Steele In The Know2
He had intended to have Laura over for dinner, and to enjoy a movie with her. But she had refused his request, claiming a previous commitment. She'd been doing quite a lot of that lately, he reminded himself. She always seemed to have an excuse for doing anything more than working with him. In the six weeks since her father's funeral with full military honors, Remington could count on one hand the number of times they had done something together outside of office hours.
He'd hoped that the return of her father's body from Vietnam would have given her a sense of closure, a means of finally moving past her loss and into her future- a future that, hopefully, included him. But she had thrown herself totally into the Agency, never once saying a word about her father.
Remington had spoken to Donald at lunch the other day and discovered that she hadn't talked to her mother or Frances about him, either. "And I can tell you, Frances is worrie, Remington," Laura's brother in law told him. "Laura's closed herself off completely. Abigail complained the other day that she hadn't returned any telephone calls the last few days."
He knew Laura well enough to know that she needed time. Her way of handling life changing crises was to ignore them, concentrate on her work to the exclusion of all else- and when she was ready, deal with whatever the crisis happened to be. He remembered when her house had been blown up, how she had gone after the people responsible with such determination, refusing to allow herself to lean on anyone- even him. She'd lost Bernice Foxe, Murphy Michaels and her house within a short span of time. It hadn't been until later that night, during a thunderstorm, that he had heard her out here, in this very room, sobbing like a lost child.
The doorbell brought him out of his thoughts as Humphrey Bogart looked across a smoke filled bar to see Ingrid Bergman. Pressing the "mute" button on the control, he rose and went to open the door.
Laura stood there, dressed in jeans and an oversized shirt covered by a denim jacket. "Can I come in?" she asked, seeming uncertain of his answer.
"Of course," he told her, stepping back to allow her entry. She paused in the living room. "I thought you had other plans," he told her.
"I did," she informed him in a voice filled with what he easily recognized as false bravado. "I've already taken care of it." She sat down on the sofa as Remington grabbed his jacket and tie from the back and carried them into the bedroom.
"Haven't taken the time to tidy up," he told her. "Didn't think there was any reason to."
She nodded, sitting forward, her hands clasped between her knees. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know I haven't been easy to get along with these last few weeks."
Remington sat down beside her, the movie forgotten. "I understand. You needed time."
She nodded again. "Today- Today was -his birthday," she told him in a quiet voice that wavered as if it might break at any moment. Remington winced, suddenly recalling the date on the marker over John Holt's grave. "I went out there- put some- some flowers on the grave. Sat there for what seemed like forever, talking to him, telling him about- about my life- about you." Remington reached out and covered her hands with his, but didn't say anything. She needed to talk, to know that he was there for her as he had been for the last four years- as he fully intended to be for the rest of his life. "He's gone," she said, and began to sob. "He's-really-gone!" she wailed.
Remington pulled her into his arms, rocking her gently, whispering soft words. "There, there. It'll be okay, love. It'll be okay. Shh." He let her cry until he heard the small hiccups that signalled that she had cried herself out.
She pulled away a little, but not so far that she was no longer in his arms. "I kept telling myself that he'd come home," she said. "That one day I'd look up and he'd just be standing there, smiling, and everything would be fine. When they told us that it was his body, I still didn't want to believe it. Not Daddy. It couldn't have been Daddy."
"But it was," he reminded her.
Laura managed a watery smile. "I've always been good at self deception," she told him. "Seeing things the way I wanted them to be instead of the way they really were. I wanted to believe that Daddy would be back, that Wilson would accept me without trying to change me-that you would leave me the same way that they both did."
"Never," he told her, holding her gaze. "If it's within my power, I'll be right here, with you, for the rest of my life."
Laura placed a hand on his chest. "I know that now. You're the man who changes his identity the way most men change shirts- yet you've stayed here, with me, as Remington Steele for four years. That means more than any words ever could."
"So you're saying that you don't need to hear the words any longer?" Remington asked, looking at her carefully. "Just when I've decided that I want to say them?"
Laura's eyes widened. "You do?"
Remington took her hands in his. "Do you remember the time we went to the Devil's Playground?"
She frowned, wondering where he was going. "You pretended to be Dr. Bellows and I was supposed to be your nurse, Tracy Lord?" she asked. "Only you introduced me as your mistress and hung me with the name Myrtle Groggins? You mean THAT time?"
Remington grimaced at her accurate memory. "Uh, well, yes. I do. But what I should have asked about was something I said to you. About having avoided commitments most of my life."
