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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.
Of Envy and Darkness
03/04/04
Part8 – By Phenyx
-
Jarod bolted up in bed and listened to the darkness around him. Panting and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the pretender cocked his head in an attempt to focus. A soft sound had yanked Jarod from his nightmare but he wasn’t sure if the noise had been real or a strange tendril from the dream.
A flicker of light blinked at the edges of Jarod’s vision making his head snap around. The flash was so brief, so quick, that for a moment, Jarod doubted that it had occurred. But a faint rumble echoing through the open window reinforced what the pretender had seen.
Slipping from his bed, Jarod went to the window and gazed into the pitch- black night. Dressed only in a pair of cotton pajama pants, Jarod crossed his arms over his bare chest and shivered as the early autumn air blew passed his damp flesh. The smell of rain hung heavily on the air and as Jarod stood there, another flash of lightning blinked on the horizon.
Jarod flinched when a gentle click sounded in the hallway. Senses alert, the pretender turned slowly and tensed into a half crouch as very faint footsteps came down the corridor. A moment later, Jarod relaxed as he recognized the wanderer’s gait. He frowned in the dark as Miss Parker passed his closed bedroom door as gracefully and quietly as a wraith.
For the second night in a row, Miss Parker was having trouble sleeping. Jarod pondered his options for several long minutes. When he had tried to help last evening, Parker had rewarded him with a snarl and a scathing glare. A pain-in-the-ass pretender had been the last thing she’d wanted to deal with at the time.
Not that Jarod could blame her for being a bit touchy. He was having some trouble himself. Jarod had never been a heavy sleeper but over the past few days, his nerves had been strung even tighter than normal. After all, it isn’t every day that the devil up and dies on you.
It had taken Lyle just over one week to unmask the would-be assassin. True to his word, Lyle had worn a wire that allowed him to record his conversations with the killer. The tape had been the proof Jarod had demanded. There was no doubt that Cox had been the one to tamper with the limousine.
Cox had been far more ambitious than anyone had guessed. He intended to wipe out the Parker line, leaving an open path for him to the chairmanship. In his arrogance, Cox had willingly revealed everything to the sniveling Lyle. The doctor had already killed Raines and hidden his body in some obscure corner on the lower most levels of the Centre. He had even attempted to locate the little Parker boy in order to do away with the child. Thankfully, the toddler was safe, having been placed in foster care with a loving couple Jarod had found.
It had all been recorded perfectly on the tape, Cox’s disdain for the Parker family, his involvement in Raines’ death, and the admission that Lyle would be next. The cassette ended with the distinct sound of a silenced pistol and the heavy thud of a dropping body as Lyle dealt with the misguided doctor. That grim reaper would never haunt them again.
The violent end of Dr. Cox was not what kept Jarod on edge this night. Upon hearing the doctor’s final confession, Jarod and his team had conducted a detailed sweep of the Centre’s sub-levels. Starting at SL-27 and working their way up, the group had begun an eerily disturbing search for the missing Raines.
Parker had been the one who found him though Jarod had only been a few steps behind her. Parker’s scream of fright had chased the pretender through his dreams ever since. Raines had been tucked into a steel locker in an old and dusty section of SL-24.
The corpse had been preserved. Not just embalmed, the skin had been carefully treated and the organs removed to deter decomposition. Raines’ eyes glittered bright blue with a sparkle that had never existed when the man had been alive. It had taken Jarod several moments to realize that the twinkling orbs were made of glass.
Sitting on a small stool, the body resembled some grotesque marionette waiting in its cabinet for the puppeteer to return. It was this image that tormented Jarod. In the pretender’s nightmares, Raines would flop awkwardly out of the locker. His limbs would jerk horribly, connected to long cords that disappeared in the ceiling. The monster-puppet would twitch and shudder toward Jarod, grinning maniacally.
“Your turn, Jarod,” the dead, dream-Raines would hiss. “Your turn to pull the strings. We all get a turn.”
“No,” Jarod would whisper.
“But you are the chairman,” the advancing creature always replied. “You are the puppet-master now.”
Lightning flashed brightly in the room, wrenching Jarod from his brooding thoughts. Ignoring the goose bumps that crawled across his flesh, Jarod shook his head as if he could toss off the memory of his dream. Finally coming to a decision, the pretender moved toward the door. Parker’s foul mood was far less intimidating than the frightening images that waited for him in slumber. Jarod didn’t want to be alone in the dark anymore.
