See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.
The Friendship Cycle Two: Gray Areas
By Ginger
*Pathetic…*
Her father's voice thundered in her head as Parker swam laps in the Olympic sized pool. It was nearly 11:00 p.m. and residents of the Clearwater Beach condo complex had all gone inside, leaving her to work off her aggression in peace. The generosity of a friend had provided the means of escape after playing out a pitiful little drama on the dance floor of a downtown Manhattan nightclub. Too bad it was only temporary. She would have to fly back to Blue Cove early the next morning then head straight to work as though nothing eventful had happened over the weekend. As though she hadn't made a damned fool of herself because she was just so…
*Pathetic…*
In the roughly 48 hours since her arrival in Florida, she had barely left the complex, spending most of her time perched on the balcony of her temporary abode, walking the beach, or doing laps in the pool. Her only contact with humanity was the occasional stroll next door for a margarita or two at the Sheraton's pool bar, but that only constituted a short break from her relentless pursuit of self-flagellation.
*Pathetic… Needy… Weak…*
No need to be repetitive, Parker thought bitterly as she continued to lap the pool even though her muscles burned and her breathing was becoming labored. There were so many adjectives to describe her behavior over the past two months and all over two words, two stupid monosyllabic words.
*Best friend…*
At first it was just that familiar constricted feeling in her chest. It was the same feeling she'd always gotten when she sensed her father's disappointment and which, much to her chagrin, she continued to feel around him despite everything he'd done and even though she no longer believed a single word that came out of his mouth. So, she was pathetic on all accounts but this particular episode had to take the cake. As the hours, days and weeks rolled by, Jarod's off-handed remark stayed with her, hanging in the air and casting a pall over everything until she found herself in New York behaving like a jealous cheerleader hell bent on teaching the star quarterback a lesson he'd never forget.
*Some lesson…*
Ever the queen of biting off her own nose to spite her face, Parker now had to live with the knowledge of how it felt to be in extremely close proximity to a very grown up Jarod. The oppressive humidity of the tropical air evoked the friction created by their sweaty bodies, the tickle of the Gulf breeze reminiscent of his hands on her skin. No wonder she was spending so much time in the pool. Meanwhile, someone *else* had enjoyed the privilege of accompanying an *eager* pretender to a fancy Manhattan hotel room.
*Some lesson…*
It was her own damned fault, she thought as she ignored the excruciating cramping in her extremities and continued to slice through the water even though her chest felt as though it were about to explode. A year ago, when she had decided to finally cooperate with Jarod, both for Ethan's sake and in an attempt to complete her mother's elusive plan, that little voice in the back of her mind had warned of this. It had warned that if she let her guard down then he'd start to matter again, the way he had when they were kids. And that was a zero sum game because, given their history, the most one could reasonably expect of their *association* was basic civility. They had already achieved that much so there really wasn't anywhere else to go.
She was fully cognizant of this; her brain was more than capable of rationally processing and filing it away for future reference. And, yet, she had allowed two simple words to be her undoing. She was beginning to feel lightheaded but pushed ahead even as she identified the annoyingly persistent sound now invading her thoughts to be her own gasping as her battered lungs protested the lack of oxygen. She was indeed pathetic…. pathetic, needy and weak.
*Best friend…*
The pain had ceased and Parker wasn't sure whether she was moving anymore. She could see flashing colors and figured that probably wasn't a good sign as she struggled to lift her arms to feel for the edge of the pool. Don't panic, she reminded herself then relaxed and allowed her exhausted body to float to the surface, remaining there until she regained enough strength to make her way slowly to the pool's edge. Reaching it, she hauled her arms over the side but couldn't muster the strength to climb out so she stayed there, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on the concrete.
"Go away," she whimpered to the voice in her head, this time belonging to someone other than her father. Man, she thought, my brain must be pretty oxygen deprived for me to be having aural hallucinations.
"Not until you answer me, Parker," the voice insisted, adding, "Are you alright?"
"I'm hearing voices so I guess not," she remarked out loud with a raw, sardonic chuckle that quickly evolved into a surprised gasp at the sensation of hands on her torso, grasping firmly and lifting her out of the water.
* * * *
"Put me down," Parker protested feebly as she slapped weakly at Jarod's chest, her arms feeling like wet noodles. In truth, she liked the way it felt to be tucked securely in his strong arms with her barely clad body pressed firmly against his… and hated herself for liking it at the same time.
"What am I going to do with you, Parker?" Jarod commented with a weary sigh as he set her down gently on the edge of chaise lounge and wrapped a towel around her.
