A/N: All rights belong to the writers, cast, and crew of Glee and Pretty Woman.

Previously:

"No, I'm going." Rachel shook her head, inching out of the doorway. "It's just that, uh, very few people surprise me."

"Yeah, well, you're lucky," Quinn said, leaning into the counter. "Most of 'em shock the hell outta me."

"Yes, that may be true, Finn."

Quinn giggled on the floor, the empty champagne glass lying on its side a few feet away, the strawberry bowl empty as well. Rachel couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from turning up at the sight. It was kind of charming, in a weird way. Quinn was charming.

"Well, what's holding you here? I thought you said the project was almost done. Your sponsors want you back at the Apple, on the stage. Let's wrap it up and go."

"Yes, I know, but I still need the choreography on final number. We're close but I don't think we've gotten the perfect shot."

"Isn't there some choreography guy who trains them? You gave them the moves, let the director shoot it."

"Yeah, I got Mike from LA, but I want to see it through."

"And your fans want to see you storm through Broadway again."

"Look, Finn, you're my lawyer. That's all. I appreciate the advice, but I know what I'm doing here. You know I don't half-ass any project I take on—I'm not going to start now."

She could hear him grunt into the receiver, and decided it was time to hang up, before he kicked a chair or something. "You can tell the sponsors exactly what I've just said. I'll call you tomorrow. Thank you very much."

Quinn laughed again at the TV, as a woman slipped and fell in a pit of grapes. They had been smashing it with their feet. Rachel raised her eyebrow, more amused at the blonde than the program. At the click of the phone, Quinn glanced over her shoulder, and seeing the brunette no longer occupied, smirked.

"I have a little carpet picnic here. Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

Rachel snorted, shaking her head in the negative. "I'm high on life. Can't you tell?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, returning her attention back to the show. Rachel stretched out on the couch, lolling her head towards the television. "You know, I never saw this episode."

The two women on the show were now trying to get up in the slippery barrel of half squished fruit. When one would finally gain balance, the other would slip and they would fall down again. Rachel chuckled, wondering when the last time she had watched a comedy had been. She was so caught up in show tunes, romance, and dramas that she rarely found time to just laugh.

Quinn seemed to notice a mood shift in the room, and clicked the mute button, pushing herself up off the floor and onto all fours. She crawled towards the brunette, who looked relaxed for the first time that night. Her hips swayed behind her, shoulders rippling like a jungle cat. She saw Rachel's breath hitch, and continued forward, slipping onto the sofa and settling on Rachel's lap.

She leaned down. "What do you want?"

"What do you do?"

"Everything," she husked. "But I don't kiss on the mouth."

Rachel hummed. "Neither do I."

Quinn nodded, and dipped her head to kiss Rachel's neck, once. After glancing up at her for a small nod, she moved to find Rachel's pulse. The brunette craned her head to the side, allowing her better access. She licked once, as if testing the area, and then nibbled, sucked, and sealed the spot with an open-mouthed kiss. Rachel's hands flew up to grasp the blonde's hips for some kind of anchor as her kisses grew rougher and more frantic. Quinn chuckled when the brunette shuddered, and lifted herself so that she was no longer straddling her but hovering inches above. Rachel furrowed her brow at the loss of contact, and tugged her closer. Quinn resisted, focusing on trailing her lips from Rachel's left earlobe to her lower jaw, to the center of her clavicle, and down.

But when she hit the collar bone, the brunette let out a tiny, fierce growl and yanked the blonde against her, arching her back for maximum pressure. Quinn bit her lip to contain the gasp that rocked through her body at the electric skin contact—really, shared body heat had never had that effect on her before. At least, not with clients. Quinn tried to pull back, to realign her mind with what was going on, but Rachel huffed, rolling so that they fell off the couch and onto the floor, with Quinn pinned underneath her. Her hazel eyes opened wider as she attempted to regain control, and Rachel's mouth had already frozen, pressed over a pulse point.

The brunette slowly brought her head up, unclenching her fists from the material of Quinn's skimpy shirt. Rachel's hair had fallen out of its ponytail, and seemed to be everywhere. The blonde focused on that, and on the woman's swirling brown eyes to keep her attention away from the fact that they were both panting, heavily, chests rising and falling to a shared, mystery beat. Quinn pushed herself up onto her elbows, clearing her throat, uncertain of what to do.

It had to have been the champagne. That fancy ass shit with the strawberries. That's why she was feeling like this.

It had nothing to do with the tiny woman currently on top of her. No. That was ridiculous. Rachel was a soulless entertainer, after all. Plus, she was helpless and hopeless with cars. And she was…gorgeous, in an effortless way.

Quinn bit her lip.

But she was probably only a charity case to Rachel.

Rachel cleared her throat, breaking their stare, before getting off Quinn and offering a hand to pull her up.

"Well, that got a little weird…" Quinn trailed off, taking the hand.

