Disclaimer: Jarod, Parker, Harriet, as well as any of the other usual suspects referred to herein, are not mine. The others, however, belong solely to me. The geographic locations, commercial establishments and historical references pertaining to Central Texas are all real. While The Gruene Mansion Inn does indeed exist, the individuals associated with it in this story are entirely fictional. The only thing I'm earning here is the adoration of millions and no infringement is intended.

River Hideout

by Ginger

"And, to think, you've fought long and hard to remain out here in this crummy world," she remarked, staring out the window with her arms crossed tightly at her chest.

Jarod frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd said this since their adventure began two days earlier and, he had to admit, the world did seem to be conspiring to prove her point. People had been rude, obnoxious, or just plain weird along much of their journey, and a few moments earlier a rather nasty argument had erupted between the driver and a fellow passenger of the Greyhound bus carrying them to their destination. Fearing it might come to blows he intervened to diffuse the situation then returned to his seat beside Miss Parker.

Her presence on this journey was not "voluntary" in the strictest sense of the word. Okay, so it wasn't voluntary in any sense of the word, at least not initially. Parker awoke mad as a badger from a narcotic-induced sleep to find herself at a roadside motel in rural West Virginia with Jarod standing over her bearing a broad smile and a cup of coffee. In a fit of rage she pretty well trashed the room, hurling every object that wasn't nailed down and even a few that were. Fortunately, he had anticipated her reaction and had plenty of cash on hand to placate the distressed, and more than a little frightened, elderly couple who ran the place.

Bumpy start aside, he really couldn't complain considering he was traveling with the one human being on the planet most qualified to make trouble for him. Jarod would have never entertained such a preposterous idea if Harriet Tashman hadn't asked it of him. He was so delighted to see her again that he was loath to deny her anything. Even so, he did attempt to reason with her but she was adamant: she wanted to meet Catherine's daughter. He'd considered luring Parker, as he had done on other occasions when he wanted her to meet someone he thought she ought to know, but quickly dismissed the idea because he couldn't guarantee Harriet's safety. Even if Parker actually followed his instructions to come alone there was no guarantee that she wouldn't be followed. The only course available to him was to personally bring Parker to Harriet.

So here he was, seated beside his huntress on the last few hours of their journey. Parker was clearly in no mood for conversation, he didn't feel like reading, and he was out of snacks. Great. Nothing to do but reflect on the last 48 hours of his life. Reflection was something he'd been avoiding in earnest because he was terrified of the conclusion he'd reach.

Pulling his jacket off the overhead rack, Jarod dug into the pocket for a bit of stress relief. Fortunately, he'd remembered to reload his Pez dispenser when they stopped for breakfast. Flipping back the panda bear head he blinked a few times, his brow knit in confusion. A beat later he expelled a deep breath then raised his head and slowly turned to look at the person seated beside him. She did not acknowledge his gaze, remaining silent and still with her eyes trained on the road before them. Pointedly flipping the empty dispenser closed, he could barely contain a smirk as he turned away from her. That's when it hit him, the conclusion he'd been dodging for two days:

Jarod was having the time of his life.

It came flooding back to him: the giddy anticipation as he meticulously packed a bag with every casual item of clothing he could find while stealing the occasional glimpse at her sleeping form; the rush of adrenaline as he gently lifted her in his arms; the amusement as he watched her stalk around the motel room in West Virginia, looking adorably tousled even in anger.

As if that weren't enough, when she finally calmed down enough to allow him to explain, her eyes grew open and vulnerable at the mention of her mother, allowing him a glimpse at the person he knew existed behind the facade. She soon recovered and was the same old Parker, but then he was dealing with the way the woman wore a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, not to mention the way she smelled... and without her $200-an-ounce perfume... the way SHE smelled.

He would never forget the priceless look on her face when they arrived at the bus station. "Not on your life, Frankenrat!" was her refrain. He delighted in pointing out that even the most twisted minds at the Centre would never be able to fathom the concept of Miss Parker traveling by bus. She narrowed her eyes as if issuing a silent threat, but her lips twitched and curled ever so slightly as she tossed her bag at him then turned to climb aboard. Somehow managing her bag and his, not to mention his slightly wobbly knees, Jarod followed shaking his head.

The bus ride commenced as expected: Parker making the occasional caustic comment, rolling her eyes, glaring at him, or ignoring him altogether. Later on she fell asleep and things got interesting. He watched as her head rocked back and forth until, inevitably, it came to rest on his shoulder. The first time she awoke instantly and, shooting him a look that suggested he was guilty of more than mere proximity, jerked violently away from him. The same thing happened the second time and the third but NOT the fourth.

At first he feared the pounding of his heart might wake her but he soon adjusted to the warm, soft, fragrant bundle pressed against the right side of his body. It had been ages - a lifetime really - since he'd had Miss Parker's head on his shoulder, and yet it felt curiously familiar... and comfortable. With that thought followed an unpleasant constricting sensation behind his solar plexus and that's when Jarod resolved to avoid engaging in further self-reflection.

That was easier said than done. From then on Parker would claim his shoulder whenever she was ready for sleep. She did so matter-of-factly and without discussion. Well, she always did have a strong sense of entitlement. Besides, a sleeping Miss Parker was a quiet Miss Parker and if she was comfortable then she was likely to remain sleeping. At least that's what he told himself, even as he took little liberties that would land him six feet under if she were awake. He would catch himself doing things like brushing his cheek - ever so lightly - across the top of her head. More than once he was startled to find he'd been unconsciously toying with a lock of her hair, the silky strands wound around his fingers.

Jarod slept little himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he did, more or less. She'd agreed to come along and seemed genuinely interested in meeting Harriet. While he did consider them to be safely "under the radar," they were still taking a significant risk in traveling together. If they were discovered, he shuddered to think what the consequences would be. But that was only part of it, he realized. He liked having Parker near him and didn't want to miss a moment of the experience.

Nevertheless, last night he finally succumbed to fatigue and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep for several hours. He awoke before dawn to find Parker's hand on his chest and his hand closed over hers. This was new; Parker had previously and steadfastly kept her hands to herself. But it went well beyond the position of their hands. Her body was more or less curled around his; her face was buried under his chin, the tickle of her breath sending a shiver down his spine. Her leg, bent at the knee, was slung across his lap. It was as though, in sleep, they had melted into one another. She was halfway on his lap, practically straddling him. To the casual observer it would appear that they were...

