Miss Parker counted the days, weeks and months. Three months to be exact and Jarod had not made an attempt to contact her. There were no leads on him. She even recruited Broots in trying to locate his whereabouts, threatening him to string him upside down over live crocodiles if he breathed a word of her request.
She dreaded going home for it only reminded her of Jarod, that night on Valentine's Day. She didn't need anyone in her life, so she thought. She was perfectly fine, until this pretender found his way into her heart.
It wasn't suppose to be like this. She wasn't about to admit to him that she loved him. She promised herself she'd never slip one word of her feelings for him, to him. Biggest mistake she'd ever made. Now, she was destined to live a life of loneliness. He seemed to be everywhere and she wishes that all she could do was to reach out to him, to feel him. Why did she ask him to leave? Miss Parker was so sure anyone standing next to her could actually hear her heart breaking.
She closes her eyes. Pretending. She lays on her side asleep, he next to her. His large hand outlines her body. Starting with her neck, sliding down to her shoulder and arm, he lightly touches the indentation of her waist, feeling the curves of her hip and thigh. What a wonderful feeling, touch. He then works his way back upwards until his hand rests on the side of her face, he slowly and gently caresses her dark shiny hair, tucking it behind her ears. She moans softly, she pulls herself up, stretches, turns to look at him over her shoulder, then slowly crawls onto him.
Miss Parker cries, for her dreams and fantasies are just that, a figment of her imagination.
There were nights when he'd awaken staring at the ceiling wondering about her or if she ever thought about him at all. There were times when Jarod wished he had never met her. She complicated his life. He questions his love for her. How could he actually love someone as cruel as Miss Parker? What was he thinking of? Professing his love to her. Biggest mistake of his life.
But yet, he pretends. The only thing which covers her body is a lavender velvet robe with silk lining. She grabs his hand, pulling him onto the dance floor. He wraps his arms around her waist through the opening of her robe, feeling the softness of her skin, her hands twined around his neck, embracing each other as close as possible, dancing to the sound of seductive music. The music stops, he slips her robe off of her shoulders and onto the floor.
Grabbing his pillow, Jarod throws it against the wall. "Stop!" He yells out loud to himself.
It was midnight, Miss Parker laid sleepless in bed, the pounding on her front door startled her. Jumping up, clad in only a red laced camisole, she grabs her "Smith" from under the bed. Making her way to the living room, turning on the lights, she quietly unlocks the door and abruptly opens it, in a stance position, her finger is on the trigger ready to fire.
"It's me, Parker," his voice was huskily low-toned.
"I can see that," she answers, her finger still on the trigger." Parker doesn't know if she should run into his arms or blast his bloody head off for what he had put her through.