As I promised a looooong~ chapter. Enjoy reading :)

Half an hour later, Jiyong stood in the doorway. Now that the crisis had passed, and he’d had time to marshal his defenses, he didn’t know exactly what to do with Sandara Park, who looked so lovely standing before him. He hadn’t had time to appreciate how the peach blouse accented the blush of her cheeks or how her short skirt flared ily around her knees. Her soft brown hair swayed about her shoulders when she turned from the bookshelf to face him.

“Hi, is your mother all right?”

“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair. He tried not to think of how well she handled the situation, how much he’d admired her expertise. He was grateful to her for her intervention, but it was difficult to show this. To let her see his vulnerability.

Dara crossed her arms over her chest nervously.

“Thanks for everything.” He finally said.

“You’re welcome. I’d like to do more.”

Again fear coiled in Jiyong. Letting this woman near Hayi tonight had been hard enough. Could he do it long-term? Could he risk entrusting Hayi’s welfare to someone so different from them?

Dara’ eyes held his during his silence. Hers had darkened with frustration to a dark brown. Jiyong wondered if they would do the same in passion, if he slipped his hand inside that prim, buttoned-to-the-collar blouse and kneaded the full, ripe he could see outlined under the silk. Upset by his thoughts and the hardening of his body because of them, he said, “You just don’t understand all of this.”

Dara expelled an exasperated breath. “I understand you more than you realize.”

Jiyong braced himself for the attack.

“I understand how much you love your children and are trying your best to protect them and provide for them.”

“If that is true, what was that all about in there, about ‘Daddy getting angry’? I’d never lay a hand on her.”

Moving closer to him, Dara squared her shoulders to full height. Still, she only came up to his chin. “You should be pleased I was protecting your child, Kwon-ssi. There are families where fathers abuse their children. It’s my responsibility to ferret that out. It wasn’t the case here, but I asked anyway because I needed to be sure I’d read the situation clearly, not to insult.”

He didn’t respond so she continued. “Listen, I didn’t come here to argue with. I came because you asked me to help Hayi. I did that tonight, but she needs more. She’s hurting and I know I can help her in the long term.”

Impatiently pushing her hair back from her forehead, she forged ahead. “I’ve had a lot of training and experience with troubled teenagers. I think it’s vital to Hayi’s well-being that you let me spend some time with her.”

She paused, apparently having run out of breath, but just as Jiyong decided to rescue her by giving in, she looked away, then back into his eyes, and added softly, “Please.”

He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he sensed that had cost her a lot. He’d bet Sandara Park didn’t beg anyone for anything. His voice was gruff but gentle when he answered, “All right, Counselor, you can see her.”

Her smile was like the sun in October. It warmed him right down to his toes. He had the sudden urge to make her smile like that at another time, in another place. And she’d say, “Please…” for a far, far different reason.

He forced the fantasy to recede. He couldn’t do this. Not again. Women like her were poison to men like him. But equally important was the fact that Hayi needed her, so he’d make peace and treat her like a professional. Nothing personal could happen between them.

Straightening, he said, “I love my daughter and I’ll do anything to help her. I didn’t know things were so bad with her.” Before Dara could respond, he added, “And I don’t mean to keep insulting you. The problem’s with me, not you.”

She stared at him for an uncomfortable minute, then smiled unsurely. “Good. I’ll set up an appointment for tomorrow.” Leaning over, she picked up the coat she’d tossed on the couch when she’d left Hayi’s room.

Jiyong took it from her. She looked so surprised, he almost laughed aloud. Turning her back to him, she slid her arms into the sleeves.

As she shrugged her coat, he was barraged by the scent of her. Her thick, brown hair was inches from his face and the smell of flowery shampoo invaded his senses like the Garden of Eden in full bloom.

Unable to stop himself, he lifted his hand and freed the heavy locks from inside her collar. When he got a glimpse of her exposed neck, he had the sudden urge to press his lips into a thin down at her neck. She was a feast set before him, and he felt like a man starved for weeks…hell, for months, years. But, he’d partaken of this particular banquet before and paid dearly for it. The price was too high. He couldn’t risk it again, no matter how enticing he found her.

So he let her hair fall around her shoulders and lightly rested his hands there and squeezed gently. “Go home, princess, before you get more than you bargained for.” His voice was raw and raspy with his wayward thoughts.

She turned to face him, her eyes huge and wary. There was confusion in those brown depths, as if she had felt something unexpected. She bit her lip, a small gesture that sent shivers through him. Without speaking, she nodded and headed for the door. Which suited him just fine.

Or so he told himself.

Jiyong ran like the devil was after him. It was true, in a way. His own demon had been on his tail since Kiko left him. Slowing down to a jog and then a walk, he finally bent over, hands on his knees, in air. He banished thoughts of his ex-wife, but then his mind turned to Sandara Park, as it had done all too often since he’d touched her in his living room a week ago.

To outrun the memory, he took to the track again. Perspiration poured down his face from the too warm temperature, and he inhaled the sweat-scented air as he ran. He was grateful for the fitness center at Seoul University. The indoor arena with its basketball courts and the surrounding quarter mile track had saved his sanity more often than once when he’d needed a physical outlet.

“You’re slowing down buddy. Showing your age.”

Jiyong stopped in his trek, smiled and turned to see Dong Yongbae gripping a basketball. He surveyed his friend from the top Mohawk hair to the toes of his medium height body. Outfitted in crisp white trunks and loose shirt, Yongbae contrasted sharply to Jiyong in his cutoff sweatshirt and ragged shorts. “You wish man. You must have mistaken me for you.”

With that challenge, Yongbae tossed Jiyong the ball and the two began to warm-up for their weekly one-on-one match. Jiyong dribbled around his opponent and sank a long one from the three point line.

“You’re hot today,” Yongbae said.

“Yeah, at least I can do something right.”

Yongbae stopped midshot. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, just the usual. Family problems, not enough money, not enough time, overload just before the finals.” Jiyong stole the ball and went in for a lay-up, making the move smooth and sure. Lord, it felt good to enjoy the exercise and leave the mind games behind.

Yongbae took the ball from him and swished his own hoop. “Want to talk about it?”

“The last thing I want to do is talk about it, or think. Let’s play.”

For thirty minutes, there was little conversation, loud