"Have you worked here long?" Her voice is low, and she's gazing at me, hazel eyes concentrating hard. I blush even more brightly. Why the hell does she have this effect on me?

I feel like I'm fourteen years old - gauche, as always, and out of place. Eyes front Tiffany!

"Four years," I mutter as we reach our goal. To distract myself, I reach down and select the two widths of masking tape that we stock.

"I'll take that one," Jessica says softly pointing to the wider tape, which I pass to her.

Our fingers brush very briefly, and the current is there again, zapping through me like I've touched an exposed wire. I gasp involuntarily as I feel it, all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly. Desperately, I scrabble around for my equilibrium.

"Anything else?" My voice is husky and breathy. Her eyes widen slightly.

"Some rope, I think." Her voice mirrors mine, husky.

"This way." I duck my head down to hide my recurring blush and head for the aisle.

"What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope... twine...cable cord... "I halt at her expression, her eyes darkening. Holy cow.

"I'll take five yards of the natural filament rope please."

Quickly, with trembling fingers, I measure out five yards against the fixed ruler, aware that her hot hazel gaze is on me. I dare not look at her. Jeez, could I feel any more self-conscious? Taking my Stanley knife from the back pocket of my jeans, I cut it then coil it neatly before tying it in a slipknot. By some miracle, I manage not to remove a finger with my knife.

"Were you a Girl Scout?" She asks, sculptured, sensual lips curled in amusement. Don't look at !

"Organized, group activities aren't really my thing, Ms. Jung."

She arches a brow.

"What is your thing, Tiffany?" She asks, her voice soft and her secret smile is back. I gaze at her unable to express myself. I'm on shifting tectonic plates. Try and be cool, Fany, my tortured subconscious begs on bended knee.

"Books," I whisper, but inside, my subconscious is screaming: You! You are my thing!

I slap it down instantly, mortified that my psyche is having ideas above its station.

"What kind of books?" Jessica her head to one side. Why is she so interested?

"Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly."

She rubs her chin with her long index finger and thumb as she contemplates my answer.

Or perhaps she's just very bored and trying to hide it.

"Anything else you need?" I have to get off this subject - those fingers on that face are so beguiling.

"I don't know. What else would you recommend?"

What would I recommend? I don't even know what you're doing.

"For a do-it-yourselfer?"

She nods, hazel eyes alive with wicked humour. I flush, and my eyes stray of their own accord to her snug jeans.

"Coveralls," I reply, and I know I'm no longer screening what's coming out of my mouth.

She raises an eyebrow, amused, yet again.

"You wouldn't want to ruin your clothing," I gesture vaguely in the direction of her jeans.

"I could always take them off." She smirks.

"Um." I feel the colour in my cheeks rising again. I must be the colour of the communist manifesto. Stop talking. Stop talking NOW.

"I'll take some coveralls. Heaven forbid I should ruin any clothing," she says dryly.

I try and dismiss the unwelcome image of her without jeans.

"Do you need anything else?" I squeak as I hand her the blue coveralls.

She ignores my inquiry.

"How's the article coming along?"

She's finally asked me a normal question, away from all the innuendo and the confusing double talk... a question I can answer. I grasp it tightly with two hands as if were a life raft, and I go for honesty.

"I'm not writing it, Yoona is. Miss Im. My roommate, she's the writer.

She's very happy with it. She's the editor of the magazine, and she was devastated that she couldn't do the interview in person." I feel like I've come up for air - at last, a normal topic of conversation. "Her only concern is that she doesn't have any original photographs of you."

Jessica raises an eyebrow.

"What sort of photographs does she want?"

Okay. I hadn't factored in this response. I shake my head, because I just don't know.

"Well, I'm around. Tomorrow, perhaps... "she trails off.

"You'd be willing to attend a photo shoot?" My voice is squeaky again. Yoona will be in seventh heaven if I can pull this off. And you might see her again tomorrow, that dark place at the base of my brain whispers seductively at me. I dismiss the thought - of all the silly, ridiculous...

