AN:  Umm... new story.  Don't know where its going, or where it came from.  I'm working on the 
last chapter of The Only Girl.  I truly am.  Thank you SO much to everyone who has been giving 
me feedback and bugging me about my stories- I luv ya for it!


************************* One Night Stand: Chapter One ****************************


It was only supposed to be a one-night stand dammit.  Just one night.  Great sex, no talk, a 
quick goodbye kiss and wham, one fantasy realized.  I mean, I'm not the only girl in the world 
to be screwed, literally or figuratively, by AJ McLean but I am one of a select few.  

See, I don't do things like most women.  I usually date someone for almost a year before I 
sleep with them, so, duh, my list of boyfriends with whom I've had sex with is limited.  And 
then every once in awhile I let my hair down and have a sweaty fling.  

I am such a guy sometimes.  

I don't like strings.  I don't like promises.  Sometimes, you just have hormones.  Period, end 
of story.  You're horny, you take the sculptured young thing from the club home for a test 
drive without ever intending to buy.  You use protection and you never, ever whisper the L-word 
in the throes of passion.  It just complicates things.  

So one hot Orlando night I took home AJ McLean.  First celebrity I've ever done and probably my 
last.  I'm not a groupie.  But I do admire handsome individuals and damn, that boy was 
especially fine that night.  It was wild and blushingly kinky and exactly what I was looking 
for.  Better than I had hoped for.  

But you see, by definition, you shouldn't run into your one night stand two months later by 
sheer rotten luck.  Nor should the said one night stand recognize you on sight.  

It just doesn't work that way dammit!  

***********************************************************************************

Keelie was late, late, for a very important date, err business interview.  She was trying her 
damndest to look professional and collected but nothing was going right.  Her heel had broke, 
her purse strap had snapped, her hair was doing the wild thing, and she had forgotten to buy 
lipstick last night so she was out of her favorite shade.

Never mind the fact that she and her wonderful boyfriend had broken up last night and Keelie 
had discovered exactly how fierce his temper could be.  She was sporting a black eye and split 
lip to add injury to insult.  Make up could only do so much but hay, she could work the whole 
battered woman angle, hopefully.    

Daniel was sporting handcuffs.  

Keelie didn't take shit from anyone, especially if it involved physical violence.  Her momma 
had hit her for twelve years until Keelie had learned to hit back.  She may have been half 
Daniel's size but a couple classes in self defense and having the law on your side could do 
wonders for you.  

She hoped the bastard never saw daylight as a free man again but, given American's perchance 
for male chauvinism that wasn't bloody likely.  McDonalds was hardly her breakfast of choice 
but it had hot foot and hotter coffee.  She'd kill for straight black, honest to god, godawful 
gas station quality coffee.  Took the roof off her mouth and put tears in her eyes.  

Keelie made a mad detour through the shiny glass doors.  She didn't glance around but the place 
was mostly empty since it was almost time to stop serving breakfast and most of the corporates 
who HAD jobs were already at work.  So, armed with an industrial strength cup of coffee, she 
turned to go pay, and promptly crashed into a well defined wall of muscle.  

She cursed vividly as scalding coffee cascaded down her white silk blouse like a replication of 
Niagra Falls, a perfect conclusion to an already horrid morning.  Keelie looked up, fire in her 
eyes and a ready insult on her lips, and fell mute when she recognized the face and the 
sunglasses that were looking down at her.

Bloody, bloody, freaking wonderful.  It was Alexander James McLean.  The boy was famous.  What 
the hell was HE doing at McDonalds?  He had servants and bodyguards to get HIM coffee.  Half 
the teenage population would give their left arm to see a Backstreet Boy.  And here he was, 
before her.  

Staring at her with those damn unreadable glasses.  His brow was furrowed a bit and Keelie 
suddenly desperately hoped that Mr. Celebrity had no recollection of who she was.  Okay, well 
it was ego crushing to think that what was absolutely wonderful sex to her was forgettable to 
him, but if it got her out of here without any further embarrassment, she'd be willing to take 
one for the team so to speak.  