*Are you together?*

*It's... complicated.*

Was it ever. Jarod recalled Mr. Fenigor's loaded question, as well as his evasive response, and was hit with a sudden wave of panic.

"Parker," he whispered nervously. "Parker, wake up. I have to..."

She slowly opened her eyes and raised her head to look up at him. Her serene, sleepy expression did nothing to calm him and he stammered, "I... I... have to go to the... and you're..." He gestured at has lap where her leg still rested.

That woke her up.

"Oh!" Parker responded louder than she intended then quickly lifted herself off him and straightened in her own seat. "Sorry," she added softly as she turned away to stare into the pre-dawn darkness.

He rose quickly, practically sprinted to the back of the bus, and locked himself in the bathroom. After splashing several handfuls of cold water on his face, Jarod banged his head softly against the bathroom door a few times before returning to his seat. Neither of them slept a wink after that and, ever since, very little conversation had passed between them. And that was a shame, really.

It was one thing to find her appealing in sleep: a sleeping polar bear is adorable but that doesn't diminish the fact that, awake, it is capable of ripping your lungs out. What surprised Jarod was how much he enjoyed the company of a conscious Miss Parker. Sure, she was demanding, outspoken, and sarcastic. But she was other things too: intelligent, of course, but also highly adaptable (which made sense considering she'd spent years chasing him all over creation) and, well, funny. This was the first opportunity since childhood to discuss topics other than the Centre, and he was finding her little insights on the wider world to be endlessly fascinating, not to mention highly entertaining.

A case in point was when they stopped at a truck stop for dinner the evening before. After the meal everyone had time to stretch their legs before getting back on the road so he and Parker wandered into the gift shop to look around. She stopped at the magazine stand and he stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder as she picked up one of those glossy celebrity magazines and began flipping through it.

Coming across a photo of Prince Charles, Parker commented nonchalantly, "I'll bet he likes to be spanked."

Coughing to cover his startled laughter Jarod glanced around to see if anyone had heard then managed to squeak out, "Excuse me?"

"I'll bet he likes to have that horsy-looking girlfriend of his dress up in black leather and take him over her knee."

"Parker!" he chided in a loud whisper then started chuckling again. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

"What?" she inquired casually, glancing over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow at him.

Struggling to contain himself he said, "You're referring to the Prince of Wales! Look at him!" Jarod reached around her to point at the photo then continued, "He holds an ancient, revered position, part of an institution steeped in centuries of history and tradition. Besides, he just looks so dignified."

Pivoting on her heels to face him, she foisted the magazine at him and replied, "Precisely."

Parker glided away, leaving Jarod standing red-face, slack-jawed and blinking after her until it dawned on him that he was clutching the magazine to his chest. Gazing ruefully at the crumpled periodical, he heard a voice call out,

"Sugar, you plan on buying that?"

He turned to meet the eyes of the woman behind the counter and, with a shrug and an impish smile, replied, "Looks like it."

Jarod climbed onto the bus to find that Parker had already taken her seat. He wordlessly tossed the magazine at her then sat down bearing a faint smirk that mirrored hers.

He felt excited, wary and confused at the same time. Were they... flirting? Maybe she was just being cruel, drawing him into an area in which they both knew she was far more experienced than he, and for the sole purpose of making him feel silly. Yet nothing in her demeanor suggested as much; she was relaxed and - dare he think it - good natured all evening. Perhaps she was feeling more comfortable with him, allowing her playful side to surface.

If so then drifting off and cuddling up to her had been a big mistake, or so he thought until the discovery of the pilfered Pez. He very much doubted that she'd eaten the candy; it was probably concealed on her person. An image flashed in his mind but he shook it off instantly. He could not frisk Miss Parker to search for the missing Pez. Could he? No. They were small; they could be almost anywhere. Speculating on some possible locations, he was struck by another image. DEFINITELY no. No. No. No.

"Looks like the end of the road."

Parker's words broke through his reverie and he took in the salient features of the Austin skyline - the impressive dome of the Texas State Capitol and the Tower at the University of Texas made famous, or rather infamous, by that horrible incident in August 1966. As a boy he had sim’d Charles Whitman, the man who went to the top of the UT Tower with a small armory and proceeded to open fire on the people below killing 14 and injuring several others before being killed himself. With a small shudder Jarod resolved to put it out of his mind and focus on more pertinent matters.

He identified a new dimension to the nervous excitement he felt whenever he encountered someone or something connected to his past. For a change he wasn't alone. Casting a furtive glance at his travel companion, he saw that she was unconsciously twisting the large square ring around her left index finger. Her forehead was creased with tension.

"It's going to be fine, Parker, you'll see," he encouraged softly. "Harriet is very nice. She adored your mother."

She said nothing but may have given a slight nod in reply, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter. He wasn't alone and neither was she. Jarod was beginning to discern a method to Harriet's madness.

* * * *

"Good Lord," Parker muttered, stopping dead in her tracks as she caught sight of the multi-colored minibus. On the curb beside it stood three middle-aged nuns, all of them smiling and one waving enthusiastically.

"I believe that's the idea," he chirped, grinning as he lifted her bag out of the hand now hanging limply at her side. He couldn't resist throwing in a wink for good measure. It wasn't everyday that he got to witness Miss Parker climbing into a garishly painted vehicle with several nuns, so who could blame him for enjoying himself a little?

Casting him a withering glare that only served to heighten his amusement she nodded at the surreal welcome wagon and demanded through clenched teeth, "Well... which one is she?"

"None of them," he replied confidentially as he took her gently by the arm and pulled her forward. "I told her not to meet us here... too dangerous."

"You must be Jarod and Parker! You simply must be!" effused the previously waving nun as she took one of their hands in each of hers and shook vigorously.

"Then I guess we are," Parker replied wryly.

"We are," Jarod piped in with a warm smile as he cast her a sideward glance.

"I just knew you were! I just knew it! Oh, where are my manners, this is Sister Anna Marie, this is Sister Theresa Marie and, well, I'm just plain Sister Marie!" She chuckled then without any apparent pause for a breath went on, "Well, let's not stand out here in the street all day! Jarod, why don't you put the bags in the back and I think you should probably sit in front to allow room for those long legs of yours. Good gracious, you both have such long legs! We might have to move that seat up, Anna. Theresa, you are the smallest among us so I think it's best if you take the third row. Of course, I'm speaking dimensionally, not spiritually!"

