A couple of hours later,
Remington was putting the finishing touches on his elegantly set
table. Lighting the candles, he stepped back to admire his
handiwork. Yes, the red roses definitely added the perfect touch.
He was glad he had called the florist and arranged for the special
delivery. The bottle of Dom Perignon '76 was chilling nicely and
the soft music playing in the background added just the right
touch to the romantic mood he was trying so hard to
achieve.
He nervously adjusted his tie and
slipped into his tuxedo jacket. With any luck, tonight might turn
out to be his wedding night. If he could convince Laura to
wholeheartedly accept their marriage, he would be the happiest man
alive. If a little wining and dining would help matters along, it
was worth the effort.
Remington had hoped to propose to
Laura in Cannes, but that trip had yielded a fiasco instead of an
engagement. Since that time, his dream of a life with Laura seemed
to be slipping further and further away. He knew Laura still loved
him; she just had too much pride to admit it and recant the
childish decision she'd made their last evening in Cannes. But she
had supported him during the deportation bomb, so perhaps she was
finally ready to accept him. He knew they could build a good life
together.
Remington knew in his heart that
Laura had meant the declaration of love she had given to Estelle
earlier that day. It didn't matter that she had said them for
Estelle's benefit; it was enough that she had spoken the words in
his presence. It had warmed his heart to hear Laura say the words,
even though he did not need to hear them to know that she loved
him. Her supportive actions during Estelle's visit were all the
proof he needed of her love.
Remington had never understood
Laura's desperate need to hear him verbally declare his love for
her. Didn't his actions prove his love? Didn't the mere fact that
he was still around after three years prove his commitment?
Remington had learned early on to judge people by what they did
and not by what they said; there were too many traps in that.
Laura, however, felt as though him finally saying "I love you"
would be proof that he would stay forever. Remington couldn't
imagine ever leaving Laura of his own free will, but he knew that
mere words spoken now would mean nothing should that day ever
come. But that afternoon, he had finally verbally admitted his
love to Laura. Surely now her desperate need to hear the words had
been satisfied and she would be content with the proof of his
love.
While Remington was busy
contemplating the future of the evening-- indeed, his entire
life-- an elegantly dressed Laura entered the elevator and punched
the button for his floor. She, also, had done a lot of soul
searching. There was no doubt that she was deeply in love with her
Man of Steele. She had forgiven him weeks ago for the Cannes
disaster--right after the fire at her loft, in fact--but her pride
wouldn't let her admit it to him.
She also knew beyond a shadow of
a doubt that Remington loved her. The mere fact that he hadn't run
as far and as fast as he could when Estelle arrived was proof of
that. But even so, Laura wanted more. She wanted to hear the
words. Too many people in her life had loved her and left her;
this time she simply couldn't settle for anything less than a
verbal declaration of love and commitment.
True, she and Remington had
exchanged marriage vows, but that was under false pretenses and
really didn't count. And true, Remington had told Estelle that he
was deeply in love with her. Laura knew in her heart that
Remington meant those words, but they had been said merely for
Estelle's benefit. Laura would be happy to accept their marriage
wholeheartedly, but first she needed a declaration of love from
him. She didn't want a marriage of convenience, but she had to be
assured of his commitment. Surely he would realize she needed
that. She said a little prayer that tonight would be their wedding
night.
Her decision made, Laura exited
the elevator and gathered what courage she could. Stopping before
apartment A, she took a deep breath and rang the bell.
Remington answered the bell on
the first ring. The two of them couldn't help laughing nervously
when they noticed each other's attire.
"Guess we had the same idea,"
Laura said.
"Yes, great minds and all that,"
Remington replied as Laura entered the room and he closed the
door. "We'll, uh, have to get you a key. It wouldn't do to have
the Lady of the House picking her own lock."
"Right," Laura agreed. "Assuming,
of course, that we decide to live here and not at my loft."
"Uh, what say we postpone that
decision until tomorrow," Remington suggested. "Dinner is ready
and I'd hate to spoil it by getting into a knock down, drag
out."
"Alright," Laura agreed. "Shall
we eat?"
