There was a distinct possibility, Soojung Jung decided, that she would commit premeditated murder today. With her keys clenched in one hand, she climbed out of her car and crossed the street to the Counter Point condominiums. Where her future victim awaited.

A strong wind blew in off the lake, tossing her shoulder-length brown hair all over her face. She tried to pull the hood of her jacket over her head, but the wind just whipped it right back off. Letting out an irritated curse, she walked up to the building entrance. 

Just to humor herself, and to give Sehun one last chance at life, she stopped outside the double-glass doors in front of the condo and pressed the intercom button for #718. The nameplate next to the condo number read S. Oh. Her expression turned grim when the buzzer rang repeatedly. As she'd expected, Mr. Sehun Oh wasn't answering. But he'd have to answer to her in a few minutes. Right before she murdered him. 

Soojung turned to the door and tapped on the glass, catching the attention of the doorman who sat at a rounded desk just inside the condo lobby. He looked up from his newspaper and grinned when he recognized her. The door buzzed open and Soojung gratefully stepped into the warm draft of air that wafted out to meet her.

"Morning Miss Jung," the doorman called out, tipping his cap to her as she walked by.

"Good morning, James," she said, without her usual smile.

"Uh oh. I've seen that look before," the doorman observed. "Want me to come up and hold Mr. Oh down while you kick him?"

Soojung couldn't help but chuckle at the crooked smile on the doorman's wrinkly face. James had to be in his early seventies. At least. 

"No, I think I can handle him," she laughed, pushing the elevator button. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"All right. But you just say the word and his mail could start to mysteriously disappear."

She laughed again as the elevator doors swished open. "Good to know." 

Inside the elevator, she hit the number for the seventh floor and felt her smile fade. 

Here I am, once again, she thought, being forced to baby-sit Sehun Oh. She clenched her jaw in frustration.

As the reigning darling of the "Cook Time" column in the Seattle Times, Sehun had just been given a weekly thirty-minute slot on Wake Up, Seattle, the most widely-watched morning news show in the local broadcasting area. And because of his talent as a pastry chef, combined with good looks and more charisma than any one man deserved, he was constantly in demand for small-scale endorsements and charity events. 

Even viewer ratings of Wake Up, Seattle had increased by eight percent since Sehun's undeniably handsome face had begun gracing the KIRA studio kitchens two months previously. If Seattle had celebrities other than a certain technology titan and a few sports stars, Sehun was one of them. And, as his personal assistant, it was Soojung's job to keep him afloat, in control, organized and, more than anything, she had to make sure the public saw his best and most polished image.

Too bad he seemed intent on ruining that image.

When the elevator doors opened, Soojung emerged armed with a second set of keys—she had one to Sehun's car and his condo, for emergencies. Like this one.

Her star client, her only client, had overslept. 

Yet again.

At least I hope he just overslept, she thought, opening his apartment door. 

Worst-case scenario, he'd taken it into his head to catch a red eye flight to Vegas for some spur of the moment gambling. These days, she never knew what to expect from him.

Sighing, she admitted to herself that she should've quit three months ago when he'd shown up almost an hour late for an extremely important interview and photo shoot because he'd been test-driving a new car. But she hadn't been able to quit then because...well, because he was her best friend and had been since she was eleven. 

Loyalty really was her biggest weakness. 

"And that's something you need to work on," she muttered to herself as she stepped into the condo and called out into the darkness. "Sehun? You home?" No reply. From what she could tell, he wasn't there. 

She'd kill him if he were out buying a boat or something.

Walking toward the master bedroom, she took in the ashtray on the glass-topped coffee table, filled to the brim with half-smoked cigars and lipstick-smeared cigarettes. 

A woman. Great.

Soojung hesitated. Her first instinct had been to barge into Sehun's bedroom and wake him up, but the possibility of walking in on something that she'd rather not see in this lifetime—namely, Sehun and entangled with some nameless bimbo—held her back. 

Feeling like a nine-year-old, she tiptoed to the bedroom door, holding her breath as she pressed her ear up against the cool wood. Sehun's steady snores drifted through the door. 

Well, at least he's not otherwise occupied, she thought.

She knocked. "Sehun?" Still nothing. "Hello?"

More snoring greeted her. And, she figured, since some strange woman hadn't answered the door demanding to know who she was, he was probably sleeping alone.

Hopefully.

Soojung cracked the door and peeked inside. 

Definitely alone.

He lay face down on the bed, sprawled diagonally across the queen-size mattress. She inched inside and took in the fact that he was shirtless, the blankets scrunched down around his waist, revealing the toned planes of his muscular back. A thick pillow partially covered his face, but his soft, steady-paced snores sounded perfectly clear.

"Here you have a taping with PBS in two hours," Soojung muttered to herself, "and you're dead asleep." Without hesitation, and spurred by her irritation, she walked to the side of the bed nearest his head and shook his shoulder. "Sehun, it's a quarter past ten."

He mumbled something about turning the volume on the TV down and burrowed deeper underneath the pillow. More irritated, she regressed to a technique she'd used to wake him back when they were still kids. She pinched his shoulder. Hard.

Before Soojung could react, one of his arms shot up and dragged her underneath him. Her heart started a sudden pounding that she felt in .

"Sehun!" she squeaked. "Get off!" That last part came out a bit breathless.

Sehun, on the other hand, was still mostly asleep and operating on pure instinct. "I told you, no biting," he mumbled, settling the weight of his upper body across hers, pinning her in place. Then, while she lay in motionless shock, he nuzzled his stubbly chin into the sensitive area between her jaw and collarbone. 

"Mmm," he murmured into her ear.

For a very long moment, Soojung stayed still, holding her breath. She allowed herself to enjoy his weight pressing into her; she inhaled the smell of him, a combination of spicy-sweet cigar smoke, a hint of cinnamon and something simply...Sehun. His dark hair felt impossibly soft where it brushed against her cheek and, more than anything, she wanted to run her fingers through it. 

She let seconds tick by, stifling her anger for the moment, and reveled in being so close to him. So near to this large, handsome, talented and infuriating man who wasn't only her client—but who was also the love of her life and had been for thirteen years. No matter what she did to try to change that.

She was about to push him off of her when his lips, warm and slightly damp, pressed into her neck. At the same time, he ran a hand up her side, slipping underneath her ped jacket. Heat spread through her; a decidedly unwelcome mix of arousal and longing...quickly followed by panic when his hand pushed under her shirt to her bare skin.

"Sehun," she half-shouted, shifting beneath him, trying to get up. "Stop!"

"Mmm," he repeated. "Your hair smells good, Tammi."

Tammi? For a split second, Soojung froze; a wave of all-too-familiar anger and embarrassment washed over her. Then she reached up and twisted his as