Disclaimer: I can only hope that someday such enthralling and complex characters are my personal creations. Until then, the characters of the Pretender have been borrowed and made to live out various situations at my demand and whim. They are not mine.

Summary: Jarod steals valuable Centre information and puts himself into the public eye, the one place the Centre can see him and not touch him. The directive's the same, his freedom for hers. The field of play, however, is entirely different.

Author's note: If you object to seductive and insinuative dancing being placed underneath a PG-13 rating, I don't suggest you go to a movie theatre anytime soon, as most things in a PG-13 movie are even racier. I don't feel that this chapter warrants an R rating, as it's not especially explicit, so much as suggestive, but you've been warned. The f-word appears once, for explanatory purposes, which is most certainly allowable within the realm of PG-13 movies without having to slap a huge warning on it for language. In any case, if that bothers you, again, you've been warned

The chapter title comes from a beautiful song by the French artist Wasis Diop, available on his album Toxu and appearing on the 1999 Thomas Crown Affair Soundtrack.

Centre Affairs

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 3

Everything Is Never Quite Enough

"This is Sydney." Before he had even picked up the phone, Sydney knew whose voice would greet him on the other end of the line.

"How do porcupines mate?" Jarod asked without pre-amble.

"It's been ages since I've heard this joke, but if I remember correctly, the answer is: very carefully."

"Carefully." Jarod paused. "Or unsuccessfully. You don't see many porcupines."

"Creatures with highly evolved defense systems rarely form rewarding relationships." Sydney stopped to think for a moment. "What's drawn your attention to this topic?"

"Nothing in particular, it was merely an observation."

Sydney's brow furrowed. "I very much doubt that you brought it up without a reason. Though, I can guess fairly easily - Miss Parker."

"Yes."

"I'm vaguely concerned about your intentions with regards to Miss Parker."

"Why?"

"It's one thing to play head games with the Centre, Jarod, and quite another to play them with Miss Parker."

"Who exactly are you concerned about, Sydney?" Jarod questioned sternly. "We both know Miss Parker can take care of herself."

"I'm concerned for you both. Despite what either of you believes, the games you play with each other have vast repercussions on both of your subconsciences. Whether you're playing the chase for the Centre or not, I sincerely discourage your creating an illusion of something you don't truly feel."

"Even the greatest pretend is based on some existing feeling within its pretender."

"But if the feeling is being amplified and projected for appearances, it's nearly as false as one that was created that does not exist at all. If you intend to pursue a relationship with Miss Parker, it should be based on something more than the facades you've both adopted for this round of the chase."

"More unsolicited advice about my sex life, Sydney. I'll keep it under consideration."

"Don't make her another trophy in Mr. Crown's collection of female conquests, Jarod. She deserves better than that."

"I very much doubt that Miss Parker would do anything she didn't want to, Sydney."

"This is about more than taking advantage of the situation you've created. If, after you have found what you are looking for and the pretend ends, you resume life away from the persona of Mr. Crown, you will regret having played a person that has been such an intrical part of your life."

"How do you know she's not playing me, Sydney? We both know Miss Parker is capable of less than honorable acts."

"That's my point, Jarod, she'd be just as much to blame as you would. But, mark my words, neither one of you would walk away unscathed."

"I know what I'm doing, Sydney." Jarod hung up.

Sydney closed his eyes and shook his head. "I hope so, Jarod." After a moment, he echoed to his empty studio, "I hope so."

****

Miss Parker sat in the Centre's car, paying close attention to Jarod's front door.

"Miss Parker, won't Mr. Lyle be upset that you've, uh, left him behind at the Centre without telling him what you were doing?" Broots said from his seat next to her.

"Since when do I report my actions to my brother?" Her eyes remained focused outside of her backseat window.

"Well, um, never. But, he's going to be upset, and..."

"Stop you're whining, Broots, I'll take care of my brother," Miss Parker said sternly. "Jarod is my business, not his."

"Um, what exactly are we here to do?"

Miss Parker opened her door and stepped gracefully from the car, replying, "We're here to break in."

Broots swallowed hard and blinked. "B-break in? To Jarod's house?"

"Yes," Miss Parker hissed, dropping her head back through the door. "Scared, Broots?" Miss Parker asked with a snide smirk.

"No," Broots said softly. Miss Parker raised an eyebrow, causing him to reassert in a stronger voice, "no."

"Then hurry up. We've only got forty minutes before his housekeeper gets back." Miss Parker stalked briskly away from the car, leaving Broots to get out himself. Sam followed her closely, with Broots trailing awkwardly behind the large sweeper.

