Hi guys! Some might consider this a long one. But in order to appreciate the chapter, please read every single sentence. Kkkk~

Enjoy! ^_^

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Park Jungsoo couldn’t understand why she kept crowding his mind.  He should have been able to push Sora into a corner of his brain and keep her there while he worked.  Instead, she kept filling it.  

He could have accepted it if he’d been able to keep her in her slot – the actress he was all but certain would play Shin Hyori.  He could have rationalized his obsession if it remained a professional one.  But Jungsoo kept seeing her as she’d been on top of Seoul, with her hair blowing frantically and her eyes filled with the wonder of it.  That woman had nothing in common with the character of Hyori.

And he could see her as she’d looked in his apartment.  Vital, fresh – with energy and integrity shimmering from her.  He could remember her hurt when he’d been deliberately cruel, and his own guilt – a sensation he’d sworn he’d never feel again.  He hardly knew her, and yet she was drawing things out of him he’d promised himself he wouldn’t feel again.  He was perceptive enough to know she was a woman who could draw out more.  For that reason, he’d decided to keep a safe, professional distance between them.

Still, as Jungsoo watched Sora talked with Choi Tae Joon before the reading, he couldn’t keep the established lines firmly in place.  Was it because she was beautiful and he had always been susceptible to beauty?  Was it because she was just unique enough to catch the attention and hold it?

As a writer he couldn’t suppress his fascination with the unusual.  But he got something from her – some feeling of absolute stability despite the fact that she dressed somewhere between a Gypsy and a teenager.  He’d already asked her who she was and had been far from satisfied with her answer.  Perhaps, just perhaps he should find out for himself.

“They look good together,” Siwon murmured.

The sound Jungsoo made might have been agreement or disinterest, but he didn’t take his eyes from Sora.  If he hadn’t remembered her first reading so well, he’d have sworn he was making a mistake even considering her for the part.  Her smile was much too open, her gestures too fluid.  You could look at her and feel the warmth.  He found it disconcerting to realize she made him nervous.

Desire. Yes, he felt desire.  Jungsoo weighed and measured it.  Strong, hard and very nearly urgent – and that with only a look.   Of course, she was a woman a man had to want.  He wasn’t worried about the desire, or even his interest, but about the niggling sensation that something was being slipped out of him without his knowledge and against his will.

It might be worth his while, both as a man and as a writer, to see how many faces she could wear, and how easily she wore them.  He sat on the edge of Siwon’s desk.

“Let’s get started.”

At the brief, quiet order, Sora turned her head and met Jungsoo’s gaze.  He’s different today, she thought, but couldn’t quite pigeonhole the reason.  He still looked at her with that intrusive, serious stare that bordered on the brooding.  The distance was still there; she was sensitive enough to recognize the wall he kept erected between himself and the rest of the world.  But there was something…

Sora smiled at him.  When he didn’t respond, she picked up her copy of the script.  She was going to give the best damn reading of her career.

“All right, I’d like you to start at the top of the scene where they’ve come home from the party. Do you want to read it over first?”

Sora glanced up from the script.  He still thinks I’m going to blow it, she realized, and was grateful for the hard knot in her stomach.  “It isn’t necessary,” she told him, then turned to Tae Joon.

For the second time, Jungsoo witnessed the transformation.  How was it that even her eyes seemed to go paler, icier when she spoke as Hyori?  He could feel the old ual pull and intellectual abhorrence his ex-wife had always brought to him.  Still staying on the desk, Jungsoo listened to Hyori’s scorn and Hyun Shik’s anger – and remembered all too clearly.

A vampire.  He’d called her that and accurately.  Bloodless, heartless, alluring.  Sora slipped into the character as if it were a second skin.  Jungsoo knew he should admire her for it, even be grateful that she’d made his search for the right actress end.  But her chameleon skill annoyed him.

The chemistry was right.  Sora and Tae Joon hurled their lines at each other while the anger and ual sparks flew.  There wasn’t any escaping it and no logical reason to try.  Without knowing why,  Jungsoo was certain that giving Sora the part was good professional judgement and a serious personal error.  He’d just have to deal with the latter as he went.

“That will do.”

The moment Jungsoo cut the scene, Sora threw her head back and let out breathless laughter.  The release – the sudden absence of tension – was tremendous.  It would always be that way, she realized, with a part as tough and as cold as this one.

“Oh God, she’s so utterly hateful, so completely self-consumed.”  Eyes alight, face flushed, she turned to Jungsoo.  “You despise her, and yet she pulls you in.  Even when you see the knife she’s going to slide under your ribs, it’s hard to step away.”

