"I don't know," she said as Mildred Krebs entered the room, carrying two cups of coffee. "I guess I still have trouble believing that Mr. Bascombe killed his wife."

Remington sighed, eyeing her over the rim of his cup. "Laura, the man confessed to poisoning her tea. And no one else had the motive he did. His gambling debts alone must be well into the-"

"What about-" she suggested, but Remington lifted a hand to stop any further suppositions.

"What's wrong, Laura? Afraid you'll have to make good on our little bet?" he accused.

Her dark eyes filled with a confused gleam that failed to hide the fear in them as well. "Bet, Mr. Steele? I-"

He put his cup down. "You agreed that if I were right about Ethan Bascombe being the killer- that you would go away with me for an entire week," he reminded her. She hesitated. "You're not going to back out of this, Laura," he insisted, then looked at Mildred. "Have you made the reservations, Mildred?"

"Yes sir, boss," she confirmed, handing him two airplane tickets. "Your flight leave at ten tomorrow morning. There'll be a boat to meet you in Hawaii to take you on the two hour trip to Devonshire Island."

"Devonshire Island?" Laura asked.

"One of Jacob Hawkins' hotels, remember?" The agency had recently completed an embezzlement case involving Hawkins' accountant, saving the wealthy hotelier a great deal of money. In gratitude, he had offered them a weeks' vacation at any of his hotels around the world. "He DID offer-" Remington reminded her.

"I know. But-"

"But?" he repeated, his blue eyes focused on her face. "But?"

"I just can't- take off for a week," Laura insisted. "We have work -"

Remington didn't blink. "Mildred- anything on the agenda for the next week?"

"No, Mr. Steele," the middle aged woman assured him, avoiding Laura's accusing gaze as she spoke. "The schedule's clear. And the Maxwell trial doesn't start for another three weeks-"

"Surely there's SOME thing, Mildred," Laura said pleadingly.

"Sorry, Miss Holt. You DID make that bet with Mr. Steele- and I'd hate to think that you'd welsh on it."

"Indeed," Remington agreed. "If *I* had lost the wager, you would expect me to make good on it, wouldn't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"You want to know what I think? I think you're afraid of being alone with me without a case or the agency to keep you occupied."

"Afraid? Of you? Don't be ridiculous!" she said haughtily.

He shook his head slowly. "You're not afraid of me, Laura," he accused softly. "It's YOU. You're afraid that if the two of us are alone, together for more than a couple of days without the constant distraction of a case - or other commitments- you might actually remember how to enjoy yourself. That you might have to acknowledge the feelings that you keep bottled up-" he said in that rapid fire delivery which usually indicated excitement- or anger. "I'm right, aren't I?" He'd hit a nerve. He could tell by the way her brown eyes reminded him of a trapped animal. For one moment, Remington very nearly apologized. Then, he forced himself to hold steady. He and Laura NEEDED this time alone- time to discuss their feelings- to decide where their relationship was headed. Very slowly, Laura placed her untouched coffee on the table and rose before moving toward the door toward her office. "Laura- where are you going?" he asked.

She turned to face him, her hand on the doorknob, and Remington caught a glimpse of determination to prove his theory wrong. "Well, if we're leaving tomorrow morning, I have a lot to get done, don't I, Mr. Steele?" she asked before pulling open the door and closing it behind her.

Remington stared at the door. "That is one very stubborn woman, Mildred," he commented softly.

"I'd say the two of you are pretty evenly matched in that department, Chief," Mildred said, her eyes filled with genuine caring and wry humor.

"Hmm. Should be an interesting week." He rose and went toward his desk. "Ah, Mildred - don't take this the wrong way, but- for the next week- I'd prefer not to hear from you-"

She smiled. "I understand, Mr. Steele. I promise. I won't call unless it's a matter of life and death."

Remington smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Mildred."

"Well," Mildred assured him as she gathered the coffee cups, "anything that gets you two kids on the same page, I'm all for."

Remington smiled as she left the office. It was going to be an interesting week INDEED.

**********

As the cabin cruiser neared Devonshire Island, Remington and Laura stood on deck. "It's lovely," Laura sighed.