Slipping into the hallway, Jarod tapped the door slightly as it swung behind him, preventing the latch from making the same clicking noise that had alerted him to Parker’s activity. He glided down the corridor easily, his eyes well adjusted to the dark. The pretender’s bare feet made no sound as he descended the long curving staircase to the first floor.
There were no lights glowing so Jarod headed for the kitchen, checking rooms as he passed them. As he peered into the library, a flash of lightning created a perfect silhouette of the woman standing in front of the French doors. The double doors were open a few inches, allowing rain to blow in from the veranda.
Though the pretender moved almost soundlessly, she must have heard him approach, because she was not startled when he spoke. “Are you okay?” Jarod asked.
“No,” was the whispered response.
Jarod stepped to one side and admired the woman’s features. Even in the dark she was beautiful. She wore a sleeveless silk negligee that hung to her thighs. Jarod couldn’t tell what color it was; only that it was pale against her dark ebony flesh. Her deeply brown skin was a black shadow against the blackness of the gloom around her.
Jarod promptly abandoned his search for Miss Parker. This was safer, less risky. “What’s wrong, Mercedes?” the pretender voice was soft and low.
As if in answer to his question, there was a bright flare of lightning that made them both flinch. Thunder clapped almost immediately. In the moment of illumination, Jarod could see the shimmering wetness of tears on Mercedes cheeks.
“Mercedes,” Jarod urged, reaching out to touch her arm.
The dark woman sniffed. “Adama loved the wet season,” she whispered. “When the first big storm of the year arrived, he’d rush us home. We would dash into the arboretum and make love in the gardens.” Mercedes’ eyes fluttered shut, savoring her memories. “The glass walls and roof made the rain seem so much louder, the storm so much more fierce.
Lightning struck again and thunder growled like a lazy tiger.
Mercedes moaned. “My husband is dead,” whispered woefully. “And yet my body aches for him. My lips tingle in anticipation of his kiss. I yearn for his touch. It is a touch I will never feel again. I am empty and so very alone.”
Jarod gazed sadly at the trembling vision before him. “You are only alone,” he said softly. “Because you permit it.”
Mercedes sniffled and cast him a wary look.
Stepping into her personal space, Jarod reached up and tenderly caressed Mercedes’ damp cheek. “Perhaps, this touch can help ease your pain,” he purred.
Mercedes’ eyes closed and she nuzzled her cheek against Jarod’s palm. Thunder rumbled forlornly through the room and Mercedes made a soft sound of want. “It’s our first big storm,” she whispered dreamily as she leaned against Jarod’s chest. “I need to make love in the garden.”
“There is no garden here,” Jarod reminded her gently.
Tilting her head back, Mercedes looked up into Jarod’s face. “We’ll pretend,” she said.
Mercedes pressed her body against Jarod’s, sending any rational thought scurrying from his mind. “I can pretend,” Jarod said huskily. He bent and kissed her deeply, tasting the saltiness of tears on her lips.
Jarod knew what Mercedes was asking of him. He understood the emptiness that she was trying to fill. He was no more than a handy substitute. But frankly, Jarod didn’t care. If Mercedes could find solace in his arms then he was happy to provide it. She needed him and Jarod wanted so badly to be needed.
Nibbling his way across Mercedes’ jaw line, Jarod worked his way down her neck to nip at the hollow of her shoulder. As the storm intensified outside, the desire grew between them. Jarod’s hands roamed over her body, greedily claiming every inch of her. When his fingertips brushed the apex between her thighs Mercedes gasped aloud. She was wet and very ready.
Shuffling backwards several steps, Jarod hauled Mercedes away from the window. When his legs bumped against the back of the couch he stopped. Not quite standing, Jarod perched against the couch and lifted Mercedes in his arms. He didn’t even bother to remove her clothing. He simply yanked the crotch of her panties to one side, freed himself from his loose fitting pants, and gave this dark beauty what she wanted.
Miss Parker entered the room at the same moment that the pretender entered his lover. Embarrassment and shock rooted Parker to the spot in silence. She stood frozen among the shadows of the archway that led to the next room.
Parker was standing several yards behind the couple, a forgotten mug of cocoa in her hand. Jarod was facing the opposite direction, but Mercedes had simply to open her eyes and glance over the pretender’s shoulder and she would see Parker staring at them. Yet Parker still could not move.
