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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: Do any of us really own anything? Can anyone claim to possess the lives of these characters that we hold so dear? You betcha. But it isn't me. Don't own them. Just borrowing them. This is just my feeble attempt to keep the Pretender alive and well until we finally get to find him again on DVD release. If anyone tries to sue, I'll disavow all knowledge.
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The Straight Path Lost Part 7
- By Phenyx
07/08/04
-
"Miss Parker," a gentle voice asked softly. "Would you like some more lemonade?"
Parker reached up and tilted her sunglasses from the top of her head to cover her eyes before opening them. Gazing up at the gray-haired man, she smiled affectionately as she stretched in the wooden deck lounger. "Sounds lovely, Ben. Thank you."
"Sydney?" Ben asked, graciously offering the psychiatrist more to drink.
Placing one hand over his cup, the other man politely refused. "No, thank you. I'm fine."
With a nod and a wink at Miss Parker, Ben smiled. "I'd better give the rest of the jug to the boys."
Parker watched the older man cross the yard and head toward the two-story garage. She shook her head wryly at Ben's choice of words. It had been a long time since either Jarod or Broots could have been mistaken for children. Then again, Ben was old enough to be father to both of them.
"It is too hot for them to be up on that roof," Sydney said with a frown. The psychiatrist sat in one of two wicker chairs only a few feet from Miss Parker. Between the two chairs was a sturdy table, upon which sat a chessboard. The two older men, Sydney and Ben, where currently involved in a match that had taken the better part of the afternoon.
Parker paid no heed to her colleague's concerns. Sydney had been fretful all day, intermittently worrying in a fashion that Parker recognized as his way of pouting. Sydney's sulking was due to the fact that he had been forbidden to help with the project Jarod and Broots were tackling.
Roofing was no easy task, especially in the unseasonably warm weather that had existed all week long. Though Ben Miller had tried to convince them all that it was unnecessary, Jarod had insisted that he perform this service in exchange for the room and board Ben was providing.
"You don't need to work, Jarod," Ben had scolded him when the subject had first come up. "You are permitted to visit just for sake of visiting."
"I always help you get the place ready for the season," Jarod had said. "With all these extra hands, we can get the job done in no time."
Indeed, the first few days of their stay had been busy for everyone. They cleaned the large house from top to bottom in a spring-cleaning frenzy. In preparation for the summer tourists that Ben was expecting, they had aired out rooms, beaten rugs and dusted places a mouse couldn't see. Parker, much to her companions' amusement, had even polished the good silver.
After the windows had been washed and a couple of loose shutters repaired, Jarod had discovered a leak in the garage roof. Immediately setting to the task of replacing the damaged section, all the men had been up on ladders yesterday, ripping up warped shingles and removing cracked planks of wood. It had been hot, dirty and exhausting work.
Miss Parker, however, was still on a form of restricted duty. It had been nearly a month since Jarod had removed the bullet from her chest. Her wound was now little more than an angry red line visible just above the edge of the halter-top she was wearing. Yet the pretender still insisted that she remain cautious. He wouldn't allow her to lift anything weighing more than five pounds for fear that the strain would pull at the flesh and increase her scarring.
Parker thought it was a load of crap and she had told him so. "I am perfectly fine, Jarod," she had hissed at him. "And I swear if you don't stop coddling me I'll put my fist through your nose to prove it."
In the end, she'd been out-voted, four to one. So, the men had torn off the old roofing while Parker had spent the day fetching cold drinks and making sandwiches, grumbling every minute. The sexist domesticity of her assigned task had grated on her nerves and somehow, she felt Jarod knew it. He knew it and was thoroughly enjoying it.
Today was a different matter. Sydney had woken this morning, barely able to get out of bed. His overtaxed muscles, unused to manual labor, had rebelled, making it impossible for the aging man to be of any help on the roof. Ben had been grounded just before lunch, when the heat had gotten to be too much for him.
So now Jarod and Broots were alone on top of the garage, banging away with hammers in a rhythmic manner. Parker was too relaxed to be annoyed by the noise. She watched the two men as they paused in their work, eagerly gulping down the refreshments Ben provided.
Broots and the pretender were getting along exceptionally well. The two had similar interests, talking for hours about computers and equations and similarly incomprehensible nonsense. Jarod was fascinated by Broots' endless repertoire of meaningless trivia. Both had nauseating tastes in food.
But most significantly, Jarod and Broots had both been forced to leave their families behind. Having lost those most important to them, each was grief-stricken. In their shared sorrow, the two men sought companionship from one another. Parker was not yet sure if the alliance served to ease the pain, or if their depression simply fed one off of the other.
