The Beach
Giardini Naxos
Sicily, Italy

Parker could feel several sets of eyes upon her but did not open hers.
That was one heck of a bikini she had picked up in Naples, basic black,
elegant in its simplicity. She smiled contentedly and sighed. Man, she
deserved this.

She couldn't believe she had gotten away with it: finally losing it,
blowing up at them, and announcing that she would be gone for a week,
maybe two. Jarod wasn't going anywhere; he'd still be there to chase when
she got back. If he hadn't disappeared by
now, he wasn't going to, the annoying little shit.

"Scusa, Miss?"

Parker shaded her eyes with her hand and opened them to glance up at
the young man standing beside her. YOWSA, she thought as her gaze
traveled up his lean body to his face, which was none too shabby either. He
had large dark eyes, that day's worth of razor
stubble all the pretty young Italian boys seemed to sport, and wavy
dark hair, almost to his shoulders. This has all the makings of first-rate
"Penthouse Forum" she mused as she smiled up at him.

"Yes?" she drawled.

"For you," he said shyly as he crouched down to hand her an envelope.

Propping herself up in a manner she knew would thrust her breasts at
him, Parker reached up and took the envelope while casting him a devilish
look. She was having fun.

"From you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he replied, blushing and looking at the ground. "I am the
messenger," he tacked on in a whisper.

He was all of nineteen and parts of her could really USE a
nineteen-year-old. She foisted herself up into a sitting position and inspected the
envelope. It was blank. Parker looked at the boy again and, with a warm
smile, inquired,

"What's your name?"

"Angelo... Signorina," he answered with a sweet smile, lowering his
eyes.

Parker stiffened as she was reminded of all she had left behind her,
albeit temporarily, then silently chided herself: Get a grip, girl; it's
hardly an UNCOMMON Italian name.

"Will you tell me who this is from?"

"So sorry, Signorina, but I cannot."

"Please?" she entreated, slapping on the most demure expression she was
capable of wearing.

"Scusa, Signorina, but I do not make myself clear. I cannot say because
I do not know. This morning, early, I open up our little shop... me, my
family, we have in the town, and I find this..." He motioned at the
envelope. "With note saying to bring here to you at this hour. And a
generous gift... most helpful to my family now... in our time of need... a
miracle... from hands of Our Blessed Madonna." He crossed himself and
kissed his thumb.

"Hardly," Parker remarked dryly as she straightened and dusted sand off
her lap. "Grazie, Angelo," she offered wanly as she resignedly opened
the envelope, the origin of which was now certain.

"Prego, Signorina," he replied with a nod before backing away from her
deferentially and quietly disappearing.

With a heavy sigh, she slipped her fingers into the envelope to remove
its contents. She didn't even try to conceal her disappointment. She
had rather hoped for an invitation to a late night rendezvous with a
mysterious admirer; what she got instead was another unsolicited communiqué
from Rat Boy. Such was her lot in life. She speculated on the possible
contents as she unfolded the sheets. Perhaps he'd unearthed another
tawdry secret about her family and decided to use it to torment her,
thereby ruining her first real holiday in years. Perhaps there was an
Italian connection to the twisted little family saga, why not?

She glanced down at the sheets and frowned at the photocopy of what
looked to be a rather old document, a handwritten letter, and personal in
nature. Not surprisingly, albeit unfortunately, it was in Italian. If
it were in Russian, or any of a number of Asian languages, she'd be
golden. Years ago, Parker had taught herself enough Italian to get by,
speaking and comprehending sufficiently to navigate train stations, order
wine and a meal, negotiate while shopping, and tell a conquest to either
put on a condom or fetch her a taxi. She very much doubted any of those
phrases would be of use to her here.

"Shit," she grumbled as she stood. Her day at the beach was over. "I'll
make you pay for this, Jarod!" she snarled under her breath.

* * * *

Lobby
Villa San Michele
Taormina, Sicily

Parker leaned conspiratorially across the reception desk and said,
"Judy, I'll make it more than worth your while if you'll translate this for
me."

Judy was a young, bright, well-educated English woman, and one of the
current crop of British ex-pats occupying the area just as generations
before them had done. After completing her degree at Cambridge she had,
much to her parent's chagrin, abandoned a promising career in "The
City" to live "La Dolce Vita" in Taormina, where she worked on and off in
the tourist industry while publishing the occasional article in the
travel magazines back home. She loved culture and history and sun and
romance, all of which were available in abundance in the shadow of the
fierce and beautiful Mt. Etna.

A couple nights earlier, Judy had wandered into the hotel bar after her
shift to find Parker sitting alone and asked to join her. A quantity of
"grappa" later, Judy had shared her life story with her chic American
acquaintance. Parker had, in turn, fabricated one to share with her. It
turned out to have been an evening well spent because, among other
things, Parker had learned that Judy was a fluent speaker of Italian and,
as a naturally gifted linguist, was well versed in most regional
dialects.

"Happy to," the young woman chirped. "Any idea what it is?"

"By the looks of it, a letter, and not recent, but it isn't dated. How
soon do you think you can have it for me?" Parker asked as she slid the
four pages across the desk.

Glancing at them, Judy replied, "Doesn't look like much. I'll have it
to you in a jiffy. I assume you'll be in your room, getting ready? I'll
ring you when I've finished."

"Getting ready?" Parker asked, puzzled.

"Christ, I'd forget my head if it weren't bolted on! This was left for
you earlier, the hottest ticket in town. How ever did you manage it?"

"Manage what?"

"A ticket for tonight's gala at the Greek amphitheatre, of course!"
Judy replied as she slapped the ticket on the counter. "They use it for
dramatic productions all the time but the local authorities only allow it
to be used for one musical performance a year, my dear, and you're
going to it."

