her fear evident.
"Uh," he continued, keeping eye contact, "dinner t-tonight, or something more casual, lunch tomorrow maybe?" he asked, giving her a smile, turning on the charm, though he didn't know why.
She didn't answer immediately, scared by what she saw in his eyes. He was skinnier than Angel, less muscle, and his hair was the wrong color, but looking into his eyes, she saw Angel. He reminded her most of the first time when she had met Angel, when he was still skinny, before he had started taking better care of himself, working out, so he could protect her…
"No, I should really be getting back. I was only in town for business," she explained hastily.
"One meal. Who knows what could have happened if you hadn't dragged me here? You might have saved my life."
"It's no big deal, really," she said, trying to find her way out.
"Maybe not to you, but it's a big deal to me, and I bet there are a couple thousand women across America who agree with me. Come one, let me take you to dinner."
"I wouldn't have anything to wear, even if I did agree, I'm here on business."
"If that's your best excuse," he said, digging into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, "Here, go and buy yourself something pretty, accessories and everything." He held out a credit card.
She stiffened, drawing herself up to her full height, "I don't take charity."
"It's not charity. I want to thank a pretty girl for saving my life, but she's being stubborn. Fine," he put the card away, "What can I do to convince you?"
She sighed, "If I go to dinner with you, will you leave me alone?"
He held up two of his fingers, "Scout's honor," he gave her a smile that was completely Angel's, and she felt her heart stop, "I'll stop bothering you after you go out with me, if you want me to. I'll pick you up at eight."
"Fine," she nodded, trying to breath. She hoped the tightness in her throat couldn't be heard through her voice.
"I should go now," he said, standing.
"Yes, you should," she stood as well, following him to the door. She couldn't keep her eyes from traveling from his navy blazer to his khaki slacks. He had a very nice, tight ass. A part of her was sad that she hadn't had to strip him to his underwear to treat any wounds. Assuming he wore underwear….
Get a grip, Summers! Her mind screamed. Angel's been dead for two years and you start lusting after someone who kinda looks like him?
What's wrong with lust? Another part of her mind asked, a girl's got needs.
You'll never be satisfied with anyone but Angel. Besides, look where lust led you last time, and that mess with Spike.
"You're right," she murmured.
"What?" he turned to look at her.
She looked at him, "Nothing," she said, startled, "Just, uh, thinking out loud."
"So, I'll see you at eight?"
"Right." He left, and she closed the door behind him, resting her head against the wood. "What have I gotten myself into?"
After a minute, she reached for her purse and keys. Him offering her money had been a direct attack. Just because she was staying at a motel didn't mean she couldn't afford a hotel. She just preferred motels. Less questions asked, and if she needed to stay awhile longer than she expected, it wouldn't blow her budget.
But as her fingers closed around her keys, she stopped. She didn't want to go all out, did she? This was not a date. But she hadn't been on a date in over two years. She hadn't been on anything remotely resembling a date in over two years. She missed it.
"Well, why can't it be a date?" she asked herself, "He's attractive, and I've read enough magazines to know girls would die to go out with him, though his photos just don't do him justice.
"If I dressed up, would he think it was a date? He really left no inclination as to where we might be going to dinner, what if I overdress?" she sighed, "I am so out of practice." As she turned, she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror, "Ye gods, we need to do something," she picked at her hair. Though she was a natural blonde, she sometimes got her highlights touched up, like during the winter when the sun was weak and she lost some of the natural highlights she got in the Californian sun. But now her hair was dull and she had tons of split ends. She looked at her face in the mirror and the stress related breakout she had, even though she was twenty-six. Her nails were trashed too from months of evenings fighting for her life.
"I've really let myself go," she murmured, smoothing the purplish bruise under her eye from lack of sleep. "That's it, I can't go out like this."
An hour later she had hair, facial and manicure appointments at the places she used to go when she lived in LA. The woman that owned the place had remembered her, and one of her old friends now worked their, so they had promised to fit her in to their schedule. She smiled at herself in the mirror as she left, knowing she'd look much better soon.
