Chapter Five:
Buffy stared grumpily at the doors of the emergency room and wondered for about the hundredth time why she was doing this. She shouldn't be here. She had a whole desk load of backlog to go through and a final statement to prepare for the press on Adam Walsh's arrest. The press release had to get sent to the department's media consultant before she could deliver it and that could take hours. She had way too much on her plate. She shouldn't be standing outside the doors of the hospital at four am. And she sure as hell shouldn't be going inside to see Dr. McKenna again.
She shifted the small white bag that she carried to her other hand and resolutely pushed through the doors quickly before she could change her mind. He had done her a favor and she repaid her debts. She only wanted to thank him for what he had done for her. Nothing more, nothing less.
The harsh cleanser smell of disinfectant invaded her nostrils, making her cringe. She hated the cloying smells of hospitals almost as much as she hated staying in them. There was something about that smell that reminded her too much of sickness and death. Natural death, old age death, the kind that took forever to kill you, left you dependant on others, and shamed you by leaving you weak and helpless.
Another bad thought, old age. She hoped she took a bullet before she was old enough to sit in some geriatric home, boring the socks off of everyone with stories about "the good old days" when she was a cop. She didn't want to be ninety, wearing a diaper and gumming her food, waiting for the end because that was all there was left to look forward to.
She stopped at the admittance desk and waited for the nurse standing there to notice her.
It didn't take long before the overworked woman looked up from the notes she was scribbling. "Can I help you?"
Buffy pulled her badge, flipping it open so the nurse could see her identification as well. "I'd like to see Dr. McKenna if he has a minute."
"Ah, certainly. Detective? Is it?"
Buffy nodded and the nurse picked up the phone and paged the doctor.
Within minutes he was pushing through the gray doors that separated Emergency from the other areas of the hospital his white doctor's coat flapping around his blue surgical scrubs. His eyes widened when he recognized her, then narrowed suspiciously.
"Hello Detective." He held out his hand warily.
Buffy took it, amazed that she hadn't remembered just how good looking he was. Or maybe she had and that was why she had been so nervous about coming here. "Doctor."
Her hand seemed small and almost childlike in his. And even dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, a light jacket concealing the gun he knew she wore, she still looked too young for the responsibility he knew she carried on her slim shoulders. And beautiful, too. He found himself staring into her eyes, thickly lashed and almost impossibly green.
She was the last person he would have pictured to voluntarily come here looking for him. Especially after the way he had walked out on her those days ago when she had so sorely pissed him off. He had thought about her though. He had wondered about her, had been concerned, wishing he knew if she had seen her own doctor, taken the pain killers he had prescribed. And had wondered why he cared at all. She was just one of a million patients that walked or rolled into his life through the emergency room doors.
"What can I do for you, Detective?" He let his eyes roam over her once, only letting her see the detached medical professional in his eyes, not the very interested, very intrigued man. "You certainly look better than the last time I saw you."
"Actually," she cleared her voice to get rid of the little hitch his presence always seemed to bring. "I wanted to thank you for all your help."
He shrugged and glanced around noting the interest in the hospital personnel pretending to be busy. "All part and parcel of the service, Detective. How about I buy you a bad cup of coffee and we can discuss my bill?" he offered grinning down at her. He took her elbow and steered her out of range of curious eyes and headed down towards the cafeteria.
At this time of early morning, the service part of the cafeteria was shut down leaving a handful of machines to deal with the needs for coffee, soft drinks and snacks. Angel plugged in quarters and ordered the coffee, pulling the flimsy cups out of the machine as they filled. He gestured to one of the empty tables and sat her coffee in front of her.
She took a sip and grimaced. "It is pretty bad." She took another sip and sat the cup aside, realizing she still had a death grip on the white bag. "Here." She slid the bag hurriedly across the table to him, catching a hint of surprise in his eyes before he grabbed it.
"A present?" He opened the bag, smelling chocolate before it unraveled.
"Double chocolate brownies."
He pulled one out of the bag and breathed in the scent with an air of appreciation that made a smile curve the corner of her full lips. "No nuts?"
"I didn't know if you liked them or not."
"I do," he said, taking a huge bite. "Fantastic." He swallowed, finishing the brownie with one more bite. He took another then offered her the bag. "Sorry, we had a traffic accident come in and I missed lunch. So what do I owe this treat?"
Buffy took another sip of the sludge from the coffee machine. "I owed you. You got me back to work and," she paused, hating to have to admit this, "the painkillers helped a lot. I wouldn't have had them if you hadn't brought them over."
She'd never forget the day after her accident, the pain that just getting up out of bed had caused her to feel had been almost more than she could bear. Without those painkillers, she'd have been forced to take sick leave that day. The thought of the 'told you so' grin that would have been on Riley's face more than made the brownie's well deserved.
Angel reached out and took the hand that was unconsciously shredding the brownie she had taken to crumbs on a napkin. "These are too good to waste."
The blush that stained her cheeks annoyed her as much as embarrassed her even more. He pulled her hand away from the brownie but kept it in his.
"And if you'd like to thank me, how about dinner?"
