A/N: Okay, for all of you who thought 40 minutes wasn't enough shipper time ... here you go. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer in part 1

Guilty
by imagine

Part 18?

As Jarod stretched out beside her, she rolled into his arms. His touch was strong and gentle, enveloping her as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him. For the first time in her life, Miss Parker believed that she was.

In the shadows of the firelight, the bruises on his body evaporated, leaving only the dark, familiar face and muscular form she had, secretly, grown to think of as her own. Her hand slid slowly up his chest, through tufts of dark hair and over firm ridges of muscle, absorbing the quiver of each anxious breath. When he dropped his mouth to her fingers, taking them individually between his lips in a slow, moist caress, she ran her free hand along the side of his face and behind his neck, pulling him closer. His lips moved from her fingers to her arm to her shoulder, his kisses becoming more desperate until their mouths met and her breaths became his.

Her leg slid over his, softly running her toes down the length of his thigh and calf while her lips slipped between his lips. It flicked inside his mouth long enough to taunt, retreated, repeating the act several times before she felt him shiver in frustration.

Suddenly rolling onto his back, he pulled the woman on top of him and, as her weight settled across his belly, Jarod's hands moved lightly down her spine. His fingers curled around her buttocks, squeezing them tightly before sliding to her hips. His mouth rose to meet hers but, supporting her weight on his shoulders, the woman pushed him back to the pillows while her hair brushed along his face.

The kiss she bestowed on him was bruising, a deep desperate kiss that left them both panting heavily when she drew back. Though he tried to follow her with his mouth, she held him at bay. His chest rose and fell at a quick pace, his fingers dug into her sides and, more disarmingly, his eyes stared up at her in expectation.

"Are you sure?" she managed. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

He flinched at the questions and dropped his hands to her thighs. Fanning his fingers over the silky flesh, he kept his gaze trained on her and, through his own labored breaths answered, "You have to ask?"

"We can still stop this," she offered. "If this is too much, too soon, too . ."

"No," he growled. Reaching up, he slid his hand behind her neck and brought her lips to his. When she tried to pull away, he held her in place and whispered, "I've wanted this - you and me - even before I was old enough to explain it, Parker. You will never be too much for me. You will never be too anything for me."

The words were barely spoken when Jarod felt the woman shift and, a moment later, he was inside of her.

In the dim light of the dying fire, she slid from the bed. When a flash of lightening lit up the room, she found the sweatshirt he had discarded earlier and slipped it over her head, then turned and faced Jarod. Afraid that a soft kiss might wake him, she bit back the urge. Instead, she drew the quilt from the foot of the bed to his shoulders and smiled softly when the sleeping man burrowed deeper into the protection of the blanket.

Padding to the fireplace, she placed two more logs on the fire and stood in the warmth of the flames, listening to the icy pelts of rain hitting the house and wondering how long they'd been asleep. With her arms wrapped around her waist, she moved to the window and pulled at the heavy drapes, surprised to find that night had fallen.

"What's so fascinating out there?"

"Another storm," she answered, turning and smiling at him. "It appears we may be trapped."

Still laying across the bed, his body shielded by the quilt, Jarod replied, "What a shame."

"It is, isn't it?" she grinned playfully, "I mean, with Broots and Debbie in town, and your mother and Sydney at the hospital, we're here all alone."

Holding his hand out to her, he motioned for her to come back to bed. "I can think of one or two activities we can engage in, to pass the time."

"Only one or two? I thought you were supposed to be a genius."

"Blame it on lack of blood flow to the brain," he answered.

When she pushed his legs to the side and sat on the edge of the bed, he pulled himself up only far enough to kiss her gently on the lips. She saw him wince in pain but, before she could question him, Jarod slid his hand into hers and dropped back to the pillow. He let out a soft sigh and, unexpectedly, his stoic expression turned earnest.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

Suddenly self-conscious, she ran her free hand through her hair. "You need to have your eyes checked. Even in this light, you should be able to see that my hair is matted, my makeup is smeared . ."

"I'm serious, Parker," he said, squeezing her hand when she tried to pull away. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

She smiled and shook her head, softly caressing the side of his face. "And you're sweet."

"Sweet?" he repeated. Turning his head, he kissed the tips of her fingers as they moved across the bruise on his jaw. "After the things we did tonight, the only adjective you can think of, is sweet?"

"What did you expect?" she purred, "You just laid there. I did most of the work."

"Is that so?" he smirked.

She laughed, letting him pull her back to the bed but, when he let out an involuntary moan, she quickly escaped from his arms. His breath caught in his throat and the muscle in his jaw tightened as Jarod drew his arm across his ribs. Taking deep breaths, Jarod slowly dropped back to the pillows and, though his eyes were trained on a point on the ceiling only he could see, she saw the pain spread across his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, when she began to slowly stroke his hair.

