Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Remington Steele, nor do I own any of the characters from Jewel of the Nile/ Romancing the Stone. I am merely borrowing them (and some of their dialogue and a whole lot of their plot) for a little fun and games, and I’ll put them back where I found them. Promise.
Author’s Note: I’ve heard a number of people refer to the evil 5th Season as a wannabe "Romancing the Stone." Quite frankly, I think there’s more Laura present in the Joan of the sequel "Jewel of the Nile." Joan’s simply too hopelessly cowardly and prim in RTS to be compared with Laura. Joan and Jack’s relationship exploration in the sequel kinda led me to some ideas for our favorite PI and con man, so I hope you enjoy.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated! I’m new at this, so please, be nice.
Archiving: Really?? I’m flattered- but ask first.
Laura Holt came into the office with no spring in her step. Generally, PI work stimulated her to the utmost, made her feel alive, let her live on the edge. She always loved excitement yet lately, all the cases seemed to be incredibly dull and trite. Find my cheating spouse, find my long lost daughter, find the company leak. All dreadfully banal cases that had been wrapped up in less than two days. Laura had considered that maybe the name of Remington Steele had ceased to amaze, that somehow the agency had lost the limelight. Or maybe it was just a slow month. Whatever the cause, Laura was increasingly frustrated with work and with Mr. Steele, who had taken advantage of the light workload to increase his persistent attempts to woo her with dinners, dancing, and promises of weekend getaways. Now, there was no doubt in her mind that she loved spending time with Mr. Steele and enjoyed his company. He was a handsome man- no a gorgeous godlike hunk of a man- who respected her as an equal. He was her best friend. She knew that with all her heart, and she didn’t want to ruin that or the agency’s reputation by taking it any further. An evil voice at the back of her mind said that she didn’t trust him, that there was still the chance that he’d abandon her and slink back into the international underworld. So, with her personal life at an impasse and her usual solace, work, temporarily unavailable, a morose Laura requested the mail from Mildred and retired to her office, to clear up some long overdue paperwork.
Mildred, noting Miss Holt’s mood, grimaced at her computer. Something was not right. And when her "kids" were unhappy, her motherly mode kicked into overdrive. Something had to be done. She was considering making Laura some coffee and then interrogating her once she locked her victim into conversation, but just then Mr. Steele strolled in, whistling and obviously in a good mood. Maybe he could clear the air with her, Mildred mused.
"Morning, chief," said Mildred, giving him the coffee cup meant for Miss Holt.
"Ah, and what a beautiful morning it is, Mildred! Is Miss Holt in?" he asked cheerily.
"Yes, but boss..."
"Is she with a client?"
"No, no one’s come in yet today but..."
"Splendid! It’s perfect, Mildred absolutely perfect. If anyone does come- warn them that Mr. Steele will be out of the country for the next week- okay?" he said as he made his way to Laura’s office, Mildred still expostulating with no avail.
Laura looked up as she saw Remington appear in her office, a large grin on his face. *God, he has the greatest smile* thought Laura, though his cheery disposition did not agree well with her today.
"Ah, good morning Laura. Laura, Laura, Laura. Hard at work as usual. One of the many things I love about you- your diligence, utter devotion to the job. Which is why I think that it would only be judicious of me to send my most valued associate on an exotic cruise among the islands of Greece."
"Were you planning on coming along, or do I get the whole boat to myself?" Laura said.
"Well, naturally, I would have to see that each and every need of my associate be met! Think of it, Laura, Crete, Lesbos, the Mediterranean..."
"What about the agency?" Laura asked curtly.
"Mildred will be hear to oversee things, " he said, coming closer and leaning over her desk to look soulfully into her eyes. "Besides, we have no clients booked. We’re not inconveniencing anyone. Think of it, Laura. What possibilities!" he added seductively.
That did it. Laura stood up and pushed her chair back. "You and your possibilities! Don’t you even care that we haven’t had a decent case in ages? I’ve invested my heart and soul into this place- and it seems lately to be running into the ground! And you think that this is the perfect time to gallivant off to Greece?" she yelled.
"Why the bloody hell not?" he yelled back. And then added in a more muted voice, "Does it matter really all that much anyway? Wherever we go, whatever we do, we always run into a case- or you do your damnedest to make one. Never have we spent a stretch of two days completely crime free- until this week. Why not enjoy it while it lasts?"