Laura went still. "I remember. What about it?" she asked, her eyes wary.
"What I SHOULD have said was that yes, I had made it a point to avoid commitments - until I walked into an office one day and met an enchanting young woman who made me start to think about things like settling down, marriage, having a family of my own."
"Really?" she asked, sniffing. Remington grabbed a tissue from the box behind her and wiped her cheeks clean of tears.
"Really. I couldn't have left if I'd wanted to. And the one time I DID leave- trying to find something tangible to give you of my mysterious past- you came looking for me." He smiled down at her. "You have no idea how I felt when I realized that you were in London to find me," he told her. "I'd never really had anyone worry that much about me before."
"You certainly didn't show it," Laura told him. "If I recall correctly, you said `Thanks for dropping in' or something like that, and took off to avoid the police."
"I was confused," he reminded her. "Surprised and delighted to see you, but I hadn't found what I was looking for yet. And I didn't want to see you again until I had."
"Your real name," Laura said.
"Yes. And since we're being honest, I'll admit that it wasn't just for you. When I left Los Angeles, I wasn't certain that I would ever BE Remington Steele again. And the thought of going back to being Harry or Michael or whoever I felt like being on any particular day didn't seem as appealing as it once had. I wanted to know my name so I would know WHO I was."
Laura touched his cheek. "I know who you are," she told him. Remington shook his head in confusion. "You're Remington Steele," she said simply. "I can't even remember what the Remington Steele that I created was supposed to be like. You stepped into his shoes and into my life- and my heart," she added, looking at her hands on his chest.
Remington lifted her chin with gentle fingers, gazing deeply into her beautiful brown eyes. "And you into mine," he confessed. "From the moment I walked into that office. Even Felicia and Daniel noticed the change in me. Daniel noticed when we spoke on the phone." He smiled. "He's been after me for the last few weeks to lay all my cards on the table and tell you how I felt."
Laura's eyes widened in surprise. "He has? I didn't think Daniel Chalmers liked me at all. Between fighting over you and turning down his offers to join you and he on the other side of the street-,"
"When did he suggest that?" Remington asked her, one brow raised in curiosity.
"Oh, when we were in England, when you were trying to get out of the mess he made by trying to pass you off as the Duke of Rutherford."
"Really? Daniel actually suggested that you-?"
She nodded. "He did."
"And of course you turned him down."
"Of COURSE I did," she said indignantly. "You don't think I would seriously consider-," she broke off, looking at him. "You're teasing me," she said, giving his shoulder a playful slap.
Remington sat back, his arm still around her shoulders. "He's right, you know, we would have made a hell of a team, the three of us." When Laura turned to look at him, he quickly added, "but I think I prefer my life as it is now- not having to look over my shoulder as often. Besides, if Daniel needs me, he knows where I am. For the first time in either of our lives."
"He's very fond of you, isn't he?"
"I owe Daniel almost as much as I owe you," Remington agreed thoughtfully as Laura rested her head on his chest. "He got me out of Brixton, saved my life. Because if he hadn't, I shudder to think how I would have wound up. There are times when I wonder why he chose me- out of all the kids in Brixton, why me? What was so special about a scrawny, angry kid who had never let anyone close to him that Daniel decided to help me?"
"Have you ever asked him?"
Remington shook his dark head, dropping a kiss onto her forehead as she looked up at him. "No. I figure he'll tell me when he's ready."
Laura snuggled closer. "I lost my father- and you found someone to take the place of yours," she commented, and Remington looked down at her.
"I guess he did, didn't he? I'd never really thought about it that way." He rubbed her shoulder. "Have you had dinner?" he asked.
"No. I wasn't really very hungry," she told him.
"Well, then, you should be now," he said. "I think I can whip up something light. Why don't you finish watching Bogey and Ingrid while I see what I can find?"
Laura nodded as he handed her the remote control. "Nothing special," she called after him.
"I was thinking along the lines of noodle soup," he told her, tossing a smile in her direction. He was relieved when she smiled in return before hugging a pillow to her as she turned her attention to the movie. "Won't be a moment."
He was just taking the pan from the burner when he heard her voice. "Need any help in here?" she asked from the doorway.
Remington turned, seeing that she had removed her jacket. The oversized shirt made her look even smaller than she was, like a lost, lonely little girl who needed to be held. He put the pan down again, and said, "As a matter, of fact, you CAN do something that might help," he told her. "Come here," he said gently. She crossed the floor to stand before him, and Remington slowly gathered her close. "You looked like you needed a hug," he whispered into her ear.