WIth that, she felt a sudden spurt of panic. "Uh, dinner?"
Angel smiled which sent a jolt of something else zapping through Buffy's nervous system to twist in her stomach. "You know, two people. Go to a restaurant. Order food. Eat the food." The smile broadened into a grin when he caught her still stupefied look. "I thought we could eat it together."
"Uh." She was out of her element here. It wasn't as if she hadn't gotten asked out before, she had. And she dated, well, she did when her case load allowed. So, okay, that wasn't a lot, she always figured she did the job better than a personal life anyway.
"Buffy?"
She looked up at him. He was still smiling, amused by her. It stiffened her spine and made her just a touch annoyed with him. "Sure. Dinner would be great, Dr. McKenna."
"Angel."
"Dinner would be great, Angel." She found it easy to say his name, liked the way it sounded, too much. The thought was a little disconcerting.
"I'll pick you up, tonight? Is seven alright?" His thumb stroked across her palm in a way the made her twitch a little.
Buffy pulled her hand free, rubbing her tingling palm stealthily against the leg of her slacks, and stood. She felt a bit calmer on her feet, enough so that she faced the look in his eyes and tried to smile at him. "That would be great." Buffy turned and headed toward the door. She was almost through it when she turned her head one more time, wanting another glimpse of the picture he made sitting at the table watching her. "Enjoy the brownies, Doc."
A serious case of stress and too much coffee had her nerves jumping as she hunted through her wardrobe, searching for something to wear. She'd already pulled out and discarded half of the contents of her closet.
Why hadn't she asked him where they were going?
She finally decided upon a simple black knit dress, sleeveless with a deep scope neck and short hemline that made the best out of her considerable attributes. Slim heels added inches to her small stature and made her legs look sleekly curved miles long.
She grabbed a quick shower, powdered, perfumed and primped quickly in the bathroom then hurried into her bedroom. Her dress was laid out next to the small pile of lingerie.
Lingerie was her weakness, her one true downfall. She couldn't pass a shop without at least gazing wistfully into the windows at the colorful silks, satins, and laces and dreaming of her next pay raise. She tugged on the black, lightly boned, satin teddy, sucking in her breath before fastening it over her breasts. Black silk stockings were rolled into place and then clipped carefully into black garters decorated with tiny white bows. Buffy checked out her reflection, pleased with the way the satin clung.
Satin and silk lingerie was a weapon, a quiet but very powerful weapon for a woman who knew how to use it. It gave a feeling of naughty confidence and an air of femininity to a woman. Even if a man never saw it, she knew she was wearing it.
She pulled the dress on, running her hands slowly down the front to smooth out any wrinkles and to admire the fit. She flipped her head to send her hair scattering in thick wisps around her face in an artful mess before she stepped into the matching shoes. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. She had just enough time to grab her off duty weapon and her badge and shove them into a tiny black purse, along with some emergency money and her cell phone.
At precisely seven, the buzzer to her apartment went off. She hit the intercom button and then buzzed him in, opening her door slightly so she could hear the elevator open. Her stomach hummed with nerves and she fought with herself to stay calm. She could handle murder, brutalized bodies, psychopaths with ham sized fists. One night out couldn't kill her.
"Wow."
He stood in the doorway, his eyes slightly glazed as he stared at the picture she made. The black dress did incredible things to her skin, making it seem pale, almost porcelain in it's perfection. The scooped neckline showed off her cleavage, made only more daring by the fit of the satin teddy. The hemline of the dress stopped mid thigh, nothing too daring but, with the added height of the heels, her legs looked as if they'd never stop.
Angel felt his tongue begin to loll out of his mouth and gave himself a mental shake. "You look..." He took two steps forward into the apartment, searching for an adequate word, "amazing," he finally finished.
"Thanks, Doctor." She remembered their last conversation of any length, the one that he had gotten so mad and stomped out of. "Is that a personal observation, or a professional one?"
He laughed, a wicked deep chuckle that tickled her nerves. "Oh this time, I can definitely say it's personal. I'm hoping very personal."
Buffy smiled, hers coy and a little daring, giving him a hint of the impish side of her nature. "We'll just have to see, now, won't we?" She handed him the black jacket that matched the dress and let him help her into it, smiling inside when his hands lingered on her shoulders for an extra second or two.
When they reached the parking lot, she was in for a surprise. She'd expected a BMW or a Corvette, not the smooth lines of the Grand Prix that sat in her visitor parking space next to her own Mustang. It was a black four door and not even close to a new model.
The man was full of surprises it seemed.
Angel unlocked the car and opened the door for her, closing it behind after ogling the long length of thigh the hemline exposed as she sat. When he got into the car, he didn't start it right off, instead, he reached behind her seat and brought out a small brown paper bag. He sat it in her lap then sat there and watched her stare at it.
"What's this?" She touched the paper gingerly, almost afraid to look inside.
"It's a present, go ahead and open it." He laughed at the look she gave him.
