Chapter 1


Harmony Kendall. Even the name fit the image in Buffy’s head. Blonde and busty with little between the ears. Just the sort of girl that Spike Giles always went for.

Buffy could understand the attraction of a having a piece of eye candy on your arm, but she couldn’t grasp what a man as intelligent at Spike saw in someone who couldn’t challenge him on an intellectual level.

Buffy had often wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of Spike Giles’ attentions. Like that would ever happen. She didn’t use peroxide on her hair, she had small breasts and she had a few too many brain cells to interest someone like Spike. He’d never look twice at her with her brown hair, glasses and plain clothes. To him she was just quiet and unassuming Buffy Summers, his faithful personal assistant.

“Ok, Miss Kendall,” Buffy said, putting on her sweetest voice. “I’ll tell Mr. Giles to expect you at five thirty.”

“Be sure that you do. My blondie bear wouldn’t want to keep me waiting.”

“Of course, Miss Kendall.”

Buffy put the phone down and turned back to her computer screen. She had several letters to type and emails to send before she could head home, especially as tomorrow was Saturday and she wouldn’t be in the office for a whole two days. Though she was tired, she was looking forward to this evening. Her friends were coming over for a girlie night in which involved drinking wine and watching Johnny Depp movies.

Just then, the door to Spike’s office opened and the man himself walked out followed by Angel Connors, his lawyer.

Angel was a good looking guy with thick dark hair and lovely brown eyes, but for Buffy there was only one man that could capture her attention.

Though he stood at just less than five foot ten, in contrast to Angel’s six foot one, his body was a tight muscular package crowned by a shock of bleach blond hair. With his expensive designer suits, he might appear to be a conservative businessman, but his hair, along with blue eyes that often had a wicked glint, gave a glimpse of the bad boy beneath the executive persona. Add to that his ultra defined cheekbones and his incredible British accent and Spike Giles was a perfect male specimen.

“Any messages, Miss Summers?”

His voice sent shivers down Buffy’s spine.

“Harmony Kendall called to tell you she’ll be here at five thirty to accompany you to the charity dinner for the AIDS Research Alliance.”

“Ok, thank you. Did the laundry service return my tux?”

“It’s hanging in your closet, Mr. Giles.”

“Great.”

“I dread to think what you’d do without Miss Summers, Spike,” Angel said with a grin, as they headed towards the elevators.

Buffy had just returned to her work, when the phone rang. She picked it up.

“Hello, Spike Giles office.”

“Hello, this is Darla Connors, Angel Connors ex-wife. Is he there by any chance?”

“He just this minute left. I can try and catch him for you.”

“That would be great if you could.”

Putting Darla on hold, Buffy left her desk and walked out the office and down the hall to where the elevators were situated, arriving just in time to hear Angel and Spike’s conversation. She pressed herself against the wall so that they couldn’t see her as she listened to them speak.

“I don’t get why you’re taking Harmony to this charity thing. I thought you told me that she drove you mad with her annoying voice and incessant chatter about unicorns.”

“Yeah, well, good thing I’m learning to tune her out. Anyway, annoying she may be, but I certainly wouldn’t kick her out of bed on a cold morning.”

“I could say the same about your personal assistant.”

“Miss Summers?”

“Yeah, she’s hot.”

“You really think so? I mean, come on, mate – the hair, the glasses…the clothes?”

“Yeah but imagine what she’s hiding under them.”

“Well, mate, you’re welcome to your little fantasies," Spike said with a grin as the elevator arrived and Angel stepped inside. "I’ll pass thanks.”

Buffy felt the tears prick her eyes and desperately tried to blink them away. It wasn’t that she was surprised at Spike’s opinion of her. Having seen the countless women walk out of the office of Spike’s arm, she knew without doubt that she was not his type. To have that knowledge so openly confirmed, that was what hurt.

I shouldn’t care what he thinks of me, Buffy thought as she headed back to her desk to tell Darla that she'd just missed Angel. But for some reason, I just can’t help it.


Later that evening, Buffy changed out of her grey suit trousers and cream turtleneck and put on a pair of comfy jeans and a pink sweater. She took her hair out of the chignon she always wore to work and pulled it up into a ponytail. Then she headed for the kitchen to open a bottle of wine to let it breathe before her friends arrived.

Half an hour later the doorbell rang and she opened it to see Faith and Cordelia carrying bulging brown paper bags from the local Chinese take out and Anya holding two DVD cases – ‘Sweeney Todd’ and ‘Pirates Of The Caribbean 3’.

Letting them in, her three friends followed her into the living room.

“So B, how’s things?” Faith asked as she and Cordelia took the food cartons out of the bags and placed them on the coffee table.

“Good. Everything’s great.” Buffy didn’t feel the need to tell her friends about what she’d heard Spike say earlier. Faith would probably threaten to kick him in the nuts.