"Yes," he agreed, his gaze taking in the scene. The small, intimate hotel was one of the more exclusive in the Hawkins chain. Ten rooms -almost half of which were in three room bungalows, an excellent and discreet staff, all in all a five star rating, Remington mused as the boat came to a stop at a pier built out into a placid lagoon of crystal blue edged with white sand.

As dock hands caught the lines, a smiling young Polynesian wearing white slacks and a tunic with the Hawkins Hotels logo emblazoned over the left breast pocket, greeted them. "Miss Holt. Mr. Steele." He gave Laura a hand onto the dock, then shook Steele's hand. "Welcome to Devonshire Island," he said, placing a second lei around each of their necks. Turning, he indicated two electric carts nearby, one of which was being loaded with their luggage. "If you will come with me," he said, leading the way to the other cart. Once they were settled, he turned on the almost silent motor. "My name is Nick- and if you need anything during your stay, just ask for me. Mahao will take your thinks to your cabin while you register."

"Thank you, Nick," Remington said. "This is a lovely island," he commented as the cart slid almost noiselessly through the verdant jungle.

"Thank you. We are proud of it." He brought the cart to a stop before a small building, then assisted Laura from the cart before leading them, to the front door and into the reception area of the Hotel Devonshire.

One the formalities were satisfied, they returned to the cart, and Nick drove them to a bungalow. It was, as Laura put it, "Charming," with a wide veranda that encircled the building, fragrant flowers clinging to its railings.

Inside, the sitting room was simply, yet nicely furnished in warm, vibrant colours. Two doors led to the bedrooms with the connecting bath between them. Laura barely spared a glance for the furnishings of the bedroom. Her attention was drawn to the view through the open French doors on the other side of the room. Past the shaded veranda, a small hot tub sat just to one side of the steps. And further down the path, she could see the white sweep of beach ending in the water's edge.

Nick, noting her distraction, smiled. "There is a small, private cove at the end of the path," he explained. Handing the key to Remington, he bowed slightly. "Enjoy your stay."

Remington followed him out to the front door, pulling out his wallet as Nick grabbed for the door knob. "I'm sure we'll more than enjoy our stay," he said.

Nick, seeing the money in his hand, stepped back, shaking his head. "No, Mr. Steele. Mr. Hawkins was quite insistent that this week be entirely on him. He wishes only that you enjoy yourselves and relax."

"Thank you, "Remington said. "I know that I feel more relaxed already," he told the young man. Once he closed the door behind Nick, he returned to join Laura, who had moved out onto the veranda. "How about you?" he asked, standing behind her and placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Do you feel more relaxed?"

"I'm getting there, Mr. Steele," she assured him. "I wonder if I should call Mildred? Let her know that-"

Remington shook his head. "No. For the duration of this week, the telephone is off limits. Now, which room would you like?"

She lifted surprised eyes to his face. "You're going to give me a choice?"

He sighed and met her eyes. "I'm not going to pressure you into anything, Laura," he told her gently. "We're here to relax- to get to know one another better."

Her eyes searched his face. "I'll take that one," she said, pointing to the room on the right.

"Fair enough. I'll put your things in there, and mine in the other room- and then-what say we take a walk? Do some exploring, eh?" When she nodded, he turned, allowing his smile to finally appear. He'd confused her. And if he knew anything about Laura Holt - it was that a little confusion could go a long way.

**********

They had the small dining room in the main building all to themselves that evening. "Excuse me," Laura asked the tanned young woman who was serving them, "are we the only guests in the hotel?"

"No," she said with a smile that revealed even, white teeth. "There is one other couple." Her grin grew wider. "They are newlyweds, Miss Holt, and have had their meals served in their cabin since their arrival."

"Oh," Laura said, refusing to meet the amused gleam in Remington's eye.

"This is the off season for the hotel," the woman explained. "During the winter months on the mainland, we are usually booked solid."

"We're lucky we came now, then, eh?" Remington asked, picking up his glass of wine.

"On the contrary, Mr. Steele," she said smoothly, "it is WE who are lucky that you and Miss Holt chose to grace us with your presence. If you will excuse me, I will go and check on the entree."

Remington lifted his glass. "What shall we drink to?" he asked Laura.