"Oh and you wrapped it so pretty too," she said wryly as she unfolded the top of the bag and peeked inside. She reached in and almost melted as she pulled out a small brown bear with long fur. He had a big black fedora on his head, a trench coat belted at his bearish waist. On one lapel was a five pointed star, a cop's badge. Buffy smiled, set the bear down in her lap and shifted in the seat. His mouth met hers, easily, almost as if they had done this before. The kiss was soft, a beginning of something that Buffy felt was as fragile as happiness. She pulled back a little, staring into those chocolate eyes. "Thank you."
A glint in his eyes, he took another small taste of her lips before sitting back with a sigh. "The pleasure was all mine," he said starting the car.
Buffy sat back in the car watching his hands as he drove. The bear on her lap, she relaxed and watched his hands on the steering wheel, the competent way he drove.
Before she realized, they were pulling into a parking lot and Angel jumped out of the car, pulling open her door. She stood, stooping slightly to set the bear in her seat before turning back to the doctor.
The restaurant overlooked the water and a marina full of everything from full sized yachts to rowboats. Buffy watched the masts slowly dip and sway with the waves as they were seated close to one of the windows. The sun was still in the sky but slowly lowering, creating intricate shadows along the terrace outside the window.
She took the menu she was offered but didn't open it, looking around, a cop's gleam in her eyes. It was habit, for both cops and criminals. Case a joint, spot the exits, the entrances. Find the restrooms and the kitchen. Check out the other diners, the wait staff. She looked over the hostess, a very tall blonde in a tiny black skirt and tight white blouse that made no bones in declaring that her best assets were in front of her. The bartender, a tall black man with no hair and a shiny head was working calmly and seemed to feel her stare. He looked her way, smiled widely exposing three gold capped teeth in the front of his mouth.
"Ready for the heist Muggsy?"
Buffy smiled ruefully and blushed at being caught. "Sorry," she apologized. "It's habit."
She opened her menu and just as quickly folded it back up, barely glancing at the selections. She took her purse off of her lap and sat it on the table and shrugged out of her jacket, seeing Angel's eyes gravitate to her bare shoulders and below for one admiring minute before returning to her eyes. He seemed about to say something when their waiter appeared to take their drink order.
Buffy was fine with water, and he was the same.
"You're on duty tonight aren't you?" Buffy asked him.
"On call. They final got us back to a full staff so I only have to go in if they get an emergency. You too?"
"The life of a cop, we are always on call. You never know when some hooker killing psycho is going to run amok on city streets and need to be taken down," she said, laughing at herself.
"So that's what the outfit was about." He grinned. "Not that I'm complaining mind you, that just didn't seem like the style you'd particularly wear out. And those shoes..." he paused, remembering the fantasies that had come to mind when he'd thought about those shoes with their incredible "do me" heels.
"I burnt them." She smiled with smug memory at the way it had felt to watch those feet killers go up in flame.
"You didn't?" he asked in horror. He couldn't believe it. He watched his fantasies of her in nothing but those shoes figuratively flare then go up in smoke.
"You sound disappointed, Doctor." Buffy leaned forward, enjoying this play.
Angel's eyes, which had been behaving, well, mostly, strayed down to the front of her dress once more, admiring her lovely curves. "They were nice shoes," he said lamely.
"Well, let me check, maybe I can find them in your size."
He laughed, his eyes meeting hers once more. He'd opened his mouth to continue the banter when the waiter appeared again to take their order. He quickly scanned the menu, making choices for both of them, waiting for Buffy's nod at his choice for her before continuing. The waiter left and the two of them were alone once more. Angel leaned forward and opened his mouth to say something but she never knew what. Almost on cue, the phone in her purse went off.
"I'm sorry," she said, pulling it out and checking the caller id screen. "I have to take this, excuse me." She flipped it open and hit a button, sighing angrily but quietly into the phone. "What is it Riley? And it'd better be good." She listened for a moment and sighed again. "Sure, but can't you..." Another moment. "Yeah, but..." Riley interrupted. "I know, but what about..." she finally gave up. "Fine, let me catch a cab and I'll be there in ten minutes. What's the address again?"
Angel had been unashamedly listening in. When she hung up and started to apologize, he brushed it away. "Don't worry, rain check on the date, and you can bet I'll collect. Just remember this sometimes when I get called out. But no cab," he said hastily when she started dialing the phone. "I'll take you."
"It's a crime scene. I can't take you to a crime scene."
"You couldn't take me to an interview either, but you did. He called the waiter, explained the situation and left a sizable tip, then escorted Buffy back to his car.
Just as he was going to unlock the door, she reached out and grabbed the lapels of his jacket and yanked his face down to her height. Her lips found his in a kiss that was more than gratitude.
She kissed him slowly, savoring every bit of his lips, twisting and rubbing against them with her mouth in a way that had her dizzy. His tongue swept out, sliding between her lips to lap at the smoothness of her teeth before slipping between and tasting the depths of her mouth. She moaned, feeling it get caught in his mouth, echoing his own.
When they parted, he let his forehead rest against hers, his breathing a little unsteady. "We need to do that rain check, really soon. Okay?"
Buffy laughed and sneaked out from under his arms. "Okay, but now I got a dead body waiting and a partner that has a serious problem with me getting a night off right now."