Sandara Park waited for Kwon Hayi's father with some degree of apprehension. She fidgeted with the row of buttons on the front of her black-and-white and dress and smoothed down the slightly flared skirt as she thought about the upcoming conference. She'd wanted to phone Mr.Kwon herself, but Gummy felt proper channels should be followed so Hayi wouldn't feel anyone acted inappropriately.

          Consequently, Dara didn't know what to expect. Would he be open to suggestions or would he be angry and defensive? She hated confrontations. Which was one of the reasons last Friday night had been such an ordeal for her.

          She'd dreaded the dinner with her parents and Donghae, but her father was so incensed at the changes she'd made in her life; she'd been reluctant to refuse the invitation. He'd been horrified that she'd divorced Jaejoong last year and then doubly horrified when she'd taken this job. But Dara didn't care. She knew what she needed and she'd pursued it.

         Cringing, she thought of how badly her father had treated the waiter. Though the waiter himself hadn't seemed flustered. He'd appeared amused at times, annoyed once or twice, but all the while had stood tall, diffusing her father's treatment of him with the look of a diplomat.

         ”Excuse me?" a male voice said behind her.

         Dara swiveled her chair toward the office door and felt her face redden. She gripped the arms of the seat and struggled to breathe normally. "C-can I help you?" Shock made her sputter.

           He pinned her with his gaze. "You look familiar."

           Oh, God, how embarrassing. Though she knew her blush betrayed her, she stood up and faced him bravely.

           "Yes, we've met. You were our waiter at Teddy's Friday night."

            Leaning back against the doorjamb, he surveyed her with a discerning stare. "You look different today. No jewels. Casual hairstyle. Less makeup."

          She tilted her chin, uneasy with the way he'd said that. "So do you."

          Actually, he looked y. And big.  At least six. His shoulders were encased in a gray T-shirt that hugged his muscular torso and trim waist. Over it, he'd donned a fine corduroy jacket. His eyes were dark, framed with long,dark lashes a woman would kill for. His hair was blonde. A lock fell over his forehead. His cheekbones and jaw were stern, accenting the angularity of his features. Overall, it was a young looking face, sculpted with hard years and bitter lessons. Yet there was kindness there, too.

         Her response to him today, and Friday night ---she'd noticed him right away-- had been so unusual for her, she almost didn't recognize it. None of the men she'd known had this effect on her.

             "I'm sorry my father was so.....demanding at the restaurant. He-"

             But Jiyong cut her off with a chop of his hand in the air. "It's irrelevant. I'm only here to talk about Hayi."

             "You...you're Kwon Jiyong?"

             Nodding, he scanned the room as if he was trying to get his bearings. Every inch of wall of the ten-by-twelve office was covered with a poster or a saying or a witticism. His eyes focused on one: When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on. Then his gaze landed to the bulletin board labeled Joke of the Day.

         It read:

              Question: What does a baby ghost call his mother and father?

              Answer: Transparents

                   He smiled, then took in the window behind her and the three chairs facing her desk. Not that you could find the top of that particular piece of furniture. It was buried beneath paper, folders, books and phone messages. He frowned  at her mess. When he noted the floor-to-ceiling bookcase, jammed full, she watched his expression turn into a scowl. The titles included Problems of the Young Adolescent; ual Abuse and the Average Teenager; Teen Suicide, Did You Ever Want to Die??? and Would My Father Do That To Me? Facts on .

               Dara realized a moment too late what he must be thinking. He glared at her before she could explain that she didn't suspect him of abuse. His mouth had thinned and his nostrils flared, and he in is breath.

              "What is this all about?"

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