"You aren't going to anything with me!" she snapped, yanking the end of the towel from his hands and pulling it more tightly around her. "I was fine, just fine. Not ALL women need to be rescued, you know."
"I know," he replied defensively as he took a seat across from her.
They remained in awkward silence for a few moments with Parker turning her head to stare into the neon green of the lighted pool and Jarod looking down to track the progress of a large, black ant across the eighteen inches or so that constituted the "demilitarized zone" between them.
"Do you think your 'best friend' would approve of your showing up here like this?" she remarked in a tone that betrayed rather less sarcasm and more vulnerability than she'd have preferred.
Looking up to meet her eyes, he replied softly, "That's a very good question. If she wasn't so busy trying to DROWN herself, I could ask her."
She averted her eyes for an instant before meeting his gaze again and shaking her head. "Jarod," she began then cleared her throat before continuing, "I owe you an apology. I never should have…"
"Ah… ah… ah…" he interrupted, shaking his head. "Oh, no you don't! Miss Parker, the queen of control, acted on her 'feelings' for once. I know, for a genius, I can be pretty thick sometimes but, thanks to you, I've finally figured out what's been going on with us recently. I said something really stupid in Maine – now, why I said it in the first place is something I'll get to later – but the point is that you actually exhibited a normal human emotional response to it and I'll be damned if I let you off the hook now."
"But, New York…" she started to explain. "It was just a stupid…"
"Nope," he stopped her again. "Won't let you do that either. Wouldn't you figure that a man who's spent virtually all his life doing simulations ought to be able to distinguish what's real from what isn't? Okay, so sometimes I need to be hit on the head with a hammer for it to sink in, but eventually…" He paused, grinned and added, "It does."
Burying her head in her hands, Parker groaned, "What the hell was I thinking?"
Jarod stood and reached over to grab up her robe. Holding it open for her, he replied, "You weren't and, for a few minutes there, neither was I. The results were most intriguing, wouldn't you agree?"
Parker lifted her head and stared blankly at him for a moment before sighing resignedly, hauling herself up and pulling off the towel covering her bikini-clad form. She managed to catch his appreciative smirk before turning around and smirking herself as she let him help her into her robe.
* * * *
"Make yourself at home," Parker called out sarcastically from the kitchen as she glanced into the living room to see Jarod lounging on the couch, the picture of relaxation.
"I will, thank you," he shot back playfully.
Sensing his genuine contentment at being there, she bit her lip, hesitating in the doorway before proceeding into the room and handing him a glass of wine without asking whether or not he wanted one. As he took it from her and leaned forward to place it on the coffee table, she sensed his eyes drinking in her appearance and suddenly felt exposed, underdressed.
Her chosen attire had been the subject of some deliberation as she'd paced the bedroom and cast the occasional nervous glance at the tightly closed door as if expecting… lord knows what. She'd vacillated between covering every inch of her body, head to toe, and putting on what she would wear under normal circumstances, which is the course of action she had ultimately decided upon after her very brief, scalding hot shower. She had found it extremely nerve-wracking to be showering with him in the next room. The rational part of her figured it probably wasn't the first time, but it was the first time she did so knowingly, and it was all she could do to quell the butterflies in her stomach.
Here she was, standing barefoot in a hi-rise beachfront condo, wearing a tank top and a pair of loose-fitting drawstring shorts with her hair still wet from showering. And here he was, in a t-shirt and jeans, sitting back comfortably in the dead center of the sofa, his long, slender legs disappearing under coffee table to cross at the ankles, his long, muscled arms extending in either direction. It all seemed so casual, so normal. Her stomach did a summersault.
Parker drew a long sip of her wine then took a seat beside him, ignoring the impulse to sit at the far edge of the sofa, beyond the reach of his outstretched arm. In order to talk her way out of the mess she'd gotten herself into, she would need to appear cool, betray no weakness. She turned to look at him but he stared straight ahead as he offered, "Nice place," then leaned forward to pick up his glass with is left hand. She was, of course, sitting to his right.
She watched intently as he lifted the glass to his parting lips then observed the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. It made her feel restless. Without even realizing it, she turned her entire body to face him, tucked her legs up under her, and leaned against the back of the couch so that some of her wet tendrils spilled onto his outstretched arm.
"A friend lent it to me," she explained before taking another sip from her glass.
"So…" Jarod turned his head to meet her gaze. "Fritz Langer, international businessman, is a friend, is he?"
"Yes," she said with a cool nod.
"Nice place," he repeated.
