Turnabout Steele
Round Robin "Remington Steele" fanfic
Part 4

The Characters of Remington Steele and Laura Holt don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing them. This is just a bit of fun and tribute from the SteeleWatchers.
So please don't sue us!
Original content Copyright 1999-2000 SteeleWatchers and individual authors.
Permission to reprint required.
Part 4
By Linda

Summoned imperiously to a meeting with Lucius Davidson early Thursday morning, Phoebe and Remington met by chance in the museum's spacious antechamber. Steele spied Phoebe first, and he took the liberty of observing her in an unguarded moment. Marveling at her sense of self-confidence, her utter lack of pretension, Remington found himself beguiled by this woman who had so recently suffused his life. He couldn't fail to notice that Phoebe's mousey visage had so fetchingly transformed into one of grace and elegance, and he fervently hoped that he might have been the impetus for her newfound devotion to her appearance. Serendipity may have crossed their paths, but Remington was beginning to suspect that he'd be willing to go to great lengths to. . . .

"Ah, Mr. Steele! What does our client have in store for us today, do you think?"

Shaken out of his musings by Phoebe's lilting voice, Remington replied, "I daresay we'll earn our fees today, Miss Chase. After you," as he held the office door open for her to enter.

*************

"May I remind you, Steele, that you work for me!"

Remington's jaw set, his azure eyes flared, and his mouth opened to give his prize client a lesson in manners.

"May I remind YOU that my company insures the gems?" Phoebe asserted in a clear, calm voice before Remington had a chance to utter a word. "Under the terms of your policy you are free to display them offsite, of course, provided that the security clauses have been met. If we are unable to convince you of the risks inherent in your scheme-"

"Perhaps I ' ve been a bit out-of-line here. But the Royal Lavulite Exhibition is the biggest thing to happen to our museum since - I need the publicity this stunt will garner. Besides, other than the three of us - and your security team, of course - no one else will even know the gems will be there, until we unveil them with a flourish," Davidson finished.

"Since it's obvious that we can't sway you from this position, let's hear exactly what your plans are," Steele declared, his even tone contradicting his anger.

"Next Saturday night is the museum's annual reception for our most generous benefactors. At Grosvenor House, as always. I NEED the gems there. Steele, these are blue-bloods, the very cream of society. I sincerely doubt you need to worry about any of THEM attempting to pocket the Royal Lavulite."

Steele quickly retorted, "Lucius, it may surprise you to know that thieves and charlatans come from all walks of life."

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Will you excuse me a moment, gentlemen?" Phoebe murmured as she slipped out of the office.

"Besides, we'll need to do background checks on the wait staff, cooks, maids, anyone who'll have access. . . ."

Once in the outer office, Phoebe asked for and received permission to use a telephone. This was too good to be true. Davidson was playing into her hand, practically dropping those blue darlings right in her lap. With the gems at the hotel, she'd no longer need to thwart the state-of-the-art security system Steele had installed. "Information? The number for Grosvenor House, please. Thank you."

As she dialed the number, Phoebe had a fleeting pang of regret that she would need to abscond with the gems on Remington's watch, but all 's fair. . . in love and jewel theft. It was the 'love' part of that equation Phoebe was having trouble comprehending at the moment.

*********

After the meeting in Davidson's office concluded, Remington and Phoebe stood together on the steps of the museum.

"I. . . have my work cut out for me. I need to get back to the office and work out some contingency plans. . . . But may I see you again tonight?" Remington ended in a rush.

"I'd like that very much." In spite of herself Phoebe smiled up at him, and was rewarded with a smile in return.

"Your hotel? I don't think you mentioned where you're staying."

"No? I'm at Grosvenor House."

"Really? Providence has quite a generous expense account, does it?"

Phoebe could feel her face flush. "I. . . enjoy fine surroundings. And since I always stay there when I'm in town, they're rather generous with their discounts."

Distractedly, Remington put his hands to his temples and massaged. The confrontation with Davidson had taken its toll. Demanding clients were simply part of the job, but foolhardy ones were less easy to contend with. Phoebe reached out tentatively to graze his forehead with her fingertips. "Headache?"

For a fleeting moment, all thoughts of gems and incorrigible clients were banished from Remington's thoughts as he contemplated how one woman's touch could truly take his breath away. Phoebe sensed the shifting tide. Impulsively, she reached up and cupped the back of his neck with her hand, drawing his face down to meet hers. She planted a chaste peck on his cheek, but in that kiss was the promise of something more. "Until tonight?"