Remington led Laura into the
dimly lit dining room and held her chair for her. He then took his
seat opposite her and began pouring the champagne.
"Everything is lovely," Laura
said admiringly as she took a sip of her champagne.
"Nothing is too good for my
blushing bride," Remington declared as he took Laura's china plate
and dipped her a serving of the main entree' from a silver chafing
dish. He then dipped her a serving of green peas and tiny onions
from a smaller silver dish.
When he sat the elegant china
plate before her, Laura couldn't help laughing.
"Tuna casserole with
rice?"
"I know you said you didn't want
rice, but I was out of noodles," Remington explained, defensively.
"And it was either that or pork and beans."
"On Wedgewood?" Laura teased,
referring to their past case on the Devil's Playground.
"That could have been arranged,"
Remington admitted.
They ate in awkward silence for
several minutes. Both were afraid to get too serious, too soon.
Finally, the silence became too much to bear.
Remington decided to take the
plunge and get it over with. "I'd, uh, like to thank you for
supporting me while Estelle was here."
"Well, I couldn't very well just
sit there and watch you be deported, now could I? I've invested
too much time and energy turning you into Remington Steele to have
Immigration whisk you away. Besides, I've gotten used to having
you around. Who else would I argue with if you were thrown out of
the country?"
"Indeed," Remington said
coolly.
Laura could have kicked herself.
She hadn't meant to reply so flippantly to Remington's genuine
expression of gratitude. Why did she always end up saying the
wrong thing around him anyway? She had wanted to say that she
couldn't bear the thought of losing him; that she would have
willingly done anything to keep him near her. She wanted to say
that now, to remove that look of pain she now saw in his eyes--but
the words just wouldn't come out. Instead, she wolfed down more
tuna casserole.
"I just want you to know that I
appreciate it. I've gotten quite used to playing Remington Steele.
I'd hate to have to give up the role and start all over again in
Ireland or whatever country I was deported to."
Remington could have kicked
himself. That wasn't what he had meant to say at all. Why did he
always end up saying the wrong thing around Laura anyway? He had
wanted to say that he couldn't bear the thought of losing her;
that he would willingly have done anything to stay near her. He
wanted to say that now, to remove that look of pain he now saw in
her eyes-- but the words just wouldn't come out. Instead, he
wolfed down more tuna casserole.
"Do you really think we can fool
Estelle and Immigration for two years?" Remington finally asked
after another long spell of silence.
"Well, for the good of the
Agency, we can certainly try," Laura said matter of factly. "How
hard can it be to convince the public we are married?"
Laura wanted to kick herself
again. Why had she said that? That wasn't what she wanted to say
at all! Why didn't Remington just take her in his arms and shake
some sense into her?
"Laura, let's stop playing games
and get down to the bottom line," Remington finally declared,
tossing his napkin onto the table. "Whether we planned it or not,
we were legally married this morning. There's no way we can
gracefully get out of the marriage without jeopardizing the
Agency. You know I care for you very much, and I think you still
care for me--in spite of your recent icy disposition since Cannes.
How many times can I apologize for that?"
"Are you trying to make a point?"
Laura asked angrily, tossing her napkin on the table, also.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am!"
Remington declared loudly. "I suggest we put our differences
behind us and wholeheartedly accept this marriage! It's legal!
That should satisfy your bloody conscience. I have no doubt that
this new relationship could turn out to be highly satisfying for
both of us."
Laura pushed herself into a
standing position, still leaning heavily on the table. "I want
more from marriage than a roll in the hay!" she yelled
angrily.
Remington pushed himself up into
a standing position and also leaned heavily on the table. "And I
want more from a marriage than a good show in public and a cold
bed at night!" he yelled just as angrily.
"How do I know you won't be gone
in two years?" Laura demanded. "What guarantees can you give
me!"
"How do you know I won't be gone
tomorrow? Or next week? Promises aren't worth anything, Laura!
Doesn't the fact that I've stayed around for over two years mean
anything to you? What does it take to get through to you?"
"More than a wink and a
tumble!"