She laughed heartily then went on and on and on as they all loaded into the vehicle and pulled onto the road, and throughout the duration of their journey. Neither Jarod nor Parker attempted to get a word in, but a few times the other Sisters appeared poised to speak even going so far as to open their mouths only to be cut off again by just plain Sister Marie. At one point Parker leaned in to whisper, "She must be the Alpha Nun," and Jarod had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.

Voicing a need to be on their way - although where to Jarod couldn't begin to guess - the Sisters bid him and Parker a hasty adieu when they reached Gruene, an historic, picturesque hill town located roughly halfway between Austin and San Antonio. Marie did most of the bidding, actually; the other two just smiled and nodded politely. Watching and waving as the minibus pulled away, Jarod asked,

"Do you think it's possible that both Sister Anna Marie and Sister Theresa Marie are mute?"

Parker rolled her eyes and shook her head then turned to pass through the impressive wrought iron archway and lumber up the path toward the entrance of the large white Victorian building. When they entered the woman behind the reception desk looked up and addressed them immediately,

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith?"

Jarod nodded diffidently, coloring as he felt the burn of Parker's glare. Explanations would obviously have to wait. Finding his voice he replied, "Good guess. I'm Jarod and this is Parker."

Motioning for them to approach the desk, the woman confessed, "I'm hardly psychic. We're nearly booked full and you're the last of our guests to arrive."

"Oh," he replied dumbly as he stepped up to the desk with Parker close on his heels.

"I'm Joan Urbanski," their hostess announced with a warm smile. "And on behalf of my husband, Brian, and myself, I want to welcome you to The Gruene Mansion Inn."

"Thank you," Jarod responded, returning her smile.

"Now, let's see," she muttered, opening the reservation book. "It's a good thing Harriet called when she did... lovely woman... does wonderful work. She used our courtyard a few months back to run an immunization clinic for low-income families in the area. I'm glad we're able to accommodate you. Any friend of Harriet's is a friend of ours. Hmmm... yes, here we go. We have only two vacancies but both rooms are lovely. Honeymoon Hayloft or River Hideout: the choice is yours."

"River Hideout!" Jarod and Parker blurted in unison.

A startled expression flashed across the innkeeper's face but was quickly chased away by a friendly smile. "Excellent choice!" she chirped then continued, "And, rest assured, the Hideout is every bit as romantic as the Hayloft. All of our rooms are romantic. In fact, I am proud to say that The Gruene Mansion was recently rated among the top 15 most romantic B&Bs in the country by one of our leading industry publications. You'll have the beautiful Guadalupe River right outside your door, and a clawfoot tub and I think you'll be very..."

"Fine!" Parker interjected a bit too sharply then immediately added in a more congenial tone, "I'm sure it's lovely."

"Thank you," Jarod muttered with a half-smile as he plucked the room key from the counter.

"Now, go out the way you came in, turn right on the porch, walk all the way to the back of the building and..."

He tuned out their gracious hostess, and everything else, as he contemplated the present circumstances. He felt ridiculous. He had known from the outset that he would be sharing a hotel room with a breathtakingly beautiful woman but had thought nothing of it. That woman was Miss Parker so he'd naively assumed that any impulses requiring strict control would be of a violent nature. What had he been thinking?

Wasn't it as early as his first year of freedom, when they were trapped together in the Keys, that he'd been forced to suppress a powerful urge to steal a kiss once he had her securely tethered? In those days her behavior fell squarely and consistently in pain-in-the-neck category and, yet, she looked so good soaking wet and there was a hint of something in her tone, just a slight edge of hurt feelings, when she realized he was going to pull a gun on her. Darned unreasonable under the circumstances but fetching nevertheless. Only his keen awareness of her excellent marksmanship, as well as his certainty that she'd have future opportunities to demonstrate that skill, had reined him in.

Earlier still, he'd imagined over and over again what Parker's expression might have been when she opened the gift he'd sent her on that first Christmas out. No, it went back even further to the butterflies in his stomach when he'd call her at home to taunt her. Hadn't meeting and spending those few precious days with Nia compelled him to recognize, at least on some level, the complex and conflicted nature of his feelings toward his huntress? And they'd been through so much together since; he now knew the woman she'd become better than he'd known the girl she'd been. With more to know there was more to... Admire? Like? Desire?

All of the above, actually, and he was now sharing a room with this admirable, likeable, and desirable woman. And not just any room - because neither of them ever did anything by halves - but a room in one of the most romantic inns in the country. Well, he thought as he turned the key, this ought to be interesting.

"Leave it open," Parker called over her shoulder as she stood in the center of the room and glanced around her. "There's a nice breeze from the river."

Relieved to be afforded this option, Jarod nodded and pulled only the screen door closed behind him. Setting the bags down, he watched in silence as she strolled around the room, taking in little details and occasionally running her fingers over an object or a piece of fabric. He thought he could detect an air of approbation but her enigmatic demeanor made it difficult to know for sure.

The concept of romance remained an elusive one. He comprehended the science of human sexuality, the role of pheromones and hormones, as well as socialization within the context of prevailing codes of morality and social norms. But romance? To Jarod much of it seemed contrived, silly, and, more to the point, disappointing to the people so desperately seeking it. It often appeared that the only ones truly benefiting were retailers specializing in lingerie, candy and flowers.

The atmosphere in this room challenged his previous assessment. Rich, dark wood paneling and lush, deep jewel tones evoked warmth and abundance, which combined with the soft, gentle sounds of wind rustling through the trees and the river flowing lazily by to give one a sense of complete serenity and privacy. In this environment it would be easy to pretend that he and Parker were the only two people on earth. And what if they were? Well, there would be no Centre for one thing, and no reason for her to chase him or for him to run from her. Outside the roles of prey and predator they would simply be a man and a woman free to...

Jarod was mercifully distracted from this train of thought when Parker leaned into the bathroom doorway to flip on the light. She muttered "Yup, that's a clawfoot tub alright," then switched it off again and paced back to the center of the room where she stood in silence, her expression as unreadable as ever. He felt his heartbeat accelerate with every second that ticked by in silence until he couldn't stand it any longer and blurted,

"I'm sorry!"

"For what?" she inquired with a look of genuine puzzlement.