"Tonight."

************

As Steele swung open the glass door of Remington Steele Investigations, Betty shrilly addressed the telephone. "I beg your pardon? Surely you're joking? You expect me to wait until when?" When she realized he had arrived, Betty quickly hung up the phone.

"Mr. Steele, don't you worry. I am ON those people at Providence, and if I have to ride them bareback into the next county I'll --"

"Never mind that, Betty. We have bigger worries. Davidson's decided to move the gems offsite on Saturday. Come in my office, and get ready to pull out all the stops." Wearily rolling up his sleeves and flinging his jacket onto an available chair, Remington prepared for a long afternoon.

************

At 8:00 that evening, Phoebe and Remington stood together in the understatedly elegant lobby of Grosvenor House.

"Where did you say we were going, exactly?"

"Actually I don ' t believe I DID say," Steele mischievously pointed out.

As they approached the massive double doors that fortified the hotel's entrance, the doormen swung them open.

Phoebe glanced around for the agency's car, hard to miss anywhere. "No Bentley tonight?" Phoebe queried, more than a little curious now.

"No Bentley."

With a solicitous arm around her shoulder, Remington steered Phoebe to the sidewalk as they companionably fell in step with one another. They strolled down Park Lane in silence, and rounded the corner onto Knightsbridge. Phoebe broke the quiet. "How are your security arrangements coming along?"

"No shop-talk tonight."

"No?"

"No."

Suddenly Remington stopped short, and Phoebe turned to see the sign for Harry ' s Bar, est. 1747.

"No!" Phoebe laughed.

"Yes indeed. Pubs can be quite entertaining. Just imagine that show on American telly, what was it? Ah yes, Cheers. Where everybody knows your name, eh?" Remington and Phoebe's entrance did indeed draw greetings from the patrons. Remington skillfully parted the crowd to find them a small booth toward the dimly lit rear of the pub. He ordered them each a pint with which to wash down their fish & chips.

"Before tonight, I couldn't have pictured you in a place like this."

"Why not? First time I was ever in a pub I was five years old. My father took me with him when he stopped in to hoist a few," Remington reminisced.

"Hmm. Is your dad as formidable as your mother?" Phoebe teased.

"My father walked out on his family fourteen years ago and I haven ' t seen him since." Although Remington's facial expression was dispassionate as he matter-of-factly munched on chips, Phoebe thought she could detect a waver in his voice.

"Must've been dreadful for you. And no wonder your mother is, uh, a bit. . . relentless in her desire to have you sewn up in a nicely settled relationship."

"Relentless, eh? That's one way to phrase it," Remington said wryly. "And you'd think her experience would've taught her that committed relationships and even pieces of paper don't bond two people together for life."

"Hey, I'm not disagreeing with you on the point, but isn't that level of cynicism uncalled for? Lots of people have blissful long-term relationships. Not that it's for me of course, " Phoebe hastily backtracked.

"Nor me." As they hefted their draughts, Remington eyed Phoebe and wondered whether even a simple romp with her mightn't be worth the effort. The problem was he didn't think he'd feel quite right treating Phoebe to a quick roll in the hay and then simply walking away. And he'd spent his entire adult life avoiding romantic 'entanglements' Was he ready to abandon that philosophy for her? Given his poor track record with women, he couldn't imagine making a successful go at one of those blissful long-term relationships Phoebe mentioned. The women he'd been with all had their charms, but for one reason or another he hadn't wanted to erect any semblance of a permanent union with any of them.

A deft change-of-subject was undoubtedly in order. "Where does your next assignment take you?"

"Don't know yet. But I can almost guarantee it won't be as enjoyable as this one." Phoebe laughed when she spoke, but Remington got the impression that she was sincere. "Or as fattening. Are you aware that in the days since we first met we've shared far too many caloric feasts together?"

"We'll have to find a way to, uh, work off those meals."

Later, as they walked arm-in-arm retracing their steps to Grosvenor House, a slightly tipsy Phoebe and a very sober Remington pondered the possibilities.

*********

Early Friday morning Remington sat at the conference table in his office, surrounded by background checks and floor plans. Betty sorted through the documents, trying to make sense of it all. Remington stood and walked to the ceiling-to-floor glass windows and stared out, absentmindedly nibbling on his thumbnail. He didn't even hear the phone ring, nor did he hear Betty tell him, twice, that his mother was on the line. When Betty's voice finally penetrated his thoughts, he reluctantly picked up the extension.