"Cover us, Sam," Miss Parker requested of the sweeper.

Miss Parker deftly picked the lock on Jarod's front door and the trio slipped inside quickly. Flicking her hand up, she stopped Broots from traveling past the foyer and tilted her head toward the alarm panel on the wall.

"You've got exactly thirty seconds to crack it."

Broots went to work on the alarm panel quickly, concentrating on the latest task Miss Parker had given him, while trying to ignore the fact that his safety always seemed to be put at risk to get information she was after.

Miss Parker focused on her wristwatch. "Twenty seconds, Broots."

She watched the techie work rapidly.

"Ten seconds."

Several intense moments passed and Miss Parker's cool demeanor became tempered by a barely visible amount of anxiety. With two seconds left, there was a beep and the alarm disarmed.

"Got it," Broots said breathlessly.

Miss Parker's cool face was back in place. "Good work, Broots." She wandered out of the entryway and into Jarod's house, leaving the sweeper and the techie at the front door.

Broots blinked at the alarm panel a few times before turning toward the stern faced sweeper and then back to his boss. "Uh, um, Miss Parker, what exactly are we looking for?"

"The information Jarod's stolen," Miss Parker hissed with annoyance. "I didn't schlep all the way out here just to take a tour of Wonderboy's house." She turned back toward the two men. "Sam, search the first floor. Broots, look in Jarod's office, check his computer, see if you can find his laptop or any extraneous hard drives."

Sam headed away without question, leaving Broots at the front door, standing out of place in the stylish room. Eventually, Broots walked cautiously out of the room towards Jarod's office, trying to avoid bumping into anything that looked moderately expensive.

Miss Parker walked around the front room slowly, absorbing every aspect of it. Jarod's house was the polar opposite of every one of his lairs. Where the dingy hotel rooms he usually stayed in spoke of cockroaches, scanty towels, and sheets with cigarette burns, his house was full of marble floors, plush velvet carpet, sculptures and expensive artwork.

One particular painting, on the wall above the stairwell, drew her attention longer than the other items decorating the room. It was a large gold-framed work, most likely oils but possibly acrylics, of a woman on a sailboat. She was sitting on the edge of the boat, her body drawn back and her hair flowing in the ocean breeze. Her mouth and face were held in a look of ecstasy and Parker wondered why Jarod would have hung such a sensual piece of art in such a conspicuous area.

After a moment of reflecting on Jarod's odd style of decoration, she climbed the stairs, past the painting, to search the second floor of Jarod's house.

The second floor offered the same bacheloresque elegance as the first. Polished wood, soft carpeting, the darker, harder edges and colors of a businessman's house.

Miss Parker wasn't sure what propelled her to look in Jarod's bedroom first. She very much doubted he'd hide Centre information in some place as personal as his room, much less, the house at all. Nevertheless, she had been drawn to search the building, and, more specifically, his bedroom.

The same soft carpeting that covered the stairwell and hallway continued into Jarod's bedroom. Its rich color was accented by Jarod's furniture, obviously expensive, hand-carved wood. His room, like the rest of the house, displayed several pieces of artwork, none of which were as captivating or provocative as the one she had seen downstairs. Every item had a lavish but unused air; impersonal to an extreme.

As Miss Parker walked slowly through the room, she stopped to study the line of pictures adorning Jarod's dresser. Each frame held a portrait of a different woman, all beautiful but seemingly dispassionate. Some were signed and Miss Parker vaguely recognized the faces of women who usually graced the covers of fashion magazines. Her mind registered that they were a type of trophy. Each face belonged to a woman Jarod had slept with at some point during his pretend. Jarod Crown was, after all, a playboy - the type to engage in tawdry affairs, the short sexual relationships that she herself engaged in.

Running her forefinger along the dresser, past each photo, she wondered how far into his pretend Jarod had immersed himself. Whether the pictures had been fabricated; an illusion created to fit Jarod's current lifestyle, like the rest of the objects decorating his house, or if they actually held merit and truth.

Moving away from the dresser, she made the necessary checks underneath Jarod's bed, inside of his closet, and through his drawers. She didn't find the information she was looking for and left the room, going through the same motions in the other rooms along the hallway.

Her search upstairs was fruitless, offering only more ornate and useless items. Miss Parker had to hand it to Jarod; he had certainly gone to every length to assume the role of Jarod Crown. By all appearances, he was exactly what he pretended to be.