"For this..." He motioned around the room then stammered, "This... this... inconvenience. When Harriet and I began planning this, I wasn't sure how cooperative you'd be, or if I'd be able to risk letting you out of my sight for an instant."

"Well, that's a relief," she commented with a sigh then added with the faintest wry smile, "The first thing you did whenever we stopped someplace was case the ladies room and I was HOPING that was the reason."

Jarod smiled grudgingly. She was making this impossible. "The point is," he continued with a sigh, "that you have acted in good faith since you agreed to join me and I now have complete confidence that if left on your own you wouldn't do anything to jeopardize my freedom or Harriet's safety. But she had already booked us here as a couple and if we requested two rooms now it would raise eyebrows, draw attention, make us conspicuous."

"I get it, Wonderboy," Parker interjected with just a hint of impatience in her voice.

"Well, anyway," he went on softly as he contemplated an especially riveting spot on the floor. "That's why I'm apologizing. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt."

"Based on what?"

The complete absence of irony in her tone caused Jarod to look up and meet her eyes. No trace of irony there either, just two wide, questioning, and painfully beautiful blue orbs staring back at him, drawing him in. Could he really talk to her about it? Could he seriously consider sharing even a few of the thoughts and feelings that had plagued him over the past few days? He found the prospect terrifying; it would, after all, be an unprecedented breach of their unspoken agreement that certain topics were to be skirted or, better yet, avoided altogether. And yet the compulsion to speak grew with every moment he held her eyes, a pressure building almost to the point of pain until...

There was a polite but firm knock on the screen door.

"Sorry to bother you," the innkeeper offered with an apologetic smile. "But I thought this might be too important to wait. It must have been when I was out running errands, and we've been so busy today that it slipped Brian's mind until I mentioned that you'd arrived. Harriet stopped by earlier to leave a message for you."

* * * *

"Splendid," Parker groaned then closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

Frowning, Jarod explained, "Harriet's work in the Tejano community is very important; the people here have become like family to her. When someone calls, she has no choice but to be there."

"And we have no choice but wait it out here in the middle of nowhere," she replied with a sigh then turned to stare glumly out the screen door.

"This is hardly the middle of nowhere, Parker. We're in beautiful Texas Hill Country, at The Gruene Mansion Inn no less..."

They exchanged a glance then quickly looked away. An awkward silence descended. Jarod cursed himself under his breath as he stared resolutely at the floor, his cheeks burning. The tension was back, having temporarily yielded to disappointment when they learned that Harriet was unavoidably detained and wouldn't be able to see them until the next day.

Now what? He hadn't entertained the possibility of being alone with Parker with nothing to do but kill time but then, in keeping with the day's theme, very little about the whole enterprise had gone as expected. Clearly, he'd done a heck of a job planning for every contingency. Some genius: if the Centre PTBs could only see him now, they'd probably call off the search immediately.

"I get first dibs on the bathroom."

"Huh?" Jarod muttered, looking up to see that Parker was crouched over her bag.

"Two days of freshening up in rest stop bathrooms is two days too many. Besides, I need to scrub off the nun residue before I break out in a rash."

To his look of amused skepticism she responded with complete deadpan, "Skin sensitivity to nuns is quite common among Catholic school alumni," then went back to rifling through her bag. When she produced a couple delicate, silky articles of clothing, Jarod knew it was his cue to leave.

"While you're..." He nodded toward the bathroom then continued, "I think I'll take a stroll around town."

"Take your time," she replied. "I'm going to soak for a while."

Well, that was an image he didn't need. "O... okay," he stammered. "How long will you... should I...?"

"An hour should do it, and give you time to find out what, if anything, goes on this town. I have no intention of sitting around here all evening bored out of my skull. And, take my word for it, you don't want that either."

He nodded and sighed then wordlessly exited the room. Bouncing down the porch steps into the afternoon sunshine, he recalled their childhood at the Centre, when a proclamation of boredom from Miss Parker was usually followed by an escapade that landed them both in a heap of trouble. He could almost hear that tone of weary disappointment in Sydney's voice as he demanded, "What were you thinking, Jarod?" He would reply with a shrug that inevitably earned him a ticket back to his room for an evening without game or reading privileges. As much as he hated letting down his mentor in those days, it was impossible to produce a satisfactory answer because, the truth was, he'd been barely thinking at all.

He turned to gaze at the door he'd just passed through, shook his head, then turned again and proceeded walking at a leisurely pace around the building toward the street. Now as then, it would be so easy to stop thinking around her. Only now the consequences would be far more serious than a reprimand from Sydney. With that thought he picked up the pace. Parker was right; they had to get the hell out of that room.

# # # #

Song lyrics from "Look for Me (I'll Be Around)," written by Sylvia Dee and Guy Wood. It's an oldie, originally popularized by the great Sarah Vaughn, but to hear it as Jarod and Miss Parker do you'd need to pick up Blacklisted by Neko Case, copyright 2002, Bloodshot Records.

River Hideout, Part 2

by Ginger

Jarod returned from his walk to find Parker reclining on the bed with her head propped on one elbow and reading the magazine he'd purchased the day before. She was barefoot, wearing jeans and a plain white tank top, wet hair clinging to her bare shoulders. He was tempted to turn right around and walk out again.

Without looking up from her magazine she uttered coolly, "Well?"

"I thought we could start with dinner and then... maybe... some live music?"

"Sure, why not," she remarked with a yawn as she sat up and tossed the magazine aside then took a long, catlike stretch.

If she heard the faint whimper that escaped Jarod's throat as his eyes roamed the sleek, graceful lines of her arched body then she made no indication of it. What she did was swing her legs over the side of the bed and offer,

"I'll get out of your way so you can shower and change."

"No!" he responded a bit more emphatically than he meant to. "I mean, I can manage fine in the bathroom."

Arching one perfect brow at him, Parker asked, "Having second thoughts about trusting me, eh, lab rat?"

"No. I just meant that you don't have to leave... if you don't want to... but if you feel like it then... well… it's a beautiful day and... Oh, just do whatever you want," he grumbled then picked up his bag and stalked into the bathroom.

Shoving the door closed behind him, he leaned back against it, dropped his bag and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. His absurd little outburst had a lot less to do with trusting her than it did with an irrational aversion to the prospect of sharing her with anyone. The idea of her out there on her own, talking to people, and maybe meeting someone - someone whose company she'd prefer to his - grated on him. He was startled by a light knock on the door.