"Yeah, so you said."
"Ever stayed here before?"
"Yes."
"Was Mr. Langer here at the time or was he in his Dallas office or, perhaps, Düsseldorf, where I believe he is right now?"
She knew the implication of the question – it was obviously a one bedroom condo. Ignoring it she remarked, "You've been busy, Jarod."
"Had to play catch-up… in the 'old days,' I'd have known all about him."
"Oh." She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You really have stopped snooping. I've been wondering."
"It didn't seem right once you joined the side of the righteous." He chuckled when she shot him one of her trademark "spare me" looks then added, "He's got to be relatively new. How did you meet?"
Parker hesitated a moment then muttered, "At work," into her glass before taking another sip and averting her eyes for a moment or two. When they settled back on Jarod, she noticed the visible tension in his jaw and drew a heavy breath, holding it in anticipation of his next comment.
"Friend of Daddy's, is he?"
"No," she managed in an even tone, probably because she had seen it coming. "He's a friend of MINE. The Centre DOES have legitimate contracts and he's a legitimate businessman. Feel free to snoop all you like if you don't have anything better to do with your time. I don't believe he has anything to hide, not even a wife and kids stashed away in a foreign capital."
"Planning a move to the Continent then?"
He's got a lot of fucking nerve, she thought as she unconsciously twisted a lock of damp hair around her finger. She opened her mouth to tell him as much but, instead, out came,
"It is not a grand love affair, Jarod."
And that was the absolute truth, although she hadn't had the slightest intention of sharing it with him. She and Fritz had hit it off immediately, went on a few dates when he was in town on business, and eventually fell into a comfortable, if intermittent, sexual relationship. It was her first since Thomas's death and she'd been more than content with its casual nature. In fact, they'd seen each other less than a half dozen times in the roughly ten months since meeting. The last time they'd been together was over three months earlier, in late February, right before he left for an extended stay in Europe. She didn't expect to see him again until late summer at the earliest and they had parted amiably, making no promises. They did speak by phone every week or two but the conversations were rather more friendly than romantic in tone. He was a kind, generous man and, when she'd called him from La Guardia Airport, rousing him from sleep on one of his rare days off to take him up on his offer to use the condo whenever she liked, he had been beyond sweet.
"Then what is it?"
Somewhat amazed at her seeming inability to become angry with him, Parker pondered a moment and, with a shrug, explained, "Sometimes people just want company, someone to pass the time with for a while. A relationship doesn't have to be a lifetime commitment to have value. I suppose it's one of those 'gray areas' we encounter in everyday life that you'll learn to live with the longer you're out here."
With a wry smile, Jarod commented, "Oh, I think I'm living with them just fine as it is. Am I safe in assuming that lying to one woman in order to spend time with another woman in her boyfriend's apartment is another one of those 'gray areas?'"
His remark caught her so off guard that she just stared, agape, for a beat or two before dissolving into hearty laughter. When he laughed along with her, she realized something, or perhaps finally admitted something to herself that she'd been repressing for ages, probably from the beginning. She *liked* him. She genuinely *liked* the man he had become or was still becoming, whatever. Pent up sexual tension was one thing; genuine regard was quite another.
*Uh-oh* went the little voice in her head as she felt her body shift and her head come to rest on his outstretched arm. *Uh-oh* it went again as she felt him gently remove her glass from her hand and set it on the table. *Uh-oh* it went a third time as she felt his hand on her cheek, his body now in much closer proximity to hers.
"What do you want from me, Jarod?" Parker asked, her voice sounding small, vulnerable.
"I know you've asked me that question several times over the years," he replied in a tone that warmed her head to toe. "And I think I may finally have a straight answer for you."
He leaned in even closer and she all but stopped breathing, her eyes closing as she felt him pull her into a bone fide, full-fledged caress. Then there was the sweet, gentle press of his lips to her forehead followed by the delicious vibration of his words as he spoke softly into her hair.
"For one thing, I know what I DON'T want. I don't want to disappear. Not now anyway; I'm just not there yet. What I DO want is to have long conversations with you, about all sorts of things that don't have anything to do with the Centre, my past or yours. I want to watch a movie with you then argue about its merits over ice cream afterwards. And dance…" His voice appeared to lower an octave. "I want to do a LOT more dancing… with you. Oh, and I'd like to do all of this without placing my freedom, or our lives, in jeopardy."
"Aye, there's the rub," Parker remarked sadly as she pulled out of his embrace. Smiling she added, "Now, most forty-year-old men would have said 'over coffee' or 'over a drink.'"