"But what if it lasts indefinitely? Then what will we do then, *Mister* Steele? What will you do if you have no apartment to return to after sailing around for a week?" Laura said with a frustrated tone, gesturing wildly. It didn’t help that she thought the last few days had been wonderful- all play, all Steele, and no work. But that wasn’t how Laura Holt acted- she was responsible and diligent and . . .
"A stubborn workhorse!" Steele exclaimed in disgust. Laura glared at him, unable to fight back with a stinging retort because she hadn’t been paying attention to his impassioned plea for Greece.
Remington watched intently as Laura began to put on her coat and fedora. Grabbing her purse she said sharply, "Maybe one day you’ll see how important this is, but if you want to run amok all across the continent, indulging in fond memories, don’t let the little things like me and the agency stop you."
And with that, Laura stormed out of the office past a bewildered Mildred.
"Boss..." she began.
"Not now, Mildred. Not now," he sighed and waved her off. He walked into his empty office and sat down at his desk, tapping his fingertips together and sticking out his lower lip, as he often did when in deep thought or while brooding. Now he was brooding. Never was there a more stubborn woman than Laura. He couldn’t hate her for that- it was too much like his own bullheadedness. But he could fume over the rented boat that would have taken them to Greece that now had no other purpose than to sit at the pier. He had had a spectacular week planned for them once they got there: he’d show Laura all the customary tourist sites and then all of his old haunts from his days as a smuggler with Marcos. He had saved up for it for a long time. He could have bought several tailored suits over the last year but had declined in favor of building up enough of a nest egg in order to somehow repay Laura for all that she had done for him since he began the whole masquerade.
He pulled out a deck of cards from his desk drawer and began playing solitaire. Then he began to cheat. As Daniel would say, not a good sign. True, he missed his old life a bit- thinking about Greece had reminded him of Marcos and all the wonderful times he had had; but he wouldn’t give up a minute, a second, of his time with Laura, not for anything in the world. He had changed. He knew that. *She* had changed him. Yet every time he tried to repay her, every time he got too close to their true feelings for one another, every time he tried to show her how he felt, something got in the way, from telephone calls to dead bodies. Mildred buzzed the intercom, interrupting his thoughts and his game. "Steele here," he answered.
"There’s a Mr. Trikopolis on the phone for you, boss. Line 1," she said.
"Thank you, Mildred. Er- did Miss Holt perhaps say where she was going before she violently slammed the door?"
"No, chief, but I’m sure she’ll turn up. She always does after your little spats. "
Remington smiled weakly, then said, "Well, let me know when she comes in, will you?"
"Aye aye, sir."
Clearing his throat, he picked up the phone and proceeded to politely explain to the owner of the boat why he would no longer be needing it or his services.
Around lunchtime, after several games of solitaire, he emerged from his office. Mildred had gone to lunch already, and Laura was still out. Flipping through some of the files on Mildred’s desk, he glanced up to see a delivery boy struggling to open the agency’s glass doors while his arms held a precariously teetering bouquet of red roses. Remington opened the door for him. Setting the vase on Mildred’s desk and taking an invoice slip from his jacket pocket, he asked for Laura. Someone’s sending Laura roses and it’s not me? thought Remington. Have I forgotten something? More than a little bit jealous, he signed for them and curtly dismissed the delivery boy. Scowling, he stared at the bouquet, wondering who could have sent such a thing. He saw a small envelope attached to the porcelain vase. It was not sealed. No, no, it would be morally wrong to open that card, he thought. I’d be violating Laura’s trust. Yet.... who the bloody hell had the right to send her roses, *red* roses other than me?
After double-checking that the office was completely empty, he carefully removed the card from the envelope. Written in a fluid masculine hand was "Awaiting this afternoon with delight. Hope to discuss matters of great importance. Love, a friend."