"Jarod?"

"Yes," he replied opening his eyes.

"I'm going to take a stroll down by the river. I agreed to and want to meet Harriet, so I have no intention of pulling anything. For whatever it's worth, you have my word on that."

"I know," he said softly. "Go out and enjoy yourself only... be careful."

"I'll try not to fall in," she quipped then he heard the screen door creak open and slam shut and all was quiet.

Gazing across the room to meet his own eyes in the mirror he frowned and muttered, "Way to go, genius."

A long, relaxing shower would do him a world of good, he thought as he stepped under the almost-scalding spray. And it seemed to be working, the tension in his neck and shoulders easing under the heat of the water. That is until he picked up the soap and proceeded to rub it between his palms to work up a lather. Feeling something amiss, he raised the bar to eye level and discovered a long, dark strand of hair wound around it.

"Oh God," he groaned at the realization that he was standing in the same bathtub in which Parker had soaked less than an hour before, and that he now held in his hands the same bar of soap with which she had washed her body. He immediately turned the tap from hot to cold, quickly lathered up and rinsed off his body then washed his hair, cursing as he felt the tension return to his muscles.

* * * *

"Jeez, Jarod, if you're trying to commit suicide there are more efficient ways to go about it," Parker remarked as she sat down beside him on the porch step.

With a wan smile he inquired, "Nice walk?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Nice shave?"

He poked at the tiny wads of blood-soaked tissue dotting his jaw then commented with a shrug, "I guess it's a good thing I'm not currently engaged in a pretend as a neurosurgeon."

"No kidding. All I can say, genius, is that it's a good thing the Centre has no idea what a basketcase you really are. If they did, I'd be toast. I must be pretty incompetent if I can't even catch a guy who practically decapitates himself while shaving."

"But you can," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Catch him," he whispered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. It's just about time for dinner and I'm getting hungry. How about you?"

* * * *

"Woo hoo!" Parker shouted as she clapped her hands high above her head.

Jarod cast a sideward glance, raising his eyebrows as he, and everyone else in the place, applauded along with her. She really seemed to be having a good time, and so was he as they took in a show at Gruene Hall, perhaps the oldest and most renowned of the legendary Texas dance halls.

The earlier tension had dissipated considerably as they slipped into an easy camaraderie over the course of their evening out. At dinner, Parker had coaxed - or rather bullied - him into trying her favorite Mexican dish, mole poblano. He was initially skeptical, having considerable difficulty with the concept that cocoa and chicken would go well together. "For Christ's sake, Jarod, be a man!" she'd demanded with that gleam in her eye that made it impossible to refuse her. And, in the end, it was just as well because she was right: it was delicious.

Now they were enjoying an excellent performance; the young woman on stage had a smooth, powerful voice and the musicians backing her were nothing to sneeze at either. The crowd, which ranged in age from young twenty something to elderly, was laid back and friendly. The large shutters lining the walls of the white clapboard building were open, giving the place an open-air feel and letting in a breeze that was refreshing without being chilly. In a word, it was a perfect evening. Maybe he was worthy of the label "genius" after all.

Or not...

Out of the performer's mouth came the dreaded words: "Now that we've gotten y'all heated up, we're going to slow things down again."

The one awkward moment of the evening had come when the band performed a ballad. In an instant, it seemed, everyone around them had paired off to dance, leaving the two of them standing uncomfortably amidst the gently swaying couples. The song had barely been three minutes in length but it had been a long three minutes. Jarod's cheeks had burned the entire time as he stood stiffly beside Parker. At one point, he’d stolen a sideward glance to find her eyes lowered to the floor, her jaw tight, and that she was again unconsciously toying with that square ring of hers.

*When you tire of all the bright lights*

The singer crooned to the seductively bluesy tune and, again as if by some unspoken rule, everyone around them fell into couples and began moving languorously to the music.

*Pace that's killing and you're willing to stay home at night*

Oh no, not again. The unpleasant prospect of standing there like an idiot compelled him to make a bold decision: he would take the bull by the horns, so to speak.

*When your feet are back on the solid ground...*

Mustering every drop of courage available to him, Jarod turned on his heels to face Parker. She blinked at him in surprise then turned to face him. He gave a slight shrug and raised his eyebrows as if to ask, "Shall we?" She replied with a nod and a shrug of her own then took a step toward him.

*Look for me... I'll be around*

Jarod's pulse quickened and he almost took a step back but was, thankfully, able to stop himself. Cursing the fact that he'd never pretended to be a dance instructor, he recalled everything he knew about slow dancing, which wasn't much, and took one of her hands in his then slid his arm around her body to rest his other hand demurely on her lower back. Her free hand went up to rest softly on his shoulder and each took another half-step closer to the other.

*When the new crowd starts to bore you...*

"Sorry," he muttered when that half-step and a slight miscalculation as to their relative positions caused them to softly bump heads.

"S'okay," she sighed with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

It wasn't the most auspicious start but he wasn't about to chicken out now. And so they began to move, stiffly and cautiously at first, but with a tiny bit more confidence with every step they took.

*Just remember there is someone to adore you*

They weren't half bad once they got into it. He was amazed at how relaxed Parker was in his arms, how easily she let herself be led around the dance floor. He'd half expected her to try to lead, and speculated that her cooperation was largely the result of the bottle of wine she'd insisted they order with dinner. Compounding the effects of the wine were the two bottles of "Shiner Bock," a beverage the locals positively swore by, which she'd consumed since their arrival at the dance hall. Although not much of a drinker himself, Jarod was thankful that he'd kept pace with her all evening. Otherwise he might never have screwed up the courage to ask her to dance.

*When you're weary of nights out on the town...*

The polite inch or so that initially existed between their bodies was gone. They were now pressed lightly together with her cheek resting gently against his. She was soft and graceful in his arms, making him feel strong and confident. Miss Parker, who all circumstances aside had always been the embodiment of woman to him, was at this moment making him feel very much like a man.

*Look for me... I'll be around*

He could only imagine the look on his face, but got a pretty good idea when he met the eyes of an older woman dancing with her husband. She smiled warmly then whispered something into her husband's ear. The man looked over at Jarod and smiled too. "Look at that lovely young couple," was what he presumed the woman said. Yeah, look at us, he thought and his smile widened.