When she joined Broots in Jarod's office, she felt like she was stepping into an executive's office at a powerful corporation rather than Jarod's work room. There were no familiar PEZ dispensers or little toys lying around. Everything was neat and organized, designed for efficiency. For the second time that day, Miss Parker wondered how much of Jarod's pretend was no longer a pretend at all.

"I may have found what we're looking for," Broots mumbled distractedly, when he noticed that Miss Parker had entered the room. "I hacked into Jarod's computer and ran a full trace on his system with a program I created to track files that came from the Centre mainframe."

Miss Parker took up her normal position, behind Broots. "How exactly does it work?"

"Well, the Centre has a special computer code embedded into all of its files. See, they weren't generated by a normal program and they also can't be accessed by most programs, particularly those available to the general public."

"Makes sense; that way, any idiot with Microsoft or a knowledge of DOS can't breach the mainframe."

"Right. It really is an ingenious system. The only way you can possibly hack the files is if you have a knowledge of the original code, and the only way you would know the code is if..."

"You worked in the Centre, or created the code yourself," Miss Parker finished with disdain. "Jarod's probably the one that created the damn program in the first place."

"It doesn't make sense though. Why would he have waited so long to hack the mainframe if he'd known how to do it all along?" Broots asked.

"He wouldn't." Miss Parker started pacing behind Broots. "Which means he got the code from someone inside of the Centre." She stopped and turned back to the Broots. "How many of the technicians besides you have clearance to access the code?"

"Um, three or four. But, the Tower has the original. Anything we're given on the tech floor has slight modifications to it."

Miss Parker narrowed her eyes. "Well, someone is leaking information to Jarod. When we get back to the Centre, I want you to find out exactly how many people know the code and run a background check on all of them."

Broots nodded just as Sam entered the room. "How much longer do we have, Sam?" Miss Parker asked, without bothering to ask if he'd found anything.

"Ten minutes," the Sweeper answered.

"You've got five minutes, Broots," Miss Parker instructed. She left the room with Sam in tow.

The techie quickly set about copying the gathered files to a ZIP disk.

****

"Why the hell wasn't I informed that you were going to Jarod's house today?" Lyle stalked angrily into the Sim-lab the minute he was told Miss Parker had returned.

Broots was already hard at work retrieving the files he'd copied from Jarod's computer.

Miss Parker smirked. "What? Upset that I managed to break in without getting caught and you didn't?"

Lyle's eyes narrowed as he continued acidly, "This has nothing to do with that. You had an obligation to report to me."

"Bullshit. I report to the Centre, not you," Miss Parker hissed.

"Look, I don't know what the hell you're up to, Parker, but sneaking around behind the Centre's back isn't going to accomplish anything but another unpleasant encounter with the Triumvirate," Lyle warned coldly.

"The Triumvirate can go to hell for all I care," Miss Parker sneered. "The Africans are your business, Lyle, not mine."

"The Africans are our business," Lyle retorted evenly. "If the Triumvirate gets upset with the Centre, we're the ones who take the fall. Maybe you'd stop to consider that fact if you weren't so busy trying to seduce the lab rat."

Miss Parker's head snapped up and her eyes flashed. "Quite contrary, Jarod is the one trying to seduce me," she replied coolly, though it was easy to see he had gotten a rise out of her.

Lyle chuckled. "You really are beautiful when you're angry," he smirked.

"Go to hell, Lyle."

"Um," Broots interrupted the latest bantering match between the two Parker twins. "These files have been encrypted." He was met with two glares.

"Then decrypt them, Broots," Miss Parker said evenly.

"I, uh… I can't."

"Then find someone who can," Lyle replied with annoyance.

"They can't be decrypted."

Miss Parker snapped her fingers at Broots. "The point, Broots?"

"There's no way to access these files. It's impossible."

"Like hell, it's impossible. If Jarod could encrypt them, there has to be a way to decrypt them. Find one."

"I can't. Even if I could find a way, it would take weeks, possibly even months, to crack the code," Broots tried to argue back.

"Then find a way to do it faster," Lyle said, taking a step toward the techie.

Miss Parker sidestepped into his path smoothly. "This information is my business, Lyle. I found it and I am damn well going to be the first one to see it," she said coldly. "I'm sure you have more important things to do anyway. The Triumvirate is probably starting to miss their lap dog," she sneered.

"Watch your back, Parker," Lyle said coolly "This little game you've got going with the lab rat could be your death warrant."