Dumbfounded, he returned the card to its envelope and retreated to his office where he began to pace furiously. What the hell did that mean? What was this afternoon? Who was this friend? What kind of matters did he have to discuss with Laura? In a flash of jealousy, Remington speculated madly. Red roses- in the language of flowers, connotative of passionate, romantic love. A friend- definitely masculine through the handwriting and a woman most definitely would have signed her name. This afternoon. Matters of great importance. Surely she wasn’t involved with, with whoever this was, and meeting them now? He glanced at his watch- it was quarter to 1. About to be engaged? He began to pace faster, shaking his head. No, no, no, that is not right. Laura would have said something before this if she was involved with someone that seriously, wouldn’t she have? Stop this, you’ve got to stop this. It’s probably a business meeting, he said to himself. *Yeah, and you’re the Queen of England, mate.*
He moved to Laura’s office and found her desk calendar. For that day, at 2:00 there was a note written in pencil: "VR Shareholders, Regency." Remington allowed himself to breathe once more. One of the cases they had just closed was a leak in a large banking firm, Vittrion and Ritter. VR. And that afternoon, the head of the company was planning on honoring Remington Steele for his hard work in preserving the company’s integrity at a small party for its shareholders, being held at the Regency Hotel. Remington took a deep breath and slowly let it out. See, he told himself, a perfectly simple explanation. Someone is planning on seeing Laura at the party this afternoon. Probably they’re just from Vittrion Junior, who had taken a liking to Laura during the case. She had been either entirely oblivious to his advances or she had ignored them completely- both scenarios which Remington would gladly accept. Recognizing the time, he quickly hurried over to his apartment to change before two.
***
Laura, after driving around LA fuming and changing to suitable attire for the party at her loft, returned to the agency to collect Mr. Steele. But to her surprise, he wasn’t there. She asked Mildred, who also seemed to be at a loss to where he had gone.
"He was here all morning. He was still here when I left for lunch with the girls too . . . But just look at these flowers!" she said excitedly, gesturing to the vase on her desk. "he probably left them for you."
Laura smiled and read the card. Odd. Why didn’t he sign his name? Or had they childishly returned to the anonymous admirer game? She had no doubt that the "matters of great importance" included a boat, Greece, and playing hooky from work for a week. Still, she was touched and a smile remained on her face as she retired to her office. He’s probably at home changing, she thought as she dialed his number. Sure enough, he answered on the second ring.
"Steele here."
"Hello, Mr. Steele. Are you almost ready to go to the Shareholder’s meeting?"
"Ah, Laura, you know me, always willing to drink champagne and take bows for the agency’s sake," he said flippantly while inserting his cufflinks.
"Come on, you hate it, I know. Though I’m surprised you remembered this time."
"I’ll always keep you guessing. I was just about to send Fred to pick you up. At home, are you?"
"No, at the office." Glancing at her watch and cursing herself for fuming so long she added quickly, "I might as well meet you there. We wouldn’t want Remington Steele to be late for his own party, now, would we?"
"One of the many things I love about you, Laura- your adherence to punctuality. See you there then?" he inquired hopefully.
"Yes. Oh and by theway, " she said, a grin spreading on her face. "I loved the roses."
Remington hung up the phone considerably confused. Did she think that *he* had sent her those flowers? Extremely perplexing. However, he was more than willing to take the credit for them, seeing as Laura sounded much more like her cheerful self. Perhaps I might be able to take her to Greece after all, he thought, checking his bow tie in the mirror. After making sure that his hair was in place, he grabbed his coat and left for the hotel.
Remington arrived at the Regency right on time and after receiving a drink from the bar and several business cards from individuals desperate for a new wealthy investor, Vittrion Junior had proceeded to make his introduction. During this longwinded speech, Laura had slipped in and was making her way to Remington’s table. He watched her as she crossed the room, looking positively gorgeous in a long red dress reminiscent of theone she wore at the first award ceremony he had attended as Benjamin Pearson/ Remington Steele. He would never forget that night- how beautiful she looked hurling insults at him, how wonderful she felt in his arms when they danced, how despite all of Murphy’s urging, she didn’t turn him in to the police. His reverie was interrupted by much applause, which he belatedly realized was for him. He rose and went to the podium as Laura took the empty seat beside his at the table. She flashed him a smile and a surreptitious thumbs up. After a short acceptance speech, acknowledging his "dedicated and brilliant associate," he returned to the table.
"Well done, Mr. Steele," remarked Laura.
"Thank you, Miss Holt. May I say that you look lovely this afternoon?"