Besides, he got to screw lots of girls.  Even the good ones probably started to blur together 
after awhile.  Its not like women were radically different.  Everyone pretty much had the same 
equipment, legs, breast, mouth and... well the vitals were accounted for.  The rest was just 
aesthetics and personal preferences.

Tomato, tomato, same idea.  So, translation, babble time.

"I'm so sorry!  I didn't even see you there...  Let me just grab my bag and I'll get out of 
your way..."  Keelie knelt and picked up her dropped brief case and started to flee the scene of 
the crime so to speak.  

The operative word being "started".  

A surprisingly strong grip stopped her in her steps.  Keelie scrunched her eyes tightly as the 
so far silent AJ McLean slowly removed his sunglasses with his free hand and studied her 
profile for a long moment.  

"I know you.  Where the hell do I know you from?"  

She sure as hell wasn't going to help him out with that one.  Keelie sent a silent plea of help
skyward.  You never know what could happen.  

AJ's eyes traveled downward to her slender, captured wrist and got wide as they registered 
the tattooed string of musical notes that wound around her wrist like a permanent bracelet.  

Apparently she was out of favor with the higher powers.  

"You're the... you're her... from the club..."

Oh god, this morning was just royally sucking.  Royally, impressively, record breaking 
sucking.  

"You're the tongue girl!"

Oh Jesus he remembered.  He was so NOT supposed to remember the fact that she was more talented 
with her tongue than Nick Carter.  Oh crap, she was scarlet.  Keelie could feel the burn of a 
near permanent blush stain her cheeks.  

"I... I really have to go," she stammered.
	
"Oh my gosh, I totally ruined your blouse.  I'm so sorry..." he trailed off as dark eyes 
narrowed and took in the bruised eye and split lip.  She gasped as gentle fingers 
involuntarily drifted to her face and brushed her bottom lip.  "What happened?"

Oh this was too much, bloody surreal if you thought about it.  "Nothing..." Keelie tried as 
she attempted to break away but AJ McLean wasn't done with her yet.  

The iron grip didn't diminish or release her.  Keelie resisted the slight panic that was 
slowly building in the back of her throat.  He didn't mean any harm; compared to some of the 
men she had brought home in her less stellar judgment decisions, mostly when she had been 
younger, he was a pussy cat.   The only thing she could read in his brown, brown eyes was 
concern and curiosity but after Daniel last night she was still on edge.

"Could, could you please let me go?"  Understanding that was painful to see flashed in that 
strangely deep gaze.

"You gonna run?"

Keelie managed a weak snort.  "Not if you let me go."  They locked gazes and she swallowed 
another wave of panic.  "Please..." she whispered.  

"Aright," AJ said softly as he slowly released her arm.  "Now what happened?"

Keelie took a deep breath and made a point to stop and collect herself before attempting to 
answer.  "Nasty break with a nastier ex last night."

"He did that?"  The anger in the singer's voice was foreign to her, as was the almost fierce 
protectiveness.  It felt kinda nice.  Keelie was used to taking care of herself but sometimes, 
sometimes it got tiring to be the only one she had to rely on.  

She grinned despite her split lip.  "He's also in jail with a matching set of bruises."  

Something close to respect flashed quickly across the Backstreet Boy's face and she wondered 
at his own past.  He didn't have her scars, but he hadn't always lead a life of luxury.  She 
had seen pictures of them, of their shining group- they were as hard to avoid as N'SYNC if you 
lived in Orlando.  But she had noticed that even when AJ McLean smiled there were shadows, a 
secret pain that none of the others had, inside of him.  

Nick Carter was popular because he was blonde, blue eyed, and baby faced.  Kevin Richardson 
was tall dark and a green eyed Apollo.  AJ McLean was someone who had been used by life but 
who could still smile.  That was rare enough these days.  Never mind the gorgeous body.  

"I feel awful about ruining your blouse.  Let me pay for it or something..."

Keelie blinked, looked at the clock, and cursed roundly.  "I really have to go- I'm late for 
an interview, coffee stained and all.  Thanks for the offer but I'm seriously late."  And 
before he could voice a word of protest Keelie Stephanie Marie Childs breezed out of Alexander 
James Mcean's life a second time without even offering her first name.