"I am? I mean, I am. Oh, and I will be in my room. Thanks, Judy," she
muttered distractedly as she turned away from the young woman and
strolled slowly toward the elevator, pondering what the hell Wonderboy was up
to.

* * * *

"Yes," Parker spoke into the receiver she propped between her head and
shoulder as she used both hands to put a half-carat diamond stud
earring in the other ear.

"It's me. Where did you get the letter?"

"It was hand delivered... via messenger."

"Well, then, I do believe you have an admirer in this town."

"Excuse me?" Parker uttered as she straightened her head and grasped
the receiver with her hand.

"I've finished translating it."

"And?"

"I could use a cold shower."

"WHAT?"

"I'm due for my shift break. Why not join me in the bar? You'll have
time for a cocktail before you leave."

"Okay, give me five, make that ten, minutes."

"See you then."

Parker strolled into the bar to find Judy sitting at a corner table
with the sheets of paper in front of her. The young woman looked up at her
American friend, who was decked out in a hot little black dress and
sexy black sandals with ankle straps, and figured she had one hell of a
night ahead of her.

"Your hair looks fabulous up like that. Could never quite pull it off
myself," she remarked as Parker sat down across from her.

"Thanks," Parker replied, adding, "So what's the verdict?"

"It's a love letter! Not only that, I think it may be THE love letter!
And it's a HOT one at that!" Judy explained excitedly.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Parker demanded in a low voice,
ducking her head and glancing nervously around the room.

"I'm not the first Brit to run away from home, you know. D.H. Lawrence
once lived in the area and, it's been said, based `Lady Chatterly's
Lover' on a real-life love affair that took place here. Nobody knows on
whom it was based, but rumor has it, he stumbled across a love letter
hidden in a prayer book whilst paying a visit to the Chiesa Santa
Caterina."

Parker stared blankly at her and Judy elucidated, "The Church of St.
Catherine. Imagine, finding something like this IN A CHURCH of all
places. Then again, it might make the perfect location for elicit lovers to
exchange secret, passionate missives. I mean, who in their right mind
would ever think to look THERE? My guess is that, for whatever reason, it
never reached its intended destination and, therefore, found its way
into our man D.H.'s hands. He read it, was inspired, and who wouldn't be
by a letter like this, and `Lady Chatterly' was the result."

"St. Catherine," Parker whispered under her breath before asking of her
acquaintance, "What makes you so sure THIS is THE letter?"

"I'm not SURE; it's just a hunch. It is a bit of a legend in these
parts, particularly among the Brits: the anonymous letter that inspired
Lawrence. And if he has, in fact, located it, then he's one clever sod,
your fellow."

"He's not MY..." Parker started to protest, a bit too loudly, and could
feel her face warm.

"Well my guess is he'd like to be," Judy commented with a chuckle. "But
I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions." She slid the sheets
across the table and instructed, "You'll find my translation on the back.
Oh, by the way, the last paragraph is a map of sorts, or rather
directions to a location. It seems our lover was arranging an assignation with
the object of his affection."

Parker looked up as she grabbed the sheets and quickly folded them then
inquired, "I know this a long shot, and the place may not even exist
anymore, but you wouldn't happen to..."

"Know where it is?" Judy interrupted with a glimmer in her eye.

Judy was enjoying this immensely, if vicariously. It was just the type
of absurdly romantic adventure that had driven her to Sicily in the
first place and witnessing someone else experience it was almost as much
fun as experiencing it oneself. Besides, something about the sharp,
beautiful American woman seated across from her who, by all appearances
seemed to have everything, suggested that she could really use an absurdly
romantic adventure.

"As a matter a fact, I do," Judy said with a broad smile.

* * * *

Parker strolled languorously through the ancient streets of the city,
reading Judy's translation of the letter as she made her way toward the
amphitheatre. A light breeze tickled her skin, further stimulating her
already tingling nerve endings. She was far from home, away from the
prying eyes and unreasonable expectations of those she left behind, and
Jarod was still pulling her strings, manipulating her. But it felt
different this time; she felt different. She hadn't reacted with her usual
infuriation or frustration; instead, she was finding his machinations
strangely... enticing. What the hell was he doing and perhaps, more to
the point, why was she enjoying it so much?

The letter was probably the single most sensual piece of writing she
had ever read and she was tempted to stop and fan herself more than once
along the way. It was written by a man who obviously felt passionate
about its intended recipient and, in it, he proceeded to explain, in no
uncertain terms, precisely what he planned to do to her the next time
they were together. It closed with a gorgeous and very detailed
description of a specific view of the sea as seen from a balcony. That was the
passage Judy was convinced contained the key to where the rendezvous was
to have taken place.

Parker became aware of more congestion around her and looked up to see
that she had reached the Greek amphitheatre. Built in the Third Century
B.C. and still standing, she mused, while the roof I had put on the
house only five years ago leaks like a sieve.

People were beginning to line up at the entrance, so she proceeded in
that direction herself. Once seated, she looked around and smiled. It
really was a spectacular site. Glancing down at the program, which was
printed only in Italian, she was able to discern that it was a benefit
and that the performance would consist of a selection of classical pieces
by Italian composers and would close with a scene from Puccini's
"Turandot."

"Good evening, Signorina," crooned an elegantly deep, accented male
voice.

She turned to see a distinguished looking older man, with a well
manicured gray beard and beautiful clothing, taking the seat next to hers.
She asked politely, "Excuse me, but do I know you?"

"No, you do not, nor do I know you. But that should not stop us from
enjoying a fine evening and beautiful music in this magical place. Do you
not agree?"

