Remington Steele and Laura Holt are the creative property of MTM and NBC Television; no copyright infringement is intended. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only, and has a Mature rating. The story begins at the last scene of "Steele Blushing" (from the fourth season of the show). There are also small references to "Love Among the Steele," "Blue Blooded Steele" and "Steele Trying" (and little nods here and there to "Premium Steele" and "Steeled With a Kiss." [Bonus points if you catch all of them ] As always, my thanks to the gracious Nancy Eddy for housing this story on her site. If you want to contact me, you can e-mail me at nsimpson@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca

Steele had volunteered to buy up the copies at those establishments. In fact, she thought, he had been a little *too* happy to raise his hand for that tawdry task. The barely restrained leer in his eyes right now made her wonder if perhaps she shouldn't have let him do it.

Realizing he was still waiting for an explanation, Laura racked her brain for one. After years of being the cool, practical, level headed Laura Holt, she had decided to experiment with her sensual side. For once. She should have known it would backfire on her.

Recently she had been wondering if the reason she and "Mr. Steele" had yet to trip the light fantastic could be that he just wasn't attracted to her; if he didn't see her as a sensual being. Sure, she knew he wanted her, in his own way. But it was always *his* way, and she needed to feel more control than that allowed her. But was Daniel right? Was it merely the challenge that kept him in Los Angeles?

She finally shrugged. "It all started innocently enough. I needed a portrait for the alumni journal and--"

"Of course you did." The laughter in his voice singed her skin like the heat from the fireplace.

"You see, that's what I mean! That's *exactly* why I didn't come to you about this in the first place!" She was surprised at how hurt she was by his mocking tone. Was her explanation so lame? Yes, it probably was, she acknowledged. But did his disbelief mean that he really thought she *had* gone to Veenhoff for some "boudoir" pictures? The idea dug underneath her fingernails and made the hair on her arms stand on end.

"I needed a portrait," she continued, watching him carefully. "He took a portrait. I didn't know anything about Veenhoff's boudoir business until he came to me with his problem." *And if he believed that, she had a castle in Ireland she could sell him.*

Laura threw another magazine on the fire, imagining it was Veenhoff's head. The trouble he had caused her over the past twenty-four hours wasn't worth the incredibly gorgeous pictures he had taken of her.

"The alumni journal, eh?" Steele grinned lasciviously.

"Perfectly legitimate," she reminded him primly. She supposed she should be thankful that Veenhoff had just played cut and paste with her head, and hadn't sent her real pictures to his shady associates. Perhaps she just wasn't centerfold material.

Her mind flashed back on that "lost weekend" in San Francisco, when Mr. Steele had shouted to a crowded bar that he had seen better bodies in the morgue. All skin and bones, was how he put it. At the time she had known it was just an act to get them away from the goon squad, but now she wondered if that was how he really saw her. How he really saw her body.

Steele's gaze raked over the centerfold, the dancing flames of the fire reflected in his eyes. "Well, the alumni are going to be delighted with this, aren't they?"

*That's it*, she decided. She was tired of his taunts and innuendo. And his attention to that pectorally-enhanced bimbo with her head. So he didn't believe her? Well, he had good reason toshe was lying, after all. Perhaps it was time she demonstrated the concept of boudoir photography to him.

She tugged the magazine from his hand and aimed it at the fire. Her lips curved, she crawled over to him and gently pushed him down. Before he could utter a word, she stretched out across his body and covered his lips with hers.

His soft moan against her mouth made her smile, and she dragged her fingers through his thick dark hair as she kissed him. She didn't do this enoughinitiate kisses. It made her feel powerful, wanton, demanding. It was a terrifying feeling. That was probably why she didn't do it very often.

Carefully, Steele rolled her over so that he was braced above her, his hair disheveled and two bright spots of color burning high on his cheeks. His eyes glittered, and as he lowered his mouth to the skin bared by the open collar of her shirt, Laura knew she would have a hard time keeping that feeling of power. On the other hand, the wanton and demanding part wasn't going to be a problem.