"Me, too."

Lifting the quilt, Miss Parker slid her legs beneath it and drew her body against his.

Still wearing his sweatshirt, she gently laid her arm over his belly and rested her head against his shoulder. His lips pressed lightly against her forehead and, without another word, Jarod closed his eyes.

When he woke, he found the space beside him was empty and it took a moment for him to remember why that bothered him so much. Scratching at the light beard that had developed in his sleep, Jarod pulled himself to a sitting position and looked around the room. The fire place was still active, the drapes were still drawn and the quilt was still draped over his body.

Miss Parker and the clothes that had been strewn across the floor, however, were gone. Curious, Jarod wrapped the quilt around his waist and moved from the bed. Just as he was about to reach for the door, however, it opened and Miss Parker entered. Fully dressed, she held a small stack of clothes in her arms.

"What are you doing up?" she asked, unfazed by his sudden presence.

"I could ask you the same question. What time is it?"

"Early,"she answered. Hooking her arm around his, she lead him to the bed.

He frowned. "Early morning or early afternoon?"

"Morning. A little after seven, to be exact," she smiled. Pulling his sweatshirt and pants from the clean pile of clothes she held, she laid them on the bed. "Here, put these on. Broots called, the roads and bridge are closed, so he and Debbie stayed at a motel in town. They probably won't be here until late this afternoon with the supplies. We're going to have to make do with what we've got until they get back."

"You washed clothes? How long have you been up?" he asked, suppressing a yawn. He had no idea what time he had fallen asleep in her arms but, suddenly, that bit of information seemed important.

"Not long. It's not like I had to drag them to the river and pound them with a rock. The machine does all the work," she replied, shooting him a quick grin. "Now, put these things on and get back into bed. You need to rest. I'll put another log on the fire and, if you aren't going to go right back to sleep, I'll get you something to eat."

"Thanks," he snapped, suddenly pulling from her grasp, "but I have a mother. I don't need another one."

"Now, was that really necessary?" she growled, folding her arms across her chest.

"Apparently. Tell me what's happened between last night and now. Why are you acting like I'm going to break into a million pieces?"

"Nothing happened between last night and now," she snapped, moving to the fireplace. "It happened last night. Or don't you remember how much pain you were in?"

Watching her move away, he sighed and shook his head. "Parker, it was nothing," he promised softly, "I overdid it a little. It was a twinge of discomfort, that's all."

"Jarod, I'm not stupid. I know you well enough to know that you have a high threshold of pain. If I saw you react to it, it was unbearable," she argued, facing him. "Tell me, how many twinges of discomfort did you actually have last night? How many times did you let me hurt you?"

"None," he snapped. Sitting on the bed, Jarod slowly pulled the sweatshirt over his head, then glared at her. "And, for the record, you're being ridiculous."

"And you're either a liar or a fool," she muttered, heading for the door. "Now, finish getting dressed and get into bed. I'll be back in a few minutes with some breakfast."

"I said I didn't want any."

"Tough," she spat. "I honestly don't care what you want anymore. In case you've forgotten, we're not on some romantic retreat here. Alex and Cox are after us and, when your mother and Sydney retrieve the scrolls, chances are we're going to have Lyle and an entire sweeper team to deal with, as well. Not including Emma, and the danger we're putting her in, there are four other adults and one teenager in this mess with you, Jarod. The last thing any of us need is for you to seriously hurt yourself because you're too damned stubborn to accept help and let the injuries you have heal."

He raised an eyebrow and stared at her. "How long have you been practicing that speech?"

"Too long," she snapped, stepping into the hall. "And, if you don't cooperate, so help me, Jarod, I'll make you regret it."

He dressed and followed her into the kitchen. Her back was to him and, though he knew she was aware of his presence, she focused on a pan of something she had on the stove. Steeling himself for a possible outburst, Jarod moved behind her and, when she remained still, he slipped his arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Nodding, Miss Parker poked at the pancake sizzling in front of her, but said nothing.

"I promise, you did not hurt me, last night," he continued, kissing the back of her neck.

She flipped the cake and pressed down on it with the spatula, but still said nothing.

"I know what we're up against," he continued, tightening his grip and pulling her body against his. "If I thought my physical condition might put someone in danger, I would be the first to admit it. I know my body. I know my capabilities."

She pushed back at him with her elbow, easily moved from his hold and reached for an empty plate at the edge of the counter. But, still, Miss Parker remained silent and Jarod was beginning to get concerned.

"Parker, look at me," he urged. "I want you to see, for yourself, that I mean what I'm saying."

She shook her head. "I don't need to look at you. I know you're sincere."

The dull tone of her voice made him hesitate but, when she filled a glass with orange juice and turned toward the table without a glance in his direction, he asked, "Are we all right?"

