She wasn’t without ambition, but she had chosen acting and had continued with it for the love of it.  And the challenge.  Playing the part of Hyori would hand her all three needs on a silver platter.  As she stepped into the elevator, her palms were dry and her heart was pounding.  She didn’t hear Jungsoo approach.

“I’d like to talk to you.”  He stepped in with her and punched the button for the lobby.

“Okay.”  A long sigh escaped as she leaned back against the side of the car.  “God, I’m glad that’s over.  I’m starving.  Nothing makes me hungrier than a reading.”

He tried to relate the woman who was smiling at him with eyes warm and alive with the woman who had just exchanged lines with him.  He couldn’t.  She was a better actress than he’d given her credit for, and therefore, more dangerous.  “It was an excellent reading.”

She eyed him curiously.  “Why do I feel I’ve just been insulted?”

After the doors slid open Jungsoo stood for a moment, then nodded.  “I think I said before that you were perceptive.”

Her slim heels clicked over the tile as she crossed the lobby with him.  Jungsoo noticed a few heads turn, both male and female, to look after her.  She was either unaware or unconcerned.  “Why are you on evening TV?”

Sora slanted him a look before she began to walk north.  “Because it’s a good part on a well-written, entertaining show.  That’s number one.  Number two is that it’s steady work.  Have you ever seen the show?”

“No.”

“Then you shouldn’t turn your nose up.”  She stopped by a sidewalk vendor and drew in the scent of bungeoppang, fish-shaped bread stuffed with red bean paste. “Want one?”

“No.”  Jungsoo said again and tucked his hands in his pockets.  uality, sensuality – both seemed to pour out of her as she stood next to a portable fish cake stall on a crowded sidewalk.  He continued to watch her as she took the first generous bite.

“I could live off them,” she told him with full and her eyes laughing.  “Good nutrition’s so admirable and so hard to live with.  I like to ignore it for long stretches of time.  Let’s walk,” she suggested.  “I have to when I’m keyed up.  What do you do?”

“When?”

“When you’re keyed up,” she explained.

“Write.”  He matched her casually swinging pace while the bulk of pedestrian traffic bustled by them.

“And when you’re not keyed up you write,” Sora added as she took another bite of her fish cake.  “Have you always been so serious?”

“It’s steady work,” he countered and she laughed.  He noticed she got a dimple in her right cheek.

“Very quick.  I didn’t think I’d like you, but you’ve got a nice sense of cautious humor.” Sora stopped at another vendor and bought a bunch of spring flowers.  She closed her eyes and breathed deep.  “Wonderful,” she murmured.  “I always think spring’s the best until summer.  Then I’m in love with the heat until fall.  Then fall’s the best until winter.”  Laughing, she looked over the blooms into his eyes.  “And I also tend to ramble when I’m keyed up.”

When she lowered the flowers, Jungsoo took her wrist, not with the same violence as he had during the reading, but with the same intensity.  “Who are you?”  He demanded.  “Who the hell are you?”

Her smile faded but she didn’t draw away.  “Kang Sora.  I can be a lot of other people when there’s a stage or a camera, but when it’s over, that’s who I am.  That’s all I am.  Are you looking for complications?”

“I don’t have to look for them – they’re always there.”

“Strange, I rarely run into any.”  She studied him, all frank eyes and creamy beauty.  Jungsoo didn’t care for the stir it brought him.  “Come with me,” she invited, then took his hand before he’d thought to object.

“Where?”

“You’ll see soon.”  She told him as they got on the bus. They travelled quite some time before coming to a stop.

“To the top.”  She threw back her head and pointed up the magnificently sheer surface of the 63 Building in Yeoeuido-dong.  Laughing, she pulled him inside.  “All the way to the top.”

Jungsoo looked around impatiently as she bought tickets for the observation deck.  “Why?”

“Does there always have to be a reason?”  She tucked her arm through his.  “I love things like this.  Lotte World, Bukhansan National Park, the Han River.  What’s the use of living in Seoul if you don’t enjoy it?  When’s the last time you did this?”  Her shoulder rested against his upper arm as they crowded into an elevator.

“I think I was seventeen.”  Even with the press of bodies and mingling scents he could smell her, wild and sweet.

“Oh.”  Sora laughed up at him.  “You grew up.  Too bad.”

Jungsoo said nothing for a moment as he studied her.  She seemed to always be laughing – at him or at some private joke she was content to keep to herself.  Was she really that easy with herself and her life?  Was anyone?  Then he asked.  “Don’t we all?”