At times, the melancholy atmosphere each man projected spread until the gloom was nearly palpable. To make matters worse, Jarod and Sydney had yet to make nice after the incident at the farmhouse last month. Parker knew that the psychiatrist had tried to broach the subject on more than one occasion. However, Jarod's sullen mood had made him irritable and unapproachable. Only with Broots did the pretender show any tolerance.
Parker was trying very hard to stay neutral. The rift between Sydney and his protégé obviously caused the older man grief. But Parker just couldn't find it in her heart to blame the pretender. Jarod had every right to be angry. The years of pain and disappointment had been bottled up for too long. It may have taken three decades, but Jarod's rage was finally finding release.
It was a disillusionment that Parker understood only too well. How many times in these last few years had Sydney triggered her own fury? How many secrets did the psychiatrist still hold behind that furrowed brow?
In her relationship with her father, Parker had found a flimsy emotional bond that she'd spent a lifetime trying to strengthen, to no avail. She knew how it felt to crave a father's affection, yet never receive it. Jarod's connection to Sydney held many of those same characteristics. For no matter how many members of his family Jarod managed to find, Sydney had been the one to raise him. It was Sydney that Jarod had tried so hard to please for most of his life.
With sympathetic regard for the troubled men, Miss Parker had been trying her best not to be too pushy. The last couple of weeks had been an exercise in patience. It had required a concerted effort on Parker's part to reduce the bitchiness level a notch or two, especially when Jarod was being particularly gruff.
Overall she'd done well, hardly ever yelling at Mr. Broots. With Jarod it had been harder, as he seemed to actively enjoy pushing her buttons. Even so, it had been a full day since Parker had raised her voice and that particular situation had been extreme. Broots and Jarod had been debating over which was the best Muppet. For three quarters of an hour, Broots had seriously laid out the finer characteristics of someone named Grover while Jarod raved on about a blue pile of fuzz known as Cookie Monster.
Parker couldn't help it, she'd snapped. She had snarled at them both about childish fools and the nonsense they spewed. In her annoyance, she had railed at them in royal ice queen fashion. Parker immediately regretted it for her fury had sent Broots skittering off to his room. The scene had put a damper on the evening for the rest of them.
When Parker had gotten up this morning, she had been feeling badly about ruining the friendly camaraderie that had existed. Added to that was her sympathy for Sydney's physical pain. As such, she'd been a bit contrite, being far more hospitable than was her usual, pre-coffee norm.
Jarod had picked up on her emotions, of course. He must have sensed Parker's penitent mood and reacted to it. That was the only explanation for the strange encounter the two of them had shared that morning.
The day was still quite young when Parker had given up on sleep and made her way to the kitchen. The pretender was there, leaning against the counter as he sipped from a mug. She ignored him at first, shuffling across the room in her bathrobe and matching slippers.
"Good morning, Miss Parker," Jarod had said.
"Hmm," she grunted. Several minutes passed while she prepared herself some coffee and blinked the sleep from her eyes. "Is Sydney going to be okay?" she'd asked finally.
Jarod nodded. "He over did it. That's all."
"Not as young as he used to be," Parker smiled wryly.
"None of us are," Jarod agreed.
For a long moment, they stood in silence. "What?" Parker finally asked when she noticed the pretender staring at her.
He smiled. "Nothing," he said.
"You're laughing at me," Parker argued. Her tone held none of its regular bite, but instead came out low and soft.
"This side of you is different," Jarod shrugged.
Parker had raised a suspicious brow at the pretender. "This side?"
"This aspect of your personality," he rephrased. Jarod fluttered his hand in front of her in a vague gesture. "Soft, rumpled. You smell of warmth and cinnamon."
"What does warmth smell like?" Parker had asked with amused curiosity.
"Like fuzzy kittens." Jarod smiled. "Clean linen or a freshly powdered baby."
"Tuna breath, bleach and Desitin?" she shot back with a smirk.
Jarod shook his head slowly. He crossed the room, stopping only inches away from Miss Parker. The pretender's eyelids drifted shut and he inhaled deeply, sighing a wistful exhalation. "Warmth and cinnamon," he purred.
A shiver raced enticingly down Parker's spine. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat before replying, "It must be the pastries that Ben made for breakfast. He likes to keep them warm in the oven."
Jarod's eyes opened, the dark gaze boring in to hers. "Something tells me that both are equally sweet to the taste."
For a heart-stopping moment, Parker had been sure that Jarod would kiss her at that point. But he hadn't. They had stared at one another for what had seemed an eternity, though it could not have been longer than a few seconds. When Broots had stumbled into the room, the moment shattered.
There had been few words between Parker and the pretender since that strange moment this morning. Jarod had been busy on the roof and had barely glanced Parker's way. She watched him now as he set his empty glass aside, stood up and stretched. Glancing at the sky, Jarod seemed to ponder the blue expanse for a moment. Then he reached over his head and grabbed the back of his t-shirt near his shoulder blades. With one hand he tugged at the cotton, casually pulling the garment off of his lean frame.