“Yes.”  Watching the scene had disturbed him more than he’d expected.  Rising, Jungsoo left his hands in his pockets.  “I want you for the part.  We’ll contact your agent and negotiate the details.”

She sighed, but the smile lingered around .  “I can see I’ve overwhelmed you,” Sora said dryly.  “But the bottom line is the part.  You won’t regret it.  Choi Siwon ssi, Choi Tae Joon ssi, it’ll be a pleasure working with you.”

“Sora ssi..” Siwon rose and accepted her offered hand.  It had been a long time since he’d watched a scene that had left him as shaken as this one.  “Unless I miss my guess – and I never do – you’re going to hit it big with this.”

She flashed him a grin and felt like flying.  “Thank you.”

Jungsoo had her elbow before she could turn around, and before he’d realized he intended to touch her.  He wanted to vent fury on something, someone, but reasoned it away.  “I’ll walk you out.”

Feeling the tension in his fingers, she had to resist the urge to soothe it.  This wasn’t a man who’d appreciate .  “All right.”

They went out of Siwon’s office and into the elevator in silence.  Sora sensed he needed it.  When they reached the ground floor, she waited for him to say whatever he intended to say.

“Are you free?” He asked her.

A bit puzzled, she tilted her head.

“For an early dinner,” he elaborated.  “I feel I owe you a meal.”

“Well.”  His invitation, such as it was, pleased her – something she took no trouble to hide.  “Technically that’s the other way around.  Why do you want to have dinner with me?”

Just looking at her – the laughing eyes, the generous mouth – pulled him in two directions.  Get closer before you lose it.  Back off before it’s too late.  “I’m not completely sure.”

“Good enough.” She started to walk towards the main entrance when Jungsoo stopped her.

“Let’s take my car.  It’s in the basement.”

“Do you like grilled pork chops?” Sora asked Jungsoo when they were inside his Audi.

“Yes.”

“Let’s eat at home.”

He looked at her.  “Home?”

“Most of the time I’d rather cook than eat out.  And tonight I’m too wired to deal with a restaurant.  I have to be busy.”

“Wired?” After studying her profile, Jungsoo pressed the button to start the car’s ignition.  “I would have said you look remarkably calm.”

“Uh-uh.  But I’m trying to save the full explosion until after my agent calls and tells me everything’s carved in granite.  Don’t worry –” she smiled at him, her dimple showing “- I’m a fair cook.”

If a man judged only by that porcelain face, he’d never believed she’d know one end of the stove from the other.  But Jungsoo knew about surfaces.  Maybe, just maybe, there’d be a surprise under hers.  He had made the decision to get to know her and get to know her he would.  Despite all the warnings he’d given himself, he smiled.  “All right.  Where to go?”

Sora gave him the address in Samsung-dong as they drive out of the parking area. “I didn’t notice it before.”

“What?” Jungsoo’s left hand was on the steering wheel.

“You got a dimple.” Sora was looking at him. “Jungsoo ssi, how long have you lived in Seoul?”

“I was born here. In Eunpyeong-gu.” His eyes were on the road.

“Are you happy staying in Seoul? With your job?”

Jungsoo never thought about equating it with happiness, but now that he did, the answer came easily. “Yes, I need the demands and the movement for long periods of time.

“And then you need to go away,” she finished.  “And be alone on your boat.”

Before he could be uncomfortable with her accuracy, he’d accepted it.  “That’s right.  I relax when I’m sailing and I like to relax alone.”

“I paint,” she told him. He glanced at her. “Terrible paintings.  But it helps me work the kinks out when I get them.  I keep threatening people with an original Kang as a Christmas present, but I haven’t had the heart to do it.”

“I’d like to see one,” he murmured.

“The problem seems to be that I splatter my mood on the canvas. You can park just before the corner.” Sora instructed him as they arrived in the area.

Entering the building, Jungsoo wondered how her place would look.  Sora typed her security code and pushed open the door.

There was color – he’d known there’d be an abundance of it – and style that was indefinable.

The sofa was a long, curved French antique upholstered with faded rose brocade, while the center table was made with weaved rattan.  As in Sora’s dressing room, her living room was torn between mess and order.  The books were neatly arranged in shelves but papers were cluttered on the table.  Jungsoo caught the fragrance of candle wax, potpourri and fresh flowers.

“Want a drink?”