"Is that a threat, Lyle?" Miss Parker asked with derision.

Lyle scoffed. "Hardly. I'd just hate to see another Parker thrown from the Centre hierarchy for misunderstood intentions. I doubt the Triumvirate will believe your dinner date with Jarod was professional."

"The Triumvirate can believe whatever the hell they want to. I'm doing exactly what I was ordered to do."

"Carousing with the lab rat isn't what you were ordered to do," Lyle replied tartly.

"Stay the hell out of it, Lyle."

"Like I said, Parker, watch you back," Lyle repeated before stalking out of the Sim-lab the same way he had entered.

"Um," Broots said, when Lyle's domineering presence had left.

Miss Parker harsh glare landed on him. "What?!"

"The, uh, files just decrypted themselves."

Miss Parker walked towards him. "And? What do they say?"

Broots moved away from the screen so that Parker could see.

Miss Parker read the screen closely. There were hundreds of pages covered with the same phrase, repeated over and over- "Close, but no cigar." Miss Parker pulled back angrily and turned to the techie.

"Find Jarod," she hissed. Broots didn't move "Now!" she added harshly.

****

Jazz lilted through the large room as Miss Parker walked in. A soft and mellow sound to accompany the men and woman who were seated at tables around the room eating their dinner.

Jarod's secretary had informed her that he would be attending a benefit that evening. Another black and white event. Without one word to Lyle or the Tower, Miss Parker had called for a limousine and headed out to Manhattan.

After surveying the room quietly from the door, Miss Parker spotted Jarod on the dance floor in the middle of the room. His arms were wrapped around a slender blonde woman in a white satin dress and they seemed to be engaging in a very soft conversation. Making her way over to them, Miss Parker tapped the other woman on the shoulder.

"Excuse me?" The blonde asked, as she and Jarod separated.

"I'm cutting in," Miss Parker said smoothly.

Jarod's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and a slight grin curled his lips. The blonde woman gave Miss Parker a defiant glare as she waited for Jarod's response.

"It's alright, Anna," Jarod said to the blonde, kissing her softly on the forehead. Miss Parker didn't read anything into the exchange, and barely acknowledged the cold look of contempt the girl gave her as she walked away.

Jarod watched Anna walk away for a moment and then turned back to Parker. Gesturing to her body, he said coolly, "It's a black and white ball, Parker."

Miss Parker looked at the red wrap she had tucked around her arms and grinned devilishly. "I wasn't invited anyway."

The dress she had chosen to wear was bordering on public indiscretion - sheer black fabric that did little to conceal her nude form underneath. Every curve showed through the thin garment. She noted Jarod's appreciative smirk as she moved into his open arms.

"You left yourself wide open," she said calmly.

Jarod didn't reply to her remark, his eyes drawn to the low neckline of her dress. "You're all flushed," he commented casually.

Miss Parker continued without acknowledging his statement. "How many people know the base code of the Centre's mainframe? Five? Six?"

"Seven." Jarod smirked. "And, I'm sure you'll find each and every one of them."

"I'm not just going to pick up breadcrumbs you lay out, I can smell blood on my own," Miss Parker sneered.

Jarod chuckled as he spun her out and drew her back. "You're just inches away."

"I am inches away," she hissed in his ear, as she drew up behind him. "You'd do well to remember that."

Jarod laughed again.

"Smug bastard."

The slow jazz that had been playing ended and the band began a new song. Conga drums started a steady beat and then saxophones began playing. The tempo changed to a saucy tango, rhythmic and fluid.

Miss Parker pulled away from Jarod and began dancing in front of him, swaying to the pulse of the music.

Jarod watched her flow seamlessly, twisting and turning, her eyes watching him closely as she moved. Her attention remained focused on him as she moved around in front of him and then turned behind him, sliding against his body seductively.

Jarod grinned at her exquisite movements, sliding back against her body. The friction was electric.

When she slipped away, he followed, coming up behind her and moving his hands to her hips. They swayed together for a moment before she slipped away again and he was left with the red wrap in his hands.

Growling softly, as much with annoyance as arousal, Jarod tossed the garment over his shoulder and followed Parker again.

The rest of the couples moving around the ballroom seemed to pay no attention to Jarod and Miss Parker's erotic dance in the middle of the dance floor. They had their own isolated spot, unbroken, as the other couples engaged in less seductive tango movements around the floor.

With Miss Parker's wrap gone, more of her curves were visible through the thin fabric of her dress. Jarod watched appreciatively from behind as Miss Parker placed one hand in her hair and another on her abdomen and swayed her hips even more. Her motions weaved an enticing spell, drawing Jarod towards her again.