As the pretender used the wadded shirt to wipe his brow, Parker couldn't help but admire the sight. Jarod was a well-built specimen. Bare muscles angled across his shoulders and chest, leading to a rippled abdomen. His chiseled good looks and stubble-covered jaw gave him a roguish air. His hair was long, more so than suited Parker's taste, giving Jarod the look of a professional dancer.
An image of stuffing bills into the pretender's waistband abruptly popped into Parker's head, bringing a wry smirk to her face. He must have felt Parker's gaze upon him for Jarod chose that moment to look toward her. A slow, lazy grin spread across the handsome face in response. His smile was nonchalant and unassuming, totally without guile.
The effect on Miss Parker was as fierce as it was unexpected. Need rapidly built in the pit of her stomach, blossoming into a coil of heat. She instinctively licked her lips, an action that Jarod noted with a confused tilt of his head. Parker quickly looked away, suddenly finding the contents of her glass to be of great interest.
When the hammers began to pound a few moments later, Parker continued to study her lemonade. 'Lusting after Jarod is not wise,' she thought to herself. But once the notion had taken shape, she found herself wondering why. They were both adults. There was no Centre, no sweepers, no danger to be concerned about.
Parker allowed her gaze to drift back to the roof where Jarod was lining up a new shingle. She was forced to admit that the pretender was fiendishly attractive. There was little doubt that Parker would be able to engender interest on Jarod's part. Seduction was never something she'd had trouble accomplishing.
If both were willing, why shouldn't they take the opportunity to entertain each other? The more Parker thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. It had been a long time since she had actively gone in search of a physical relationship. There had been only one or two half-hearted encounters in the years since Tommy's death. Nothing memorable.
Jarod on the other hand, was sure to be an unforgettable lover. The pretender did everything very well, or he kept working at it until he became proficient. That made for an admirable quality in a sexual partner. Indeed, the more Parker pondered the possibilities, the more intrigued she became.
"If you keep staring at him that way," Ben said without looking up from the chessboard. "Jarod will start to get some new ideas." The older man smiled kindly as Parker did her best to remain nonchalant.
"Well," she replied as she arched one brow. "I'm forming a few thoughts of my own. It may take a little work for him to keep up."
Ben reached out and moved a bishop from one spot to another. "Something tells me that Jarod would gladly pursue the challenge," he said.
Sydney glanced at the pretender then back at Parker, a frown of concern etched on his face. "Parker," he said in a voice dripping with disapproval. "Do you think a relationship with Jarod is wise?"
"I take it that you do not," she answered haughtily. Parker sipped her lemonade, watching Jarod over the rim of her glass.
"On an emotional level, neither of you is capable of offering the support needed by the other," Sydney said. "Individuals with tumultuous pasts tend to require a partner with a stronger support structure. The only way to truly escape the chaos of a troubled childhood is in the security of a more stable personality."
Parker glared at the older man. "Are you suggesting that Jarod and I are both unstable?"
"Emotionally, yes." Sydney answered bluntly.
"Freudian bullshit," Parker snarled. "I happen to think that our similar backgrounds can only help. We know what to expect. We won't have to explain the nightmares or lie about our insomnia. There's no need to hide our weapons or tip-toe around what we do, or did, for a living." Nothing irritated Parker more than being told what she could and could not do. Sydney's critical attitude only served to make Parker more interested in the entire prospect.
"I just think that," Sydney began.
Parker didn't let him finish. "I don't care," she snapped. "It is none of your damned business anyway."
"If Jarod gets hurt," he replied. "It will become my business. This is a difficult time for him. His emotions are already raw."
Parker glared at the older man, more irritated by his meddling than usual. "You don't think I'm good enough for your precious lab-rat?" she hissed. She could see Ben's expression. The innkeeper wore a concerned frown, troubled by the abruptly antagonistic turn of events. Parker felt a fleeting moment of regret at having caused his distress.
"I'm sure Sydney didn't mean it that way," Ben said.
"I think he did," she answered.
"Miss Parker." Sydney leaned forward, carefully folding his hands in front of him. He studied the clasped fingers as he spoke. "Do you believe that you can focus on Jarod with the intensity that he requires?"
"You're talking about love, Syd," Parker replied with a sigh. "I'm talking about sex."
"I'm not sure Jarod has ever encountered the difference," Sydney shrugged.
Parker set aside her glass and rose from her chair in one quick motion. "Your little science project is all grown up," she told him. "He knows what he's doing."
Sydney caught Parker in a steely gaze. "But do you?"