Several seconds ticked by. Lightning flashed, brightening the room long enough for Parker to see the muscles rippling across Jarod’s back. It was a remarkable display of the pretender’s strength and coordination.
A deafening roar of thunder jolted Parker into action. Stepping back the way she had come, Parker drifted into the shadows. Moving to the furthest most corner of next room, she went straight to the bar. She added a second, larger dollop of brandy to the one she had put in her cocoa less than a minute ago.
Taking a long, deep swallow, Parker downed nearly half the cup, ignoring the burning sensation that trailed down her throat from the too hot liquid. She sat on the corner of the stone hearth in front of a cold fireplace and wrapped her hands protectively around her mug. She gazed sightlessly at a random spot on the floor and let the darkness of the room envelop her.
As her astonishment began to fade, Parker shook her head and sighed in resignation. She had no right to interfere. She knew that Jarod was feeling isolated and emotionally desperate. He had gone so far as to reach out to her last night under the guise of offering comfort. But Parker had issues of her own to work through. She just couldn’t give Jarod the depths of emotion that he needed right now. She was floundering herself and unable to reach out to help another.
Anger flared in Parker as she realized that Mercedes was no better alternative. In her grief, the woman was more in need of support than she was able to provide it. Jarod wouldn’t find what he was looking for with the dark-skinned beauty. But Parker knew that he would try.
Sighing again, Parker didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They certainly made a depressing trio, this new pyramid of Centre authority. The sadness of her mother’s life flitted through her mind, making Parker shiver at the comparison.
Thoughts of her mother were quickly followed by those of her father, bringing Parker back to the source of anxiety that had plagued her for the last several days. Now that Raines was dead, Parker had the opportunity to have his DNA tested and compared to her own. Though Jarod had not offered, she knew he would not object if she asked for the tests. Yet something prevented her from making the request.
Parker had spent a lifetime loving a single man as her father. She had molded her life around the type of person she had believed him to be. Regardless of his true disposition, Parker would in some ways, always struggle for his pride.
Dr. Raines on the other hand, had been a frightening, ominous force in Parker’s life. He had been the boogeyman in her closet, the monster under her bed. When she had grown to womanhood, Parker learned what a cruel snake Raines had been. At some point, her fear had been replaced by disdain and revulsion.
Did she really want confirmation that this disease-riddled, power-hungry maniac was her genetic sire? If so, how had Miss Parker and her brother come into being? Parker found the mere thought of Raines and her mother together absolutely revolting.
It was all so confusing. Parker felt as though she had lost the fundamental core of her personality. Ironically, the experience gave her a much clearer picture of the emotional tug-of-war that Jarod had battled with for years.
Draining the now cold liquid from her cup, Parker glanced out a nearby window and realized that the storm had passed. The rain had ceased to beat against the glass pane some time ago. The darkness outside was complete for dawn was still several hours away.
Peeking carefully around corners as she went this time, Parker tiptoed into the library. It was empty. The French doors were tightly closed as though no one had been here. Dashing guiltily through the darkened room, Parker ran, the hem of her silk robe fluttering around her feet. She crept up the stairs and headed for her room as quietly as she could.
As she passed Jarod’s bedroom, Parker noticed that his door was slightly ajar. For a long moment, she stood there, chewing her lower lip in indecision. Reaching out slowly, Parker gently pressed against the panel with her fingertips and pushed the door open.
“Jarod?” she whispered.
The bed was rumpled but unoccupied. Parker doubted that Jarod was the type to abandon a lover after sex. He was undoubtedly curled up in Mercedes’ room, soaking up whatever affection he could find.
Moving to her own room, Parker quietly closed the door and leaned against it forlornly. She could only hope that Jarod knew what he was doing, that he wouldn’t get hurt. Parker tossed her robe across the foot of her bed and crawled between her cool sheets.
Staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, Parker made a decision. It was time for her to get her act together. Time to start looking forward rather than back. Time to figure out who she was in her own right, not her father’s, or her mother’s or even Jarod’s.
For no matter how she looked at it, Parker had to admit that the pretender knew exactly what he was doing. He was walking into heartache but doing it anyway. Someone would need to pick up the pieces after it was all over. Parker vowed that the next time Jarod reached out for help, she would be ready. She would be strong enough, secure enough in her self-image, to be able to help him.
Finally, just as the sun was beginning to creep over the horizon, Miss Parker drifted into an exhausted slumber.