“A little Scotch and water.” When he turned, his attention and his senses were struck by a wall of paintings.  They were hers, of course.  Who else would paint with that kind of kinetic energy and verve?  There were splotches of color, lines of it, zigzags.  Moving closer, Jungsoo decided that while he wouldn’t call them terrible, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d call them.  Vivid, eccentric, disturbing.  Certainly they weren’t paintings to relax by.  They showed both flair and heedlessness, and whether she’d intended them to or not, they suited the room to perfection.

“Scotch and water.” Sora came back in, barefoot, carrying two glasses.

Jungsoo accepted the glass, then gestured with it.  “Those must be some kinks you work out.”

Sora glance toward her paintings.  “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’m going to start the grill.”

Jungsoo lifted a brow.  “Where?”

“Why, on the terrace.”  Sora walked over and slid open a door. Outside was a balcony more along the lines of a window ledge.  On it she’d crammed pots of flowering herbs and a tiny charcoal grill.

“The terrace,” Jungsoo murmured over her shoulder.  Only an incurable optimist or a hopeless dreamer would have termed it so.  Laughing, he leaned against the doorjamb.

After straightening from the grill, Sora stared at him.  The sound of his laughter whispered along her skin and eased her mind.  “Well, well.  That’s very nice.  Do you know that’s the first time since I’ve met you that you’ve laughed and meant it?”

Jungsoo shrugged and sipped at his Scotch.  “I suppose I’m out of practice.”

“We’ll soon fix that,” Sora turned and smiled at him.

Perhaps it was the humor in her eyes that made him do it.  Stepping forward, he took her should and lowered his mouth to hers.

He’d caught her off guard.  Sora hadn’t expected him to do anything on impulse, and he’d given no sign of his intention.  Before she had time to prepare, the power of the kiss whipped through her, touching the emotion, the senses, then taking over.

It wasn’t a mere touching of lips this time, but a hard, thorough demand that had her wrapped in his arms and trapped against the side of the door.  She let his mouth invade hers completely, freely. She gave unquestioningly what he sought from her.

There was no gradual smoldering, no experimentation, but a leap of flame so intense and quick it seemed they were already lovers.  She felt the instant intimacy and understood it.  Her heart was already his, she couldn’t deny him her body.

He felt the need churn and was relieved.  It had been long, too long, since he’d more than indifferently wanted a woman.  There was nothing indifferent about the passion he felt now.  It was hard and clear, like the wind that buffeted him when he sailed.  It spelled freedom.  Drawing her closer, Jungsoo absorbed it.

He could smell her – that warm, teasing fragrance that seemed to pulse out of her skin.  How often had that scent come to him when he’d only thought of her?

He remembered her taste.  Alluring, giving and again, warm.  And the feel of her body – slender, soft, with still more warmth.  It was that that touched every aspect of her that promised to fill him.  He needed it, though he’d gone for years without knowing it.  Perhaps he needed her.

And it was that that had him pulling back when he wanted more and more of what she had an abundance of.

Her eyes opened slowly when was free.  Sora looked directly, unblinkingly at him.  This time she saw more than a reflection of herself.  She saw longing and caution and a glimpse of emotion that stirred her.

“I’ve wanted you to do that,” she murmured.

Jungsoo forced himself to level, forced himself to think past the senses she sent swimming.  “I haven’t got anything for you.”

That hurt, but Sora knew love wasn’t painless.  “I think you’re wrong.  But then, I have a tendency to rush into things.  You don’t.”  She took a deep breath and a step back. “Why don’t you light this and I’ll go make a salad?”  Without waiting for his answer she turned and walked into the kitchen.

Steady, she ordered herself.  She knew she had to be steady to deal with Jungsoo and the feelings he brought to her.  He wasn’t a man who would accept a flood of emotion all at once, or the demands that went with it.  If she wanted him in her life, she’d have to tread carefully, and at his pace.

He wasn’t nearly as hard and cool as he tried to be, Sora mused.  With a half smile, she began to wash the fresh vegetables.  She could tell from his laugh, and from those flickers of amusement in his eyes.  And, of course, she wasn’t certain she couldn’t have fallen in love with a man without a sense of humor.  It pleased her to be able to draw it out of him.  The more they were together, the easier it was.  She wondered if he knew.

Jungsoo watched her from the doorway.  A smile lingered in her lips, and her eyes held that light he was growing too used to.  In one easy movement she tossed her hair behind her back.