For a moment, the air seemed to grow heavy around them as they stared at one another. The sounds of hammers pounding and birds singing echoed almost ominously.
"Butt out Sydney," Parker growled with finality. Turning away, she strode across the grass in a huff. With her arms crossed protectively over her chest, she left the men behind. She refused to look back as she entered the newly mown path that disappeared into the trees.
As the woods enveloped her, Parker sighed at the welcome coolness. Hidden from the afternoon sun by the young leaves overhead, Parker frowned as she mulled over her argument with Sydney. She tried to ignore the stab of pain that lanced through her. But she could not. Knowing that Sydney had greater concern for Jarod's feelings than he did for hers caused a deep ache.
"To Hell with them both," Parker muttered in wounded fury. Jarod was more trouble than he was worth anyway, that much Parker knew from experience. Worse yet, the pretender already knew her far better than any other man ever had.
Treading the fine line between affection and desire took a great deal of energy. With Jarod's insightfulness it would be even more difficult. Parker had stumbled across that line before, it could happen again. It was a possibility that scared her senseless.
Her thoughts continued to spiral for the next hour or more. She considered Sydney's words and pondered her chances of falling in love with the pretender. She thought of Thomas, and the guilty knowledge that the aching hole he'd left in her heart had been filled by time.
By the time Parker turned back toward the inn, the shadows were growing long. During her walk, she had burned off her ire and had come to the conclusion that Sydney was right. She and Jarod were a volatile mix. Bringing sex into the equation just wasn't smart.
Parker stepped from the trees and into the yard. The sound of hammers was gone and the chirping of crickets had replaced the birds' songs. The wicker chairs were empty. The chessboard had disappeared. There was no one in sight save for one long, lean figure with his back toward Miss Parker.
Jarod was still shirtless, standing motionless in the grass. His head was tilted in that way of his, indicating that he was concentrating on something. In the light of the setting sun, he was simply beautiful. As exquisite as a marble statue, the pretender was living proof that there was a god and that he, or she, was a magnificent artist.
Parker watched breathlessly as Jarod half turned toward her. He smiled delightedly and it took Parker a moment to find the source of the pretender's amusement. The soft motion was nearly lost in her peripheral vision but when the doe stepped tentatively forward once more, Parker saw it.
The deer was less than ten yards from where Jarod stood. She eyed the man cautiously for several seconds, sniffing the air suspiciously. Parker froze, unsure of which was the more stunning spectacle, the wild four- legged creature or the man who watched her.
For a long minute, two pairs of brown eyes stared at each other. When a spindly-legged fawn tottered up to its mother, Parker felt a sudden urge to weep. A moment later, as if on some unheard signal, the two deer abruptly bounded away, vanishing into the trees as if they had never been.
"Wow," Jarod's voice, no more than a whisper, conveyed all the wonder and magic he had just experienced.
Parker didn't remember crossing the grass but somehow, she was at Jarod's side. She couldn't seem to recall the decision she had come to during her walk. Her conversation with Sydney vanished into ancient history. She knew only that she wanted this man.
Reaching out, Parker caressed the skin on Jarod's chest. He was damp and a little grimy from a hard day's work. But she didn't care. All that mattered was the hard lump of need that had settled in the core of her being.
"Parker?" the pretender asked. It was a tentative question, as cautious as the doe's approach had been.
But Parker would have none of that. Ignoring her previous reservations, she threw her arms around Jarod and pulled him in to a passionate kiss. A moment later, she felt the pretender's fingers plucking at the tie on her halter as he tried to find more of her skin.
A triumphant growl of laughter bubbled from her as Jarod lifted Parker off the ground and guided her legs around his waist.
"Where?" he panted against her lips.
She smiled wickedly and asked, "Ever had a roll in the hay?"
When Jarod shook his head, Parker demanded, "Barn."
There was no time to wonder at the ease with which she seduced him. Parker was too busy trying to get the pretender out of his pants to worry about consequences. She was half naked herself and nibbling at Jarod's nipples when he displayed a slender thread of reason.
"Damn," he groaned. "I need protection."
Parker grinned. "From me?" she snarled against his neck.
"For you," Jarod hissed.
"Don't worry," Parker said as they tumbled in to the barn's loft. "I can't get pregnant."
Jarod flinched, his passion momentarily doused in surprise. "What?"
Parker kicked off the shorts she'd been wearing and straddled Jarod's stomach. "Had my tubes tied more than a decade ago," she told him as she bent to lick a trail along his jaw.
"I didn't know that," Jarod said.
"No one did," Parker admitted.
Jarod ran his fingertips down Parker's now bare back. "I thought I knew everything about you," he whispered.
"Not hardly," she replied. With a hard nip to Jarod's shoulder she added, "Allow me to demonstrate a few new things."
