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Disclaimer : The Pretender and all character associated with it belongs to NBC and 20th Century Fox. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
Whatever It Takes
Part V
Trisha
5/?
She surveyed herself critically, in the full length mirror, located in the corner of her bedroom.The outfit was not her typical Miss Parker outfit, but she was on vacation from the Centre, so haute couture be damned. The top was white crisp cotton with a sweetheart neckline, tiny one inch straps and it hugged her in all the right places. The whiteness of it set off her sun-kissed skin. Her black denim shorts were no shorter than any of her skirts, and she decided to forego shoes of any kind. Freedom, sort of...
Emerging from her bedroom, curiousity got the better part of her, after all he did tell her it was her house. She decided to investigate the rest of the upstairs before heading downstairs. The first three doors were locked but the room located next to the one she was in, wasn't. Slowly opening the heavy oak door, her eyes took in a very simple but definitely masculine room, golden oak panelling set off by a wonderful cobblestone fireplace. A lovely antique iron wrought bed with an impossible to duplicate pantina was centered in front of that wonderful fireplace. The comforter and the sheets were a rich jeweled topaz. She ran her fingers over the cool iron, french, and impressive. Next to the bed, a small nightstand with an alarm clock and a small statue of a little girl with a small bunny, also french. Spotting the anitque wardrobe, she gingerly lifted the brass latch, half expecting to be transported into Narnia, a childhood favorite of her's, instead she was awestruck by his discriminate taste in clothing. She moved onto the bathroom, similar in design to her's, except for the heady scent of musk, his cologne, which permeated the room, making her a little weak in the knees.
Although he had revealed the ownership of the house as belonging to her, she still felt like she was trespassing and had no intention of getting caught in his room, he just might get the wrong impression. She quickly exited and made her way downstairs. Music still filled the air, in fact, Parker smiled as she reconized the sensual tones of Amanda Marshall's "Let it Rain".Following the clanging of metal on metal, Parker had no trouble finding the kitchen. Standing in the doorway she enjoyed watching Jarod slaving over a hot stove, preparing dinner for her.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi there yourself. Did you enjoy your bath?" he inquired as he strained the vegetables into a metal colander.
"Yes, yes I did," Parker stammered, blushing slightly," Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Other than taking the wine out to the table, everything is under control."
"So where's the wine?" Parker asked. Jarod nodded toward the terra cotta sleeve behind him. Parker edged herself around him, and picked up the bottle, smiling at his choice, Pinot Chardonnay. So, they were having chicken for dinner, if his choice of a full-bodied white wine was any indication.
"No problem, I think I can manage to bring this out for you," Parker said with a smile. A glass topped table was set for two, citronella
scented candles ringed the deck, and then Jarod arrived carrying two plates.
"Scaloppine of chicken with stir fried vegetables," he stated as he placed the plate in front of her. He placed his down as well, then pulled out her chair for her. Gently pushing her toward the table, his fingers grazed her arms. Parker shivered at his warm touch on her skin. Unexpected yet electrifing.
"Cold?" Jarod inquired, shocked by the fact that she did not flinch from his touch.
"No!" she mumbled as she quickly cut a piece of chicken. Jarod uncorked the wine and poured half a glass in each fluted crystal glass, then took up residence in the seat across from her.
"Mmmm! This is wonderful! Where did you learn to cook like this?" she eyed him suspiously,"definitely not at the Centre."
"New Orleans," he laughed.
"So what was that cryptic message all about?"
"Please, Parker, let's forget about The Centre for one evening. I have days to reveal it all to you. We have good food, great wine, wonderful music and I am in the presence of a beautiful woman. Right now, no business, maybe later," Jarod's eyes danced with danger and he enjoyed the fact that she was rattled by the compliment. Especially from what she considered a lab rat or a twisted science experiment.
Please leave some feedback at: Ractrish@aol.com
Part V
Trisha
5/?
She surveyed herself critically, in the full length mirror, located in the corner of her bedroom.The outfit was not her typical Miss Parker outfit, but she was on vacation from the Centre, so haute couture be damned. The top was white crisp cotton with a sweetheart neckline, tiny one inch straps and it hugged her in all the right places. The whiteness of it set off her sun-kissed skin. Her black denim shorts were no shorter than any of her skirts, and she decided to forego shoes of any kind. Freedom, sort of...
Emerging from her bedroom, curiousity got the better part of her, after all he did tell her it was her house. She decided to investigate the rest of the upstairs before heading downstairs. The first three doors were locked but the room located next to the one she was in, wasn't. Slowly opening the heavy oak door, her eyes took in a very simple but definitely masculine room, golden oak panelling set off by a wonderful cobblestone fireplace. A lovely antique iron wrought bed with an impossible to duplicate pantina was centered in front of that wonderful fireplace. The comforter and the sheets were a rich jeweled topaz. She ran her fingers over the cool iron, french, and impressive. Next to the bed, a small nightstand with an alarm clock and a small statue of a little girl with a small bunny, also french. Spotting the anitque wardrobe, she gingerly lifted the brass latch, half expecting to be transported into Narnia, a childhood favorite of her's, instead she was awestruck by his discriminate taste in clothing. She moved onto the bathroom, similar in design to her's, except for the heady scent of musk, his cologne, which permeated the room, making her a little weak in the knees.
Although he had revealed the ownership of the house as belonging to her, she still felt like she was trespassing and had no intention of getting caught in his room, he just might get the wrong impression. She quickly exited and made her way downstairs. Music still filled the air, in fact, Parker smiled as she reconized the sensual tones of Amanda Marshall's "Let it Rain".Following the clanging of metal on metal, Parker had no trouble finding the kitchen. Standing in the doorway she enjoyed watching Jarod slaving over a hot stove, preparing dinner for her.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi there yourself. Did you enjoy your bath?" he inquired as he strained the vegetables into a metal colander.
"Yes, yes I did," Parker stammered, blushing slightly," Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Other than taking the wine out to the table, everything is under control."
"So where's the wine?" Parker asked. Jarod nodded toward the terra cotta sleeve behind him. Parker edged herself around him, and picked up the bottle, smiling at his choice, Pinot Chardonnay. So, they were having chicken for dinner, if his choice of a full-bodied white wine was any indication.
"No problem, I think I can manage to bring this out for you," Parker said with a smile. A glass topped table was set for two, citronella
scented candles ringed the deck, and then Jarod arrived carrying two plates.
"Scaloppine of chicken with stir fried vegetables," he stated as he placed the plate in front of her. He placed his down as well, then pulled out her chair for her. Gently pushing her toward the table, his fingers grazed her arms. Parker shivered at his warm touch on her skin. Unexpected yet electrifing.
"Cold?" Jarod inquired, shocked by the fact that she did not flinch from his touch.
"No!" she mumbled as she quickly cut a piece of chicken. Jarod uncorked the wine and poured half a glass in each fluted crystal glass, then took up residence in the seat across from her.
"Mmmm! This is wonderful! Where did you learn to cook like this?" she eyed him suspiously,"definitely not at the Centre."
"New Orleans," he laughed.
"So what was that cryptic message all about?"
"Please, Parker, let's forget about The Centre for one evening. I have days to reveal it all to you. We have good food, great wine, wonderful music and I am in the presence of a beautiful woman. Right now, no business, maybe later," Jarod's eyes danced with danger and he enjoyed the fact that she was rattled by the compliment. Especially from what she considered a lab rat or a twisted science experiment.
Please leave some feedback at: Ractrish@aol.com