"Do you honestly believe that's
the only reason I've stuck around for two years?" Remington
declared.
He and Laura just stared at each
other angrily for several seconds.
"I think that we better stop
before we say something we'll both regret," Laura suggested
quietly.
"Isn't it already too late for
that?" Remington inquired.
Laura left the dining room and
walked to the bedroom door, Remington close on her heels. She
paused in the open doorway for a few seconds and then turned to
face him.
"I won't have you deported," she
assured him. "As far as the public and Immigration are concerned,
we'll be the happiest married couple in America. No one will ever
suspect we strictly have a marriage of convenience. We may be
living together, but we won't be living *together*. Do I make
myself clear, Mr. Steele?"
"As a bell, Miss Holt. As a
bell."
"Well, in that case, good night,"
Laura said, slamming the door in Remington's face and locking
it.
That final indignity was more
than Remington could take. He began pounding on the bedroom
door.
"Laura! Laura! Open the door!"
Receiving no answer, he pounded louder. "Lau-ra! This is your
husband talking! Now open this door!"
To Remington's surprise the door
opened. Laura stood before him holding an armful of bed covers,
which she proceeded to throw across the living room one piece at a
time. Last but not least, she flung a pair of his black silk
pajama bottoms in his face. Before he could retaliate, the door
was once again slammed in his face.
"That tears it!" Remington swore
aloud as he stormed angrily into the kitchen.
He rummaged through several
drawers until he located an ice pick. Returning to the living
room, he placed the ice pick on the table by the door. He then
angrily proceeded to rip off his clothes, slinging each piece
across the room as he stripped. Once undressed, he put on the
pajama bottoms Laura had flung in his face.
Using the ice pick as a lock
pick, he attacked his bedroom lock with a vengeance. Within
moments the lock clicked and he pushed the door open. Realizing
Laura was not there, he stomped to the open bathroom door.
"LAU-RA!! "
Laura was standing before the
mirror brushing her hair, wearing a very sheer nightgown of
Mildred's choosing. She gasped, jumped and spun around all at the
same time when she heard him call her name.
The man standing before her was a
Remington Steele she had never before encountered. She was almost
afraid of this stranger. Slowly, she backed away until she was
stopped by the bathroom wall.
"You are my wife, damn it, and
this is our wedding night. You will not lock me out of my own
bedroom without at least giving me a good night kiss." With that,
Remington grabbed Laura in a tight embrace and gave her the most
passionate and demanding kiss she had ever received.
She was on the verge of fainting
when Remington released her.
"Good night, Mrs. Steele," he
declared as he turned and left.
Laura, leaning weakly against the
bathroom wall, soon heard the bedroom door slam. Well, she had
learned one thing on her wedding night-- a locked door was no
deterrent when it came to an angry husband. She knew they had
along way to go before Remington would finally be able to say
those three little words to her that she needed to hear, but she
was determined to hold out until he did. She knew with certainty
that day would come.
In the living room, Remington
angrily pounded the couch into a bed, using the covers Laura had
so thoughtfully tossed out earlier. He stretched out, pulled the
covers up to his waist and tightly crossed his arms across his
chest. Laura may have locked him out of the bedroom on their
wedding night, but at least he had shown her exactly who was the
boss. He know without a doubt that she had enjoyed that kiss as
much as he had. He realized they had along way to go before he
broke through Laura's bloody defenses, but he was determined to
hold out until he did. He knew with certainty that day would
come.
Remington rolled over once more
in his effort to find a comfortable position on the couch. He sat
up and plumped the pillow, thinking that would help. Laying back
down and crossing his arms across his chest, he tried not to think
of Laura sleeping alone, no doubt very comfortably, in his queen
sized bed. But the more he tried not to think of her,the more he
did.
He gave up any hopes of
sleeping.
**************
After what was undoubtably the
longest night of his life, Remington became aware of the rosy glow
of dawn peeping through the curtains. He didn't relish the idea of
spending another night on the couch, so he vowed to do something
to remedy the situation before another day had passed. After all,
maybe Laura would be more receptive to him in the light of a new
day. He was just about to rise when he heard a discreet knock on
the door.