"Jarod sent you, didn't he?"

"Jarod? Who is this Jarod?"

"Oh, never mind," she muttered with a sigh and redirected her attention
to the stage, as the concert was about to begin.

And it was lovely, the orchestra playing well into the evening. As
night fell and the stars came out, the place did indeed have an air of
magic about it, and Parker found herself enjoying the experience immensely.
When it was time for the grand finale, the man beside her leaned in and
inquired,

"The opera, do you know it?"

"No," she replied out of the corner of her mouth.

"Ah, so it is new to you!" He clasped his hands together. "And they are
performing my favorite scene, from the second act. You see," he
explained in a loud whisper as the performance commenced on stage. "The Prince
Calaf has become smitten with the beautiful Princess Turandot, even
though she possesses a cold heart. In order to win her, he must answer
three riddles. If he fails, he will die. She has sent many to the grave
before him but he is undeterred. He has, as you say, guts, does he not?"

"Hmmm," was her only reply as she folded her arms, her brow furrowing.

"Listen now, she poses her first question: What is born each night and
dies each dawn? Ah, he gives his answer: hope. There, he has passed the
first test. She looks a little nervous, no?" The man chuckled; Parker
bristled.

"Now she asks: What flickers red and warm like a flame, yet is not
fire? Blood, of course. Again he answers correctly!"

"Lucky him," she remarked sardonically.

"Ah, but here is the most important question of all: What is like ice
but burns? Ah, look at his smile as he declares `Turandot!' And look at
her face! Beautiful! Beautiful!" the man exclaimed, chuckling gleefully
as the entire theatre erupted in applause.

"Splendid," Parker stated, rolling her eyes.

"Did you not enjoy the finale?"

"It's a fairy tale. And I suppose that in Act Three, the prince wins
the princess's heart and everyone lives happily ever after."

"Yes," the man replied with a shrug, adding, "but only after the
princess incites the mob to violence, orders torture, and compels one of her
subjects to suicide."

"A woman after my own heart," Parker commented with a smirk.

* * * *

Speeding out from the center of town in a taxi, Parker wondered what
the hell she was doing. What if Judy were wrong and she wound up on the
doorstep of strangers, Sid and Mindy Lipschitz of Great Neck, Long
Island, celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary with a dream vacation?

Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten dinner. In fact, she'd hardly
eaten anything all day with everything hurtling somewhat beyond her
control once she'd received the letter from Angelo. She sat back in her seat
and sighed. He'd be there alright; the entire fucked up day had
Monkeyboy's paw prints all over it.

When the taxi turned up the long driveway, Parker's eyes grew wide.
Even in darkness, she could tell that the place was spectacular, perched
high on a hill overlooking the city and the Mediterranean. The grounds
were extensive but the villa itself seemed rather cozy. Pulling up to
the entrance, the driver turned and asked,

"Shall I wait, Signorina?"

"Won't be necessary," she replied cordially as she handed him his fare
and a generous tip. "Grazie."

"Prego... Prego... Grazie, Signorina," he muttered back at her as he
glanced skeptically at the villa. Cabbies knew more than just about
anyone about the comings and goings around town and he hadn't heard a word
about its being rented for that week.

Parker stepped out of the taxi and walked gingerly up to the entrance.
Hearing the taxi pull away behind her, she glanced at the doorbell and
considered a moment before shrugging and trying the door, which opened.
The moment she stepped inside, the odor hit her and she hummed with
approval. Someone was cooking and it smelled wonderful.

She strode up the wide, airy hallway toward the back of the house where
she had spotted large wooden and glass paned doors that opened to a
balcony and flickering candlelight. Looking around as she passed, she
observed that the place was elegantly beautiful, with its white washed
walls and dark wood, not to mention the tasteful furnishings and artwork
scattered about the place.

There was still no sign of life when she reached the doors to the
balcony, except for the beautifully set table and the delicious smell
wafting throughout the place. She could hear the sound of the gentle surf
below and, with a smile, stepped outside and crossed over to stand at the
wrought iron railing to gaze out into the nighttime horizon.

"Bellissima."

Parker dropped and shook her head at the sound of the familiar voice
coming from behind her. She didn't turn around immediately but inquired
in an even tone,

"May I assume you are referring to the view?"

"You may assume anything you like, Miss Parker."

She sniffed then turned to face him, crossing her arms. "You mind
telling me what this is about?"

"About?" he repeated as he moved around the table to fill their
wineglasses. "I don't know that it's about anything, in particular. Can't a
man cook a woman dinner on a fine summer evening just for the heck of
it?"

"Sure, a MAN can cook a WOMAN dinner anytime, but a renegade LAB RAT
cooking dinner for the person charged with returning him to his cage is
quite another story."

He chuckled and, motioning for her to take a seat at the table,
replied, "That's not who we are here and you know it."

"Who we are here?" It was her turn to do the repeating as she strolled
over to the table.

Parker eyed him warily as he offered her a seat and she took it. He
looked very nice and smelled nice too. He was wearing a classy black
v-neck and black slacks and had adopted that perfectly unshaven look from
the Italian boys. He wore it well.

When he took his seat across from her, she continued, "So, this is some
sort of twisted little simulation that you've decided to involve me
in?" She cocked her head, considered a moment, and tacked on, "Or, perhaps
it's a continuation of the one we began years ago."

She looked fiercely at him, her eyes issuing a silent challenge across
the flickering candlelight. He smiled and said, "On the contrary. Here
we're just Jarod and Parker. It's back THERE that we are forced to play
roles that are not of our own choosing." He then raised his glass and
announced, "A toast. To living `La Dolce Vita.'"