With a diffident smile and a shrug, he said, "It isn't impossible, you know. Sure, it can't be every weekend but we've been successfully 'collaborating' for over a year and, if we're careful..."
"Your dance card is pretty full these days," she interjected. "And I won't be someone's little piece on the side. There was a time that I could be, but not anymore."
"I know," he responded, frowning. "And you have to know I would never ask you to be. Lately she's been hinting that she wants more, some sort of concrete commitment."
"Not unreasonable under the circumstances. She has been on the lam for a year, not to mention her little run in with my idiot brother and Cox. And, of course, we know she hates my guts… again, hardly unreasonable, and for a whole host of reasons."
"We both know there's only one," he said, reclaiming her cheek. "And believe me I've given this a lot of thought. In fact, I've thought of little else for the past 48 hours. I won't deny that she means a lot to me. I may even love her, although I'm still not entirely comfortable tossing that word around. Even with my family, it's…
"I know," she offered with a nod.
"But there is one thing about which I am positively certain: there is no way I can continue to maintain a relationship with her while you're in my life, regardless of HOW you're in my life. I know it hurts her and I hate that, but the underlying issue is WHY it hurts her, which brings me to my idiotic comment in Maine."
"It doesn't matter, Jarod, I was just being…"
"Human. We've already covered that, Parker. And I was being an idiot. I couldn't bring myself to refer to her as my 'girlfriend' when addressing you because, subconsciously, I find it highly inconvenient to have a 'girlfriend' when I'm in your company."
"Oh God," she groaned, her expression evolving into one of profound mortification. "You've been talking to Sydney about this. Did you tell him… about Friday night? OH GOD!"
"Hey," he soothed with a chuckle as he tilted her chin up. "It's okay. We can trust him."
"Of course we can trust him; I'll just never be able to look him in the eye again."
"Medical necessity, I'm afraid. Who knows what damage I'd have done if I'd acted without consulting him first. As usual, he helped me clarify things."
"Like it's time to dump your girlfriend?" Parker eyed him suspiciously. "That doesn't sound like Sydney to me."
"Like you said earlier, Zoe's made sacrifices for me. And I feel indebted to her, eternally so. But, as Sydney pointed out, it would be wrong to continue a relationship out of gratitude or obligation. It would be reprehensible, actually. And, as it appears to come down to her or you, I guess I've made my decision. But you know all this, Parker; you're the one who issued the ultimatum… when we were in Detroit with Ethan. I'm a little dense so you were forced to reissue it the other night. I'm sorry about that. Well, in truth, I'm not. I REALLY enjoyed the dancing; I'd just have preferred that it hadn't been an act of betrayal."
Shaking her head, Parker advised, "It won't be easy for you, Jarod. You'll be breaking someone's heart."
"I'm already breaking someone's heart; it might as well be a clean break."
"But I can't promise…"
"I'm not asking you to promise – or give up – anything… or anyone. I just… I need to have you in my life right now and I'll take what I can get. And, speaking of what I can get, I was wondering if I could crash here tonight."
"Jarod…" Parker warned.
"On the couch, of course," he clarified with a smirk. "With you tucked securely away in the bedroom. I'm booked in the Sheraton next door and I'm sure glad I prepaid my room because I made a bit of a spectacle of myself and would really prefer not to go back, for a few hours anyway."
"Huh?"
"I was, um, watching you do laps with night vision goggles. Oh, rats, I left them on the balcony of my room."
"Jarod…"
"I know, but old habits die hard. Besides, I was trying to muster up the courage to come over here when I realized you weren't going to stop until you blacked out. I panicked and went flying out of the room, down fourteen flights of stairs and, here's the thing, through a crowded lobby to get to the beachside exit. Unfortunately, I took down a porter bearing a full room service tray along the way. I'll have to send the poor guy something. I feel terrible about it, particularly since I barely stopped to see if he was okay."
"Way to be 'careful,' genius," she quipped, folding her arms.
"Well, I wouldn't suggest we take in that movie in Clearwater," he replied with a grin.
* * * *
Jarod smiled serenely as he watched her sleep soundly in his arms. He was still on the sofa but she'd never made it to the bedroom, having drifted off with her head on his shoulder as he recited "The Velveteen Rabbit" to her from memory. He'd only just realized that the reason he'd even bothered to memorize it – years ago while on a pretend as a preschool teacher – was for the sole, expressed purpose of telling it to her one day.
# # # #
And on to part three… yippee! (Sorry, I'm feeling a little strange today.)