"Now who could that be at this
hour?" he wondered aloud as he headed to answer the door. With his
hand on the knob he asked, "Who is it?"
"Mr. Steele, it's me--Mildred. I
have a little surprise for you and Mrs. Steele. I'll just deliver
it and then be on my way. Is that O.K.?"
"Uh, sure, Mildred," Remington
said, starting to open the door.
Suddenly he remembered his
makeshift bed on the couch; if Mildred saw that, she'd be bound to
ask questions.
"Just a moment, Mildred," he
called out as he dashed to the couch and grabbed the covers.
"We're not dressed. Have to make ourselves presentable and
all."
He bolted over to the bedroom
door with his bundle. "Laura..." he called out as he barging
in.
Laura had just awakened and was
sitting up in bed. She rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her
hair. Seeing Remington bounding into the bedroom, she became
upset. "Just what do you think you're doing, barging in here
again!? I suppose this time you want more than a good night
kiss?"
"Laura, as much as I'd love to
bicker with you, we don't have the time right now! Mildred is at
the door!"
"What is she doing here?" Laura
asked.
"She says she has a surprise for
us. Now come on, Laura; help me get rid of these," he pleaded as
he stuffed the blankets in the closet. "We have to keep up
appearances, eh? We wouldn't want Mildred to know that one of us
spent the night on the couch."
"And why not?" Laura asked as she
continued to sit in bed.
"Need I remind you, Mrs. Steele,
that you promised we would be the happiest married couple in
America? We don't want Mildred to become suspicious, now do
we?"
"Oh, very well," Laura conceded,
flinging back the covers and padding out into the living
room.
Remington couldn't help staring.
She was still wearing the sheer nightgown that Mildred had so
thoughtfully provided. He stood in the doorway and watched her
bend over to retrieve the pillows on the floor. The view was most
rewarding.
She threw the throw pillows onto
the couch, then noticed him watching her from the bedroom
doorway.
"What!?" she snapped.
"Just admiring how lovely my
bride is in the morning," Remington explained with a smile.
"Aaargh," Laura screamed, pushing
past him back into the bedroom and throwing the extra pillow onto
the bed.
Remington rushed over to the bed
and quickly lay down, rolling around to crumple the sheets on the
opposite side to make it appear as if two people had slept in
it.
"Oh, for heaven's sake..." Laura
declared.
"Can never be too careful,"
Remington explained as he rose, finding his robe and pulling it
on. Then glancing at Laura, he asked, "Do you have a robe?"
She grabbed her terry cloth robe
from the foot of the bed and put it on. She was grateful she had
remembered to bring that last night from the loft.
Remington glanced around to make
sure everything was in order and then walked to the front
door.
"Mr. Steele..." Laura
started.
Remington paused just long enough
to ask, "Laura, don't you think it would be better if you called
you husband something besides 'Mister'?"
There were a great many things
she wanted to call him, especially at that moment, but he was
already opening the door and greeting Mildred before she could
settle on one.
"Mildred, sorry to keep you
waiting. So nice to have you drop by this morning," Remington said
as Laura appeared beside him.
Mildred entered, followed by two
waiters in white jackets who were pushing a wheeled cart.
"I wanted to do something special
for your first morning together, so I brought you breakfast in
bed," she explained.
Laura and Remington stared opened
mouthed at her.
Finally, Laura said, "Ah, that's
awfully sweet of you, Mildred, but we really don't have time for a
long leisurely breakfast. It's a working day and we have to get
dressed to for the office."
"Certainly you two aren't
planning to come into the office today?" Mildred protested.
"Well, yes; of course," Laura
said.
"I'm surprised you two have the
energy to think about going *anywhere* today," Mildred explained
in astonishment.
"Actually, Mildred..." Laura
started again.
Remington hastily cut in,
slipping his arm around Laura's waist. "Actually, Mildred, we just
don't know how ever we'll thank you for your generous and
thoughtful gesture. Isn't that right, Dear?" he prompted
Laura.