"I'm always eager to learn," Jarod said with a devilish smile.
Parker bit Jarod on the collarbone with enough force to make him yelp. "Eager is good," she told him.
"Very good, indeed."
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The Straight Path Lost Part 7
- By Phenyx
07/08/04
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"Miss Parker," a gentle voice asked softly. "Would you like some more lemonade?"
Parker reached up and tilted her sunglasses from the top of her head to cover her eyes before opening them. Gazing up at the gray-haired man, she smiled affectionately as she stretched in the wooden deck lounger. "Sounds lovely, Ben. Thank you."
"Sydney?" Ben asked, graciously offering the psychiatrist more to drink.
Placing one hand over his cup, the other man politely refused. "No, thank you. I'm fine."
With a nod and a wink at Miss Parker, Ben smiled. "I'd better give the rest of the jug to the boys."
Parker watched the older man cross the yard and head toward the two-story garage. She shook her head wryly at Ben's choice of words. It had been a long time since either Jarod or Broots could have been mistaken for children. Then again, Ben was old enough to be father to both of them.
"It is too hot for them to be up on that roof," Sydney said with a frown. The psychiatrist sat in one of two wicker chairs only a few feet from Miss Parker. Between the two chairs was a sturdy table, upon which sat a chessboard. The two older men, Sydney and Ben, where currently involved in a match that had taken the better part of the afternoon.
Parker paid no heed to her colleague's concerns. Sydney had been fretful all day, intermittently worrying in a fashion that Parker recognized as his way of pouting. Sydney's sulking was due to the fact that he had been forbidden to help with the project Jarod and Broots were tackling.
Roofing was no easy task, especially in the unseasonably warm weather that had existed all week long. Though Ben Miller had tried to convince them all that it was unnecessary, Jarod had insisted that he perform this service in exchange for the room and board Ben was providing.
"You don't need to work, Jarod," Ben had scolded him when the subject had first come up. "You are permitted to visit just for sake of visiting."
"I always help you get the place ready for the season," Jarod had said. "With all these extra hands, we can get the job done in no time."
Indeed, the first few days of their stay had been busy for everyone. They cleaned the large house from top to bottom in a spring-cleaning frenzy. In preparation for the summer tourists that Ben was expecting, they had aired out rooms, beaten rugs and dusted places a mouse couldn't see. Parker, much to her companions' amusement, had even polished the good silver.
After the windows had been washed and a couple of loose shutters repaired, Jarod had discovered a leak in the garage roof. Immediately setting to the task of replacing the damaged section, all the men had been up on ladders yesterday, ripping up warped shingles and removing cracked planks of wood. It had been hot, dirty and exhausting work.
Miss Parker, however, was still on a form of restricted duty. It had been nearly a month since Jarod had removed the bullet from her chest. Her wound was now little more than an angry red line visible just above the edge of the halter-top she was wearing. Yet the pretender still insisted that she remain cautious. He wouldn't allow her to lift anything weighing more than five pounds for fear that the strain would pull at the flesh and increase her scarring.
Parker thought it was a load of crap and she had told him so. "I am perfectly fine, Jarod," she had hissed at him. "And I swear if you don't stop coddling me I'll put my fist through your nose to prove it."
In the end, she'd been out-voted, four to one. So, the men had torn off the old roofing while Parker had spent the day fetching cold drinks and making sandwiches, grumbling every minute. The sexist domesticity of her assigned task had grated on her nerves and somehow, she felt Jarod knew it. He knew it and was thoroughly enjoying it.
Today was a different matter. Sydney had woken this morning, barely able to get out of bed. His overtaxed muscles, unused to manual labor, had rebelled, making it impossible for the aging man to be of any help on the roof. Ben had been grounded just before lunch, when the heat had gotten to be too much for him.
So now Jarod and Broots were alone on top of the garage, banging away with hammers in a rhythmic manner. Parker was too relaxed to be annoyed by the noise. She watched the two men as they paused in their work, eagerly gulping down the refreshments Ben provided.
Broots and the pretender were getting along exceptionally well. The two had similar interests, talking for hours about computers and equations and similarly incomprehensible nonsense. Jarod was fascinated by Broots' endless repertoire of meaningless trivia. Both had nauseating tastes in food.
But most significantly, Jarod and Broots had both been forced to leave their families behind. Having lost those most important to them, each was grief-stricken. In their shared sorrow, the two men sought companionship from one another. Parker was not yet sure if the alliance served to ease the pain, or if their depression simply fed one off of the other.
At times, the melancholy atmosphere each man projected spread until the gloom was nearly palpable. To make matters worse, Jarod and Sydney had yet to make nice after the incident at the farmhouse last month. Parker knew that the psychiatrist had tried to broach the subject on more than one occasion. However, Jarod's sullen mood had made him irritable and unapproachable. Only with Broots did the pretender show any tolerance.
