Chapter Three: Handsome Stranger

What had stumped the media and police about the break in at the museum was that no one had been caught on camera. Buffy laughed at this. Of course not. Vampires don't show up on video or still pictures. She had to wonder why then they did not finish the job.

She found out when she got a good look at the display. Not only were the artifacts that she was sure she had seen in one of Giles' books there, but also several crosses and other holy items from ages past. If she had to guess, whoever had owned these items before had probably known what they were and had been used for and had them doused with holy water. So, the vamps would need someone human to get the artifacts, which meant that it would be someone who had to worry about being caught on the security cameras. That also meant there was a good chance that they might not wait and the gala was over.

This also meant she might have to tough out the whole night until the last person left. Great.

And the feeling that she had had in her hotel room, the one she felt she had not stressed enough to Willow, came back full force once she stepped into the museum. The frumpiness reared its ugly head, and she found herself wanting to hide in the corner, or better yet in an area that no one else was in, but she had to keep an eye on things, so that left her only one option: tough it out.

At least everyone she met spoke to her and didn't look down on her. That was nice. And when Dr. Livingstone approached her to introduce her to several members of the museum staff she had missed the day before, he told that she looked lovely. It was either just an old man's way of being nice, or he had picked up on her uneasiness. Either way, it put her a little at ease and she mingled a little more.

The reception, or whatever it was called, before the unveiling of the new exhibit was held on the second floor of the museum, and it was complete with a large balcony. A bar had been set up with three bartenders manning it, and a nice buffet area with items like caviar, shrimp, and some kind of pink stuff on a cracker Buffy could not identify were lain out upon it. She had taken a glass of wine from one of the men prowling the crowd with a tray of long stemmed glasses, but she had not taken a single sip as of yet. Slayer plus alcohol equaled bad.

Buffy was minding her own business, smiling when she needed to, greeting her new co-workers as they approached her when she just happened to turn her attention to the bar and that was when all her troubles started. At least, some of her troubles started.

Across the room, leaning casually against the bar stood a handsome, immaculately dressed young man in a charcoal grey Italian suit with a lavender shirt and dark purple silk tie. His shoes were black leather, also Italian, and shinned from a fresh coat of polish. She was impressed. His Armani suit alone she knew cost well over $5,000, a large sum for most people, but she could tell by his manicured hands and the diamond ring worn on his pinkie that money was not a problem. This man was the definition of 'class' in the dictionary.

His smoldering dark eyes scanned the crowd, picking out no one in particular, simply moving from face to face as he sipped on a martini. His lips were a thin line, but as he placed the rim of the long stemmed martini glass to them, they seemed to swell like ripening fruit. It was impossible not to think about kissing those lips and she felt a blush rising from her neck to her cheeks when his dark eyes caught her staring at him. A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he lifted his glass in a casual toast before his gaze transferred to another. For a moment she thought he had dismissed her as he had all the others at the party, but she'd no more taken one step toward the balcony when she felt the man's eyes on her back. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and instead gave an extra swing to her hips as she continued on out to the balcony. It was a deliberate ploy she often used to lure male predators into her web, usually because as a Slayer she had a bad vamp to disconnect to his life line, but in this case, she wanted the man to follow.

He did.

She knew he wasn't a vamp. She had not sensed any of them here – yet – and she really wasn't sure why she had done what she had done, luring him out onto the balcony, away from the crowd. She had just met him. Scratch that – she hadn't met him yet. She had just ogled him from across the room. But she had lured him, and he had followed.

What had she been thinking? Not even here a full three days and she was flirting with a guy she had no idea who he was.

She stopped at the rail, and finally took a sip of her drink. For a moment, she thought of either jumping to the street below (it wasn't that high. She would survive it no problem) or use her Slayer speed and get away before the man could see her. But, instead, she stood still, her face still feeling flushed, and her hand holding the champagne glass, it was actually trembling at little bit.

Maybe he wouldn't follow her. Maybe something else had gotten his attention before he could make it out here. Maybe. . . .

"Nice night," he said, a little too close to her ear. She could feel him standing right behind her. Feel him. The heat radiating off his body. The smell of his aftershave. It was intoxicating. It was mind blowing. It was unlike anything she had felt before.

"Yes. Very nice." She was amazed at how calm she sounded.