"Do you want bacon or potatoes with the pancakes?" she asked, moving to the refrigerator.

Unable to control himself, Jarod took her arm and turned him to face her. She was punishing him for something he believed was minor, she was refusing to trust him when he said he was all right and, worse, she was ignoring his apology. When he looked into her eyes, though, Jarod loosened his grip and took a step back.

"You've been crying."

"You're getting bacon. I don't feel like making hash browns anymore."

"Parker, look at me," he demanded. Reaching around her, he turned off the flames on the burners and moved between her and the stove. "Tell me why you're so upset."

"Why am I upset?" she hissed, finally glaring up at him. "Do you have any idea what happened last night? I let myself do things I haven't done since . . ."

"Thomas," he finished, sadly.

"No, dammit," she hissed, angrily slapping his chest. "And, don't you ever bring him up again."

Sheepishly, Jarod nodded, watching her mutely as Miss Parker moved away from him.

"I'm not talking about sex," she said, in a softer tone. "I'm trying to tell you that, last night, I let myself believe that we were about more than that, more than the physical act. I admitted to myself that I ... care ... about you."

Facing him, she hugged herself and said, "I admitted that I might possibly love you, dammit. The last time I admitted to loving anyone was my mother."

"Parker . ."

"No," she held up her arms and stepped away before he could pull her close. She did not want to have his arms around her. She did not want to breathe in his scent. She did not want to hear him whisper another apology.

"Parker, you don't understand," he murmured, "I felt the same way. Last night, for the first time, I realized how important you really are to me. I love . ."

"Don't say it," she warned, her eyes narrowing. "I don't want to hear it because I won't believe you."

"What?"

"You're doing the same thing my mother did," she continued, pacing the length of the room. "You're telling me one thing and doing the exact opposite. She told me she loved me. She told me we were going to Europe. She told me I would fall in love the way she fell in love with my father and that she would be there."

For the first time in a long time, Jarod did not know what to say to Miss Parker. He had no idea how to comfort her because, for the first time, he knew she was honestly upset with him.

She stopped pacing and stared at him on the other side of the table. Her eyes were red, but anger was etched into her face and her hands were balled into fists.

"My mother left me," she continued. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, but Miss Parker managed to keep her words loud enough for him to hear. "She made a conscious decision to let me believe she'd been killed. She made a conscious decision to let me be raised by your family. She made a conscious decision to keep the identity of my real father a secret. She made a conscious decision to lie to me, over and over, Jarod. Now, you're doing the same damned thing."

"Parker, your mother believed she was doing what was right for you," he promised, taking a few small steps in her direction. "You were a child. She could not burden you with the kinds of things she was trying to deal with."

"I know," she nodded softly. "But do you have any idea how many times I have mourned my mother? Do you have any idea how many times I've grieved for a woman who claimed she loved me and, yet, did nothing but lie?"

"I'm sorry." He knew it sounded hollow but, it was the only thing he could think to say. "I'm sure, if your mother had understood how your actions would have affected you, she would have thought of something else."

"If you believe that, then, why aren't you?" she dared. "You're doing the same thing she did, Jarod. The only difference is that I am no longer a child."

He shook his head and took a step back. "Parker, I have never . ."

"You did it last night. You've done it for as long as I've know you," she interrupted. "Jarod, I know you think your way is better, I know you were raised to make decisions as an impartial outsider, but you're not. Everything that happens to you, happens to everyone who loves you. Sydney, your mother, even Broots - in his way - cares about what happens to you."

"And, what about you?"

She shook her head. "I can't. If you're going to continue keeping secrets, insisting that your way is the only way, claiming you're fine when it's obvious that you're not - then you and I do not have a chance."

Releasing a heavy sigh, Jarod pulled at one of the chairs and sat down. He rubbed his forehead and watched Miss Parker until she moved behind him. A few moments later, he heard the burners ignite and knew she had gone back to making breakfast. When she slid a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of him, Jarod looked up at her.

"When I was a boy," he started, "I was never allowed to ask for help. If I got overwhelmed, Sydney allowed me a refuge - a break - from whatever task I was performing but, hours, days, sometimes months later, I was always brought back to finish what I started. Raines, on the other hand . . ."

"I know," she whispered, taking his hand when his words faded. Shesat beside him and continued in a soft, but determined voice, "You're not a boy anymore, Jarod,and you're not in the Centre. No one is going to punish you for admitting that you need help."

"What if I can't?" he asked, squeezing her hand. "What if I try and . ."

"Have you ever failed at something you tried?"

"There's always a first time," he said, returning her smile. Then, after a short, thick silence, Jarod took a deep breath and said, "I can't promise anything, Parker, except that I will try. For you."

Running her hand across his stubbled face, she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.

TBC

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