His lips grazed over her collarbone and his hand came up to rest on the buttons of her shirt. Waiting for the signal that it was okay, that *this* was okay.

"What would you say," Laura murmured, "if I told you that Veenhoff *had* taken, um, provocative pictures of me?"

His head came up and his eyes narrowed to thin slits. "I'd kill him. Then I'd kill you." She blinked and hooked her leg around his hip. Heat flared in his eyes and the fire by the window calmed to a low crackle. "Well, I might not kill you." He began nibbling on her jaw then pulled back quickly, his brows drawn together in a frown. "Do you mean you actually?"

"I didn't say that. Are you curious?"

"Ah, you know me, Miss Holt." He smiled softly and undid the first button on her blouse.

"Hmm. I wonder sometimes how well you know me, Mr. Steele." His hand stilled. Laura pushed him away slightly and propped herself up on her elbows. "How curious?"

"I beg your pardon?" There was a slightly befuddled look in his dark blue eyes, as though he had lost track of the conversation. Which, to be fair, Laura thought as she glanced down at his hand still resting lightly on her chest, he probably had.

"Do you want to see what boudoir photography is all about?

His eyes widened and his fingers twitched between her breasts. She smiled and slid out from underneath him.

"Uh, Laura--"

"I'll show you." He opened his mouth and she pressed a finger against it firmly. "And if I were you, I would get out your camera before I change my mind."

He nodded and sprang to his feet. Shrugging off his jacket as he entered the bedroom, he tried desperately to remember where he had put his camera. It was the camera he had brought to Los Angeles as Ben Pearson. The camera he had used the first time he saw her.

He whipped open one drawer after another and swore under his breath. Where the hell was it? Like the agency gun, it had the habit of disappearing when it was needed most. Strange that they barely ever used it, though. All the places they'd beenCannes, Malta, London, Greece, Acapulcoand they had never snapped a single picture.

He raked a hand through his hair and swore again. Finally he unearthed the camera from beneath some argyle socks and raised his gaze heavenward. After checking the exposures, he let out a hitching sigh of relief and sped back to the living room.

Shadows and firelight shrouded Laura, and her pale legs stood out starkly against the chestnut carpet. Her long, lean, *bare* legs. Steele swallowed tightly.

"I started without you," she murmured. She sat by the fire, leaning back on her hands and her legs crossed daintily at her slim ankles. Her skin gleamed like the silk of her ivory teddy, and when she shrugged, a strap whispered over her shoulder.

Steele swallowed again.

"Where do you want me?"

He nearly dropped the camera. "I beg your pardon?"

"For the pictures." She raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "There is film in the camera, isn't there?"

His hand tightened convulsively around the cool metal in his hand. "Yes. Right there is just fine. The light from the fire is very flattering."

She beamed. "You think so?"

"Definitely." With trembling hands, he raised the camera to his face and snapped a couple of pictures. "Laura?"

"Hmm?" She pointed her toes and raised one knee seductively.

"Just how close did Veenhoff get to you?"

"A little closer than you are now, I think."

Steele looked down at the four-foot expanse of carpet between them and frowned. Dropping to his knees, he inched forward and the camera clicked. "This close?" He zoomed in on her flushed face. "Or closer?"

"Closer."

He inched towards her. His finger flicked at the camera, and her dark shining eyes came into focus. "Was he this close?"

"No."

*Click*. "Why not?"

"Because I didn't want him to be. I would have been uncomfortable." She leaned back further as he hovered over her.

"Are you uncomfortable now?"

"Yes," she whispered.

*Click*. "Good."

She could feel his breath on her skin as he lingered over her, and bit back a shiver. "Do you think I'm sexy?"

Steele lowered the camera. "I think you're incredible." His gaze swept over her like a brush fire, and this time she couldn't contain the quiver that raced up her spine. "I've never known a woman like you," he said simply.

"Mr. Steele, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

His eyes sparkled at her in dim glow from the fire, and he moved away from her. "Is that why you went to Veenhoff? To feel sexy?"