The Friendship Cycle Two: Gray Areas
By Ginger
*Pathetic…*
Her father's voice thundered in her head as Parker swam laps in the Olympic sized pool. It was nearly 11:00 p.m. and residents of the Clearwater Beach condo complex had all gone inside, leaving her to work off her aggression in peace. The generosity of a friend had provided the means of escape after playing out a pitiful little drama on the dance floor of a downtown Manhattan nightclub. Too bad it was only temporary. She would have to fly back to Blue Cove early the next morning then head straight to work as though nothing eventful had happened over the weekend. As though she hadn't made a damned fool of herself because she was just so…
*Pathetic…*
In the roughly 48 hours since her arrival in Florida, she had barely left the complex, spending most of her time perched on the balcony of her temporary abode, walking the beach, or doing laps in the pool. Her only contact with humanity was the occasional stroll next door for a margarita or two at the Sheraton's pool bar, but that only constituted a short break from her relentless pursuit of self-flagellation.
*Pathetic… Needy… Weak…*
No need to be repetitive, Parker thought bitterly as she continued to lap the pool even though her muscles burned and her breathing was becoming labored. There were so many adjectives to describe her behavior over the past two months and all over two words, two stupid monosyllabic words.
*Best friend…*
At first it was just that familiar constricted feeling in her chest. It was the same feeling she'd always gotten when she sensed her father's disappointment and which, much to her chagrin, she continued to feel around him despite everything he'd done and even though she no longer believed a single word that came out of his mouth. So, she was pathetic on all accounts but this particular episode had to take the cake. As the hours, days and weeks rolled by, Jarod's off-handed remark stayed with her, hanging in the air and casting a pall over everything until she found herself in New York behaving like a jealous cheerleader hell bent on teaching the star quarterback a lesson he'd never forget.
*Some lesson…*
Ever the queen of biting off her own nose to spite her face, Parker now had to live with the knowledge of how it felt to be in extremely close proximity to a very grown up Jarod. The oppressive humidity of the tropical air evoked the friction created by their sweaty bodies, the tickle of the Gulf breeze reminiscent of his hands on her skin. No wonder she was spending so much time in the pool. Meanwhile, someone *else* had enjoyed the privilege of accompanying an *eager* pretender to a fancy Manhattan hotel room.
*Some lesson…*
It was her own damned fault, she thought as she ignored the excruciating cramping in her extremities and continued to slice through the water even though her chest felt as though it were about to explode. A year ago, when she had decided to finally cooperate with Jarod, both for Ethan's sake and in an attempt to complete her mother's elusive plan, that little voice in the back of her mind had warned of this. It had warned that if she let her guard down then he'd start to matter again, the way he had when they were kids. And that was a zero sum game because, given their history, the most one could reasonably expect of their *association* was basic civility. They had already achieved that much so there really wasn't anywhere else to go.
She was fully cognizant of this; her brain was more than capable of rationally processing and filing it away for future reference. And, yet, she had allowed two simple words to be her undoing. She was beginning to feel lightheaded but pushed ahead even as she identified the annoyingly persistent sound now invading her thoughts to be her own gasping as her battered lungs protested the lack of oxygen. She was indeed pathetic…. pathetic, needy and weak.
*Best friend…*
The pain had ceased and Parker wasn't sure whether she was moving anymore. She could see flashing colors and figured that probably wasn't a good sign as she struggled to lift her arms to feel for the edge of the pool. Don't panic, she reminded herself then relaxed and allowed her exhausted body to float to the surface, remaining there until she regained enough strength to make her way slowly to the pool's edge. Reaching it, she hauled her arms over the side but couldn't muster the strength to climb out so she stayed there, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on the concrete.
"Go away," she whimpered to the voice in her head, this time belonging to someone other than her father. Man, she thought, my brain must be pretty oxygen deprived for me to be having aural hallucinations.
"Not until you answer me, Parker," the voice insisted, adding, "Are you alright?"
"I'm hearing voices so I guess not," she remarked out loud with a raw, sardonic chuckle that quickly evolved into a surprised gasp at the sensation of hands on her torso, grasping firmly and lifting her out of the water.
* * * *
"Put me down," Parker protested feebly as she slapped weakly at Jarod's chest, her arms feeling like wet noodles. In truth, she liked the way it felt to be tucked securely in his strong arms with her barely clad body pressed firmly against his… and hated herself for liking it at the same time.
"What am I going to do with you, Parker?" Jarod commented with a weary sigh as he set her down gently on the edge of chaise lounge and wrapped a towel around her.