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.
Of Envy and Darkness
03/04/04
Part8 – By Phenyx
-
Jarod bolted up in bed and listened to the darkness around him. Panting and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the pretender cocked his head in an attempt to focus. A soft sound had yanked Jarod from his nightmare but he wasn’t sure if the noise had been real or a strange tendril from the dream.
A flicker of light blinked at the edges of Jarod’s vision making his head snap around. The flash was so brief, so quick, that for a moment, Jarod doubted that it had occurred. But a faint rumble echoing through the open window reinforced what the pretender had seen.
Slipping from his bed, Jarod went to the window and gazed into the pitch- black night. Dressed only in a pair of cotton pajama pants, Jarod crossed his arms over his bare chest and shivered as the early autumn air blew passed his damp flesh. The smell of rain hung heavily on the air and as Jarod stood there, another flash of lightning blinked on the horizon.
Jarod flinched when a gentle click sounded in the hallway. Senses alert, the pretender turned slowly and tensed into a half crouch as very faint footsteps came down the corridor. A moment later, Jarod relaxed as he recognized the wanderer’s gait. He frowned in the dark as Miss Parker passed his closed bedroom door as gracefully and quietly as a wraith.
For the second night in a row, Miss Parker was having trouble sleeping. Jarod pondered his options for several long minutes. When he had tried to help last evening, Parker had rewarded him with a snarl and a scathing glare. A pain-in-the-ass pretender had been the last thing she’d wanted to deal with at the time.
Not that Jarod could blame her for being a bit touchy. He was having some trouble himself. Jarod had never been a heavy sleeper but over the past few days, his nerves had been strung even tighter than normal. After all, it isn’t every day that the devil up and dies on you.
It had taken Lyle just over one week to unmask the would-be assassin. True to his word, Lyle had worn a wire that allowed him to record his conversations with the killer. The tape had been the proof Jarod had demanded. There was no doubt that Cox had been the one to tamper with the limousine.
Cox had been far more ambitious than anyone had guessed. He intended to wipe out the Parker line, leaving an open path for him to the chairmanship. In his arrogance, Cox had willingly revealed everything to the sniveling Lyle. The doctor had already killed Raines and hidden his body in some obscure corner on the lower most levels of the Centre. He had even attempted to locate the little Parker boy in order to do away with the child. Thankfully, the toddler was safe, having been placed in foster care with a loving couple Jarod had found.
It had all been recorded perfectly on the tape, Cox’s disdain for the Parker family, his involvement in Raines’ death, and the admission that Lyle would be next. The cassette ended with the distinct sound of a silenced pistol and the heavy thud of a dropping body as Lyle dealt with the misguided doctor. That grim reaper would never haunt them again.
The violent end of Dr. Cox was not what kept Jarod on edge this night. Upon hearing the doctor’s final confession, Jarod and his team had conducted a detailed sweep of the Centre’s sub-levels. Starting at SL-27 and working their way up, the group had begun an eerily disturbing search for the missing Raines.
Parker had been the one who found him though Jarod had only been a few steps behind her. Parker’s scream of fright had chased the pretender through his dreams ever since. Raines had been tucked into a steel locker in an old and dusty section of SL-24.
The corpse had been preserved. Not just embalmed, the skin had been carefully treated and the organs removed to deter decomposition. Raines’ eyes glittered bright blue with a sparkle that had never existed when the man had been alive. It had taken Jarod several moments to realize that the twinkling orbs were made of glass.
Sitting on a small stool, the body resembled some grotesque marionette waiting in its cabinet for the puppeteer to return. It was this image that tormented Jarod. In the pretender’s nightmares, Raines would flop awkwardly out of the locker. His limbs would jerk horribly, connected to long cords that disappeared in the ceiling. The monster-puppet would twitch and shudder toward Jarod, grinning maniacally.
“Your turn, Jarod,” the dead, dream-Raines would hiss. “Your turn to pull the strings. We all get a turn.”
“No,” Jarod would whisper.
“But you are the chairman,” the advancing creature always replied. “You are the puppet-master now.”
Lightning flashed brightly in the room, wrenching Jarod from his brooding thoughts. Ignoring the goose bumps that crawled across his flesh, Jarod shook his head as if he could toss off the memory of his dream. Finally coming to a decision, the pretender moved toward the door. Parker’s foul mood was far less intimidating than the frightening images that waited for him in slumber. Jarod didn’t want to be alone in the dark anymore.