The brunette blushed. "Yeah, I'm sorry." She looked everywhere but the blonde. "So, uhm, TV?"

Quinn nodded, easing into a chair. It'd at least be a distraction.

Rachel kept glancing over at the blonde, wondering what she was thinking. Had any of her other clients gone into animal mode and attacked her like that? She was pretty sure hookers didn't like when they weren't leading the play, and Rachel had gotten a little carried away. It had just felt natural. Right.

She was about to tell Quinn that she could leave, that she didn't have to stay with a potential freak, when she heard the blonde let out a tiny snore. The brunette shook her head. Thank god for that champagne.

"Good morning, Mr. Hudson."

"Good morning, Marjorie," Finn said, winking at the server. Rachel arched her eyebrow, wondering how many times her lawyer had frequented this hotel.

"Who invited you here?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He grabbed a muffin from the basket and leaned on the counter. "Of course Mr. Schue is going to want to be a part of this project. He retired a few years ago from show business to teach, but to tell you the truth, I think he misses it." Crumbs fell onto his shirt, and he wiped his mouth. "I don't think he's ready to leave until his name stands for something, and what better person to work with than, the one and only, Miss Rachel Barbara Berry!"

Rachel frowned. "Don't mock me."

Finn shrugged, plucking some bacon from a plate nearby. "He wants to meet you face to face. But I wouldn't do it."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Sure, you wouldn't. But do it anyhow." She looked at her calender. "Tonight. Dinner. Set it up."

Finn tensed. "Oh, Rachel, Rach. I— Look, it's really not a good idea that you see him. Definitely not alone. You know? He's a feisty old guy."

"What are you saying?"

"You know, we say the wrong thing, we could wind up with bad publicity." He lowered his voice. "You have a tendency to lose your temper."

Rachel huffed. "Well, you know, there's always a possibility things are gonna go wrong." She walked over to pull out orange juice from the fridge. "That's why I enjoy this so much. Oh, by the way, Finn, about your car."

"Oh, God. What?"

"It corners like it's on rails."

He rubbed his head. "What? What does that mean?"

Rachel heard some blankets rustling and began to shepherd her lawyer towards the door. He didn't take the hint.

"Rachel? Rachel!"

She finally got him through the door, and shut the door. She turned to walk back to the kitchen, but hesitated, manually locking the door with a satisfied click, just in case. When she made it back to the table, Quinn was already sitting in her seat, sipping the juice.

The blonde looked up from the buffet in front of her. "Hi."

"Well, good morning," Rachel said, stepping further into the room and getting herself another glass.

"Y-You didn't wake me. I can see you're really busy." Rachel glanced at the usually confident woman, who was already out of her chair and seemingly ready to bolt. "I'm gonna be outta here in just a minute."

The brunette shook her head. "No, there's no hurry. Are you hungry? You must be." She motioned for Quinn to sit back down. "Why don't you sit and have something to eat? I, uhm, took the liberty of ordering everything on the menu." She looked down and blushed. "I didn't know what you'd like."

Quinn smiled softly, reaching for a bagel. "Thanks."

"All right? Good." Rachel sat down beside her, skimming the paper's headlines. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, too good." Quinn chuckled. "I forgot where I was."

"Occupational hazard?" Rachel said, smiling.

"Yeah." Quinn paused. "Did you sleep?"

Rachel glanced up. "Uh, yes, a little, on the couch. I was, uhm, working a little. After you fell asleep I brought you to the bed."

Quinn clucked through her teeth, leaning back in the chair. "You don't sleep, you don't do drugs, you don't drink, you hardly eat. What do you do, Rachel? 'Cause I know you're not a lawyer."

"That's right," Rachel said.

"You said Broadway, right?"

The brunette nodded.

"But you're here for a project?"

"Yes."

"Well, what kind of Hollywood project?"

"Uhm, it's kind of… It's a movie about a group of ragtag kids who have this club—a glee club—but they're the losers of the school and get slushied—"

"Slushied?"

"Yeah, instead of punches the bullies throw slushies in their faces."

Quinn quirked her eyebrow. "Sounds psychotic."

Rachel laughed. "Well, anyway, they face adversity and beat it, and win nationals, gaining respect from their peers."

"Sounds too sweet." Quinn said. "That'd never happen."

Rachel shrugged. "It's loosely based on my high school experience."

"So, let me guess, they're all led by an ambitious, quirky brunette?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that…"

Quinn shook her head, amused. "Wow. You must be really good, huh? I was in a glee club, but I quit in eleventh grade. Dropped out." She took a bite of a banana. "When did you get your first lead on the big stage?"

"Sophomore year of college."

Quinn hummed. "Your folks must be really proud, huh?" Rachel smiled and nodded. The blonde finished the banana as Rachel stood from the table. "Mind if I, um, take a swim in your tub before I go?"

