Okay, I'm not sure what came over me, but here you go. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate. Or not. In that case, have a nice day. LOL!

Unbetaed. Any mistakes are mine.

"I still can't believe that you've never done it before," Laura insisted.

"I don't see the problem, Laura," Remington Steele replied. "It's simply not something I've never really thought about."

"Well, I think it's time that you learn how." With no warning, she turned and pushed her palms against his chest, sending him backward.

"Really, Laura -" he began, starting to sit up, but she prevented the move by lying down on top of him. His protests abated somewhat, considering their relative positions. This could be interesting, at that, he decided.

She slid her hands along his arms. "Now, keep your hands there -" she moved her legs, and Remington cleared his throat, suddenly not at all sure about this.

"Laura, wouldn't someplace else be better for this?" he asked.

"Nonsense! This is the perfect location!" she insisted, her bright eyes drawing him in. "Relax and enjoy it!" She shifted position slightly, and then started to move. "Move your arms just like this - and your legs - like this -"

"Like this?" he repeated, copying her movements.

"Yeah. That's it. Okay. Now, give me a minute."

When she wiggled against him again Remington lifted his arms around her. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I want to see the results, don't you?"

"Hmm. Let me think about that for a moment -" and then "oomph!" again as she levered herself away from him and back to her feet, using his chest as a pivot point.

"Sorry," she apologized, wincing as she extended a hand to him. "Come on, get up." As he took her hand, she said, "Careful. You don't want to ruin it."

Once on his feet, he put an arm across her shoulders, following her gaze toward the spot where they had been laying. There, in the pristine snow bank, was the recognizable outline of an angel. "So that's how you make a snow-angel," he mused. Pulling her closer, he smiled down at her. "Why don't we go back to the bungalow?" he suggested. "A roaring fire, hot buttered rum - I mean, after laying in that cold snow, I need something to warm me up -"

"Why Mr. Steele, what you're suggesting sounds decidedly un-angelic."

"Not at all, Miss Holt," he mused, pressing his body against hers, "On the contrary. I think we should practice our - technique for the next time."

"Our technique?"

"I found it quite enjoyable making our little snow angel in tandem. Perhaps, with a bit of practice a warmer setting - we might become even more proficient?"

He gave her a leering smile before lowering his head to find her lips with his. This ski trip might not be a total loss after all, he thought as she returned his kiss and then pulled back slightly.

"I like the way you think, Mr. Steele," she almost purred. "Let's go - practice, shall we?"

The End