"That's right, Dear," Laura
replied through gritted teeth.
"Well, if you two will just hop
back into bed, breakfast will be coming right up," Mildred
ordered. "I've got everything under control."
Remington and Laura plastered big
smiles onto their faces as they headed back into the bedroom.
Remington slipped out of his robe and climbed into bed, pulling
the covers over his legs and settling them around his waist. He
then stuffed a couple of pillows behind his back.
Laura just stood staring at
him.
He patted the bed beside him,
saying, "In you get, Miss Holt... I mean, Mrs. Steele. Or do you
prefer Holt-Steele, perhaps?"
"Holt-Steele will do fine," Laura
growled.
She wished she could think of a
diplomatic way out of this, but nothing came to mind. She had no
choice but to crawl into bed with her new husband.
"Take off your robe, my sweet,"
he whispered.
"I'll leave it on, thank you,"
she hissed as she crossed her arms.
"Suit yourself," he
shrugged.
Mildred bustled into the bedroom,
followed by the waiters. They began setting up the breakfast,
which consisted of coffee, orange juice, champagne, fruit compote,
Strawberries Romanoff, hot buttered biscuits with jam, and ham
& cheese omelets.
Mildred glanced at Laura. "Aren't
you a little warm in that robe, Luv?" Remington looked at her,
amused.
"Ah, no. I'm fine," Laura assured
her.
"You do look a mite warm. Here,
let me help you," Remington offered.
Laura silently grrred as
Remington helped her off with the robe, revealing the gown
underneath. Laura quickly pulled the covers up, but not quickly
enough to stop Remington from looking at her
appreciatively.
The look did not go unnoticed by
Mildred, who grinned knowingly. "Well, I'll be going now. Three on
a honeymoon is a crowd. And speaking of honeymoons--Have you two
decided where you'll be taking yours?"
"Ah, no, we haven't given it much
thought yet," Remington quickly replied before Laura could
comment.
Mildred nodded in understanding
and then headed for the door, saying, "Don't worry about the
Agency, kids. I'll hold down the fort."
"That's a relief," Remington
declared.
"Mr. Steele and I..." Laura
began, but caught herself as Remington kicked her under the
covers. "Ah, that is, Remington and I will be in a little
later."
"I wouldn't count on it,
Mildred," Remington contradicted as he pulled Laura towards him.
"I think that in our new role as newlyweds, it's our obligation to
linger in bed today. I think I can persuade my blushing bride to
agree to the wisdom of that."
Mildred winked at Laura and
disappeared with a wave into the living room. They heard her
signal to the waiters and then they heard the front door being
closed.
As soon as they were alone, Laura
jumped out of bed.
"Coffee?" Remington offered,
holding out a steaming cup to her.
She ignored him and continued
walking away.
"Juice? Champagne?" he
asked.
Laura whirled around and glared
at him, but said nothing.
"Laura, it's not going to hurt
you to join me for this delicious breakfast," Remington explained
calmly.
She stared at him. For a moment
he was afraid she would refuse to join him. But then she sat back
down on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible, and
he breathed a sigh of relief. It was not the most romantic
breakfast, but at least it was civil. They didn't argue, but that
was mainly because Remington was very careful to avoid the subject
of their marriage.
Remington was leisurely sipping a
second cup of coffee when Laura put down her cup and stood
up.
"I'm going to get dressed," she
announced.
He didn't know if she expected
him to leave or not, but he didn't. He remained where he was,
lounging in bed. Laura snatched up some clothes and disappeared
into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind her.
She wasn't really sure why she had bothered to lock it; she knew
for a fact a locked door was no deterrent to an angry
husband.
Remington heard the sound of the
shower for a very long time. He wondered if Laura was purposely
taking an extended shower, using all the hot water out of spite so
there'd be none left for him. He shook his head. They may have
made it through breakfast, but the day had only begun and already
Remington was having serious doubts about that night. Laura was
not coming around and he needed a sure fire plan to soften her up.
As he lay lazily in bed, he tried to think of possible ways to
break down her defenses.