"I think I did," Laura confessed.
He held her away from him. "Grab some bowls from the cupboard, if you don't mind. And a couple of wine glasses." He picked up the soup and bottle of wine from the counter and followed her into the dining room, watching as she placed the bowls on the table and then returned to the kitchen for spoons. "There's some bread in the box," he called out.
"Bread?" Laura replied. "You're supposed to eat crackers with soup. Not bread."
"Sorry," Remington told her with a grin as she returned. "Fresh out. Guess I'll have to stock up." He held out a chair for her, then went around to sit across the table.
As he shook out his napkin, Laura said, "Thank you."
He looked up at her, uncertain as he picked up his spoon. "For what?"
"For being so understanding about everything. For taking care of me."
"I'm just glad that you're LETTING me take care of you for a change," he said, sipping the soup, watching her, expecting her to react to that comment by insisting that she didn't really NEED anyone to take care of her. But she only turned her attention to the soup and began to eat.
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He carried the dishes into the kitchen after they finished, then joined Laura in the living room. The warm, muggy night had given way to a thunderstorm, and Laura was at the door to the balcony, looking out. Remington came up behind her, putting his arms around her and pulling her to him. "Penny for your thoughts," he said near her ear.
"I was just thinking about how everytime something earth shattering happens in my life, I end up here."
"Umm. Maybe someone's trying to tell you something," he suggested.
"Maybe," Laura agreed, resting her head against his shoulder. A small clock on the desk chimed the hour softly. "It's getting late," she murmured, not moving.
"Yes," he agreed, thinking that very soon now, she'd leave as she always did.
"At least tomorrow's Saturday. We don't have to get up early or anything unless we want to."
We? Remington repeated to himself. Had he heard that correctly? "I suppose not," he replied. "I wonder how long this storm is going to last?"
"Probably all night," she said, turning in his arms to look up at him, her dark eyes shimmering in the subdued lighting of the room. "It doesn't matter anyway. I don't want to be alone tonight."
Remington looked down at her. "And what do you intend to do?" he asked cautiously.
"Stay here," she told him.
He looked thoughtfully at her. "I suppose we could play pinochle," he suggested. She shook her head, slowly unfastening the top button of his shirt. "Or read a good book?" Another shake of her head, another button loosened. "Talk?" Another button. "Uh- Laura," he said, pushing her to arm's length. "I can't take advantage of you this way. Anymore than I could after-," he was saying, but she pressed a soft hand to his lips.
"I know what I'm doing, Remington," she told him. "This isn't about Daddy. It's about us. You and me. I've let my fears keep us apart for too long. Don't make me leave here tonight, Remington. Please?"
He studied her pleading face for a long moment, then reached up to frame that face with his hands before lowering his lips to hers. There was only one way to be certain that this was what she really wanted. His mouth moved over hers, opening hers fully. He let loose all the pent up passion he'd been keeping I check for the last four years, certain that the onslaught would frighten her into pulling back as she always did.
But he felt her hands slide inside his unfastened shirt to bury themselves in the dark hair of his chest before pulling the shirt from his trousers. She opened beneath him like a flower, her own passion an equal match for his. He moved his lips from her swollen mouth, down the long length of her neck, to the point where the shirt met in a "v" on her nape. "Oh, Laura, Laura," he whispered as her hands slipped under his slacks in back to caress his flesh. Looking up at her, he released one button, kissing the exposed flesh, then the rest, as Laura leaned back against the glass door that led to the balcony, her eyes closed. "Open your eyes, love," he said softly, and waited for her to do as he asked before continuing. Her hands fell onto his shoulders as the last button was undone and he slowly peeled the shirt back from her body. The flimsy bra she wore was so like Laura, he thought. Ultra sensible on the outside, business suits, slacks, those hats she loved to wear. But her lingerie had always been just the opposite. Feminine, sexy.
Remington slid a finger beneath the front closure of the wisp of lace and it opened. He saw her surprise at what he'd done, and paused, uncertain if she was going to bolt. "You've done this kind of thing before, haven't you, Mr. Steele?" she said, and Remington released the breath he'd been holding. She was teasing him.
"Oh, once or twice," he told her with a smile that faded as he met her eyes. "But never with someone I love as much as I love you."