"Darling! Where HAVE you been? I called you all day yesterday. By the way, Dear, is Betty screening your calls? She SAID you weren't in the office. Then last night I called you until I just couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. Were you out with Laura?" Abigail Steele grilled.

"Who?" Remington said absently.

"Why Laura, your fiancée!"

"Mother, I never said she was my fiancée," he warned.

"I don't care what you call her, but I deserve to meet her! I know all about the reception that the Davidson Museum is having tomorrow night at Grosvenor House. Well, of course I'm attending, you know what a TREMENDOUS supporter of the arts I am. And I must insist that you invite Laura and introduce us. I'm your mother, Darling, I have a right to meet your future wife. Oh, and rumor has it that the Royal Lavulite will be on display. Is that so?"

"I never said she was my future -- did you say you heard the gems would be there?" Oh, this spelled trouble. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry would be after them now. " Mother I've got to go. I'm swamped with work. I'll see you tomorrow evening." As Remington hung up the phone, he winced when he heard his mother still talking.

Betty flanked his desk, arms folded across her chest. "Fiancée?"

"Don ' t ask."

At that, Remington's able assistant retreated to her own desk to once again threaten the simpletons at Providence Insurance, but once again to no avail. At least this time she wangled a promise from the buffoons to send the background on Phoebe Chase via messenger tomorrow. Spending a Saturday in the office was a small price to pay to ensure that the simpering, snide, calculating Miss Chase was entirely on the up-and-up. And if there were a single "t" not crossed, one "i" not dotted, look out. Even if all were in order, Betty was still ready to do battle with the inimitable Miss Chase.

*********

That evening, Phoebe sat in her suite analyzing the floor plans of Grosvenor House, which she had easily charmed out of the unsuspecting banquet manager. She tried to work out the final details for the heist, but every time she did her mind evoked a pair of blue eyes that left her with a deliciously warm rush. Why hadn't she heard from those blue eyes today?

With that thought, Phoebe said out loud to herself, "What are you, fifteen? If you don't watch out, old girl, this whole scheme is going to end up on the trash heap. And so will any chance you have for the Royal Lavulite." Just then there was a knock on the door. When Phoebe opened it she was met by a bell hop bearing a ridiculously large bouquet of forget-me-nots. Tipping the man for his trouble, she eagerly ripped the card from its envelope.
Please pardon my absence, but planning the arrangements for the reception leaves me little time for more satisfying pursuits. I eagerly await tomorrow evening--
Yours,
Remington

Had Remington just tipped his hand, or was Phoebe imagining it? She was thrilled to hear her own thoughts echoed in his note, but she was also more than a little frightened to find herself falling for someone, even a man as appealing as Steele surely was. So in a way she was glad she wouldn't see him until the reception tomorrow; it'd give her plenty of time to remember why she was here, and it wasn't to get her teeth rattled.

************

Saturday afternoon. The reception was just a few hours away and even more critically, so was the culmination of all her plans. Phoebe stepped from a steamy shower to hear a knock on her door. She threw on her silk robe and ran to answer it. More flowers, perhaps?

But it was Steele who leaned against the door jam. He was pleased to see her surprised delight at his impromptu visit. "I was downstairs putting the final touches on the groundwork for tonight and I thought I'd stop and say hel -" Phoebe seized his arm and pulled him into the suite, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Remington noted with unrestrained desire that Phoebe must have just emerged from a shower: her hair was drawn into a haphazard bun on top of her head, but a few wisps escaped, adhering to the nape of her neck. Her robe clung to her skin, as beads of moisture dripped down the cleft between her breasts. As for Phoebe, she found herself admiring the dashing figure Remington made in formal attire, not that she was surprised of course. Emboldened by Phoebe's appraising stare and her less-than subtle greeting, Remington encircled her waist with his arms and pulled her close. Phoebe gasped at the nuances of his body pressed against hers, and ran her hands up to coil in his hair. She locked her eyes with his, and steadied herself to meet his lips.

Ring ring!!

"Don't answer it," he whispered, as she extricated herself from his embrace.

"Could be important," she gulped. "Hello? Yes, he's here." She held the telephone out to him.

"Hello. Yes, Joe. Of course, I ' ll be right there." Remington was all business once again, but as he hung up the phone Phoebe thought she saw a look of pained regret cross his winsome face. "Duty calls."

"Mm-hmm."

As he left, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, ever so gently. Then he dashed out, leaving Phoebe more than a little hot and bothered. Another shower was indisputably in order.