An hour later, Laura emerged from
the bathroom fully dressed and ready for the day in a conservative
business suit.
"You're really serious about
going into the office," he said incredulously.
"Of course. I have an Agency to
run and nothing is going to come between it and me."
Remington held up his hands.
"Perish the thought!"
"I'll see you later then," Laura
explained coolly as she picked up her purse.
"Wait a minute, Laura. If we're
going in, don't you think it would look better if we at least go
in together? Hmm?"
She shrugged. She couldn't see
that it made much difference.
He quickly hopped out of bed. "If
you'll just just give me a few minutes, I'll get ready."
"OK," she agreed, reluctantly. "I
guess I might as well clean up things in here while you're getting
dressed."
Having said that, she started
gathering up the breakfast things.
Remington grinned. "That's my
little woman."
Laura whirled around and growled
at him. "I'm not your little woman. I am not anybody's little
woman."
Remington nodded and then beat a
hasty retreat into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the
door completely. He noticed Laura's skimpy nightgown laying on the
counter and fingered it, remembering how lovely she had looked in
it last night. With a sigh, he took off his pajama bottoms and
stepped into the shower. Amazingly, there was some hot water
left.
Following his shower, he stood
before the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist and
prepared to shave. After the first swipe he screamed and stormed
from the bathroom holding his razor
"Laura!" he exclaimed
loudly.
Laura stuck her head into the
bedroom. "Did you say something?" she asked.
"Laura," he began, trying to
remain calm. "Did you by chance use my razor?"
She shrugged. "Yes, I shaved my
legs when I showered."
"Well, it nicked my blade,"
Remington explained as he gingerly rubbed his bloody chin.
"I'm sorry," Laura said, her tone
indicating she was not sorry in the least.
"Well, just don't do it again,"
Remington instructed.
"I didn't know it would be such a
crime," Laura exclaimed. "What other things of yours am I not
allowed to touch? Maybe we should divide things up--You know, draw
lines. That drawer is yours: this one is mine. That shelf is
yours; this one is mine. That wall is yours; this one is mine.
That half of the refrigerator is yours; this half is mine. That
razor is yours; this one is mine."
"Laura, that's not necessary," he
assured her. "We just need to respect each other's personal items.
You wouldn't like it if I used your razor, now would you?"
"You have!" she snapped.
"Remember when we took care of little Joey?"
"Need you remind me?" he
cringed.
She wasn't sure if he cringed
from the memory of staying awake all night tending a crying baby
or from the memory of experiencing the worst shave of his life,
thanks to her pink lady's razor.
"Just try to remember, Laura," he
requested.
"Fine. Just mark whatever you
don't want me to use. Make a list. Write your name on everything,"
Laura explained testily. Then she laughed. "Oh, I forgot. You
can't do that, seeing as how you don't have a name." Then suddenly
she became angry. "You suggested I call my husband something
besides 'Mister'... Why don't you have a name?!"
"I have a name. Remington. You
gave it to me, remember? If you don't like it, then make up
another one," he suggested calmly. He was surprised and hurt by
Laura's sudden reminder of this sore point between them, but he
chose not to make an issue of it.
Laura suddenly turned on her
heel, declaring, "I'll be waiting in the car downstairs. If you're
not down there in 15 minutes, I'm leaving without you."
She left without another
word.
"You're a difficult woman, Mrs.
Steele!" Remington yelled after her. Receiving no response, he
hurriedly finish dressing, muttering under his breath, "Well, at
least we're starting to act like a married couple."
With only a minute to spare,
Remington joined Laura in the Auburn. Her arms were crossed and
she was nervously tapping her fingers. She glanced at him as he
got into the car, but didn't say anything as he put the key in the
ignition.
"Ready?" he inquired.
"I've been ready for quite some
time now," Laura said tightly.
"Are you implying that I'm never
ready on time?" he queried.
Laura gaped at him. "I suppose
now you're going to limit my time in the bathroom, too."
"Why are we fighting about such
petty things?" he asked.
"I don't know. Why are
we?"
"Perhaps because we can't face
the real issue."