Parker shifted in her seat and glared for a moment or two then curled
her lips, lifted her glassed, and tapped it to his. The wine was
perfect, of course.

"You must be starving. I'd better get dinner. Hope you like Fra
Diàvolo!" Jarod chirped as he jumped up from the table.

She loved Fra Diàvolo. She hadn't even addressed the topic of the
letter yet. It was going to be a long night. Parker took another sip of her
wine then another then another. By the time Jarod reappeared with two
salad plates and a basket of bread balanced on one arm, and a steaming
bowl of pasta in the other hand, she had all but drained her glass.

"You're nearly empty," he remarked with a smirk as he set down his
burden. He promptly refilled her glass.

"Trying to get me drunk, Wonderboy?" Okay, apparently we're flirting
now, Parker thought to herself as she heard the words leave her lips.

He didn't respond, shooting her a playful look out of the corner of his
eye as he arranged their meal on the table before retaking his seat
across from her. And, thus, they commenced enjoying their dinner in
companionable silence, which to anyone who knew the circumstances of their
lives might have appeared extraordinary but didn't seem to faze either
one of them.

Parker was having a hard time containing herself. Everything was just
so good. The dish was full of succulent seafood and the sauce was richly
spicy but not overpowering. In fact, the entire meal was prepared
precisely to her liking. Jarod had mastered the art of Italian cooking. It
was perfect.

His efforts in the kitchen were rewarded with the privilege of watching
her enjoy the meal, the pleasure of it apparent in her expression,
despite her best efforts to conceal it. Parker kept her eyes lowered most
of the time but, occasionally, they would meet his and what he saw in
them would make him tremble. All the passion he had always known she
possessed, but which she had submerged for so long, appeared to be bubbling
to the surface. After a while, Parker emitted a heavy sigh, sinking
back in her chair and lifting her wine glass to take a sip before
commenting,

"Compliments to the chef."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"And while I'm complimenting you, I really must applaud your choice of
messenger service."

She cast him a knowing glance and he shrugged, explaining, "Angelo and
his family are good people who have suffered through some very hard
times recently. His older brother was killed in a car accident last month,
leaving behind a wife in the late stages of pregnancy. The baby is due
any day now. As if that weren't enough, the family business has been
struggling and he had negotiated a refinancing deal right before the
accident. Unfortunately, nothing had been signed yet and, since the entire
deal hinged on a local banker's confidence in his ability to run the
business, the loan offer was, unfortunately, withdrawn after his death,
leaving them in a rather tight spot."

"Angelo," Parker observed. "Nice touch."

"I thought so," Jarod replied. "But that's not why I chose him. I had
already decided to help them..."

"Compliments of the Centre," she interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

Ignoring her remark, he continued, "And I knew I could trust him with
the errand. He's such a shy, retiring young man. Someone else might
have..."

"Hit on me," she said with a smirk. "You should have seen him; he was
so cute. He's just a boy, really."

"I believe the sight of you in that black bikini may have been a bit
too much for him. I wouldn't be surprised if he needed to lie down
afterwards."

"Why, did you?" Parker quipped, not the least bit surprised to learn
that Jarod had been watching her exchange with the young man. Of course
he had.

"Oh, I had too much to do. All this..." He motioned around him. "The
dinner, oh, and it was quite a trick getting a ticket to tonight's
performance. Fortunately, Signore Festa was most generous."

"The man seated next to me," Parker stated with a sigh.

"Yes, a man of considerable influence in the area."

"And a real opera buff." She rolled her eyes.

"Didn't you like the finale?" Jarod asked in a deep, silky tone that
sent an unanticipated shiver up her spine.

"Never been a fan of opera," she replied tersely then stood and
strolled over to the railing to gaze out into the night. She wasn't quite
ready to accept the reality of what was happening, to confront the choice
that now lie before her. Besides it really was a spectacular view.

Jarod didn't make a move toward her, but just watched her bathed in
moonlight, the soft fabric of her dress rustling in the evening breeze. He
knew. He knew how the evening would end and he would not push her.
Whatever he wanted, he would have only on her terms. Eventually she broke
the silence.

"Why?" she asked softly, almost whispering. "Why now?"

"Because, you took a stand. You stood up to them and did something for
yourself. That's all I ever wanted you to do, something for yourself.
It's never been about me, really. Well..." He chuckled and added,
"That's not entirely true."

He stood and strolled slowly toward her. She could feel him
approaching, the electric current in the air, but still she did not turn around.
He stopped only a couple inches behind her and grasped the railing on
either side of her body, thereby encircling her but
not yet touching her.

"When I found about out what you had done," he continued in a smooth,
low voice that reverberated throughout her body, "I was surprised and
amazed and very curious, so I came to see for myself. I don't know what I
expected, really, except to get a peek at Miss Parker letting her hair
down. I guess I also wanted to make sure you were okay."

Parker's lips curled into a smile. Of course, she thought, he'd
probably assumed I'd finally gone off my rocker. "Well," she inquired in a wry
tone. "Your assessment?"

"You appeared fine. Better than fine, actually, better than I'd seen
you in years."

"And that's when you decided to..."

"No," he broke in as he leaned in closer to smell her hair. "I had
heard about the letter and decided it might be fun to find it and use it to
send you on an adventure of some kind. I thought you might even let
your guard down enough to meet ... maybe, get to know... someone... nice."

Playing matchmaker again, she thought with a sad smile. Oh, Jarod.

"But then I found the letter. And, believe me, I hadn't anticipated its
effect upon me: the sheer power of it. In that instant, as I read those
words for the very first time, I knew."