**********

The CLINK of a thousand champagne flutes threatened to drown out Phoebe's softly spoken words, but Remington leaned even closer so he wouldn't miss a syllable.

"To. . . possibilities?"

"Possibilities," he agreed. As he linked his elbow with hers and brought the glass to his lips, Remington's mind was practically reeling with the possibilities. And they all involved the delightful woman who was now standing inches away from him. He inhaled deeply and intercepted the scent of her perfume. Remington took a moment to drink in Phoebe. Her chestnut hair, gathered elegantly on top of her head. Her deep brown eyes that met his. A simple strand of pearls, her only ornamentation, shimmered, echoing the ivory tones of her long, graceful neck. And the dress, oh what a dress! Sage crepe-silk clung to all the right places, although Remington preferred to conjure the image of Phoebe in her bathrobe just a scant few hours earlier.

Recalling the last several days they had enjoyed in one another's company, Remington found himself in the unfamiliar position of utter and complete captivation with this beautiful creature. If there was a battle to be fought, he was ready to wave the white flag before it even began. The throng around them seemed to fade into the background for an instant, as he seriously considered sweeping Phoebe into his arms and -

"Steele! Miss Chase. Enjoying the evening? See, no problem displaying the gems here. And just look at that crowd, oohing and aahing over them. Reeks of thousands of dollars toward the museum's annual fund-raising campaign to me," Lucius Davidson said, a little too loudly and a little too quickly. Phoebe's brows raised in reaction to his blustery speech, but she remained silent.

"Yes, well, that may be, Lucius, but I know I won't rest until they're safely put to bed for the night," Steele pronounced.

"Commendable, Steele. Allow me to tear you away from Miss Chase for a moment, won't you? Our Board of Trustees is here, and they're dying to meet you."

Remington reluctantly permitted Lucius to steer him toward the center of the room. He threw a rueful glance to Phoebe as he disappeared into the crowd.

From across the room, Abigail Steele zeroed in on her son's departure and wasted no time in approaching Phoebe.

"My Dear, I am simply delighted to meet you. To think that I have to attend a PUBLIC reception to do so is maddening, though. That man! Keeping you a secret all this time. I ' ve got a mind to. . . ." Mrs. Steele's words droned on, as Phoebe desperately tried to establish just who this rather obnoxious woman was. Her luminously blue eyes were rather familiar, but -

". . .when I told Maxwell - that's Remington's brother, Laura - when I told Maxwell that Remington had been keeping you from us, he was shocked. Shocked. And he said -" So that's who this was. The indubitable Mrs. Steele. And she had mistaken Phoebe for that most virtuous of fictional ladies, Remington's Laura Holt. Ah yes, Laura Holt. Drop-dead gorgeous, keenly intelligent, kind to small furry animals, etc, etc. Now HERE was a possibility, if only to have a bit of fun with Remington, and teach him that flesh-and-blood partners were always more enthralling than ones that don't truly exist. But even Phoebe couldn't bring herself to call Remington's bluff in that way.

Phoebe waited patiently for a moment to get a word in. "Mrs. Steele, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard so much about you from your son. He and I have been working together on this case and -"

"Oh, I know all about that, my dear Laura. What woman worth her salt doesn't keep up with the movement of the world's most precious gems? I hope you don't think I only read the society pages. Because I. . . ."

Phoebe was beginning to empathize with Remington's reticence for the truth when it came to his mother. She nodded with what she hoped was artfully feigned interest. What was this woman saying?

". . .and when Remington and Maxwell's father slipped that ring on my finger, I was awash in tears. Awash. Trembling with emotion. To think I would be able to fulfill my life's dream, marry this man and take care of him, give him strapping young sons, do my duty to Queen and Country, well I was quite overcome, as you can understand. " Abigail paused for breath and Phoebe jumped at what could be her only chance.

"Mrs. Steele," she began firmly, "I'm only too happy to make your acquaintance. But you're mistaken. I -" Phoebe faltered as the two most unsavory of guests, Kessler and Neff, approached her vantage point. In a panic Phoebe grabbed Mrs. Steele's elbow and propelled her away from the two con men.

"Mistaken about what?" Abigail questioned querulously.

"Mistaken about Remington's intentions," Phoebe smoothly continued. "Why, just the other day, Remington told me he couldn't WAIT to introduce me to his darling mother. And of course Maxwell and his wife. . .his wife. . . "

"Deidre," Abigail supplied helpfully.