*May not seem exciting

The way those others do

I've a notion

My devotion

You will need some day as I need you*

Parker's hand slipped from his and he tensed immediately. The song wasn't over yet so he must have done something wrong. Had he held her too tightly? Did she feel he was taking liberties? Anxiety coursed through him as he pulled back and blinked at her in confusion.

*When the kick's gone that it brings you...*

Confusion gave way to incredulity as she slipped both arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace.

*You will hanker for an anchor just to cling to*

Incredulity yielded to bliss as he wrapped both arms around her and resumed swaying to the music. Jarod closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

*When you've lived it up 'til it's got you down...*

Happiness was tinged with sadness because he knew the moment would be fleeting, and that it would leave him wanting more.

*Look for me... look for me... look for me... I'll be around*

And then it was over. Parker must have been even more intoxicated than he thought because she did not pull away until the crowd was well into a round of applause. When she did their eyes met, sending a wave of panic over Jarod.

"I need air!" he blurted, looking away from her. "I'll meet you back here later."

Without waiting for a response he turned to wind swiftly through the crowd toward the door. His ears were ringing; his heart was pounding. He was clearly in the midst of a full-blown meltdown. With considerable relief he stepped into the evening air but then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What's the matter, lab rat? The mole poblano not sitting well?"

He dropped his head and sighed then turned to face her and explain, "I'm fine. The walls just started closing in. I guess I'm not too good in a crowd."

"Mind some company?"

Yes, he did mind, but wasn't about to say so. Instead, he replied, "I thought I'd take a stroll down to the river. You're welcome to join me, but I assumed you'd want to stay for the rest of the show."

"Nah, I've had enough."

"Great," he said through a forced smile while wishing himself dead.

* * * *

God, he'd almost kissed her. They'd been standing on the river bank engaging in casual small talk when he'd turned away from the water to find her leaning back against a tree with her eyes closed and her lips curled into a lazy smile. She had looked so beautiful under the moonlight and stars and so... inviting... that he'd been tempted to press his lips to hers for only the second time in his life. And he might have had she not opened her eyes just as he'd taken a step toward her.

Worrying his bottom lip, Jarod anxiously paced the room, stopping occasionally to glance at the bathroom door. He could hear her humming over the sound of running water. Humming... Miss Parker. This whole day, the entire trip in fact, had to be one long hallucination. Perhaps he'd been captured and was now back at the Centre receiving a steady dose of powerful psychotropic drugs. At least that made some sort of twisted sense.

The water had gone off, the door opened, and his heart leapt into his throat. For standing in the doorway was his huntress, wearing only her white tank top and underpants and carrying the rest of her clothing in her arms.

"Bathroom's all yours," she announced then casually strolled into the room and dropped her clothing on a chair.

Tracking her movements with wide eyes, he stammered, "W... what about your pajamas?"

"Didn't feel like digging them out of my bag. This will do."

No, it most definitely would not do but, again, Jarod wasn't inclined to say so. He did open his mouth to say something but then she bent over the bed to pull the covers back and he couldn't for the life of him recall what it was. He tried to look away but those legs - those legs which carried the woman he'd spent years running from - were so very long and so very shapely. And as sure as he was standing there, as sure as he was of anything anymore, he knew that they would be irresistibly soft to the touch.

"Hello!"

"What?" he muttered.

"I asked," she began with a sigh of impatience then turned to face him and continued, "if you were planning to stand there all night."

Well, there's an idea, he thought then quickly dismissed it and replied, "Uh, no. I was thinking I could take the floor."

"Are you crazy? It's hardwood, Jarod, like a rock."

"It'll be okay on the rug over there." He gestured. "I've had worse."

She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively as she said, "Don't be ridiculous. We're both adults here. Besides, we've been sleeping side by side for days."

Yeah, but on a cramped, uncomfortable bus full of people, not alone on a sumptuous bed in a room at one of the country's most romantic inns. He very much regretted that the inkeeper had ever mentioned that, as he was feeling particularly vulnerable to the power of suggestion.

"Really, I'll be just fine on the..."

"You know something, Frankenrat?" Parker interjected as she climbed into bed and proceeded to adjust the pillows to her liking. "You're no less annoying when you're being an idiot than when you're being a know-it-all. I think I've been extremely magnanimous for someone who was drugged and abducted from her home and, if I were you, I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. And in case you've forgotten the whole point of this little excursion, we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow, so do me a favor and just shut up and get ready for bed." With that, she slid under the covers and turned away from him.

"Okay," Jarod muttered defensively then turned to lumber into the bathroom. He was both stung and confused by her words, having expected her to appreciate his chivalrous gesture. Instead it seemed to make her angry. Maybe it was all part of some elaborate plot on her part to get even with him for all the tricks he'd played on her over the years by driving him crazy. If so then she was succeeding beyond her wildest dreams. On that thought, and with a heavy sigh, he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Having changed and brushed his teeth, he emerged from the bathroom to find that she had not moved. Dropping his bag by the door, he gingerly stepped across the room then stopped beside the bed, hesitating. Opening one eye at him, Parker remarked,

"Planning a hike to the North Pole?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you always sleep in every article of clothing you own?"

"Just sweatpants and a tee shirt," he explained with a shrug.

"Oh, is that all?" she commented with smirk then turned away from him.

Now or never, he thought as he pulled back the covers to climb into bed beside Miss Parker. Yup, this was definitely an hallucination. He was back at the Centre alright; that had to be it. Who else could devise such brutal means of psychological torture?

"Congratulations, Raines," he whispered, settling onto his back.

"Hmmm...?"

"Nothing," he replied with a sigh as he reached over to click off the light on the bedside table then added, "Goodnight, Parker."

Several long minutes of silence elapsed, although he knew that she wasn't asleep. He was wide awake himself and very much doubted he'd get a wink all night. Turning his head, he squinted in the darkness until he could make out her silhouette, which appeared so delicate that it made him ache. The woman was a bundle of contradictions, and what an enticing little bundle she was.

"Jarod?"

Her tone was soft and sleepy, forcing him to clamp his eyes shut to steel himself before answering, "Yes?"

"Believe it or not, I had a nice time tonight."

Smiling and opening his eyes he said, "So did I."

"You know," she began as she shifted onto her back. "It's ironic..." She shifted again, turning on her side and propping herself up on one elbow to face him.