Now it was Laura's turn to fall silent as his gaze moved to her breasts. She moved her hands, as if to cover herself from his eyes, but Remington shook his head, bringing them to his lips. "You're beautiful," he assured her. "Absolute perfection." He released her hands, placing them on his chest, and brought one of his to her breast, noticing with some surprise that it was shaking. His touch brought a soft sound from Laura, and wanting to hear it again, he caressed the other one the same way. Bending, he gently suckled her, then slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms. In the doorway of the bedroom, he paused, looking down into her beautiful eyes. "You're certain about this, Laura?" he asked, needing to absolutely sure.
Laura pressed a kiss to his mouth, her fingers in his dark hair. "More certain than I've ever been about anything in my entire life," she told him.
Remington kicked the door closed with his foot as he continued into the bedroom. . .
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Much later, Remington smiled as Laura snuggled against him. They were both physically exhausted. His calm, sensible Laura had turned into a tigress once the bedroom door had closed. His back was lucky that she kept her fingernails trimmed short, or he'd be in a great deal of pain at the moment, he reasoned.
Ah, but it would have been worth it, he decided, stroking Laura's hip as she lay beside him. "No regrets?" he asked softly, pressing a kiss onto her hair.
"Not a one," she told him, looking up at him and grinning. "Except that we waited so long to do this."
"Hmm. I seem to recall that I tried to convince you of that on several occasions," he reminded her.
"You won't have to convince me anymore," she assured him, her hand slipping beneath the sheet that lay over them. "Remington?"
"Hmm?" he murmured, wondering if he would ever get used to her using that name. "What is it, love?"
"I love you."
He tightened his arm around her, and they both slept. . .
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The next morning, Remington slipped out of bed and went out to the kitchen to fix some coffee and breakfast for them, then took it back to the bedroom, where Laura was just waking up. She smiled a little nervously as he entered the room wearing his bathrobe. "I wondered where you were," she said.
"Just thought we needed something to keep our energy up," he told her, placing the tray on the bed and then removing his robe before joining her there again. Laura started to get out of bed. "Where are you going?"
"I must look a terrible," she said, trying to run her fingers through her hair.
He pulled her back beside him. "You look wonderful," he assured her. "Exactly how I've always imagined you would look in the morning. Now sit and eat your breakfast." He picked up his own coffee and took a sip before biting into one of the croissants he had heated. "I suppose I need to call Daniel, let him know he'll be needed here before long."
Laura paused as she lifted a glass of orange juice. "Daniel?" she asked. "Why?"
"To be my best man," he said.
"Best man? As in wedding? As in-," she stopped.
"As in you and me, standing in a church, with all of our family and friends to wish us well," he told her. Noting the expression on her face, Remington frowned. "You don't approve?"
"I just think we may be- rushing things a bit," she said. "We've only just- and well, I think we should take things a little more slowly."
"Slowly? What do you think we've been doing for the last four years? Are you saying you expect me to wait another four before you decide you're ready to marry me?"
"It's just- we never really DISCUSSED marriage before," Laura told him.
"I told you last night that it's what I wanted," he reminded her. "Well, if we don't marry, then what do you suggest? That we live together the way you and -and Wilson did? With you looking over your shoulder every day, expecting me to run off the way he did?"
"I just- Oh, I don't know. It's just happening so quickly."
Remington lifted her chin. "Tell me something, Laura, what would your father have told you to do in this situation?"
Laura sighed. "He'd tell me to do what I think is right," she said.
"And what I think is right is that you and I make a full and total commitment to our relationship and our future together. Announce to the entire world that we're in love and partners in every sense of the word, not just at the agency." He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "Laura, I want nothing more than to stand with you before a church full of your family and our friends."
"You won't feel tied down?" she asked in a small voice.
"Never. A marriage license isn't going to make me stay, Laura. I've stayed for the last four years without one. YOU are the reason I stay around here."
"A marriage license doesn't mean that- somewhere- down the road, you'll decide that- that you'd rather be somewhere else," she reminded him, looking at the bed. "It's really just a piece of paper."
"But I WANT that bloody piece of paper more than I ever thought I would. I know it's just a symbol, and that it doesn't guarantee that things will be perfect, but -I told you once that I would never stop wanting you, remember? That's still true.Last night didn't change that. It only made me that much more certain that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, as Remington Steele."
Laura smiled gently. "Call Daniel, Remington. You're going to need a best man."
Remington smiled and pulled her into his arms, uncaring that the tray was between them. "You won't regret it, Laura," he promised, drawing back only to place the tray on the floor beside the bed, then pulling her close once again. . .