"You aren't going to anything with me!" she snapped, yanking the end of the towel from his hands and pulling it more tightly around her. "I was fine, just fine. Not ALL women need to be rescued, you know."
"I know," he replied defensively as he took a seat across from her.
They remained in awkward silence for a few moments with Parker turning her head to stare into the neon green of the lighted pool and Jarod looking down to track the progress of a large, black ant across the eighteen inches or so that constituted the "demilitarized zone" between them.
"Do you think your 'best friend' would approve of your showing up here like this?" she remarked in a tone that betrayed rather less sarcasm and more vulnerability than she'd have preferred.
Looking up to meet her eyes, he replied softly, "That's a very good question. If she wasn't so busy trying to DROWN herself, I could ask her."
She averted her eyes for an instant before meeting his gaze again and shaking her head. "Jarod," she began then cleared her throat before continuing, "I owe you an apology. I never should have…"
"Ah… ah… ah…" he interrupted, shaking his head. "Oh, no you don't! Miss Parker, the queen of control, acted on her 'feelings' for once. I know, for a genius, I can be pretty thick sometimes but, thanks to you, I've finally figured out what's been going on with us recently. I said something really stupid in Maine – now, why I said it in the first place is something I'll get to later – but the point is that you actually exhibited a normal human emotional response to it and I'll be damned if I let you off the hook now."
"But, New York…" she started to explain. "It was just a stupid…"
"Nope," he stopped her again. "Won't let you do that either. Wouldn't you figure that a man who's spent virtually all his life doing simulations ought to be able to distinguish what's real from what isn't? Okay, so sometimes I need to be hit on the head with a hammer for it to sink in, but eventually…" He paused, grinned and added, "It does."
Burying her head in her hands, Parker groaned, "What the hell was I thinking?"
Jarod stood and reached over to grab up her robe. Holding it open for her, he replied, "You weren't and, for a few minutes there, neither was I. The results were most intriguing, wouldn't you agree?"
Parker lifted her head and stared blankly at him for a moment before sighing resignedly, hauling herself up and pulling off the towel covering her bikini-clad form. She managed to catch his appreciative smirk before turning around and smirking herself as she let him help her into her robe.
* * * *
"Make yourself at home," Parker called out sarcastically from the kitchen as she glanced into the living room to see Jarod lounging on the couch, the picture of relaxation.
"I will, thank you," he shot back playfully.
Sensing his genuine contentment at being there, she bit her lip, hesitating in the doorway before proceeding into the room and handing him a glass of wine without asking whether or not he wanted one. As he took it from her and leaned forward to place it on the coffee table, she sensed his eyes drinking in her appearance and suddenly felt exposed, underdressed.
Her chosen attire had been the subject of some deliberation as she'd paced the bedroom and cast the occasional nervous glance at the tightly closed door as if expecting… lord knows what. She'd vacillated between covering every inch of her body, head to toe, and putting on what she would wear under normal circumstances, which is the course of action she had ultimately decided upon after her very brief, scalding hot shower. She had found it extremely nerve-wracking to be showering with him in the next room. The rational part of her figured it probably wasn't the first time, but it was the first time she did so knowingly, and it was all she could do to quell the butterflies in her stomach.
Here she was, standing barefoot in a hi-rise beachfront condo, wearing a tank top and a pair of loose-fitting drawstring shorts with her hair still wet from showering. And here he was, in a t-shirt and jeans, sitting back comfortably in the dead center of the sofa, his long, slender legs disappearing under coffee table to cross at the ankles, his long, muscled arms extending in either direction. It all seemed so casual, so normal. Her stomach did a summersault.
Parker drew a long sip of her wine then took a seat beside him, ignoring the impulse to sit at the far edge of the sofa, beyond the reach of his outstretched arm. In order to talk her way out of the mess she'd gotten herself into, she would need to appear cool, betray no weakness. She turned to look at him but he stared straight ahead as he offered, "Nice place," then leaned forward to pick up his glass with is left hand. She was, of course, sitting to his right.
She watched intently as he lifted the glass to his parting lips then observed the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. It made her feel restless. Without even realizing it, she turned her entire body to face him, tucked her legs up under her, and leaned against the back of the couch so that some of her wet tendrils spilled onto his outstretched arm.
"A friend lent it to me," she explained before taking another sip from her glass.
"So…" Jarod turned his head to meet her gaze. "Fritz Langer, international businessman, is a friend, is he?"
"Yes," she said with a cool nod.
"Nice place," he repeated.