"Exactly." Phoebe and Abigail had successfully eluded Kessler and Neff, for the moment anyway, but the duo kept Phoebe in their sights. The last thing Phoebe needed tonight was those two clowns in her path when she made her move for the gems.

"Laura dear, I can ' t TELL you how much it thrills me to know that you and Remington are. . . together. Is that wedding bells I hear? Because if it is, I will devote myself to ensuring. . . ."

This was getting out of hand. As much as Phoebe would relish the role of Remington's lover, she didn't think he would appreciate her performance as Laura Holt.

". . . and so I must insist you join us this evening for dinner, after the reception. Just a small soiree, really, the immediate family only."

"Ah, the two most lovely ladies here this evening, and I manage to locate them both." Remington planted a kiss on his mother's cheek, as his eyes playfully caught Phoebe's gaze.

"Darling, this woman is simply marvelous. Don't let her get away, hmm? And I'm expecting you both for dinner this evening. Now if you'll excuse me, Dears, I must be running along home to guarantee that our little gathering én famille is a success."

"I'll help you retrieve your wrap, Mother," Remington offered.

"Don ' t be silly, Dear. I wouldn't want to tear you away from your delightful, uh, companion. And I expect to see you both for dinner tonight, " she commanded in a tone that suggested resistance would be fruitless. With that declaration, Mrs. Steele sashayed away from the overwhelmed couple.

"Mother can be a bit. . . overmuch. If you'd rather not go, I completely understand. But unfortunately I don't have that option."

"Not at all. I'm not quite ready to call it an evening. " Nor was she ready to tangle with Messrs Kessler and Neff. Besides, Phoebe's goal couldn't be accomplished until later that night.

"I'll brief the boys on the security details once again, and then we can leave."

"Great. I need a few minutes to freshen up anyway. I'll meet you in the lobby."

They parted, and Phoebe made her way across the ballroom, then stopped suddenly in her tracks. A silver-haired gentleman, sipping champagne and charming a bejeweled and bewitched society matron, looked up to meet Phoebe's stare. He excused himself and intercepted Phoebe near the door.

"Daniel!" Phoebe hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Not here, my dear," Daniel whispered through a forced smile as he maneuvered Phoebe out of the ballroom.

***********

In Phoebe's hotel suite, Daniel watched, amused, as Phoebe threw her possessions into her suitcase in haphazard fashion. "Planning a quick get-away, are we?"

"WE are not planning anything. You promised I'd be solo on this caper, remember? Just why are you here?" Phoebe demanded.

"Now Kate, Darling, how could I not be? All of London society's turned out. And who, may I ask, was that young man I saw you mooning over this evening?"

"Mooning?! Absurd. An acquaintance, that's all. " As Phoebe stuffed belongings into her purse, four passports tumbled to the floor. Daniel scooped them up before Phoebe could reach them.

"Looks to me as if you're getting a little indiscreet, Darling. And in our line of work that's imprudent at best. " He thumbed through the passports, reading aloud, " Tracy Lord, Frances Stevens, Margot Wendice, Lisa Fremont. You need to see some new films, my dear Kate."

"Don't fuss, I'm being careful. Besides, I think I'll be wrapping this up later tonight. Where can I hook up with you when it's all over? "

**************

In the well-appointed offices of Remington Steele Investigations, Betty waited impatiently for the appearance of the messenger from Providence Insurance. When he finally arrived, Betty snatched the manila envelope from the startled young man. Astutely calculating that a tip from this crazy lady was highly unlikely, he ran off to his next delivery.

Ripping the envelope open, Betty scanned its contents quickly. Everything seemed in order-----

What was this? The notarized photograph of Miss Chase revealed a middle-aged woman bearing no resemblance to the tart who had been in this very office just a few days before.

"Gotcha!" Betty cried with unchecked giddiness as she snatched her car keys and ran out to confront Miss - , no to acquaint Remington with the woman he so obviously trusted. The woman who in no way deserved that trust.

**************

Phoebe found Steele pacing the lobby.

"I was just about to search you out. Everything all right? " Remington questioned as they exited the hotel.

"Sorry about that. A gal's gotta make herself presentable, you know."

Remington placed his hand lightly on Phoebe's waist and remarked pointedly, "You hardly need to fret about that, Phoebe." The night air held a chill, and Phoebe shivered. Was it only her libido that was turning her brain to mush?

The handsome young pair waited at the curb with unrestrained impatience for Fred to open the Bentley's doors for them.

To Be Continued
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