I pour us both orange juice and put the coffee on. She doesn’t drink coffee, only tea. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please. If you have some.”

In the cupboard I find the Twinings teabags I’d asked Kristine to buy.

Well, well, who would have thought I’d ever get to use them?

She frowns when she sees them. “Bit of a foregone conclusion, wasn’t I?”

“Are you? I’m not sure we’ve concluded anything yet, Miss Hwang,” I answer with a stern look.

And don’t talk about yourself like that.

I add her self-deprecation to the list of behaviors that will need modifying.

She avoids my gaze, busy with serving up breakfast. Two plates are placed on the placemats, then she fetches the maple syrup out of the fridge.

When she looks up at me I’m waiting for her to sit down. “Miss Hwang.” I indicate where she should sit.

“Ms. Jung,” she replies, with contrived formality, and winces as she sits.

“Just how sore are you?” I’m surprised by an uneasy sense of guilt. I want to her again, preferably after breakfast, but if she’s too sore that will be out of the question.

The color in her face rises. “Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to,” she says tartly. “Did you wish to offer your commiserations?” Her sarcastic tone takes me by surprise. If she were mine, it would earn her a spanking at least, maybe over the kitchen counter.

“No. I wondered if we should continue your basic training.”

“Oh.” She startles.

Yes, Fany, we can have during the day, too.

I take a bite of my breakfast and close my eyes in appreciation. It tastes mighty fine. When I swallow she’s still staring at me. “Eat, Tiffany,” I order. “This is delicious, incidentally.”

She can cook, and well.

Fany takes one bite of her food, then pushes her breakfast around on her plate. I ask her to stop biting her lip. “It’s very distracting, and I happen to know you’re not wearing anything under my shirt.”

She fidgets with her teabag and the teapot, ignoring my irritation. “What sort of basic training did you have in mind?” she asks.

She’s ever-curious—let’s see how far she’ll go.

“Well, as you’re sore, I thought we could stick to oral skills.”

She splutters into her teacup.

Hell. I don’t want to choke the girl. Gently, I pat her on the back and hand her a glass of orange juice. “That’s if you want to stay.” I shouldn’t push my luck.

“I’d like to stay for today. If that’s okay. I have to work tomorrow.”

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?”

“Nine.”

“I’ll get you to work by nine tomorrow.”

What? I want her to stay?

It’s a surprise to me.

Yes, I want her to stay.

“I’ll need to go home tonight—I need clean clothes.”

“We can get you some here.”

She flips her hair and gnaws nervously at her lip…again.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I need to be home this evening.”

Boy, she’s stubborn. I don’t want her to go, but at this stage, with no agreement, I can’t insist that she stay. “Okay, this evening. Now eat your breakfast.”

She examines her food.

“Eat, Tiffany. You didn’t eat last night.”

“I’m really not hungry,” she says.

Well, this is frustrating. “I would really like you to finish your breakfast.” My voice is low.

“What is it with you and food?” she snaps.

Oh, baby, you really don’t want to know.

“I told you, I have issues with wasted food. Eat.” I glare at her. Don’t push me on this, Fany. She gives me a mulish look and starts to eat.

As I watch her place a forkful of eggs in , I relax. She’s quite challenging in her own way. And it’s unique. I’ve never dealt with this. Yes. That’s it. She’s a novelty. That’s the fascination…isn’t it?