Slipping into the hallway, Jarod tapped the door slightly as it swung behind him, preventing the latch from making the same clicking noise that had alerted him to Parker’s activity. He glided down the corridor easily, his eyes well adjusted to the dark. The pretender’s bare feet made no sound as he descended the long curving staircase to the first floor.
There were no lights glowing so Jarod headed for the kitchen, checking rooms as he passed them. As he peered into the library, a flash of lightning created a perfect silhouette of the woman standing in front of the French doors. The double doors were open a few inches, allowing rain to blow in from the veranda.
Though the pretender moved almost soundlessly, she must have heard him approach, because she was not startled when he spoke. “Are you okay?” Jarod asked.
“No,” was the whispered response.
Jarod stepped to one side and admired the woman’s features. Even in the dark she was beautiful. She wore a sleeveless silk negligee that hung to her thighs. Jarod couldn’t tell what color it was; only that it was pale against her dark ebony flesh. Her deeply brown skin was a black shadow against the blackness of the gloom around her.
Jarod promptly abandoned his search for Miss Parker. This was safer, less risky. “What’s wrong, Mercedes?” the pretender voice was soft and low.
As if in answer to his question, there was a bright flare of lightning that made them both flinch. Thunder clapped almost immediately. In the moment of illumination, Jarod could see the shimmering wetness of tears on Mercedes cheeks.
“Mercedes,” Jarod urged, reaching out to touch her arm.
The dark woman sniffed. “Adama loved the wet season,” she whispered. “When the first big storm of the year arrived, he’d rush us home. We would dash into the arboretum and make love in the gardens.” Mercedes’ eyes fluttered shut, savoring her memories. “The glass walls and roof made the rain seem so much louder, the storm so much more fierce.
Lightning struck again and thunder growled like a lazy tiger.
Mercedes moaned. “My husband is dead,” whispered woefully. “And yet my body aches for him. My lips tingle in anticipation of his kiss. I yearn for his touch. It is a touch I will never feel again. I am empty and so very alone.”
Jarod gazed sadly at the trembling vision before him. “You are only alone,” he said softly. “Because you permit it.”
Mercedes sniffled and cast him a wary look.
Stepping into her personal space, Jarod reached up and tenderly caressed Mercedes’ damp cheek. “Perhaps, this touch can help ease your pain,” he purred.
Mercedes’ eyes closed and she nuzzled her cheek against Jarod’s palm. Thunder rumbled forlornly through the room and Mercedes made a soft sound of want. “It’s our first big storm,” she whispered dreamily as she leaned against Jarod’s chest. “I need to make love in the garden.”
“There is no garden here,” Jarod reminded her gently.
Tilting her head back, Mercedes looked up into Jarod’s face. “We’ll pretend,” she said.
Mercedes pressed her body against Jarod’s, sending any rational thought scurrying from his mind. “I can pretend,” Jarod said huskily. He bent and kissed her deeply, tasting the saltiness of tears on her lips.
Jarod knew what Mercedes was asking of him. He understood the emptiness that she was trying to fill. He was no more than a handy substitute. But frankly, Jarod didn’t care. If Mercedes could find solace in his arms then he was happy to provide it. She needed him and Jarod wanted so badly to be needed.
Nibbling his way across Mercedes’ jaw line, Jarod worked his way down her neck to nip at the hollow of her shoulder. As the storm intensified outside, the desire grew between them. Jarod’s hands roamed over her body, greedily claiming every inch of her. When his fingertips brushed the apex between her thighs Mercedes gasped aloud. She was wet and very ready.
Shuffling backwards several steps, Jarod hauled Mercedes away from the window. When his legs bumped against the back of the couch he stopped. Not quite standing, Jarod perched against the couch and lifted Mercedes in his arms. He didn’t even bother to remove her clothing. He simply yanked the crotch of her panties to one side, freed himself from his loose fitting pants, and gave this dark beauty what she wanted.
Miss Parker entered the room at the same moment that the pretender entered his lover. Embarrassment and shock rooted Parker to the spot in silence. She stood frozen among the shadows of the archway that led to the next room.
Parker was standing several yards behind the couple, a forgotten mug of cocoa in her hand. Jarod was facing the opposite direction, but Mercedes had simply to open her eyes and glance over the pretender’s shoulder and she would see Parker staring at them. Yet Parker still could not move.