"Not at all. Just stay in the shallow end."

She chuckled and thanked her, before returning to the bedroom to undress. Rachel's phone rang, and she sighed, answering it. "Hello?"

"Rachel, it's Finn. Listen, I'm running out the door."

"Weren't you just here? Didn't I just shove you out my room?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to let you know, Schue is all set for tonight."

"Oh, that's good."

"He's bringing his son. He's grooming him to take over. I don't know."

"Ah, yes. Very intense young man named David. He plays football."

"Look, I gotta say this again. I don't like you goin' alone."

Rachel held the phone away as a voice drifted into the kitchen. "This thing called love I just can't handle it…" She moved towards the bedroom, following it curiously.

"Look, I just think it'd be better if you—if you went with a date. You know? Keep it social."

The singing grew louder when she opened the door, and spied tufts of blonde hair in the midst of the foamiest bubble bath she had ever seen.

"Rachel? Did you hear me?"

"Oh, yes. Yeah, I'm here." Rachel leaned in the doorway, trying not to laugh as Quinn continued to sing, not noticing her presence.

"…this thing called love, I must get 'round to it…"

"What is that?"

"Housekeeping is singing."

"…I ain't ready! Crazy little thing called love..."

"Yeah... listen. Rachel, I know a lot of nice girls."

"No, you don't."

"…There goes my baby, she knows how to Rock n' roll…" Quinn shimmied in the water, "she drives me crazy!"

"Besides, I already have one."

"….She gives me hot and cold fever, then she leaves me in a cool cool sweat …"

"You just concentrate on finding out what Schue is up to. I'm on my way."

Rachel ended the call before he could argue, and sat down on the edge of the tub. It was like a siren's call or something. How was it that this woman kept getting more attractive? Her voice was smooth, in a rough, troubled way—it didn't echo her soul, but laid it bare.

"…I gotta be cool, relax, get hip, get on my track's. Take a back seat, hitch-hike, and take a long ride on my motor bike until I'm ready…"

Quinn opened her eyes and jumped a little when she saw Rachel, but smiled, chuckling. "Don't you just love Queen?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "More than life itself."

"Don't you knock?"

The brunette stood, ignoring the question. "Quinn, I have a business proposition for you."

The blonde raised her eyebrow. "What do you want?"

"I'm gonna be in town until Sunday," Rachel said, and began to pace the bathroom floor, not believing she was about to do this a second time. Especially with her reaction last night. Quinn would probably laugh in her face and reject the offer. But, regardless, she couldn't stop the words from falling out. "I'd like you to spend the week with me."

"Really?"

Rachel swallowed. "Yes. Yes, I'd like to hire you as an employee. Would you consider spending the week with me?" She laughed nervously. "I will pay you to be at my beck and call."

Quinn shifted. "Look, I'd love to be your 'beck and call girl,' but you're a rich, famous, beautiful star. You could get a million girls free."

The brunette stopped pacing and knelt by the bathtub. "I want a professional. I don't need any romantic hassles this week."

"If you're talking all hours of a day, it's gonna cost you."

Rachel grinned. "Oh, yes, of course!" She leaned back on her heels. "All right, here we go. Give me a ballpark figure. How much?"

"Six full nights, days too." She paused, glancing up at the brunette. "Four thousand."

Rachel shook her head, crossing her arms. "Six nights at three hundred is eighteen hundred."

Quinn shrugged. "You want days too."

"Two thousand."

"Three thousand."

"Done."

"Holy shit!" Quinn laughed, dunking under water to do a celebratory dance.

Rachel leaned over the side. "Quinn. Quinn, is that a yes?"

Quinn shot up, spitting as the bubbles slid down her face, with a wide smile. "Yes. Yes!"

Rachel nodded, backing out the door with a small smile. "I'll be gone most of the day. I want you to buy some clothes. We may be going out evenings. You'll need something to wear."

"Like what?"

"Uhm, nothing too flashy. Not too sexy." She hesitated. "Conservative. You understand?"

"Boring."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Elegant. Any questions?"

"Can I call you Rachie?"

"Not if you expect me to answer."

They laughed, staring a bit too long. As Rachel turned to leave, Quinn stopped her. "I would've stayed for two."

Rachel smiled, and walked out the door, calling out over her shoulder, "I would've paid four. I'll see you tonight."

"Baby, I'm gonna treat you so nice, you're never gonna wanna let me go!"

"Three thousand for six days. And, Quinn, I will let you go."

The main door shut, and Quinn blew into the bubbles, adrenaline rushing to her core. She grinned. "But I'm here now."

With three thousand dollars! Man, San was going to kill her when she found out what she had passed up. The blonde just hoped things wouldn't be weird, like last night. But then again, the chemistry would definitely help with the dating game that they were going to put on. At least now she'd get to see the Rachel Berry in action.

Bring it on.