His attention was only partially on the heavyset, balding detective from Las Vegas as the man told him about a case that might be interest. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I've yet to settle into my hotel room. I'll see you all later."
"Sure thing, Remington," Hank Jordan said, grinning. "Guess you've got a lot to keep you occupied this weekend." Turning to the others he said, winking, "He brought his wife along."
"Yes, well, later," Remington told him, not sure he liked the innuendo that he had simply brought Laura along simply because she happened to be his wife. He crossed the room and entered the lobby in time to see Laura and Murphy disappear into the bar across the way.
"He's really changed, Murphy," Laura said again. "He's really BECOME the Remington Steele that I created."
"Come on, Laura. Someone like that doesn't change."
"How about you?" she asked, wanting to change the subject. "Anyone - special in your life?"
"No time. I wasn't going to come to this conference, but I when I heard that the great Remington Steele was giving a speech, I thought he might let you tag along -"
"That's not fair, Murphy. Remington and I are partners in the agency. Equal partners -"
"But he's still getting all the credit, isn't he?"
"Because he's earned it." She could see that Murphy wasn't ready to believe her. "Really, Murphy. While I was pregnant with the twins, he ran the agency almost as well as I could have-"
"Almost as well?" Remington asked, taking a seat beside her. "I thought I'd done better than that."
"And if I admitted it, your ego would be completely impossible," Laura returned, a teasing light in her eyes. "You seemed to be busy, so Murphy and I decided to come in here for a drink." She felt that she needed to explain why she was here.
"Come on, Laura," Murphy sighed. "I don't think he's the one that's changed. I think it's you."
"Do you have a problem, Murphy?" Remington asked evenly.
"No. No problem at all. I have to check in with my office. Later," he told Laura, getting up, and starting to put some money on the table.
"I'll take care of it, Murphy," Remington began, only to stop as Murphy's eyes narrowed and he slapped the money down anyway.
"No thank you. I'd rather not be indebted to you, MISTER Steele." He turned and walked out of the bar.
Remington and Laura watched him go with troubled eyes. "He's changed," Laura said, worried about her old friend. "He was never that openly hostile-"
"Because he was dependant on the job," Remington pointed out. "Now, he's his own boss. He still doesn't trust me, does he?"
"He only worked with you for a year," Laura reminded him.
Remington pointed to her name tag. "I see you got that straightened out."
"I simply explained that I happen to be a licensed investigator myself, and she gave me right tag. You seemed to be enjoying yourself in there, hobnobbing with all of those other detectives."
"If I had been, would I be here, now? Let's go upstairs -" he suggested again.
"It's almost lunchtime," she reminded him.
"We can call room service," he told her, his lips close to her ear.
She smiled. "I like your idea, Mr. Steele." She gave him her hand to help her up, then stopped as she heard someone call her name.
"Laura? Laura Holt?" Laura closed her eyes as if she hoped the woman who had spoken would vanish when they opened. But she didn't. "When I found out about the conference, I wasn't certain that you would be here," she said. "I heard that you're a mother now, and thought perhaps you'd finally given it up."
Laura smiled tightly at the buxom, red haired woman. "Sybil. I thought you'd gotten out of the business."
Sybil smiled as well. "Oh, I'm not here to attend the conference, Laura. It's just luck that brought me here this weekend. I'm here with a - friend."
"A friend?"
The woman's green eyes moved to the man who was standing at Laura's side. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
Laura took a deep breath. "Sybil - Blaylock?" she questioned, only to have Sybil nod. "My husband, Remington Steele."
Sybil held out her hand. "Mr. Steele. I've heard so much about you. Such a famous private detective - "
"Miss Blaylock," Remington said, shaking her hand once and releasing it. "If you will excuse Laura and me, we're overdue for a luncheon appointment -"
Sybil's full lips turned down into a pout. "I had hoped to have a nice visit with Laura. It's been what? Six years? Seven?"
"Something like that," Laura agreed.
"We'll have to get together later, when the conference is in session. At least I'll be here to keep you company-"
"I'm going to be attending the conference," Laura told her. "Excuse us, Sybil." She swept from the bar on her husband's arm, not speaking until they entered their hotel room, noting on the outer edge of her conciousness that Remington hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door before closing it. "OOOOOH, That-that-. She's still as infuriating as ever-"
"I take it that you and Miss Blaylock are well acquainted?" Remington asked, removing his jacket and loosening his tie.
"She was at Havenhurst. She very nearly cost me my license."
"How?"
"I was working on a case, and Sybil became - personally involved with the man I was working for. She would call him at home, telling his wife that she was Laura Holt. When he left his wife, she called Alan and threatened to sue the agency and me. It was a week before everything got straightened out, and by that time, Sybil had gotten bored with the man and come back to work. Alan tossed her out on her ear. I wonder who she's here with? And if his wife knows about her?"