"Much too nice to be stuck inside this stuffy old place." He was next to her then, leaning down on the rail. His hands were empty, having left his cocktail somewhere between here and the bar. Buffy glanced at him, ever so briefly, out of the corner of her eye, afraid to look at him anymore than that. Damn, he was even more handsome up close, and he smelled absolutely wonderful.

"Yeah, it is a little stuffy in there," she answered. And out here, in the wide open, thanks to you, but in a good way. Oh my . . . What is happening to me?

"I have been to a lot of parties like this one, and this is the first time I have ever seen you." He was looking at her, watching her. She could feel it.

"I just arrived three days ago." Good. Stay calm.

"From where?"

"Oh, um, Paris. I was in Paris." She felt no reason to lie to him. Or just not to tell him the whole truth.

"Did you like it there?" He asked. So casual. She loved the sound of his voice.

"No," she said, laughing a little. "No, not really."

"Oh." He laughed also, turning his attention to the city around them. "You don't sound like an east coast kinda girl."

"I'm not. I'm from California." She wondered how she could want a man to go away and stay at the same time. "I needed a change of scenery, and so I came here. I work here, at the museum, cataloging…stuff."

"Stuff, huh?" He chuckled. "Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss?" He stood up straight, turned to her, and held out his hand.

She gathered her courage (Really?) and turned to face him. She had to fight herself to keep from falling, actually falling, into his eyes, and to retain some kind of normalcy.

"Sofia." She praised herself inwardly on remembering the name Giles had told her to go by. "Sofia Blake."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Blake," he said, taking her hand. His skin was nice and warm. A little rougher than she had anticipated for a rich guy, but not in a bad feeling sort of way. "I'm Bruce Wayne."

Wayne? Why did that name sound so familiar? Then it dawned on her.

"Wayne! As in Wayne Tower? Wayne Botanical Gardens?"

"Yeah, that's me. Well, actually my father is the Wayne they are named after. I just inherited it all." He smiled at her. The smile of a mischievous boy.

"Oh! Well. . . ."

"Master Wayne!" An older gentleman approached them. He had gray hair and what Buffy would call a regal face. Definitely British. She could spot them anywhere. "Sorry to disturb you, Sir. Madame." He actually bowed to her. "Something has come up that requires your attention." He said, turning his attention back to Mr. Wayne.

"Ah! Well, I should go see to that," he said nodding, which was returned by the older man. "Thank you, Alfred." He turned back to Buffy. "I apologize, but I have to go. It has been a pleasure, Miss Blake." He actually took her hand and kissed it. His lips were soft and warm. She felt her pulse quicken. Her knees shake. "Maybe we can get together some time and I can show you around."

"I would like that." Had she just said that?

"Well, I'll know where to find you." He smiled at her and then walked back into the museum. Just before he followed, the other man, Alfred, turned and looked at her, and the look on his face was as if he knew her, or knew what she was, and then he was gone also.

"Mr. Wayne, Sir," Alfred stated looking into the rearview mirror at the young man he had known since he was born. "Might I ask whom that young woman was?"

"She said her name was Sofia Blake," Bruce answered, gazing out the window to his left. "She just arrived in Gotham a few days ago from Paris. Works at the museum."

"Is she a person who goes all over the world searching for artifacts?" Alfred asked. The Rolls Royce rolled to a stop at a light, allowing Alfred to studying his employer as he spoke.

Bruce smiled. "No. She catalogs the artifacts in the basement." Alfred noticed that while Mr. Wayne was looking out the window, he was not seeing out the window. Night had fallen, limiting vision in the car without the overhead lights on, but he could still tell the young man was troubled.

"Is there something wrong?" He asked. The light changed green so he accelerated the car forward.

"I don't know," Bruce admitted, shaking his head slightly. "I was scanning the crowd from the bar, checking everyone out, and there she was, looking back at me. And for that second before I turned away, it was like the world stopped moving. I knew that if I didn't find her, talk to her, I would regret it."

Alfred suppressed the sigh that threatened to come out. "Well, she was a very lovely young woman."

Bruce nodded, finally leaning back in his seat. "There is just something about her that intrigues me. I mean, she is beautiful – captivatingly so, but there is something else. I just can't quite put my finger on it."

"What are you going to do, Sir?" Alfred was glad his smile was hidden.

"See her again at my earliest possible convenience."