Parker was trying very hard to stay neutral. The rift between Sydney and his protégé obviously caused the older man grief. But Parker just couldn't find it in her heart to blame the pretender. Jarod had every right to be angry. The years of pain and disappointment had been bottled up for too long. It may have taken three decades, but Jarod's rage was finally finding release.
It was a disillusionment that Parker understood only too well. How many times in these last few years had Sydney triggered her own fury? How many secrets did the psychiatrist still hold behind that furrowed brow?
In her relationship with her father, Parker had found a flimsy emotional bond that she'd spent a lifetime trying to strengthen, to no avail. She knew how it felt to crave a father's affection, yet never receive it. Jarod's connection to Sydney held many of those same characteristics. For no matter how many members of his family Jarod managed to find, Sydney had been the one to raise him. It was Sydney that Jarod had tried so hard to please for most of his life.
With sympathetic regard for the troubled men, Miss Parker had been trying her best not to be too pushy. The last couple of weeks had been an exercise in patience. It had required a concerted effort on Parker's part to reduce the bitchiness level a notch or two, especially when Jarod was being particularly gruff.
Overall she'd done well, hardly ever yelling at Mr. Broots. With Jarod it had been harder, as he seemed to actively enjoy pushing her buttons. Even so, it had been a full day since Parker had raised her voice and that particular situation had been extreme. Broots and Jarod had been debating over which was the best Muppet. For three quarters of an hour, Broots had seriously laid out the finer characteristics of someone named Grover while Jarod raved on about a blue pile of fuzz known as Cookie Monster.
Parker couldn't help it, she'd snapped. She had snarled at them both about childish fools and the nonsense they spewed. In her annoyance, she had railed at them in royal ice queen fashion. Parker immediately regretted it for her fury had sent Broots skittering off to his room. The scene had put a damper on the evening for the rest of them.
When Parker had gotten up this morning, she had been feeling badly about ruining the friendly camaraderie that had existed. Added to that was her sympathy for Sydney's physical pain. As such, she'd been a bit contrite, being far more hospitable than was her usual, pre-coffee norm.
Jarod had picked up on her emotions, of course. He must have sensed Parker's penitent mood and reacted to it. That was the only explanation for the strange encounter the two of them had shared that morning.
The day was still quite young when Parker had given up on sleep and made her way to the kitchen. The pretender was there, leaning against the counter as he sipped from a mug. She ignored him at first, shuffling across the room in her bathrobe and matching slippers.
"Good morning, Miss Parker," Jarod had said.
"Hmm," she grunted. Several minutes passed while she prepared herself some coffee and blinked the sleep from her eyes. "Is Sydney going to be okay?" she'd asked finally.
Jarod nodded. "He over did it. That's all."
"Not as young as he used to be," Parker smiled wryly.
"None of us are," Jarod agreed.
For a long moment, they stood in silence. "What?" Parker finally asked when she noticed the pretender staring at her.
He smiled. "Nothing," he said.
"You're laughing at me," Parker argued. Her tone held none of its regular bite, but instead came out low and soft.
"This side of you is different," Jarod shrugged.
Parker had raised a suspicious brow at the pretender. "This side?"
"This aspect of your personality," he rephrased. Jarod fluttered his hand in front of her in a vague gesture. "Soft, rumpled. You smell of warmth and cinnamon."
"What does warmth smell like?" Parker had asked with amused curiosity.
"Like fuzzy kittens." Jarod smiled. "Clean linen or a freshly powdered baby."
"Tuna breath, bleach and Desitin?" she shot back with a smirk.
Jarod shook his head slowly. He crossed the room, stopping only inches away from Miss Parker. The pretender's eyelids drifted shut and he inhaled deeply, sighing a wistful exhalation. "Warmth and cinnamon," he purred.
A shiver raced enticingly down Parker's spine. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat before replying, "It must be the pastries that Ben made for breakfast. He likes to keep them warm in the oven."
Jarod's eyes opened, the dark gaze boring in to hers. "Something tells me that both are equally sweet to the taste."
For a heart-stopping moment, Parker had been sure that Jarod would kiss her at that point. But he hadn't. They had stared at one another for what had seemed an eternity, though it could not have been longer than a few seconds. When Broots had stumbled into the room, the moment shattered.
There had been few words between Parker and the pretender since that strange moment this morning. Jarod had been busy on the roof and had barely glanced Parker's way. She watched him now as he set his empty glass aside, stood up and stretched. Glancing at the sky, Jarod seemed to ponder the blue expanse for a moment. Then he reached over his head and grabbed the back of his t-shirt near his shoulder blades. With one hand he tugged at the cotton, casually pulling the garment off of his lean frame.