Remington sat down on the sofa. "Come here, Laura," he said, patting the cushion beside him. "Perhaps we should just go home. Between your old friend Sybil's presence and Murphy's distrust of me, I think this weekend has been pretty well shot to hell."
Laura sat down, putting her head on his shoulder. "No. We're here. And as long as we can spend some time alone-" she lifted her face to his. "It will be worth it."
Remington had no more than touched her lips than the telephone began to ring. "Damn!" they both said at the same time. "This is worse than being at home."
"At least no one is shooting at us, Mr. Steele," Laura reminded him with a smile. "I'll go change into something more comfortable while you answer it."
Watching her take some things from the suitcase, Remington picked up the receiver. "Steele here." The line went dead as the caller hung up.
"Who was it?" Laura called from the bathroom.
"Wrong number, I suppose. They hung up. Shall I call room service?"
"Sounds nice," she told him, and Remington picked up the receiver again, about to dial the number, when the door opened and Laura stood there, smiling. "But why don't we wait a little while? I'd hate to be interrupted again -"
She was wearing absolutely nothing, and Remington's smile widened appreciatively as he dialed the number for the switchboard, his eyes never leaving Laura as she crossed to the room to unbutton his shirt. "Yes. This is Remington Steele, Room 215. Hold all my calls until further notice. I don't want be disturbed- Thank you." He hung up the telephone and took Laura's face in his hands, lowering his lips fully onto hers . . .
"Hmmm," Laura agreed. "That would be wonderful."
He lifted her face to kiss her. "Shall I order lunch now?"
"Sounds like a good idea, Mr. Steele."
Picking up the telephone beside the bed, Remington dialed the number for room service and placed an order. When he hung up, he looked down at her. "They'll be right here."
Laura drew away. "I'd better put something on, I suppose. It wouldn't do to shock whoever delivers the food by being in bed in the middle of the day."
Remington smiled as she took a robe from the suitcase and put it on. "I suppose you're right. Not good for the image." He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower before we eat. I'll be right back."
Laura nodded as the door closed, brushing the tangles from her hair. As the water was turned on, she considered joining him, but the rumbling in her stomach reminded her that someone had to let the bellhop in and sign the ticket for their food.
"I was hungry," she told him.
He joined her at the small table. "Who's giving the keynote speech this evening?" he asked as he lifted the cover from his plate.
"I'm not sure. Let me get the schedule," she said, getting up and crossing to her purse to pull out the sheet of paper that she'd picked up when signing in. Returning to the table, she said, "Let's see. The opening session starts at six, with dinner and opening speech by Elliot Tedford from Miami, Florida." She read the few lines of biography on the man. "He's been a detective for fifteen years in Miami, has his own agency with sixteen operatives."
"Sixteen? And we have trouble with two besides ourselves."
"Three. You're forgetting Daddy."
"Edward only agreed to help out on one case, Laura. And I think that was to spend some time with Mildred that your mother wouldn't be suspicious of."
"He ASKED to help out, Remington. And he already HAS a license, remember?"
"I remember. And he's very good at what he does." He finished his meal and sat back, sipping coffee. "Why don't we sneak out of here and do some sight seeing, Mrs. Steele?" he asked.
Laura dimpled in delight. "I thought you'd never ask, Mr. Steele."
When she came from the bathroom a few minutes later, Remington was just returning the telephone receiver. "Who were you talking to?" she asked, smiling curiously at him as he jumped guiltily.
"Just reinforcing the no calls. I'd rather no one know that we're not in the hotel."
Laura picked up the telephone, dialing the switchboard. "Could you tell me what the last number dialed from this room was?" Remington made a show of going into the bath to check his hair. Laura grinned as the operator gave her the number. Hanging up, she met her husband as he returned. "You called home."
He shrugged dismissively. "I simply wanted them to know that we would be out of pocket for awhile," he insisted.
"So how are Daniel and Megan?" Laura asked.
"They're fine. Agatha said that she's been relegated to the kitchen with Mrs. Hobbs while your mother and Katherine visit. He looked down at her. "Ready?"
"Ready," she agreed, following him to the door, which Remington slowly opened so he could peer into the fall, first one way, then the other.
"It's clear," he told her. As they left, he made certain that the "Do Not Disturb" was still on the doorknob. "This way," he told her, leading her toward the service elevators.
At her questioning glance, Remington smiled. "Do you remember where the Royal Lavulite was headed from Los Angeles, Laura?"
"San Francisco," she said.
"They were to have been put on display at the Drake. I knew their itenenary, and since I left Paris earlier than I'd intended-"
"Because of Daddy," Laura guessed.
"I stopped in San Francisco to check the place out in case things didn't go as I hoped they would in Los Angeles."
She turned into his arms. "And they didn't."
"I didn't count on meeting someone like you," he admitted. "What shall we do first?" he asked.