"Yeah, so you said."
"Ever stayed here before?"
"Yes."
"Was Mr. Langer here at the time or was he in his Dallas office or, perhaps, Düsseldorf, where I believe he is right now?"
She knew the implication of the question – it was obviously a one bedroom condo. Ignoring it she remarked, "You've been busy, Jarod."
"Had to play catch-up… in the 'old days,' I'd have known all about him."
"Oh." She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You really have stopped snooping. I've been wondering."
"It didn't seem right once you joined the side of the righteous." He chuckled when she shot him one of her trademark "spare me" looks then added, "He's got to be relatively new. How did you meet?"
Parker hesitated a moment then muttered, "At work," into her glass before taking another sip and averting her eyes for a moment or two. When they settled back on Jarod, she noticed the visible tension in his jaw and drew a heavy breath, holding it in anticipation of his next comment.
"Friend of Daddy's, is he?"
"No," she managed in an even tone, probably because she had seen it coming. "He's a friend of MINE. The Centre DOES have legitimate contracts and he's a legitimate businessman. Feel free to snoop all you like if you don't have anything better to do with your time. I don't believe he has anything to hide, not even a wife and kids stashed away in a foreign capital."
"Planning a move to the Continent then?"
He's got a lot of fucking nerve, she thought as she unconsciously twisted a lock of damp hair around her finger. She opened her mouth to tell him as much but, instead, out came,
"It is not a grand love affair, Jarod."
And that was the absolute truth, although she hadn't had the slightest intention of sharing it with him. She and Fritz had hit it off immediately, went on a few dates when he was in town on business, and eventually fell into a comfortable, if intermittent, sexual relationship. It was her first since Thomas's death and she'd been more than content with its casual nature. In fact, they'd seen each other less than a half dozen times in the roughly ten months since meeting. The last time they'd been together was over three months earlier, in late February, right before he left for an extended stay in Europe. She didn't expect to see him again until late summer at the earliest and they had parted amiably, making no promises. They did speak by phone every week or two but the conversations were rather more friendly than romantic in tone. He was a kind, generous man and, when she'd called him from La Guardia Airport, rousing him from sleep on one of his rare days off to take him up on his offer to use the condo whenever she liked, he had been beyond sweet.
"Then what is it?"
Somewhat amazed at her seeming inability to become angry with him, Parker pondered a moment and, with a shrug, explained, "Sometimes people just want company, someone to pass the time with for a while. A relationship doesn't have to be a lifetime commitment to have value. I suppose it's one of those 'gray areas' we encounter in everyday life that you'll learn to live with the longer you're out here."
With a wry smile, Jarod commented, "Oh, I think I'm living with them just fine as it is. Am I safe in assuming that lying to one woman in order to spend time with another woman in her boyfriend's apartment is another one of those 'gray areas?'"
His remark caught her so off guard that she just stared, agape, for a beat or two before dissolving into hearty laughter. When he laughed along with her, she realized something, or perhaps finally admitted something to herself that she'd been repressing for ages, probably from the beginning. She *liked* him. She genuinely *liked* the man he had become or was still becoming, whatever. Pent up sexual tension was one thing; genuine regard was quite another.
*Uh-oh* went the little voice in her head as she felt her body shift and her head come to rest on his outstretched arm. *Uh-oh* it went again as she felt him gently remove her glass from her hand and set it on the table. *Uh-oh* it went a third time as she felt his hand on her cheek, his body now in much closer proximity to hers.
"What do you want from me, Jarod?" Parker asked, her voice sounding small, vulnerable.
"I know you've asked me that question several times over the years," he replied in a tone that warmed her head to toe. "And I think I may finally have a straight answer for you."
He leaned in even closer and she all but stopped breathing, her eyes closing as she felt him pull her into a bone fide, full-fledged caress. Then there was the sweet, gentle press of his lips to her forehead followed by the delicious vibration of his words as he spoke softly into her hair.
"For one thing, I know what I DON'T want. I don't want to disappear. Not now anyway; I'm just not there yet. What I DO want is to have long conversations with you, about all sorts of things that don't have anything to do with the Centre, my past or yours. I want to watch a movie with you then argue about its merits over ice cream afterwards. And dance…" His voice appeared to lower an octave. "I want to do a LOT more dancing… with you. Oh, and I'd like to do all of this without placing my freedom, or our lives, in jeopardy."
"Aye, there's the rub," Parker remarked sadly as she pulled out of his embrace. Smiling she added, "Now, most forty-year-old men would have said 'over coffee' or 'over a drink.'"