Miss Parker's hands moved to her hips as Jarod came up behind her and placed his hands over hers. Sliding against him again, they moved together to the pulsing beat of the conga drums. When the song reached a crescendo, Miss Parker threw Jarod's hands off and slid away again.

Jarod's eyes narrowed as he realized Miss Parker was leading him on a seductive chase around the dance floor. He didn't stop to think about why she was playing this sort of game with him, letting the music and her body entrance him.

Instead of following her, Jarod stayed where he was and watched Miss Parker spin and flow in front of him. Eventually, she moved back towards him, her backside facing him. His eyes watched every part of her body move to the brazen tango as she wound her way back to him, never turning around to see the effect she was having on him.

When her body met his again, her hands slid up into her hair, brushing it against Jarod's face so that he could breathe in the alluring scent. Just when she was about to move away from him again, he caught her arm and spun her around.

Looking deep into her eyes, he asked suggestively, "Do you want to dance, or do you want to dance?"

Watching him closely, her eyes focused on his lips, wondering how much farther she should take her game with him. It had been fun leading him around the dance floor, letting him chase her for once, but her only intention had been to leave him flustered and unfulfilled. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Her hand moving around to the back of his neck, she drew his mouth towards hers and kissed him tentatively. Her eyes again focused on his lips as she drew back, wondering if she was kissing Jarod or Mr. Crown, and whether the dividing line even existed anymore. After a few short moments, she moved in again, reclaiming his lips in a longer kiss as his hands moved to the small of her back and held her close.

The space they had held in the middle of the dance floor closed in around them as the other couples danced closer, spinning and fluctuating around them.

When they reached Jarod's house, a short time later, the dance resumed.

Miss Parker moved into the house ahead of Jarod, while he locked the door and reset the alarm. Walking halfway into the room, she turned around to face him. When he was facing her again, she let the thin straps of her dress fall from her shoulders, and down her body. Stepping out of the pool of fabric, she waited for Jarod to come to her, standing before him with only high heels and black satin gloves adorning her body.

Jarod moved slowly, shedding his jacket as he walked toward her, drinking in the sight of her nude body, leaving her to wonder if she was being appreciated by Jarod or merely viewed by Mr. Crown. Her bare flesh met his starched white dress shirt and the dance continued - erotic, seductive, enticing, alluring.

The realm of coherent thought no longer existed as their bodies wound together in a beautiful collision. Hypnotic ecstasy. Hours passed in delicious bouts of ebb and flow. On the marbled tiles, the carpet, even beneath the painting that had so captivated Miss Parker earlier in the day. An adagio of scotch, vodka, sweat, and skin, too intimate to simply be fucking, but too primal to be making love.

Morning came and found them showered and in robes, sitting in Jarod's atrium. The room was beautiful; full of plants and richly colored furniture, covered in finely embroidered pillows.

Paul, Jarod's housekeeper, brought their breakfast to them.

"Thank you, Paul," Jarod said, as his tray was placed in front of him.

"Thank you, Paul," Miss Parker echoed giving the housekeeper a small saccharine smile.

When the housekeeper left, Miss Parker looked pointedly at the tray she had in front of her.

Jarod noted her look then turned back to his newspaper. "Coffee, black, with two sugars."

Miss Parker's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Crown doesn't drink coffee," she said evenly.

Jarod's eyes remained focused on the newspaper. "No, he doesn't."

"And he only serves tea," Miss Parker continued.

Jarod nodded without turning to her.

"I don't suppose you just ran out for coffee?" She said sarcastically.

"No."

"Smug bastard," she hissed.

Jarod smirked and ate a piece of toast. "Coming here was your decision, Miss Parker," he said calmly.

"Did you sim me?" Miss Parker asked harshly.

Jarod looked at her and blinked. "No," he said smoothly.

Miss Parker narrowed her eyes at him. "I never knew I was such a forgone conclusion," she said with annoyance, then gave Jarod's crooked grin the same saccharine smile she had just given his housekeeper.

They ate in silence for a moment.

Sipping at her coffee, Miss Parker said casually, "You're living very well out here, Jarod. It would be a shame to have to leave it all."

The corner of Jarod's mouth curled. "You have to find the information before you can bring me in."

"This doesn't change anything, you know."

Jarod nodded.

"I won't back off, not even for a second."

Jarod grinned. "It would be hugely disappointing if you did.