As the pretender used the wadded shirt to wipe his brow, Parker couldn't help but admire the sight. Jarod was a well-built specimen. Bare muscles angled across his shoulders and chest, leading to a rippled abdomen. His chiseled good looks and stubble-covered jaw gave him a roguish air. His hair was long, more so than suited Parker's taste, giving Jarod the look of a professional dancer.
An image of stuffing bills into the pretender's waistband abruptly popped into Parker's head, bringing a wry smirk to her face. He must have felt Parker's gaze upon him for Jarod chose that moment to look toward her. A slow, lazy grin spread across the handsome face in response. His smile was nonchalant and unassuming, totally without guile.
The effect on Miss Parker was as fierce as it was unexpected. Need rapidly built in the pit of her stomach, blossoming into a coil of heat. She instinctively licked her lips, an action that Jarod noted with a confused tilt of his head. Parker quickly looked away, suddenly finding the contents of her glass to be of great interest.
When the hammers began to pound a few moments later, Parker continued to study her lemonade. 'Lusting after Jarod is not wise,' she thought to herself. But once the notion had taken shape, she found herself wondering why. They were both adults. There was no Centre, no sweepers, no danger to be concerned about.
Parker allowed her gaze to drift back to the roof where Jarod was lining up a new shingle. She was forced to admit that the pretender was fiendishly attractive. There was little doubt that Parker would be able to engender interest on Jarod's part. Seduction was never something she'd had trouble accomplishing.
If both were willing, why shouldn't they take the opportunity to entertain each other? The more Parker thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. It had been a long time since she had actively gone in search of a physical relationship. There had been only one or two half-hearted encounters in the years since Tommy's death. Nothing memorable.
Jarod on the other hand, was sure to be an unforgettable lover. The pretender did everything very well, or he kept working at it until he became proficient. That made for an admirable quality in a sexual partner. Indeed, the more Parker pondered the possibilities, the more intrigued she became.
"If you keep staring at him that way," Ben said without looking up from the chessboard. "Jarod will start to get some new ideas." The older man smiled kindly as Parker did her best to remain nonchalant.
"Well," she replied as she arched one brow. "I'm forming a few thoughts of my own. It may take a little work for him to keep up."
Ben reached out and moved a bishop from one spot to another. "Something tells me that Jarod would gladly pursue the challenge," he said.
Sydney glanced at the pretender then back at Parker, a frown of concern etched on his face. "Parker," he said in a voice dripping with disapproval. "Do you think a relationship with Jarod is wise?"
"I take it that you do not," she answered haughtily. Parker sipped her lemonade, watching Jarod over the rim of her glass.
"On an emotional level, neither of you is capable of offering the support needed by the other," Sydney said. "Individuals with tumultuous pasts tend to require a partner with a stronger support structure. The only way to truly escape the chaos of a troubled childhood is in the security of a more stable personality."
Parker glared at the older man. "Are you suggesting that Jarod and I are both unstable?"
"Emotionally, yes." Sydney answered bluntly.
"Freudian bullshit," Parker snarled. "I happen to think that our similar backgrounds can only help. We know what to expect. We won't have to explain the nightmares or lie about our insomnia. There's no need to hide our weapons or tip-toe around what we do, or did, for a living." Nothing irritated Parker more than being told what she could and could not do. Sydney's critical attitude only served to make Parker more interested in the entire prospect.
"I just think that," Sydney began.
Parker didn't let him finish. "I don't care," she snapped. "It is none of your damned business anyway."
"If Jarod gets hurt," he replied. "It will become my business. This is a difficult time for him. His emotions are already raw."
Parker glared at the older man, more irritated by his meddling than usual. "You don't think I'm good enough for your precious lab-rat?" she hissed. She could see Ben's expression. The innkeeper wore a concerned frown, troubled by the abruptly antagonistic turn of events. Parker felt a fleeting moment of regret at having caused his distress.
"I'm sure Sydney didn't mean it that way," Ben said.
"I think he did," she answered.
"Miss Parker." Sydney leaned forward, carefully folding his hands in front of him. He studied the clasped fingers as he spoke. "Do you believe that you can focus on Jarod with the intensity that he requires?"
"You're talking about love, Syd," Parker replied with a sigh. "I'm talking about sex."
"I'm not sure Jarod has ever encountered the difference," Sydney shrugged.
Parker set aside her glass and rose from her chair in one quick motion. "Your little science project is all grown up," she told him. "He knows what he's doing."
Sydney caught Parker in a steely gaze. "But do you?"
For a moment, the air seemed to grow heavy around them as they stared at one another. The sounds of hammers pounding and birds singing echoed almost ominously.