"Thank you- for the compliment and the flowers. It really was sweet of you," she said, smiling, deviously scheming how to make him fess up about those "matters of great importance."
"Er- yes," he fumbled, running a finger inside his crisp, white collar and giving it a tug. "Quite." Seeing that music had been provided, he quickly asked Laura to dance.
Remington led Laura to the floor and pulled her close, beginning to sway with the music, hoping to distract her. Unfortunately, he ended up distracting himself, as often occurred when he found himself in close proximity to her.
He looked in her eyes, with that countenance that had won women’s hearts all over the Continent: Laura’s stomach always flipped inside out when he did that. It was a look of complete attention- as if nothing else in the world existed at that moment except her. Attentiveness was incredibly sexy, Laura mused, and he seemed to simply exude it from every pore. It’s a wonder I don’t explode with lust! How does he do this to me? her head screamed. Then, she whispered it aloud, "How do you do this to me?"
"Do what?"
"One minute you infuriate me into rages beyond which even my *mother* is capable, and the next you melt my knees with flowers and fond looks!"
Damn. Still on the flowers. Time to come clean at last, mate. She wouldn’t want the man who melts her knees to be a liar. "Hem. Er... Laura, about the flowers..." he began.
"Yes, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. What is this matter of great importance you’d like to discuss? Couldn’t have anything to do with Greece, could it?" she said, clipping her consonants sharply.
Gulp. Moment of truth. Literally. "Laura. I didn’t send you the flowers. Believe me, I wish I did. I merely signed for them while you were out...."
"No. No. Not again. I will *not* fall for this stupid ruse a third time!"
"Laura, I swear to you, with utmost sincerity not to mention regret, that I did not send those roses."
"Well, if you didn’t, who did?" she said puzzled.
"I honestly don’t know. Don’t you?" Her only response was a glare. So maybe she had never made an appointment with anybody. "Perhaps Vittrion Junior? Isn’t he your . . . friend?" he guessed.
Laura began to simmer with rage. He could have never known how the card was signed unless he looked. It had been opened but she had just assumed Mildred was being, well, Mildred. She bared her teeth in a gritted smile and replied, "Perhaps. How long were you going to wait before you told me the truth? How much longer would you have let me believe you had nicely apologized for this morning?"
"Apologized? Who said anything about an apology? If anybody should be apologizing it’s you! I had to deal with a very upset Greek boat captain this morning who was quite the emotional basket case since I had to cancel our trip- something I thought you’d enjoy . . ."
"Like hell I would! With a psychotic captain and you probably eyeing every damn antiquity on every damn island . . ." she broke off as she realized that several of the other dancers were now fixing curious stares on them. They had both crossed the line and they knew it. She stopped dancing and muttered to herself, "Haven’t these people ever seen an argument before?"
"But not of your caliber, Miss Holt. How about I get us some drinks and we can continue verbally abusing ourselves in a dark corner somewhere?" Remington said through clenched teeth.
"Make mine a double," she said, heading back to the table.
Laura could not believe the extent of Remington’s deception. First, he takes credit for a thoughtful gift none of his giving and then he violates her privacy by reading the card! What was up with this alpha male attitude he kept displaying around her? Sure, Vittrion Junior had made some passes at her- she wasn’t in the least bit interested and it was clear she could handle him- but Remington, it seemed, was always on the defensive. Often during their meetings with Vittrion, he would encircle Laura’s shoulders with his arm. Why the hell doesn’t he make me a sign, "Property of Remington Steele" ? thought Laura angrily. She hated to think that his recent attentions to her were not a sign of genuine affection but rather a jealous claim on her. She caught a glimpse of him across the room, ordering their drinks at the bar. She softened. He could do that to her- weaken her defenses, damn him. Sighing, she had to admit she was kind of flattered that such a man, so coveted by warm-blooded women everywhere, would go to such lengths for her, Laura Holt, homely P.I.
A single red rose materialized in front of her face. Curious, she took it from the well manicured brown hand that grasped its stem and craned her neck upwards. Standing before her was a man who rivaled Remington in shocking good looks and manly poise. He looked like he had just walked out of a Valentino movie, with flowing robes and an Eastern appearance.
He smiled at her, his teeth as white as his robes.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"A friend."
To Part Two