“Of course not.  We all get older, but the rest is a personal choice.”  They herded off the elevator and used the stairs for the last three floors before reaching the top.

This was a man she could enjoy, Sora mused as she stood beside Jungsoo.  She could enjoy that serious, high-minded streak and the dry, almost reluctant humor.  Still, there was the part in the film to think of.  Sora would have to be very careful to keep her feelings for one separate from her feelings for the other.  But then, she’d never been a person who’d had any trouble separating the woman and the actress.

For now, the reading was over and the afternoon was free.  Her mood was light, and there was a man with her who’d be fascinating to explore.  The day could hardly offer anything more.

“Come on outside,” she invited and took his hand in a characteristic gesture. “It’s wonderful.”  Pushing open the heavy door, Sora welcomed the first slap of wind with a laugh.  She caught Jungsoo looking around him with his eyes slightly narrowed.  An observer, she thought with a slight nod of approval.  She was one herself, though perhaps on a different level.  He’d dissect, analyze and file.  She just enjoyed the show.

“I love heights.”  She leaned out as far as she could and felt the frantic current of air swirl around her.  “Staggering heights. And wind.  If I could, I’d come here every day.  I’d never get tired of it.”

Though it was normally an intimacy he would have shunned, Jungsoo allowed his hand to stay in hers.  Her skin was smooth and elegant; her face was flushed in the brisk air while her hair blew wildly.  The eyes, he thought, the eyes were too alive, too full of everything.  A woman like this would demand spectacular emotions from everyone she touched.  The stir he felt wasn’t as easily suppressed this time.  Deliberately, he looked away from her and down.

“Why not the Seoul Light DMC Tower or Namsan Tower?” He asked and let his gaze skim over the island he lived on.

Sora shook her head.  “It doesn’t have the same feeling as this, nothing does.  Just like there’s only one Jeju Island, one Busan, and one Nami Island.”  She didn’t bother to brush her hair back from her face as she tilted toward him.  “They’re all spectacular and unique.  What do you like, Jungsoo ssi?”

“In what way?”

“In any way,” Sora replied.  “If you could’ve spent today doing anything you wanted, what would you have done?”

“Gone sailing,” he said looking ahead.  “I would have been sailing on the Serenity.”

Interest flickered in her eyes as it seemed every emotion or thought she had did.  “You have a boat?”

“Yes.  I don’t have much time for it.”

Don’t take much time for it, she corrected silently.

“A solitary pursuit.  That’s admirable.”  She turned, leaning back against the wall so that she could watch people circle the deck.  The wind plastered her dress against her, revealing the slenderness, the elegance of woman.  “I don’t often like to be solitary,” she murmured.  “I need people, the contacts, the contrasts.  I don’t have to know them.  I just like knowing they’re there.”

“Is that why you act?”  They were face-to-face now. Their bodies casually close – as if they were friends. It struck Jungsoo as odd, but he had no desire to away.  “So you can have an audience?”

Her expression became thoughtful, but when she smiled, it was easy.  “You’re a very cynical man.”

“That’s the second time today that’s been mentioned.”

“It’s alright.  It probably comes in handy with your writing.  Yes, I act for an audience,” she continued.  “I won’t deny my own ego, but I think I act for myself first.”  She lifted her face so that the air could race over it.  “It’s a marvellous profession.  How else can you be so many people? A princess, a tramp, a victim, a loser.  You write to be read, but don’t you first write to express yourself?”

“Yes.”  He felt something odd, almost unfamiliar – a loosening of muscles, an easing of thought.  It took him a moment to realize he was relaxing, and only a moment longer to draw back. “But then writers have egos that nearly rival actors.”

Sora made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and an expulsion of air.  “She really put you through the mill, didn’t she?”

His eyes frosted, his voice chilled.  “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re wrong.” Though she felt a twinge of regret when she sensed his withdrawal,  Sora went on.  “If I’m going to play Hyori, it’s very much my business, Jungsoo ssi.”  She wished she understood him well enough to get past the wall of reserve, the waves of bitterness.  “If you’d wanted to keep this part of your life private, you wouldn’t have written it out.”

“It’s a story,” he said flatly.  “I don’t put myself on display.”

“In most cases, no,” she agreed.  “I’ve always felt a certain sense of distance in your work, though it’s always excellent.  And for someone so successful, you kept a fairly low profile, even when you were married to Kwon Yuri.  But you’ve let something out in this script.  It’s too late to pull it back now.”