"What is?" he asked, turning his head away from her to stare up at the ceiling, and doing his best to sound casual as every cell in his body noted with considerable interest her increasing proximity.

"That you're sharing a room called the 'River Hideout' with a person you've been hiding from for years."

She shifted a third time and he felt a warm mound of flesh press against his arm, making his spine tingle and his heart race. Swallowing a few times, he struggled to find his voice then willed himself to turn his head and look at her.

"Not you," he whispered. "Never you. Them."

Parker emitted a soft chuckle that vibrated throughout his entire body then stated, "I AM them, Jarod."

"No," he reiterated more emphatically then turned on his side and propped himself up to face her. "You're not."

"Then who am I?"

"Now, there's a loaded question," he joked as he reached over to sweep a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Well, you're the genius," she sighed.

Resigned to the fact that he was physically incapable of removing his hand from her hair, Jarod began to stroke it gently as he went on, "Let's see... Well, you're highly intelligent, competent, and resourceful. You are also belligerent, stubborn and, at times, downright unreasonable. You are, without a doubt, the most infuriating woman I have ever met."

"You sure know how to sweet talk a girl."

"Have I mentioned impatient? Let me finish," he chided playfully. "You are also interesting, funny, and not-half-bad company when you want to be."

"Why, I'm all aflutter," she teased then inched forward.

Jarod felt something tickling his ankle and realized it was her toes. Raising an eyebrow, he continued, "You are also shameless... and wicked, with a real talent for convincing a reasonably intelligent, relatively sane person to do things he probably shouldn't."

"And I thank God for it," she quipped and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Her toes slipped under the elastic cuff of his sweatpants to inch their way up his calf, her leg sliding forward to stack on top of his and bring them into even closer contact. He was unable to stifle a groan, the effect she was having upon him evident in other ways as well. If she were just teasing then he might have to kill her.

"And how about the way I look?" she asked coyly. "Am I... attractive?"

"Oh, you're... alright," he replied, the hitch in his voice undermining the sarcasm.

"Alright, huh? Yeah, I guess you're okay too... for a lab rat."

With that she abruptly pulled away, giving his shoulder a firm shove that sent him flat on his back. For a moment he lay stunned, fearing that she had indeed been toying with him, but then he felt her body settle on top of his. Sighing in relief, Jarod closed his arms around Parker in a crushing embrace then craned his neck to engage her in a deep, punishing kiss. This sure didn't feel like an hallucination, but if it was he could only pray that it didn't end too soon.

* * * *

*What were you thinking, Jarod?*

His mentor's words ringing in his ears, he blinked his eyes open to find her head resting right over his heart, her hair fanning across the expanse of his chest.

"Not a blessed thing, Sydney," he whispered with a wistful smile as he lightly traced her shoulderblade with his fingertips.

In the silence of early morning he knew peace and perfect happiness. But he also knew that neither could last. She had wanted him last night to be sure, her actions making that point unequivocally. But how would she view their encounter - or, to put it more accurately, encounters - in the cold light of day? Would she withdraw into herself, become hostile, or simply dismiss it as something they'd done to pass the time? He didn't have to wait long to find out.

Parker moaned softly and he looked down to watch her eyes flutter open. She lifted her head off his chest and met his eyes, her gaze sleepy but steady. He struggled desperately to find words... something... anything... that might express how it felt to be with her. And not just like this - although it was certainly a high point - but at every moment since she'd awaken in West Virginia. Alas, Jarod found himself utterly at a loss and, staring into eyes that had always been and would always be the standard by which he measured all others, he braced himself for whatever came next.

What he hadn't expected was that she would sink back into her previous position, close her eyes, and snuggle even deeper into his embrace. But that's exactly what she did, leaving Jarod practically beside himself with joy as he tightened his arms around her. Several blissful minutes elapsed before Parker finally spoke.

"What time is Harriet expecting us?"

Smiling at her husky, sleepy tone he replied, "The note said that someone would be here to pick us up at 11:00, and that she wants us to stay for lunch."

"Mmmm... good," Parker purred as she snaked her hand under the covers. Feeling decidedly upbeat at the sensation of her hand wandering down his body, Jarod positively beamed when he heard her murmur,

"We can sleep in."

* * * *

If the events of last night had been a dream come true then what happened this morning surpassed even his wildest dreams. It was one thing to have her in the dark, but quite another to enjoy the sunlight in her hair, to drink in every beautiful inch of her body, and to look into her eyes as he experienced the most intense pleasure of his life.

And afterwards, the tender displays of affection: the way she stroked his hair and nuzzled him. Then she got out of bed and slipped on his shirt, and he liked that. He liked that very much. He liked it even more when she poked her head out of the bathroom doorway and with a devilish gleam in her eye offered,

"I'll wash your back if you'll wash mine."

She shot him sly, conspiratorial smiles at breakfast, once just as the innkeeper approached to refill his coffee cup, making him blush. Mrs. Urbanski pretended not to notice but a wry smile formed on her lips as she moved to the next table. Meanwhile Parker concealed her smirk rather poorly behind her coffee cup.

Shortly thereafter, a polite young man named Ryan arrived to convey them to their destination, which he indicated would be Mission San Juan Capistrano in San Antonio. They were to join Harriet and several of her young charges there for a picnic lunch. Parker's playful demeanor changed at that point; she grew quiet. Riding in the passenger seat next to Ryan, Jarod stole a glimpse at her through the rearview mirror. She stared blankly out the window, the tension evident by the set of her jaw. He wanted to say something to comfort and reassure her, but felt uncomfortable doing so in front of a third party. Instead he waited for their arrival, and settled for giving her hand a surreptitious squeeze as they followed Ryan to the entrance.

Harriet's reaction upon setting eyes on Parker was as to be expected. While he had warned her of Parker's striking resemblance to Catherine, and had even shown her a photograph, he knew that nothing could ever fully prepare a person who'd known the mother for the shock of seeing the daughter for the first time. A tearful Harriet gently clasped Parker's head in her hands and repeated several times as if trying to convince herself that woman standing before her was real,

"Catherine's daughter... Catherine's daughter..."

Then Parker began to cry and Jarod, too, was moved to the verge of tears. He had to restrain a powerful impulse to reach out for her, to pull her into his arms and tell her that everything would be okay. But now, here, in the company of Harriet, was neither the time nor the place. Besides, how did he know that everything would be okay? Come to think of it, when had everything ever been okay?