He moved in closer, his body now just grazing hers as his hands moved
together on the railing, his encirclement evolving into an embrace.
Parker closed her eyes. It felt right.

"Knew what?" she whispered, her voice quivering with anticipation as
she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck.

"That there was no way in hell I'd be sending you on any romantic
adventure that didn't include me. I realized how strongly I identified with
the sentiments contained in the letter and how much the feelings and
desires expressed mirrored my own. And, since I had just crossed an ocean
to follow you on your vacation, rather than taking advantage of the
fact that you'd be off my back for a week or two, I guess I figured it
would just be silly to continue to delude myself."

"Delude yourself," she repeated with a soft chuckle. She knew all about
delusions; she could write a book on delusions.

"Yes, delude myself. Waste another minute trying to convince myself
that I didn't want to..." Jarod reverted to perfect, unaccented Italian as
he whispered words that Parker recognized from the first line of the
letter, their translation already burned into her memory.

"Do to your body what you have done to my soul... devour it like a
hungry wolf."

Parker sighed, wondering at what point she had reached a decision. Was
it the moment she learned of the letter's contents from Judy or when
she read the translation herself? Was it during the exquisite concert in
a place of ancient beauty, as she watched the Prince Calaf unravel all
of Turandot's riddles? Was it when she entered the villa and felt such
pleasure at just being there or when she heard his voice or when she
turned to face him? Was it during dinner, a perfectly executed meal
prepared expressly for her enjoyment, or was it just now when his body
touched hers for the first time?

Who knows? Maybe she had decided a long time ago and, now that an
opportunity was presenting itself, she was simply acting on the long-held
resolution. Didn't matter, really, the only thing of which she was
certain was that she couldn't detect even the slightest hint of a
reservation. She leaned back, resting her body fully against his, in response to
which he hummed contentedly and asked,

"Are you sure?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"That didn't answer my question."

"Well, it wasn't much of a question, was it?"

"You have a point," he conceded with a smile as he moved one hand from
the railing and slid it around her waist, pulling her even closer.
"Will you spend the night with me here, Miss Parker?"

"Yes, I do believe I will."

Grinning, Jarod wrapped his other arm around her, and hugged her
tightly against him. Parker reached up behind her with one hand and caressed
the back of his neck before her fingers slipped into his hair and
massaged his scalp. He sighed and nuzzled his face against her soft hair.
She emitted a soft chuckle.

"What?" he whispered through a smile she could hear.

"Nothing."

In truth, she was amused by their complete, instantaneous ease with
each other's bodies. Their caresses, lacking any hint of nervousness or
awkwardness, weren't like those of new lovers. They knew exactly how to
touch each other, almost as if they'd been doing so for ages. Parker
smiled to herself as it occurred to her that Jarod had been touching her
for years, most of her life really. He was finally getting around to
using his hands, that's all.

"Any dessert?" she asked throatily as he rocked her gently in his arms.

"Yes, but I thought we might have it inside..." He placed a warm, soft
kiss behind her ear before adding, "Upstairs."

Parker nodded in approbation then groaned in protest as Jarod released
her from his embrace. He quickly took her hand to lead her inside,
stopping along the way to blow out the candles on the table. When they
stepped into the house, he turned and smiled at her, a completely open and
vulnerable smile she hadn't seen from him since they were children. She
smiled back and he quickened his pace, tugging her toward the
staircase, which led up to a beautiful master bedroom with a balcony of its own.

She grinned approvingly at the elegantly minimalist room, which
contained a large bed with a simple canopy off which streamed fabric of a
sheer white that contrasted beautifully with the dark wood, a small
rectangular table next to the bed, and a tall wardrobe of the same dark wood
as the bed. There was another, smaller, set of doors out to a smaller,
more intimate, balcony, which were opened slightly to let in the lovely
evening air. Jarod had scattered an impossible number of candles about
the place and there was a tray on the bedside table bearing their
dessert. On the floor next to the bed, Parker was delighted to find a bottle
chilling in an ice bucket.

"Make yourself at home; I'll just be a second," Jarod whispered into
her ear as he moved past her and set about lighting all the candles.

Parker strolled over to the balcony doors and opened them, stepping
once more into the pleasingly breezy night air. She smiled as she heard
the pop of the champagne cork. Jarod emerged from the bedroom and stood
behind her once again, his arm winding around her body, his hand bearing
a flute of champagne. She took it from him and began sipping as she
felt him effortlessly unclasp the delicate little hook at back of her
collar. Men generally had so much trouble with such things but not him. The
butterflies she had carried around in her stomach for hours began to
flutter feverishly when she felt the crisp night air against her back as
he slowly lowered the zipper to her black cocktail dress. It was
finally happening; she could really, truly have this.

He grinned like a schoolboy and emitted a quiet, gleeful chuckle at the
sight of her bare skin, contrasting beautifully with the black satin of
her bra. Parker turned her head to glance back at him and smiled
invitingly. Jarod slipped his hands inside the soft fabric of her dress to
caress her and, as he tickled the sensitive skin of her back in a most
delicious way, again began murmuring in Italian. She had no idea what he
was saying but even if it had been, "Oh, look, Mt. Etna is erupting and
we're probably going to be vaporized," she doubted she'd have cared.

He traced a path up either side of her spine until his hands came to
rest on her shoulders then gently slid the fabric down. Parker deftly
switched her glass of champagne from one hand to the other to slip her
arms out of the dress. Bending to slide the garment further down her body,
Jarod smirked as he found himself at eye level with her black satin
panties and the perfectly rounded little treasures contained therein.
Unable to resist, he gave a playful nip that elicited the most delightful
yelp of surprise from her before she
stepped one foot, then the other, out of the dress.