“I’ve written a story about two people who are totally unsuited to each other, who used each other.  The man is a bit of an idealist, and just gullible enough to fall for an exquisite face.  Before the story ends, he learns that appearances mean little and that trust and loyalty are illusions.  The woman is cold, ambitious and gifted, but she’ll never be satisfied with her own talents.  She’s a vampire in the pure sense of the word, and she him dry.  There may be similarities between the story and actuality, but my life is still my life.”

“No trespassing.”  Sora turned to look back down into the city, the world she understood.  “All right, the signs are posted.”  She listened to the sound of the wind, the sound of voices.   “I’m not a very good businesswoman.  I won’t apologize for my life-style or my personality, but I will do my best to keep our conversations very professional.”

She took a deep breath and turned back to him. Some of the warmth had left her eyes, and he felt a momentary regret.  “I’m a good actress, an excellent craftsman.  I’ve known since the first moment I picked up the script that I could play Hyori.  And I’m astute enough to know how well my reading went.”

“No, you’re not a fool.”  Even with regret, Jungsoo felt more comfortable on this level.  He understood her now – an actress in search of that prime part.  “I wouldn’t have said you were what I was looking for – until this afternoon.  No one’s come even close to the core of that character before you.”

She felt the tickling dryness down in , the sudden lurch of heart rate.  “And?”  She managed.

“And I want you to come back and read with Choi Tae Joon; he’s cast as Hyun Shik.  If the chemistry’s there, you’ve got the part.”

Sora took a deep breath.  She leaned against the sturdy observation glass and tried to take it calmly.  She’d told him she’d be professional.  No good, she realized as the pleasure bubbled up inside her.  It simply wasn’t any use.  With a shout of laughter, she threw her arms around his neck and clung.  The touching was vital, the sharing essential.

His hands had come to her waist in reflex, but he left them there as her laughter warmed his ear.  He found it odd that he was sharply reminded of two things – his young niece’s boundless pleasure when he’d given her an elaborate dollhouse one Christmas, and the first time, as a man, he’d ever held a woman.  The softness was there – that unique strength and give only a woman’s body has.  The childlike pleasure was there – with the innocence only the young possess.

He could have held her.  It moved in him to do so, just to hold something soft and sweet and without shadows.  She fit so well against him.  The curve of cheek against his, the alignment of bodies.  She fit too well, so that he stood perfectly still and drew her no closer.

Something drifted through her pleasure and excitement.  He smelt of soap – solid – as his body felt.  There was nothing causal about him, nothing easy.  He was all intensity and intellect.  The strength drew her.  He was a man who would be there to pick you up, however, reluctantly, if you stumbled.  Who would demand that you keep pace with him, and who would expect you to give him exactly the amount of room he wanted when he wanted it.  He was a man whom a woman who ran on her emotions and her senses would do well to avoid.  She wished almost painfully that his arms would come around her, even while she knew they wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, drawing away.

Had there ever been a woman he’d wanted to kiss more than this one?  Almost, almost, he could taste the mouth inches from his own.  Nearly, very nearly, he could feel its texture against his own.  When he spoke, his voice was indifferent, his eyes remote.  “There’s a time and a place.”

Sora let out a long breath and decided she’d set herself up for a backhanded slap.  “You’re a tough man, Park Jungsoo ssi,” she murmured.

“I’m a realist, Sora.”  He tucked his hands inside his pockets.

“What a hard thing to be.”  Consciously, she relaxed – shoulders muscles, stomach muscles, hands.  A moment’s awareness didn’t equal trouble.  She’d felt it before; it was a blessing and a curse for a woman like herself.  Sora didn’t understand indifference to people or to things.  Everything you saw, touched, heard, triggered some emotion.  “But then, you’re stuck with it.”  More at ease, she smiled at him.  “I’m going to enjoy working with you, Jungsoo ssi, though I know it’s not going to be a picnic.  I’m going to give your script my very best shot, and we’ll both benefit.”

He nodded.  “I don’t accept anything less than the best.”

“Fine, you won’t be disappointed.”  It was in her nature to reach out and touch, to add something personal.  But one slap was enough for one day.

“Good.”

With a laugh, she shook her head.  “You’re attractive, Jungsoo ssi.  I haven’t the least idea why because I don’t think you’re a very nice person.”

“I’m not,” he agreed.

“In any case, we’ll give each other what’s needed professionally.”

Then because she rarely resisted impulses of any kind, she kissed his cheek before walking away.  Jungsoo stood in the wind on top of Seoul and stared after her. 

* * * * *

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