Laura frowned, suddenly chilled by his absence. "I don't know. I just needed to feel" She shrugged, trying to find the right word. "feminine. Lately I feel all I've been doing is--"

He leaned back on his heels and put the camera on the floor. "What?"

She tilted her head to one side, watching him carefully. "Running after you. Fighting with you. Trying to keep you in my life. It's verywearing sometimes."

His mouth flattened into a grim line and he nodded. "It's wearing being chased."

Laura gave him a wobbly smile. "It's wearing being chaste."

"Hmm." He crawled towards her and stretched out beside her on his side, propped up on one elbow. "Is that what this exercise was about? Making me chase after you, for once?"

"Maybe. Maybe I just wanted to know that I was worth chasing."

"Laura, I wouldn't be here after three years if I didn't think so."

"I know. At least, I think I do. But is it just the chase that keeps you interested?"

He frowned and reached out to drag a finger across the silk on her belly. Her stomach muscles clenched instantly and she watched the lines form on his forehead. "It keeps me running," he finally replied.

She exhaled raggedly. "Running. Exactly. Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever stop."

"You mean if I'll ever catch you?" He began tracing concentric circles on her stomach.

She lay a hand over his fingers, stilling them. "Or if you'll ever just stop." The heat from his hand seeped into her skin and he splayed his fingers across her stomach, reaching up towards her ribcage.

A hank of dark hair fell over his eye as he leaned close to her, but she resisted the urge to smooth it back. "Laura, I've told you beforeI will never stop wanting you." He brushed a feathery kiss over her lips.

She sighed. "I want you to want me." Even if it frightened her. Because it frightened her.

"I do. Now what's the problem?" He kissed her again, lingering on the swell of her bottom lip.

Reaching up, she traced the tiny lines around his eyes with her thumb and breathed his scent deep into her lungs. "I want you."

His teeth flashed at her in the firelight as he grinned briefly. "That sounds more like progress than a problem."

"Depends on your point of view."

His hand curved around her waist and dragged her across the few inches of empty space to fit snugly against his body. "How does it look from where you're lying?"

"Dangerous." She smiled and he kissed her again.

"Laura, I don't know if you realize this, but you have all the power in this relationship." She looked puzzled. "You own my home, my car, my livelihood, even my name. Every move I make is because of you."

"I never thought of it that way," she whispered against his lips. It made her feel a little better. "Does it bother you?"

"Sometimes." He caressed her ribcage, inching towards the swell of her breast. "But most of the time I just let it go, and trust that you'll take us somewhere exciting and wonderful."

"And have I?"

"Hmm." His fingers clenched at her waist and he hauled her on top of him. She was left breathless as he reached up and cupped her face, then pulled her towards him. "You were right the first time. This *is* dangerous."

His kiss was devastatingly gentle, and full of promise. She sighed against his lips and tasted his arousal in the back of her aching throat. They lay there, embraced by the low glow of the fire and entwined together, for several minutes before she slid off of him.

"I think it's time I went home." Not because she wanted to, but because she needed to. There was something more going on here than simple lust. It was something she felt she still had to guard against, no matter how difficult it might be.

He watched her carefully, then nodded. She slipped her clothes on hurriedly and reached for her handbag. A low ache still throbbed through her body and she closed her eyes as she knelt down and kissed him goodbye. She hesitated, feeling his silent breath on her lips.

"I'm not running," she said.

"Maybe," he said huskily. "But I trust you. I know you'll stop." His lips curved. "Perhaps someday we'll both decide to just stop, and we'll run into each other full tilt."

Tilt. That was how she felt right nowlike a pinball machine on the blink. On the brink. She pressed a tiny kiss into the corner of his mouth and rose to her feet. Without a word, she jammed her feet into her shoes and swept out the door.

Steele watched the darkness that swallowed her up then lay his head back down on the floor. He rolled over on his side and reached for the camera. The fire let out a greedy hiss as he tossed the film in, and he watched it burn.

There were no pictures of the south of France, or Big Ben, or the sun-drenched shores of the Mediterranean, and there would be no pictures of tonight. He had memories that made his fingers twitch and his gut clench. Who needed pictures?

THE END