"Yoona will be delighted - if we can find a photographer." I'm so pleased, I smile at her broadly with eyesmile. Her lips part, like she's taking a sharp intake of breath, and she blinks. For a fraction of a second, she looks lost somehow, and the Earth shifts slightly on its axis, the tectonic plates sliding into a new position.

Oh my. Jessica Jung's lost look.

"Let me know about tomorrow." Reaching into her Hermes, she pulls out her purse. "My card. It has my cell number on it. You'll need to call before ten in the morning."

"Okay." I grin up at her. Yoona is going to be thrilled.

"FANY!"

Yuri has materialized at other the end of the aisle. She's Mr. Kwon's youngest sister. I'd heard she was home from Busan, but I wasn't expecting to see her today.

"Er, excuse me for a moment, Ms. Jung." Jessica frowns as I turn away from her.

Yuri has always been a buddy, and in this strange moment that I'm having with the rich, powerful, awesomely off-the-scale attractive control-freak Jessica, it's great to talk to someone who's normal. Yuri hugs me hard taking me by surprise.

"Fany, hi, it's so good to see you!" She gushes.

"Hello Yuri, how are you? You home for your brother's birthday?"

"Yep. You're looking well, Fany, really well." She grins as she examines me at arm's length. Then she releases me but keeps a possessive arm draped over my shoulder. I shuffle from foot to foot, embarrassed. It's good to see Yuri, but she's always been over-familiar.

When I glance up at Jessica Jung, she's watching us like a hawk, her hazel eyes hooded and speculative, a hard impassive line. She's changed from the weirdly attentive customer to someone else - someone cold and distant.

"Yuri, I'm with a customer. Someone you should meet," I say, trying to defuse the antagonism I see in Jessica's eyes. I drag Yuri over to meet her, and they weigh each other up. The atmosphere is suddenly arctic.

"Er, Yuri, this is jessica Jung. Ms. Jung this is Kwon Yuri. Her brother owns the place." And for some irrational reason, I feel I have to explain a bit more.

"I've known Yuri ever since I've worked here, though we don't see each other that often. She's back from Busan where she's studying business administration." I'm babbling... Stop, now!

"Ms. Kwon." Jessica holds her hand out, her look unreadable.

"Ms. Jung," Yuri returns her handshake. "Wait up - not the Jessica Jung? Of BLANC & ECLARE?" Yuri goes from surly to awestruck in less than a nanosecond. Jessica gives her a polite smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Wow - is there anything I can get you?"

"Tiffany has it covered, Ms. Kwon. She's been very attentive." Her expression is impassive, but her words... it's like she's saying something else entirely. It's baffling.

"Cool," Yuuri responds. "Catch you later, Fany."

"Sure, Yuri." I watch her disappear toward the stock room. "Anything else, Ms. Jung?"

"Just these items." Her tone is clipped and cool. Damn... have I offended her? Taking a deep breath, I turn and head for the till. What is her problem?

I ring up the rope, coveralls, masking tape, and cable ties at the till.

"That will be 19000W, please." I glance up at Jessica, and I wish I hadn't. She's watching me closely, her hazel eyes intense and smoky. It's unnerving.

"Would you like a bag?" I ask as I take her credit card.

"Please, Tiffany." Her tongue caresses my name, and my heart once again is frantic.

I can hardly breathe. Hurriedly, I place her purchases in a plastic carrier.

"You'll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?" She's all business once more. I nod, rendered speechless yet again, and hand back her credit card.

"Good. Until tomorrow perhaps." She turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh - and Tiffany, I'm glad Miss Im couldn't do the interview." She smiles, then strides with renewed purpose out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over her shoulder, leaving me a quivering mass of raging female hormones. I spend several minutes staring at the closed door through which she's just left before I return to planet Earth.

Okay - I like her. There, I've admitted it to myself. I cannot hide from my feelings anymore. I've never felt like this before. I find her attractive, very attractive. But it's a lost cause, I know, and I sigh with bittersweet regret. It was just a coincidence, hers coming here. But still, I can admire her from afar, surely? No harm can come of that. And if I find a photographer, I can do some serious admiring tomorrow. I bite my lip in anticipation and find myself grinning like a schoolgirl. I need to phone Yoona and organize a photo-shoot.