“How’s that gorgeous boss of yours?” Cordelia asked. “Any developments?”

“Is he giving you orgasms yet?” Anya added.

Buffy rolled her eyes at her friend's lack of tact, as she poured them each a glass of wine. “You know that’s never going to happen. I’m not Spike’s type.”

“That’s rubbish. B, you’re beautiful.”

“Spike doesn’t think so,” Buffy said, quietly.

“Did he say that?”

“Well, not exactly.”

So much for keeping quiet about Spike’s cruel words.

“Buffy, what happened?” Cordelia asked, seeing that her friend was close to tears.

Taking a sip from her wine, Buffy told her friends about overhearing Spike and Angel’s conversation.

“What an asshole!” Faith cried, when she had finished. “He doesn’t deserve to have you feel the way you do about him.”

“I know, but I can’t help it.”

“Hey,” Cordelia piped up. “I’ve just had the most brilliant idea.”

The other three turned to look at her.

“You know how I keep trying to convince Buffy to go to the salon with me? I think now would be the perfect time to do it.”

Buffy sighed. “Cordy, I’ve already told you a dozen times. I’m not like you – I’m not interested in designer clothes, fancy hairstyles and French manicures.”

“Yeah, but I really think it’ll do you good, you know, boost your self-esteem. I’m not suggesting you change your whole appearance – just make the most of what you have. I bet I can even get you an appointment for tomorrow.”

“You know, B. That’s not a bad idea,” Faith said. “Plus can you imagine the look on Spike Giles’ face when you turn up for work on Monday.”

Maybe her friends were right, Buffy thought. And how good would it feel to have Spike sit up and take notice, only for her to knock him back. That would wipe the smile right off his ‘I’m God’s gift to women’ face.


“So now I’m in talks to design a whole range of lingerie with a unicorn motif. It’ll be so cool.”

Spike yawned, but Harmony didn’t even notice. She continued to rabbit on and on about bloody unicorns. He wondered if she ever thought about anything else other than those blasted creatures. I doubt it, he thought with a grin.

“So what do you think, Spikey? It’ll be ace, won’t it?”

“Yeah, Harm, bloody brilliant.”

These charity dinners were a total bore and having Harmony as his date made it even worse. As soon as the speeches were done, he’d get his checkbook out and then leave and take Harmony back to his apartment. He knew of one way that was guaranteed to shut the bird up – no girl would talk about unicorns while in his bed.

As Harmony continued the one-sided conversation, Spike decided he definitely wouldn’t be asking her to accompany him to another one. Mentally thumbing through his little black book to think of who to ask next time, his thoughts suddenly shifted to what Angel had said earlier about his assistant. He had never thought of Miss Summers as anything other than an employee, but he could kinda see where his friend was coming from – he supposed there was something about her.

But he quickly dismissed that unwanted thought. Buffy Summers was his assistant and Spike did not mix business with pleasure.

Chapter 2


The next day, Buffy sat in front of the mirror at the Casablanca Salon & Day Spa in Sherman Oaks. Having met the hair stylist that Cordelia had booked her in with, she was a little wary. His name was Andrew and he was a total queen.

“I gonna make you look like as beautiful as Princess Leia,” he declared as he mixed together some hair colorant.

Buffy frowned. Just what she needed – a Star Wars freak doing her hair. She looked over at Cordelia, who sat on the sofa reading a magazine and raised her eyebrows.

“Trust him, he’s magic,” she whispered.

This was turning into all-out spa day, Buffy realized. And even though she was used to being totally low maintenance, it was nice having the opportunity to be pampered. Already she and Cordelia had each had a facial, mud wrap and full body massage and at least in body, Buffy was feeling totally relaxed.

She watched as Andrew applied the colorant to her hair and then covered each section with foils. When he had finished, he put her under heat to speed up the coloring process and after about half an hour, he led her over to the sink for the shampoo girl to remove the foils and wash out the chemicals. When she was treated to a hair massage, Buffy decided she could really get used to this.

Next she was led back to her previous seat and Andrew began work on styling her hair. She had to suppress an almost horrified gasp as she watched him cut her normally waist length hair to just below her shoulders. He then added long layers and finished by blow drying it and using curling irons to create tousled curls.

Looking at the finished job, Buffy could not believe her eyes and she ready to get on her knees and worship Andrew. Her hair looked incredible. The layered style made it feel almost weightless and the curls made it look sexy. And the color. Andrew had chosen two different shades of blonde – one a warm honey color and one a cool platinum color, a bit like Spike’s – which looked really great together.

“Wow, Buffy, you look amazing,” Cordelia said. She’d always known her friend was beautiful, but she just needed to be shown how to make the most of her looks.

“Thanks for convincing me to do this, Cordy,” Buffy said.