Several seconds ticked by. Lightning flashed, brightening the room long enough for Parker to see the muscles rippling across Jarod’s back. It was a remarkable display of the pretender’s strength and coordination.
A deafening roar of thunder jolted Parker into action. Stepping back the way she had come, Parker drifted into the shadows. Moving to the furthest most corner of next room, she went straight to the bar. She added a second, larger dollop of brandy to the one she had put in her cocoa less than a minute ago.
Taking a long, deep swallow, Parker downed nearly half the cup, ignoring the burning sensation that trailed down her throat from the too hot liquid. She sat on the corner of the stone hearth in front of a cold fireplace and wrapped her hands protectively around her mug. She gazed sightlessly at a random spot on the floor and let the darkness of the room envelop her.
As her astonishment began to fade, Parker shook her head and sighed in resignation. She had no right to interfere. She knew that Jarod was feeling isolated and emotionally desperate. He had gone so far as to reach out to her last night under the guise of offering comfort. But Parker had issues of her own to work through. She just couldn’t give Jarod the depths of emotion that he needed right now. She was floundering herself and unable to reach out to help another.
Anger flared in Parker as she realized that Mercedes was no better alternative. In her grief, the woman was more in need of support than she was able to provide it. Jarod wouldn’t find what he was looking for with the dark-skinned beauty. But Parker knew that he would try.
Sighing again, Parker didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They certainly made a depressing trio, this new pyramid of Centre authority. The sadness of her mother’s life flitted through her mind, making Parker shiver at the comparison.
Thoughts of her mother were quickly followed by those of her father, bringing Parker back to the source of anxiety that had plagued her for the last several days. Now that Raines was dead, Parker had the opportunity to have his DNA tested and compared to her own. Though Jarod had not offered, she knew he would not object if she asked for the tests. Yet something prevented her from making the request.
Parker had spent a lifetime loving a single man as her father. She had molded her life around the type of person she had believed him to be. Regardless of his true disposition, Parker would in some ways, always struggle for his pride.
Dr. Raines on the other hand, had been a frightening, ominous force in Parker’s life. He had been the boogeyman in her closet, the monster under her bed. When she had grown to womanhood, Parker learned what a cruel snake Raines had been. At some point, her fear had been replaced by disdain and revulsion.
Did she really want confirmation that this disease-riddled, power-hungry maniac was her genetic sire? If so, how had Miss Parker and her brother come into being? Parker found the mere thought of Raines and her mother together absolutely revolting.
It was all so confusing. Parker felt as though she had lost the fundamental core of her personality. Ironically, the experience gave her a much clearer picture of the emotional tug-of-war that Jarod had battled with for years.
Draining the now cold liquid from her cup, Parker glanced out a nearby window and realized that the storm had passed. The rain had ceased to beat against the glass pane some time ago. The darkness outside was complete for dawn was still several hours away.
Peeking carefully around corners as she went this time, Parker tiptoed into the library. It was empty. The French doors were tightly closed as though no one had been here. Dashing guiltily through the darkened room, Parker ran, the hem of her silk robe fluttering around her feet. She crept up the stairs and headed for her room as quietly as she could.
As she passed Jarod’s bedroom, Parker noticed that his door was slightly ajar. For a long moment, she stood there, chewing her lower lip in indecision. Reaching out slowly, Parker gently pressed against the panel with her fingertips and pushed the door open.
“Jarod?” she whispered.
The bed was rumpled but unoccupied. Parker doubted that Jarod was the type to abandon a lover after sex. He was undoubtedly curled up in Mercedes’ room, soaking up whatever affection he could find.
Moving to her own room, Parker quietly closed the door and leaned against it forlornly. She could only hope that Jarod knew what he was doing, that he wouldn’t get hurt. Parker tossed her robe across the foot of her bed and crawled between her cool sheets.
Staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, Parker made a decision. It was time for her to get her act together. Time to start looking forward rather than back. Time to figure out who she was in her own right, not her father’s, or her mother’s or even Jarod’s.
For no matter how she looked at it, Parker had to admit that the pretender knew exactly what he was doing. He was walking into heartache but doing it anyway. Someone would need to pick up the pieces after it was all over. Parker vowed that the next time Jarod reached out for help, she would be ready. She would be strong enough, secure enough in her self-image, to be able to help him.
Finally, just as the sun was beginning to creep over the horizon, Miss Parker drifted into an exhausted slumber.