"Butt out Sydney," Parker growled with finality. Turning away, she strode across the grass in a huff. With her arms crossed protectively over her chest, she left the men behind. She refused to look back as she entered the newly mown path that disappeared into the trees.
As the woods enveloped her, Parker sighed at the welcome coolness. Hidden from the afternoon sun by the young leaves overhead, Parker frowned as she mulled over her argument with Sydney. She tried to ignore the stab of pain that lanced through her. But she could not. Knowing that Sydney had greater concern for Jarod's feelings than he did for hers caused a deep ache.
"To Hell with them both," Parker muttered in wounded fury. Jarod was more trouble than he was worth anyway, that much Parker knew from experience. Worse yet, the pretender already knew her far better than any other man ever had.
Treading the fine line between affection and desire took a great deal of energy. With Jarod's insightfulness it would be even more difficult. Parker had stumbled across that line before, it could happen again. It was a possibility that scared her senseless.
Her thoughts continued to spiral for the next hour or more. She considered Sydney's words and pondered her chances of falling in love with the pretender. She thought of Thomas, and the guilty knowledge that the aching hole he'd left in her heart had been filled by time.
By the time Parker turned back toward the inn, the shadows were growing long. During her walk, she had burned off her ire and had come to the conclusion that Sydney was right. She and Jarod were a volatile mix. Bringing sex into the equation just wasn't smart.
Parker stepped from the trees and into the yard. The sound of hammers was gone and the chirping of crickets had replaced the birds' songs. The wicker chairs were empty. The chessboard had disappeared. There was no one in sight save for one long, lean figure with his back toward Miss Parker.
Jarod was still shirtless, standing motionless in the grass. His head was tilted in that way of his, indicating that he was concentrating on something. In the light of the setting sun, he was simply beautiful. As exquisite as a marble statue, the pretender was living proof that there was a god and that he, or she, was a magnificent artist.
Parker watched breathlessly as Jarod half turned toward her. He smiled delightedly and it took Parker a moment to find the source of the pretender's amusement. The soft motion was nearly lost in her peripheral vision but when the doe stepped tentatively forward once more, Parker saw it.
The deer was less than ten yards from where Jarod stood. She eyed the man cautiously for several seconds, sniffing the air suspiciously. Parker froze, unsure of which was the more stunning spectacle, the wild four- legged creature or the man who watched her.
For a long minute, two pairs of brown eyes stared at each other. When a spindly-legged fawn tottered up to its mother, Parker felt a sudden urge to weep. A moment later, as if on some unheard signal, the two deer abruptly bounded away, vanishing into the trees as if they had never been.
"Wow," Jarod's voice, no more than a whisper, conveyed all the wonder and magic he had just experienced.
Parker didn't remember crossing the grass but somehow, she was at Jarod's side. She couldn't seem to recall the decision she had come to during her walk. Her conversation with Sydney vanished into ancient history. She knew only that she wanted this man.
Reaching out, Parker caressed the skin on Jarod's chest. He was damp and a little grimy from a hard day's work. But she didn't care. All that mattered was the hard lump of need that had settled in the core of her being.
"Parker?" the pretender asked. It was a tentative question, as cautious as the doe's approach had been.
But Parker would have none of that. Ignoring her previous reservations, she threw her arms around Jarod and pulled him in to a passionate kiss. A moment later, she felt the pretender's fingers plucking at the tie on her halter as he tried to find more of her skin.
A triumphant growl of laughter bubbled from her as Jarod lifted Parker off the ground and guided her legs around his waist.
"Where?" he panted against her lips.
She smiled wickedly and asked, "Ever had a roll in the hay?"
When Jarod shook his head, Parker demanded, "Barn."
There was no time to wonder at the ease with which she seduced him. Parker was too busy trying to get the pretender out of his pants to worry about consequences. She was half naked herself and nibbling at Jarod's nipples when he displayed a slender thread of reason.
"Damn," he groaned. "I need protection."
Parker grinned. "From me?" she snarled against his neck.
"For you," Jarod hissed.
"Don't worry," Parker said as they tumbled in to the barn's loft. "I can't get pregnant."
Jarod flinched, his passion momentarily doused in surprise. "What?"
Parker kicked off the shorts she'd been wearing and straddled Jarod's stomach. "Had my tubes tied more than a decade ago," she told him as she bent to lick a trail along his jaw.
"I didn't know that," Jarod said.
"No one did," Parker admitted.
Jarod ran his fingertips down Parker's now bare back. "I thought I knew everything about you," he whispered.
"Not hardly," she replied. With a hard nip to Jarod's shoulder she added, "Allow me to demonstrate a few new things."
"I'm always eager to learn," Jarod said with a devilish smile.
Parker bit Jarod on the collarbone with enough force to make him yelp. "Eager is good," she told him.
"Very good, indeed."