"Watch it, Rat Boy," she teased seductively. "I may have left my gun at
home but I know about 100 ways to kill you without it."

"I'll bet you do," he replied huskily as he stood.

Parker loved that he was undressing her outside in the open air, the
night breeze dancing against her skin and heightening every sensation.
When he turned away from her briefly to drape her dress over the back of
the only piece of furniture adorning the balcony, a chaise lounge, she
seized the opportunity to spin around. He turned back to her and smiled
approvingly as he took in the sight of her.

"I must look ridiculous standing out here in my underwear and high
heels," she commented playfully.

"Ridiculous, no..." he replied in a low voice as he moved forward and
reached for her.

She shook her head and, pressing her free hand firmly against the
center of his chest, stopped him in his tracks. She lifted her glass to his
lips and gave him a sip before gesturing toward his shirt. He wasn't
seeing, or touching, another millimeter of her skin until she saw some of
his. Parker watched intently over a long sip of champagne as, with a
shrug and a smile, Jarod unceremonious pulled off his sweater and tossed
it aside to join her dress on the chaise.

"Better?" he inquired amusedly.

"Definitely," she purred as she reached out to trace her index finger
along the contours of his beautifully sculpted pectoral muscles.

They looked into each other's eyes and exchanged a broad,
conspiratorial smile like those they had shared as children just before they would
sneak off together on an adventure. In some ways it was as though no
time had passed except, of course, that it was glaringly apparent that
they weren't children anymore and that this adventure was most definitely
of an "adult" nature. And this time their smiles were illuminated by
moonlight, something about which Jarod only dreamed as a boy, with the
aid of Miss Parker's vivid descriptions of course.

Parker fed Jarod another sip of champagne and gulped down the last bit
herself before casting him a devilish look then tossing the empty glass
over her shoulder and off the balcony. He chuckled and pulled her to
him, wrapping his arms around her and just holding her for a time.

"Thank you," he whispered as he rocked her in his arms, reveling in the
sensation of her bare skin against his and drinking in her scent.

"I can see you're easily pleased," she teased despite the fact that she
was equally moved by the experience. "I haven't even done anything to
thank me for yet."

"Yes, you did," he responded as he slid one hand up into her hair and
commenced deftly removing the pins that held it up, all of which he
unconsciously slipped into the pocket of his slacks. Parker registered this
and considered it adorable; any other man would just toss them
carelessly away.

"You came back to me."

"YOU followed ME here, remember?" she remarked with a smirk as she
pulled back to look him in the eye.

"But only after you told them to `go to hell'," he challenged as he
lovingly ran his fingers through her soft tresses, now liberated and
falling loosely, beautifully about her face. "And only after you told them
that it was pointless to try to stop you because I would never, ever
engage in the chase with anyone else so they might as well let you have
your vacation. I was never entirely sure you understood. It is such a
relief..." He sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers
before tacking on, "To know that you do."

"Please... let's not," Parker entreated, not wishing to ponder the
larger implications of their present actions within the context of the past
or future circumstances of their lives. "I don't want to talk anymore."

"Neither do I," Jarod murmured softly into her ear and she emitted a
faint whimper at the sensation of his warm breath tickling the sensitive
skin of her neck.

Then he pulled her tightly into his embrace, crushing her body against
his, and kissed her. His kisses were exquisite, conveying both
tenderness and raw hunger. His lips were soft, his tongue masterfully engaging
in an erotic dance with hers. They both chuckled breathlessly when, as
he employed his teeth to gently nip at her full, inviting lips, she
quickly gained the advantage and latched onto his bottom lip with her
teeth, tugging it playfully.

Jarod's hands were seemingly capable of being several places at once,
as Parker could sense the heat of his touch all over her body. She
responded in kind, alternating between caressing him softly and dragging her
nails lightly across his skin. He seemed to enjoy the contrast and she
delighted in his deep, sexy groans as she felt his growing erection
pressed between them. Her own arousal was quickly escalating, the
ever-increasing wetness and that ache deep within her, which she had complete
faith in his ability to relieve.

"Devour you..." Jarod panted in Italian as he somehow managed to
simultaneously assault her neck with his lips, tongue and teeth and unclasp
her bra at the back with one hand while using the other arm to haul her
off the ground. Spinning them both around, he propelled them into the
bedroom, awash in a warm amber glow from the myriad candles, the subtly
sweet smell of the finest beeswax present in the air.

He set her gently down on the bed and she fell back, closing her eyes,
spreading her arms wide and running her hands over the decadently
smooth silk of the ivory colored sheets.

"Oh, God, yes..." she purred.

Jarod looked down at her and smiled. The straps of her open bra had
slid down off her shoulders to about the middle of her upper arms, while
the cups had made their own journey south, the tops of them now just
barely, tantalizingly, covering her nipples. He kicked off his soft
Italian loafers, which he had worn without socks if for no other reason than
he hadn't yet worked out at what point in a seduction a man could
safely stop to remove his socks without breaking the mood. While it wasn't a
problem in Sicily in the summertime, this quandary could be the source
of some discomfort should he ever be fortunate enough to pay Parker a
visit during the winter months. It can get awfully chilly in Delaware
that time of year. She had a lot more experience with these things; she
would know what to do. Perhaps he'd ask her about it later. Much later.

He then bent down to remove Parker's sandals. Glancing up to watch her
chest rise and fall with every breath, he unbuckled one sandal and slid
it off, lovingly cradling her bare foot in his warm hands and pressing
a soft and lingering kiss to her instep before letting it drop and
repeating the process on the other side.

"Planning on joining me TODAY?"