Laura knew it was the truth.
"You're right," she admitted.
"So what do we do about it then,
eh?"
Laura gave it some thought. "OK,
let's make a deal. We'll discuss our marriage tonight after we get
home. It will be just the two us then. Surely we can come up with
a solution that will make both of us happy. Until then, let's just
put it aside and try to have a normal day. Deal?"
She looked to him for a
response.
"Deal," he agreed.
Remington stopped his musings and
turned his attentions back to starting the Auburn. Unfortunately,
it was being as uncooperative this morning as Laura was. It made a
lot of noise, but refused to make any headway. Remington turned
the key in the ignition several times to no avail.
"Well, don't just sit there. Get
out and find out what's wrong with it!" Laura demanded
loudly.
"In case you've forgotten, Laura,
I'm a detective; not a mechanic!"
"At least pretend you know what
to do!"
Remington decided to change his
tactic. Smiling broadly, he said, "Certainly, Dear. Your wish is
my command."
Laura took a deep breath and
rolled her eyes as she folded her arms even tighter across her
chest. Remington continued to smile at her as he crawled out of
the car and opened the hood, using his handkerchief so he wouldn't
get his hands dirty.
He examined the situation for
several minutes before locating the problem. "It seemed that
several spark plugs and a few wires are missing," Remington
explained as he closed the hood and wiped his hands. Without
thinking, he then wiped his forehead with the greasy handkerchief
and smeared himself with grease.
Laura couldn't help herself. She
laughed.
"What's so funny?" Remington
inquired, hands on his hips.
Laura just continued to
laugh.
Remington, puzzled, sat back down
behind the wheel. "While I prefer your lilting laughter to your
bloody stubbornness, but I would like to know what's so funny," he
explained.
"Check the mirror, Mr. Steele,"
Laura instructed.
Remington checked the rear view
mirror and saw the problem.
"Allow me," Laura offered as she
dug a handkerchief out of her purse, spit on it and slid over
beside Remington. Putting one hand on his shoulder, she began
vigorously scrubbing his forehead with the other.
In spite of the fact that she was
scrubbing his forehead raw, Remington couldn't help but be very
aware of Laura's closeness. Without her realizing it, he put his
arms around her and drew her even closer. He quickly captured her
lips with his and stole a kiss. She quickly pulled away, but to
Remington's surprise she wasn't angry. Instead, she looked
bemused. He took advantage of her momentary good will and planted
little kisses all over her face and neck.
"Mr. Steele, just exactly what do
you think you are doing?" Laura asked.
"You're not much of a detective,
Mrs. Steele, if you have to ask that question," Remington said
between kisses.
Laura was finding it hard to
breath. He was definitely getting to her. Deciding to fight fire
with fire, she threw her arms around him and gave him a heart
pounding, pulse racing, spine tingling, blood coursing kiss. He
was taken totally unawares by Laura's display of passion. Did this
mean she was finally coming around?
When they broke the kiss,
Remington looked at Laura with a dazed look of wonder and licked
his lips. Laura smiled her most seductive smile and brushed
Remington's dark hair from his forehead.
"Does this mean what I hope it
means, Mrs. Steele?"
"What this means, Mr. Steele, is
that tonight when you're sleeping on the couch, you can think
about exactly what you are missing!" Laura said, fiercely grabbing
him for another white-hot kiss that sent him once again to
dizzying heights.
Then abruptly she let him go,
slid back across the seat and crawled out of the Auburn. Pausing
suddenly, she turned to him again and said, "I'm going back
upstairs to call Fred. We have a business to run,
remember?"
Then giving Remington a
mischievous grin, she walked away, swaying her hips in a very
suggestive manner that was quite unlike her.
Remington sat behind the wheel,
thoroughly confused. Laura was truly an enigma. He never knew
where he stood with her, but he was sure going to enjoy finding
out. One thing was sure--there was no way he was going to spend
another lonely night on that couch thinking about what he was
missing. He may have been a gentleman, but he wasn't a
fool.
Steele,
Inc.-Atlanta Div.
dtalley@mindspring.com