How come I’ve never noticed him before?

Okay, okay, so I have. Who could not notice His Broody Cutiness? I’ve always had an eye out for the finer members of the male species. “When it comes to dating, *I’m* the slayer,” as I once told Buffy. So how come I never snagged Angel?

Well...there is that whole blood-sucking thing, I guess. That’s such a major ick factor I think it turned me off. Of course, I didn’t know he was a vampire at first. So why didn’t I...oh yeah. Buffy.

Hmph. They both fell for her – Xander and Angel, they both wanted her.

But hey, I’m way over that little high school romance of mine, and now I can go after a Real Man. Real Vampire, big diff. Buffy’s not here, so I have a shot, right?

Right.

Besides, I have an advantage my little blonde friend back in Sunnydale doesn’t. I’M here. SHE’s there.

I’ll worry about the demon-of-the-night aspect later.

This is strange.

I don’t get it!

I tried subtle hinting, and when that didn’t work, I tried less-subtle hinting. I’ve tried the “Oops! Silly me, tripping over this non-existent...thing...on the floor-falling-onto-his-lap” strategy. Didn’t work. Angel very kindly helped me up and went back to his work. I’ve tried the insipid helpless girl (“Oh, Angel! Save me from this evil vampire!”) routine that guys seem to like, but Angel just flashed me a smile of reassurance and staked the vamp before I could expand on my Damsel-in-distress act. I’ve tried the coy but shy deal, but it only seemed to make me more invisible to him. Figures.

Ugh. UGH! I’m Cordelia Chase! This can’t be happening to me!

I’ve even tried wearing low-cut tops and short skirts to maximize the sex appeal, and I NEVER usually have to resort to that. Guys tend to like me for what I am. Gorgeous. I don’t NEED to dress to impress. Can I help it if I’m hot?

But dressing like . . . well . . . like Buffy . . . it’s just not me. Still, desperation . . . I mean, motivation, can prompt one to do many strange things.

But since subtlety wasn’t working, I became a little more obvious. Outright flirting.

“Hi, Angel . . .” I purred seductively as I came into the office. Angel smiled briefly, distracted by whatever work he had in front of him. Doyle looked up, his eyes dancing as he takes in the indecently short red dress I had saved from my “richer” days.

“Why Cordy, you’re looking quite the beauty tonight,” he drawled appreciatively. “I’m touched. I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” I told him flippantly, and made my way over to Angel’s desk, trying to ignore the chuckle coming from that irritating little half-demon.

I bent down in front of Angel’s desk, trying to (ugh) show as much cleavage as possible.

“Any work for me, Boss?”

“I’ve got it covered, thanks. You have an easy day today.”

I pouted. “And do what?” Playing the part of the Good Secretary, I let my hand drift over the stuff on his desk, accidentally (!) grazing his a couple of times as I straightened the mess of papers stacked all over the place.

“Go out, have some fun, shop.” He rummaged through his desk and came up with a Visa, which he held out to me. “My treat.” Angel’s eyes crinkled up at the ends as he smiled kindly and tried to make me take the card.

I stared at his face incredulously, then at the piece of plastic in his hand, and for once the thought of shopping repelled me.

“What?”

“It’s been a while since you’ve been out of this office, Cordy. Just thought you’d want a chance to catch up on the sales at DKNY.”

I could feel Doyle’s eyes burning into the back of my head. No, actually, I couldn’t. But I heard that jerk stifle a laugh.

I don’t believe this.

I tried one last time.

“Please.” I laughed, and pushed his hand away. “I don’t do charity, and besides, Donna Karen is out this season, didn’t you know that?”

I caught his eyes and held his gaze, momentarily lost in the depths of their chocolatey browness before I recovered and continued talking.

“I’d rather stay in here and help you with any little thing you want.” There. Any more direct and I’d be mauling him right at his desk. Now wouldn’t that be nice?

“Well, I don’t need anything myself, but . . .” Angel furrowed his brow in thought for a while, then his eyes lit up.

< Thank God. He finally gets it! >

“Why don’t you go see if Doyle needs any help?

Cordelia Chase, Boy Slayer? I may have to give up my title cause . . .

It STILL didn’t work.

I swear, men are so clueless! You’d think being almost 300 years old would teach him something about women. But no . . .

“Well, now, I know what kind of help I’ll be needing, Cordelia...” grinned Doyle lasciviously as I sulkily walked over to his desk. He reached out for me but I evaded his grasp and shot him my best “wither-and-die-unworthy-scum!” glare.

“Medical help, if you try anything funny,” I told him frostily. Geez, I get all the crazy extremes, don’t I? A horny half-demon on one end and a celibate vampire on the other. Aren’t I due in for some luck?

I mean, hello? After all the grossness I had to experience while living in Sunnydale, you’d think whatever higher powers out there would give me a break. I deserve it!

I need a break!

I want a break!

I want...Angel.