Two hours later, the pair finally left the salon and headed into the city to meet Faith and Anya for lunch. After Andrew had finished, Buffy had been treated to both a manicure and a pedicure and then she had had a session with the salon’s make up artist who had showed her what the best colors were for her and how to apply them.

When Faith and Anya saw Buffy they were both speechless, which for Anya was highly unusual. Like Cordelia, both had always thought that Buffy underrated her looks, especially as she had always been unwilling to experiment with her hair and make up.

“Listen,” Faith said to Cordelia and Anya as everyone cleared their plates of food. “We’ve all got a free afternoon. I say we take Buffy shopping. Get her some new clothes to match her new look.”

“I don’t think so, Faith,” Buffy spoke up. “I mean this morning at the salon has already put a nice dent in my bank balance. I really can’t afford new clothes.”

“Buffy, Faith’s right,” Cordelia told her. “You can’t have the hair, make up and nails done and then wear your old clothes. And if you’re worried about money, I’m happy to help you. I can get discount at almost every shop in the city. A perk of being the only daughter of the CEO of Chase Media.”

“I dunno…” Buffy was almost convinced but still a little hesitant.

“Come on, Buffy,” Anya piped up. “Once Spike sees you in a skirt above the knee, he’ll be begging to give you orgasms.”

Both the thought of Spike on his knees begging for her attention and the thought of him giving her orgasms – which even considering his cruel words yesterday was still something she wanted – removed all of Buffy’s doubt.

“Ok, let’s do it.”


Monday morning dawned bright and early and though Buffy never usually had a problem getting out of bed, on this particular day, she had even less reason to want to stay beneath the duvet.

She quickly showered and then headed for her wardrobe to pick out something to wear. She and her three friends had spent the whole of Saturday afternoon choosing clothes for her to buy.

Smiling to herself, she selected a black sweater dress over a white shirt and teamed it with a red silk scarf and black suede boots. The outfit clung to her slender curves and emphasized her high firm breasts and she left an acceptable number of the shirt buttons undone to allow for a hint of cleavage. A black jacket and matching purse completed the look.

Before getting dressed she donned a black lace bra and matching shorts. Buffy had traditionally been a white cotton type of girl and had never bought lacy underwear in her life, but her friends – namely Anya – had convinced her to get some new lingerie and Buffy had decided that it made her feel even more confident knowing she had sexy undergarments beneath her clothes.

Next she took the curling irons she had also purchased and styled her hair before adding light make up – ivory shadow on her eyelids, rose blush on her cheekbones, dark brown mascara on her lashes and nude gloss on her lips. She also swapped her glasses for the contact lenses she also had but rarely wore.

After eating breakfast, she left her apartment in Riverside to walk to the bus stop to catch the bus into the center of the city. She always caught the bus to work. Her friends had often tried to convince her to take the metro because it was quicker and easier, but deep down Buffy had always been too scared. She had heard many horror stories about people being mugged, assaulted or raped on the underground metro stations.

But today, for some reason, that thought didn’t seem to bother her so much. Maybe it was an extension of her new look, but she felt confidence oozing from her pores. Almost overnight, she no longer felt like the shy girl next door who grew up in the small suburban town of Sunnydale and who still felt significantly out of place in the bright lights of Los Angeles, despite having lived there for almost three years.

When she reached the bus stop, she continued walking until she found the metro station. She queued to buy a ticket and then went through the turnstiles before heading downstairs to the platform. Five minutes later, she emerged into the bright sunshine, just a few minutes walk from office block where Spike Giles operated business. On her way, she passed Starbucks and on a whim bought an iced mochacinno instead of her usual skinny decaf.

When she arrived at the office, she was relieved to find that Spike was not yet there. She took a quick trip to the restroom to check on her hair and reapply her lip gloss, before heading back to her desk. She then printed off copies of the emails that had arrived in Spike’s inbox over the weekend and took them along with some papers from him to sign and a cup of strong black coffee – the way he liked it – into his office so they would be waiting on his desk for when he arrived.


Spike was late. And it annoyed him because he was never late. Stepping out of the elevator, he headed down the corridor to his office.

He was surprised to see that Miss Summers had also not yet arrived. That’s odd, he thought to himself. His assistant was always perfectly punctual and organized – one of the reasons why he’d hired her – and Spike had often thought it would be possible to set your watch by her.

Not bothering to dwell on it, assuming she, like him, was just running late – after all it happened to everyone, he walked past her desk and opened the door to his office, stopping dead at the sight that greeted him.

A woman was standing with her back to him, bending slightly to place something on his desk. She was wearing a black dress that clung enticingly to her perfect ass and because of the way she was bending, Spike caught a glimpse of a pair of slim tanned legs. Her hair was another thing entirely – long blonde curls that he was just aching to run his hands through. His cock hardened at the sight of her and he knew he just had to find out her name and get her to agree to let him take her to dinner.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

The woman turned and he found himself looking into his assistant’s incredible green eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Giles.”