He nodded when Harriet suggested that he help Ryan set up for lunch while she and Parker took a short walk together, and watched as the two women strolled away, not moving until they disappeared from view. Jarod knew how important this was; Parker was getting back a piece of her mother's, and therefore her own, past. If anyone could fully grasp the significance of this, it was him. And yet, he was having a hard time focusing on the distant past, or the present for that matter, his thoughts rather more preoccupied with recent history as he helped Ryan set up tables then unload a veritable feast from Harriet's car.

He was temporarily distracted from his musings by the commotion that erupted when the Sisters arrived with six small children in tow. Harriet and Parker returned shortly thereafter, walking arm-in-arm across the lawn and stopping briefly to admire the lovely old Mission church. When they joined everyone at the table, Jarod nodded once at Parker as if to ask, "Are you alright?" which she answered with a nod and a small smile.

The afternoon was filled with food, song, games, and the laughter of children, all of whom enjoyed at least one ride on Jarod's back. Busy as he was, though, his thoughts barely strayed from Parker. Nor did his eyes, which is how he witnessed an exchange that left him stunned and amazed.

Parker was standing quietly by herself and staring thoughtfully into the distance when one of the children - a shy, adorable little girl with long shiny black hair and enormous brown eyes - approached her and gingerly tugged on her pant leg.

"Well, hello there," Parker said with a warm smile. The little girl said nothing, but offered up one of the little paper flowers the children had been making earlier.

Crouching down, Parker asked, "Is that for me?" The little girl nodded solemnly and blushed.

Sitting down in the grass, Parker graciously accepted the sweet gift and asked, "What's your name?" then leaned in to listen intently as the child whispered in her ear.

The child whispered something else and, after a moment's hesitation, Parker whispered back to her. The child smiled, crawled onto her lap and soon they were fast friends.

"Looks like Vanessa has made a friend," Harriet remarked as she stepped up beside Jarod. "I can tell you, that doesn't happen everyday."

Unable to tear his eyes from the enchanting scene before him, he replied distractedly, "Children are drawn to her but she doesn't think she's any good with them. She lacks confidence in that area."

Harriet nodded then asked, "And what do you think?"

"I think..."

She waited a few moments for him to continue. When he didn't, she smiled and commented wryly, "Well, I think it must have been an interesting trip down here."

"You have no idea," Jarod muttered then, realizing what he'd said, flushed as he attempted to explain, "I mean, under the circumstances. We are on opposite sides of the fence, after all."

Harriet chuckled softly and said, "Jarod, I've spent most of my life in convents, not under a rock. You haven't taken your eyes off her for an instant the whole time you've been here, and the look in your eyes is not adversarial."

"I didn't realize I was that transparent," he confessed with a sheepish smile. "So...," he added lowering his eyes. "I guess it's obvious." She nodded emphatically, smiled compassionately and gave his hand a light squeeze.

"What I can't figure out," he began thoughtfully, paused a moment to look at Parker, then continued, "is whether this is the best or the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

"But I don't understand. I would think that you'd both be..."

"It's... complicated," he interjected, casting her a knowing look.

"Yes, Jarod," Harriet concurred with a nod and a genial pat to his shoulder. "I imagine it is."

* * * *

The Sisters had rounded up the children and departed. Ryan and Harriet had taken their leave as well, but not before Harriet handed Parker her car keys and graciously insisted that she and Jarod use her car for the remainder of their stay. Now free to spend the rest of the afternoon as they wished, Parker expressed a desire to visit a spot Harriet had showed her on their walk earlier. Delighted to have her to himself again, Jarod was most agreeable.

They stood in silence for a while, taking in the beauty of the woods around them, the sounds of birds and insects, and the gentle rush of water below. With a sigh, Parker broke the silence.

"Mama saved Harriet's life once, when they were girls."

"I know," he replied with a warm smile.

"If I could just be half the person she was, maybe life would be different."

"Oh, Mel," he sighed then quickly looked up to find her eyebrows raised but no trace of anger in her expression.

"Thought you might have forgotten," she commented with a smirk.

"No, I do not believe you did," he contended. "In fact, I think you have known since the day you whispered those three syllables in my ear - ME-LIN-DA - that I would never forget them, that I would whisper them to myself in the dark, and recite them in my mind like a prayer. Such is your power to bewitch, Miss Parker."

Laughing she advised, "I think you better sit down, Wonderboy. You're delirious."

"And furthermore," he continued undeterred as he took a step toward her with a playfully menacing glimmer in his eye. "I think you've always known that I was yours for the taking when and if you decided you wanted me. And at some point along this journey, indeed very early on, you decided that the time was now."

He took another step toward her. Biting her lip, she took a step back as he continued, "Then you just sat back and watched me make a complete fool of myself for days. I haven't cut myself shaving in twenty five years - I can shave in the pitch dark with a rusty straight razor - and yet I nearly slit my own throat yesterday."

Parker chuckled and he narrowed his eyes and shook his head in mock disapproval then took another step forward, and she a step back, as he proceeded, "I can barely think straight around you. You drive me to distraction and you know it. And yet I don't have a clue as to what you think about any of this, how you think what has happened will change our lives, if at all, or what you plan to do about it."

"Don't you?" she asked coyly.

"I have absolutely no idea, and you know it."

He took another step forward and she another step back, jumping slightly when she made contact with the large tree behind her. Grinning evilly, Jarod placed his palms flat on the tree trunk on either side of her body and leaned forward to ask,

"So, Miss Parker, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Reaching behind her into her back pocket, she produced the panda bear, flipped the head open, and with a look of complete innocence offered, "Want some Pez?"

Shaking his head slowly at her, he observed, "You're not going to answer me, are you?" She shook her head gravely.

"You are going to keep me guessing because you like having me at your mercy." She nodded and grinned triumphantly.

"Okay," he conceded with an exaggerated sigh then glared at her and demanded, "Then give me back my Pez!" Yanking the item in question from her hand, he slipped it into his pocket where it was immediately forgotten as he slowly leaned forward and tacked on softly,

"And kiss me."

# # # #

FIN

Author's Note: I know, it's inexcusably sappy but I DID warn you! Oh, and here's a bit of trivia for you: The dance/fight scene from the film "Michael," which featured John Travolta in the title role of the archangel, was shot in historic Gruene Hall.