He smiled at the hint of impatience he detected in her voice, so
typically Parker, and stood up, pausing another moment to gaze down at her
and commit the moment to memory. She opened her eyes and looked up at him
expectantly. Raising her eyebrows, she warned,

"I'm giving you another 30 seconds then I'm going to find Angelo."

"Patience never has been your strong suit, has it?" he said softly as
he leaned over her and placed his hands gently on her waist to propel
her body all the way onto the bed. This action sent her bra further south
and his eyes grew wide as he was able to see the beginnings of her
darker flesh. She tracked the movement of his eyes and teased,

"What is Wonderboy looking at?"

"Your exquisite breasts," he whispered as he climbed onto the bed and
straddled her legs then continued in Italian, "I will suckle like the
lamb to the ewe, and will be nurtured. Your body will feed me, giving me
the strength to face a cruel world and an uncertain future."

Despite her limited knowledge of the language, she got the gist; it was
another line from the letter and a damn good one at that. Parker sighed
and smiled, closing her eyes and arching her back slightly in
anticipation.

Jarod leaned forward and pressed feather light, teasing kisses to the
warm swell of flesh just at the edge of the black satin fabric then used
his superbly stubbly chin to edge the fabric down further to grant him
access to the rosy treasures beneath. He eyed his bounty approvingly
then raised his head to gaze deeply into her eyes as he slipped the
scanty garment off her body. He tossed it to the floor with a sideward
glance, careful to avoid any of the lit candles. It would be none too slick
to start a fire with Miss Parker's brassiere and thereby destroy a
local landmark. Any faux pas involving the removal of socks would pale in
comparison.

He redirected his attention to the woman beneath him, she the
embodiment of a dream, white light and heat, unrestrained passion. He fixated on
the rise of her chest with every breath she drew and slowly lowered his
head to place a sweet, demure kiss on each nipple before taking a
moment to rest his head against her to listen to her beating heart.

Those kisses, almost chaste in character, were imbued with irony, the
innocence of the delivery heightening the eroticism. Jarod was right;
Parker was not by nature a patient woman. In fact, she was more often
than not the one to tire of foreplay and demand that her partner get on
with it already. But not this time: every moment was a delicious torture
that she was in no hurry to terminate. As long as he was touching her,
she could endure it. She reached up to tenderly stroke his hair and he
lifted his head to give her one of those smiles that could melt the
polar ice cap. Then, without further ado, he leaned forward to close his
mouth over her sensitized flesh and commenced doing precisely what he'd
said he would.

Parker whimpered and moaned as he moved from one breast to the other.
At one point, he emitted a small chuckle of glee at his unbelievable
good fortune and she craned her neck to cast him an amused look. He may
have been the suave, beautiful, sexy man who had so expertly seduced her
but, at his core, he remained the same Jarod she had always known,
childlike and full of wonder, and for that she silently thanked every major
deity that came to mind. She placed a hand over one of his and guided
it down her body to an area screaming for attention.

He groaned as he detected heat and wetness through satin. Pushing
himself up and sitting back on his heels beside her, Jarod slipped his
fingers into the waistband of her panties and tugged. She raised her hips to
assist him as he slid her underwear down and off her body, tossing them
aside to join her bra on the floor. Again, he took another agonizing
moment to just look at her, his dark eyes glittering with desire and
adoration as they roamed every inch of her bare skin bathed in the warm
glow of candlelight. Parker had never felt so completely naked in her
life. It was a little frightening, this feeling of vulnerability, but also
highly erotic. She feared she might die of arousal.

Jarod's demeanor could indeed be described as both that of a ravenous
wolf and an innocent lamb. He was both at the moment; it was a sensation
beyond all reason. He slipped his hand to the inside of her leg, just
below her knee, and tickled the skin there. Her soft cry was a reward in
itself but he wanted a more substantial prize. Locking his eyes on
hers, he slowly glided his hand up the inside of her thigh, increasing the
distance between it and the other one. She began trembling in
anticipation and groaned in frustration when he stopped just at the point where
he sensed heat and damp and felt the
tickle of silky soft hairs.

Parker cast him a defiant look as she reached up to stroke him through
the slacks he still wore. He emitted a deep chuckle and grabbed her
wrist, shaking his head and grinning evilly as he pushed her arm back on
the bed and climbed over her to kneel between her
legs, parting them further.

"I'll d...die before I beg," she cried out haltingly, arching her back
as she attempted to propel her body against his.

"Fortunately, you won't have to do either," he whispered back as he
pinned her arms and leaned forward to kiss her roughly, his nose bumping
artlessly against hers as he invaded her mouth with his lips, tongue and
teeth.

He let go of one her hands, which immediately found its way to his
skin, and reached down to unbuckle his belt. With trembling fingers, he
unbuttoned and unzipped his fly then let go of her other hand to
frantically divest himself of his trousers. He had very much enjoyed looking at
and touching her nude body, teasing her and increasing her desire for
him. But his body would not permit further delay, his yearning to be
inside her, fully and deeply, having completely overtaken his senses.

"I will dive into your warm, briny sea," he murmured shakily, again
quoting the letter. "Again and again and again until I am lost in the sea
forever, until I succumb to the madness, and you go mad with me."

"Shut up and fuck me!"

Apparently that was one phrase she had managed to retain over the
years, the words barked out in the native language as she reached down to
help him pull his slacks and black silk boxers off his waist and down his
thighs. Her patience was all used up.

"As you wish, Caterina Mia!" he growled as he finally managed to kick
the remaining clothing off of and away from his body.