Why should such a simple scene hold so much appeal for him, he wondered.  Just looking at her standing at the sink, her hands full, the water running – he could feel himself relaxing.  What was it about her that made him want to put his feet up and his head back?  At that moment, he could see himself going to her to wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle.  He must be going mad.

She knew he was there.  Her senses were keen, and sharper still where Jungsoo was involved.  Keeping her back to him, she continued preparing the salad.  “Have any trouble lighting it?”

He lifted a brow.  “No.”

“Well, it doesn’t take long to heat up.  Hungry?”

“A bit.”  He crossed the room to her.  He wouldn’t touch her, but he’d get just a little closer.

Smiling she held up a thin slice of cucumber, offering him a bite.  Sora could the see the wariness in his eyes as he allowed her to feed him.  “I’m never a bit hungry,” she told him, finishing off the slice herself.  “I’m always starving.”

He told himself he wouldn’t touch her, yet he found that the back of his hand was sliding over the side of her face.  “Your skin,” he murmured.  “It’s beautiful.  It looks like porcelain, feels like satin.”  His gaze skimmed over her face, over before it locked on hers.  “I should never have touched you.”

Her heart was pounding.  Gentleness. That was unexpected and would undermine her completely.  “Why?”

“It leads to more.”  His fingers ran slowly down the length of her hair before he dropped his hands.  “I have nothing any more. You want something from me,” he murmured.

Her breath trembled out.  She’d never realized what a strain it was to hold in your emotions.  She’d never tried.  “Yes, I do.  For now, just companionship at dinner.  That should be easy.”

When she started to turn back to the sink, Jungsoo stopped her.  “Nothing about this is going to be easy.  If I continue to see you, like this, I’m going to take you to bed.”

It would be easy, so easy, just to go into his arms.  But he would never accept the generosity, and she would never survive the emptiness.  “Jungsoo ssi, I’m a grown woman.  If I go to bed with you, it’s my choice.”

He nodded.  “Perhaps.  I just want to make sure I have one.”  He turned and left her alone in the kitchen.

Sora took a deep breath.  She wasn’t going to have it, she decided.  No, not any of it.  He’d simply have to learn how to cope without moodiness and tension.  Lifting the platter of chops, she went back into the living room.

“Lighten up, Jungsoo ssi,” she ordered and caught a glimpse of surprise on his face as she went to the grill.  “I have to deal with melodrama and misery in every episode.  I don’t let it into my personal life.  Fix yourself another drink, sit down and relax.”  Sora set the chops on the grill, added some freshly ground pepper, then walked to the stereo. The song “Reality” began playing.

When she turned around he was still standing, looking at her.  “I mean it,” she told him.  “I have a firm policy about worrying about what complications might come up.  They’re going to happen if you think about it or if you don’t.  So why waste your time?”

“Is it that easy for you?”

“Not always.  Sometimes I have to work at it.”

He moved a bit.  “We won’t be good together,” he said plainly. “I don’t want anyone in my life.”

“Anyone?”  She shook her head.  “You’re too intelligent to believe a person can live without anyone.  Don’t you need friendship, companionship, love?”

He tried to ignore the twinge the question brought him.  He’d spent more than two years convincing himself he didn’t.  Why should he just now, so suddenly, realize the fruitlessness of it? “Each one of those things requires something in return that I no longer want to give.”

“Want to give.”  Her gaze was thoughtful, unsmiling.  “At least you’re honest in your phrasing.  The more I’m around you, the more I realize you never lie to anyone but yourself.”

“You haven’t been around me enough to know who or what I am.” He his hands in his pockets.  His gaze for her was piercing.  “And you’re much better off that way.”

“You’re letting her make a victim out of you,” Sora murmured.  “I’m surprised.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t open closets unless you know what’s inside, Sora ssi.”

“Too safe.”  She preferred the simple anger she felt from him now. With a laugh, she crossed to him and put her hands on his upper arms.  “There’s no fun in life without risks.  I can’t function without fun.”  Her fingers squeezed, gently.  “Look, I enjoy being with you.  Is that all right?”

“I’m not sure.”  She was pulling him in again, with the lightest of touches.  “I’m not sure it is for either of us.”

“Do yourself a favour,” she suggested.  “Don’t worry about it for a few days and see what happens.”  Rising on her toes, Sora brushed his lips in a gesture that was both friendly and intimate.

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Even though I already read the story, rewriting it, with Jungsoo and Sora as the characters, still give me the feels. To avoid misunderstandings, I'm not the author. I just changed characters and a little bit of the details of the story. All credits go to Nora Roberts. ^_^