With a diffident smile and a shrug, he said, "It isn't impossible, you know. Sure, it can't be every weekend but we've been successfully 'collaborating' for over a year and, if we're careful..."
"Your dance card is pretty full these days," she interjected. "And I won't be someone's little piece on the side. There was a time that I could be, but not anymore."
"I know," he responded, frowning. "And you have to know I would never ask you to be. Lately she's been hinting that she wants more, some sort of concrete commitment."
"Not unreasonable under the circumstances. She has been on the lam for a year, not to mention her little run in with my idiot brother and Cox. And, of course, we know she hates my guts… again, hardly unreasonable, and for a whole host of reasons."
"We both know there's only one," he said, reclaiming her cheek. "And believe me I've given this a lot of thought. In fact, I've thought of little else for the past 48 hours. I won't deny that she means a lot to me. I may even love her, although I'm still not entirely comfortable tossing that word around. Even with my family, it's…
"I know," she offered with a nod.
"But there is one thing about which I am positively certain: there is no way I can continue to maintain a relationship with her while you're in my life, regardless of HOW you're in my life. I know it hurts her and I hate that, but the underlying issue is WHY it hurts her, which brings me to my idiotic comment in Maine."
"It doesn't matter, Jarod, I was just being…"
"Human. We've already covered that, Parker. And I was being an idiot. I couldn't bring myself to refer to her as my 'girlfriend' when addressing you because, subconsciously, I find it highly inconvenient to have a 'girlfriend' when I'm in your company."
"Oh God," she groaned, her expression evolving into one of profound mortification. "You've been talking to Sydney about this. Did you tell him… about Friday night? OH GOD!"
"Hey," he soothed with a chuckle as he tilted her chin up. "It's okay. We can trust him."
"Of course we can trust him; I'll just never be able to look him in the eye again."
"Medical necessity, I'm afraid. Who knows what damage I'd have done if I'd acted without consulting him first. As usual, he helped me clarify things."
"Like it's time to dump your girlfriend?" Parker eyed him suspiciously. "That doesn't sound like Sydney to me."
"Like you said earlier, Zoe's made sacrifices for me. And I feel indebted to her, eternally so. But, as Sydney pointed out, it would be wrong to continue a relationship out of gratitude or obligation. It would be reprehensible, actually. And, as it appears to come down to her or you, I guess I've made my decision. But you know all this, Parker; you're the one who issued the ultimatum… when we were in Detroit with Ethan. I'm a little dense so you were forced to reissue it the other night. I'm sorry about that. Well, in truth, I'm not. I REALLY enjoyed the dancing; I'd just have preferred that it hadn't been an act of betrayal."
Shaking her head, Parker advised, "It won't be easy for you, Jarod. You'll be breaking someone's heart."
"I'm already breaking someone's heart; it might as well be a clean break."
"But I can't promise…"
"I'm not asking you to promise – or give up – anything… or anyone. I just… I need to have you in my life right now and I'll take what I can get. And, speaking of what I can get, I was wondering if I could crash here tonight."
"Jarod…" Parker warned.
"On the couch, of course," he clarified with a smirk. "With you tucked securely away in the bedroom. I'm booked in the Sheraton next door and I'm sure glad I prepaid my room because I made a bit of a spectacle of myself and would really prefer not to go back, for a few hours anyway."
"Huh?"
"I was, um, watching you do laps with night vision goggles. Oh, rats, I left them on the balcony of my room."
"Jarod…"
"I know, but old habits die hard. Besides, I was trying to muster up the courage to come over here when I realized you weren't going to stop until you blacked out. I panicked and went flying out of the room, down fourteen flights of stairs and, here's the thing, through a crowded lobby to get to the beachside exit. Unfortunately, I took down a porter bearing a full room service tray along the way. I'll have to send the poor guy something. I feel terrible about it, particularly since I barely stopped to see if he was okay."
"Way to be 'careful,' genius," she quipped, folding her arms.
"Well, I wouldn't suggest we take in that movie in Clearwater," he replied with a grin.
* * * *
Jarod smiled serenely as he watched her sleep soundly in his arms. He was still on the sofa but she'd never made it to the bedroom, having drifted off with her head on his shoulder as he recited "The Velveteen Rabbit" to her from memory. He'd only just realized that the reason he'd even bothered to memorize it – years ago while on a pretend as a preschool teacher – was for the sole, expressed purpose of telling it to her one day.
# # # #
And on to part three… yippee! (Sorry, I'm feeling a little strange today.)