His eyes burning into hers, he carefully, deliberately, slid one arm
under her knee and brought her leg up to rest against his shoulder,
allowing the other to remain, slightly bent, on the bed. Positioning himself
at the delightfully soft, slippery entrance to her body, he repeated
softly, in English this time,

"As you wish, My Catherine."

Biting his lip and wincing, but not closing his eyes for an instant, he
entered her with one strong, steady stroke. She was warm and wet and
rather tight, but her body soon acquiesced, welcoming him and encouraging
him to go further, which he did with small circular motions.

"Shit, Jarod!" she gasped, her eyes rolling back, her forehead knotted
with tension.

"Shhh..." he soothed as he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on
the spot right between her eyebrows, while forcing her raised leg back
against her body. This change in position was enough to make her moan as
she felt him shift within her.

Raising himself up on his free arm, he braced himself, careful not to
let his hand slide on the soft silk of the bottom sheet. He then
commenced a slow, steady rhythm... devastating, relentless as it increased.
Parker was rendered completely helpless and incoherent, moaning and
whimpering as she clutched frantically at silk. As his pace increased, Jarod
wasn't making too much sense himself and was largely reduced to
animalistic grunts and growls as he felt the pressure build.

It was as if all the energy available in nature were now exerting
itself at one specific moment in time and space, at one singular point of
contact, where their bodies joined. Everything else seemed to disappear,
the villa, the room, even the bed, leaving only her beneath him and
everywhere around him. He concentrated on her eyes, which grew even wider
as he felt an unbelievable sensation, like a billion tiny explosions
inside her body. In the distance he heard her cry out, a deep guttural
cry torn from somewhere deep within her, a primal place, and, for an
instant, thought it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Then, as
his own body exploded in release, he thought of nothing at all, but
shook so violently that his hand did indeed slide on the silk sending him
toppling down on her, his body crushing hers into the bed, his other
arm slipping out from under her leg to let it drop down and come to rest
next to one of his.

His awareness returned slowly. There was warmth as she wrapped her arms
around him, the pounding of her heartbeat against his chest and then a
beautiful sound and a pleasant rumbling beneath him. He realized she
was laughing softly and raised his head to look at her.

"Holy shit, Jarod," she managed between breathless chuckles.

"Holy shit, indeed," he replied, smiling as he leaned in to kiss her
sweetly before rolling over to relieve her of his weight and scooping her
into his arms. As she settled comfortably onto his chest he glanced
over at the night table and asked,

"Care for dessert?"

"Oh, I thought that WAS dessert," she joked, raising her head to kiss
his stubbly chin.

* * * *

Parker stretched and sighed as she ascended into consciousness. She
could hear sounds of the sea, the distant bells and birds and surf. She
could smell the fresh morning air and feel the warmth of the sun on her
skin. She felt fabulous.

What a night it had been. After a rather auspicious start, they had fed
each other Italian chocolates and marzipan, sharing hot, sweet kisses
in between. They also employed the remaining champagne glass, Parker
taking a swig and surprising Jarod with a vivid demonstration of just how
good tiny bubbles can feel against certain sensitive stretches of skin.
Not one to be outdone, Jarod had a flash of inspiration and scampered
down to the kitchen to return with a jar of his favorite new discovery,
Nutella chocolate-hazelnut spread, and immediately struck upon a new
way to enjoy it. Smacking his lips afterwards, he announced to a panting,
bleary-eyed Parker that it was also very good on bread or crackers.

Parker chuckled throatily then realized that she felt an odd, but far
from unpleasant, sensation, like dozens of light kisses being pressed to
her skin at once. She opened her eyes and glanced down to find she was
lying in and covered with flower petals. Just then, the doors to the
terrace opened wider and Jarod stepped into the room, wearing only silk
pajama bottoms and looking like a god.

"Good morning, sleepy head," he said in a deep voice that was as soft
as the petals.

"It sure is," she replied with a sigh, casting him an inviting look.

He smiled and strolled over to the bed, reclining next her and propping
his head up on one arm to gaze down at her. He scooped up a handful of
flower petals and sprinkled them over her face and neck. She closed her
eyes and hummed in contentment then remarked,

"I wasn't sure you'd be here when I woke up."

"Why? Where would I go? This is where I'm staying."

"I thought reality might have sunk in and you'd have split."

He pressed his finger to a petal that had come to rest in the hollow of
her throat and glided it across her skin, over her collarbone to her
shoulder then down toward her breasts. Meanwhile, he replied,

"As I told you last night, this is what's real. We left the absurd role
playing back there."

"This isn't real," she said with a sigh and a smile as he continued to
push the flower petal across her bare flesh. "This is a fantasy, a
holiday from reality. Daily life isn't like this, not for anyone, including
people who lead far less complicated lives than we do."

"I know THAT," he said rolling his eyes and momentarily ceasing
movement. "And, frankly, I'm glad it isn't. While it was definitely worth
it... man, was it ever worth it, if you don't mind my saying so, all this
romance stuff is a heck of a lot of work. And, of course, there's the
whole sock issue to grapple with."

"What?" She raised her head slightly and cast him an inquisitive look.

"Never mind," he sighed. "I'll explain later. I'm just saying that all
the hearts and flowers in the world can't create what happened here
last night if the connection isn't there between the parties involved." He
commenced tracing the soft petal over her skin.

"Mmmm..." was her only response as the flower petal came to rest on a
nipple.

"Which isn't to say," Jarod intoned seductively, "that we can't live
`La Dolce Vita' a little while longer... say, another week or so. What do
you say, Parker? What do you say? ...Catherine?"

"I'm with you, buddy, on that one. I'm with you," she murmured then
moaned as his tongue replaced his finger on the petal.

FIN

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