"How about- relaxation?" Laura suggested, smiling.

"To relaxation," he agreed, then added, "And all the rewards that it promises."

**********

After dinner, they went for a walk on the beach, where Laura paused to remove her sandals and sank her toes into the still warm sand. Looking up, she was surprised by the smile on Remington's face. "What?"

He shook his head and slid his arm across her shoulders, moving down near where the sand was damp. "I bet you were one of those typical Los Angeles teenagers who spend every weekend at the beach, surfing-"

Laura grinned. "You mean like Frankie and Annette in all those beach movies?" she asked.

"Ah, yes. 'Beach Blanket Bingo.' American International Pictures, 1965."

"I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Steele, but not every teenager in Southern California aspired to emulate those two."

He sent her a doubting look. "Are you telling me that you never tried to surf?"

"Oh, I TRIED. Once," she admitted, then laughed, drawing that blue gaze back to her. "I almost drowned. If it hadn't been for a lifeguard, I would have."

He gave her a half grin. "Wouldn't happen to recall his name, would you?"

"Bobby," she told him. "Bobby- Smith, I think. Why?"

"Because I'd like to send him a thank you card."

"A thank you card?"

"To thank him for saving your life - so you could be here to change mine."

Laura shook her head. "I didn't do anything," she insisted, "except change your name."

"And set a standard for me to live up to," he reminded her, turning her into his arms. "I don't think I've ever properly thanked you for all you've done for me, Laura. If it hadn't been for my finding you - I shudder to think where I might be today."

"Probably in Monte Carlo," she suggested. "Drinking champagne with a tall, beautiful blonde while you're planning your next caper."

His grin was wry. "Ah, but there's a downside to that life," he said. "Always on the run, never staying in one place long enough to get to know anyone.-"

Laura's eyes fell to his chest, where his shirt was half unbuttoned to reveal the dark hair that covered it. "Sometimes it's safer that way," she reminded him softly. "Less chance of starting to care - and being hurt."

Remington pulled her head down to his chest for a moment before he spoke. "Oh, Laura. Being hurt isn't something we can run away from. If you try, if you shut yourself off from-" he paused, "caring about other people- about some ONE-you risk missing out on the things that are important in this life." He touched her cheek and shook his head. "Running, shutting yourself off isn't the answer -"

"Then what is the answer, Mr. Steele?"

He laughed. "Oh, if I had the answer to that - I guess the trick is to just- keep trying. And if by chance you get hurt- learn from the pain- and then let it go and move on."

Laura frowned. "Move on?" she questioned.

"Emotionally," he said. "Not necessarily in the physical sense."

Laura looked at that face for a long moment. She had once told him that the Remington Steele she had created was more handsome than he. Those words had been a bald faced lie. She didn't think she had ever met ANY man more handsome than the one standing before her. And in spite of himself, he had almost become the man she had created as her fictitious boss. Laura couldn't even recall how that gentleman was supposed to have looked. Whenever she tried, all she saw was a dark haired, blue eyed charmer with a smile that could steal one's heart without knowing it. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For staying. For becoming Remington Steele."

Remington dropped a light kiss onto her lips, and left Laura wanting more - but he turned them toward the path that led back to the house. "Why don't we go take a dip in the hot tub before turning in?"

Laura nodded, her mind in turmoil as they began to retrace their steps. From the moment they had left Los Angeles, Remington had seemed distant- treating her more like a sister than a - Laura gave herself a mental shake. Wasn't this what she wanted? she asked herself. For him to stop pressuring her into a physical relationship that she wasn't ready for?

Of COURSE it wasn't what she wanted. But short of out and out seduction, Laura wasn't sure how to let HIM know that. At the doors leading to her room, she paused, refusing to let go of his hand as he would have pulled away. Sliding her arms around his neck, she went on the offensive, giving him a kiss that she hoped would get her message across.

And he responded, pulling her closer, tasting her as she tasted him- but when the kiss ended, he took a deep breath and pulled back. Taking her hands in his, he said, "Easy, Laura. We've got all week, remember?" He brought her hands to his lips, then released them. "I'll meet you in the tub in ten minutes."

To Be Continued---