Moving as close as possible without ruining his tailored slacks and leather shoes, Remington spoke. "Having fun?" he asked.
Laura turned, a delighted smile on her face as she ran to throw her arms around his neck. "Remington!" she exclaimed before pulling his lips to hers for a long kiss. He felt her pulling at him, trying to lure him into the surf. For a moment, Remington pictured them laying there as the tide washed over them, bodies intertwined. At last he managed to lift his head and look at her. "I'm not sure that now is the time to play out the beach scene in 'From Here to Eternity,' Laura," he admonished.
"Burt Lancaster, Deborah Kerr, Columbia Pictures, 1953," Laura murmured, smiling up at him.
"Very good," Remington praised. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I wanted to see the house," Laura explained between kisses along his jaw. "You're so tense, Rem," she told him. "You really need to relax a little." She slipped her hands down over his shoulders and under his jacket. "Loosen up some," she suggested, sliding the jacket from his arms. He let her achieve her goal, then laid the jacket over his arm, frowning.
"Laura, I can't believe that you had a client go out of his way to bring you here?" Remington insisted.
"It wasn't out of his way- not really," she replied.
"I told you that Daniel and I would look the place over," Remington told her.
"I know. But I just had to see it for myself. And I wasn't sure that you would really do it." She grinned. "What do you think of it?" she asked, pressing herself closer to him.
"Umm, the house?" Remington questioned, "or your Gilda routine?"
Laura looked thoughtful. "'Gilda'. Rita Hayworth, Glenn Ford, Columbia Pictures, 1946," she annotated. "Take your pick," she suggested.
"I haven't really had the chance to look around," Remington informed her. "As for the other- This is hardly the time, don't you think? We've got an audience."
Laura looked behind him to where Daniel and Gerald Davis stood talking. Waving at them, she smiled. "You're thinking that Mr. Davis might be shocked, aren't you, if we-"
"More than a little, I should think," Remington nodded. "And I think you owe him an apology for convincing him to take time out of his busy schedule to bring you to Malibu."
Laura grinned, refusing to let him bat her hands away as she loosened his tie. "I suppose you're right. But he didn't seem that upset by the idea."
"No, just confused about why a woman who's been described to him as rock steady is acting like - like-"
"Like Holly Golightly?" Laura suggested, releasing the top button of his shirt.
"Breakfast at Tiffany's," Remington said automatically. "Audrey Hepburn, George Peppard, Paramount Pictures, 1961," He shook his head. "Stop that, Laura," he ordered, and wasn't sure if he was talking about her attempt to distract him with movies or her attempted seduction. He caught her hands in his as they moved toward the belt of his trousers. "Let's go back up to the house, shall we? You can apologize to Mr. Davis for inconveniencing him, and send him on his way before we look at the house."
Laura sighed. "Very well, if you insist," she said, following him back to the path to the garden.
Remington paused to let Laura roll her pants legs down and then let her lean on him to wipe the sand from her feet and put her shoes back on before they continued into the curiously empty garden. "Mr. Davis?" Remington called, looking around.
"Daniel?" Laura called.
"Here," Daniel replied, coming from the house.
"Where is Mr. Davis?" Remington asked, looking behind Daniel.
"He just left," Daniel told them.
"Left?" Laura questioned, looking worried at last.
"Yes. He had an appointment that he had to get to," Daniel informed them. "He said that he'd only stayed with Laura because he didn't want to leave her here alone, since she was acting a bit- odd," Daniel said. "He said that he would call you later," he advised Remington.
"Then- he wasn't angry?" Laura asked.
"Not that I could tell," Daniel assured them.
Laura smiled as she turned to look at Remington. "See? I knew that things would be fine. Now," she said, slipping her arm through his, "Let's look around, shall we?"
Remington stopped. "Wait a minute. How did you get into the house?" he asked Laura. "I have the key, because the realtor gave it to us. He was tied up elsewhere-" She smiled, pulling her lock-picking kit from her purse. Remington groaned.
"So you broke in while a client stood by and watched?" Daniel mused. "No wonder he was beginning to doubt your- judgment, my dear," he commented.
"WAS, Daniel?" Remington questioned.
"I think I managed to- smooth the waters," Daniel assured him. "I think I'm going to look at the guest house," he decided.
"We'll be in the main house," Laura called after him. Without further discussion, Laura pulled Remington toward the house that had captured her imagination.
"Laura," Remington said as he followed her across the redwood deck and through the sliding glass doorway into the house. "I can't believe that you picked that lock with Mr. Davis standing there-"
"I didn't," Laura told him, her hand sliding down to grasp his when he would have stopped in the living room. "He stayed in the car. I told him I would only be a minute," she admitted. "I guess time- got away from me."
"Apparently," Remington agreed. "How long had you been here?"
"Does that really matter?" Laura asked, leading him into what he assumed was the master bedroom.
Remington pulled her to stand in front of him. "How long?"
She shrugged. "An hour. Probably. I didn't look at my watch," she admitted.
"An HOUR?" Remington repeated, wondering how he was ever going to make this right with Gerald Davis. "You kept Mr. Davis tied up here for an HOUR while you played tag with the surf?"
"Daniel said that Mr. Davis wasn't upset," she reminded him. "Can't you just imagine a king sized bed here?" she asked, indicating a space on the wall. "And you HAVE to look at the bathroom. The tub in there is amazing-"
"Do you have any idea how much money Gerald Davis was going to pay the Agency to provide security for that showing, Laura?" he asked, ignoring her questions. "Enough that we could have bought TWO of these houses."
She smiled. "You worry too much," she told him. "I'm sure that you'll be able to smooth things over to everyone's satisfaction with that charm of yours. And speaking of charm, Mr. Steele," she said, sliding her arms around his neck.
"You're not going to distract me this time, Laura," Remington said.
"You're certain about that?" she asked, tangling her fingers in his dark hair. "Can't you just imagine waking up here every morning?" she asked, her lips close to his ear. "The sound of the ocean as our alarm clock after it lulls us to sleep at night?"
"Double duty, Miss Holt?" Remington questioned. "Either it lulls us to sleep or wakes us. But both?"
"And can't you see us taking long- walks on the beach?" She touched her lips to his. "Just the-" another kiss, "-two of us?"
"You make a very- convincing argument," Remington agreed, pulling her closer to him and capturing her lips again. When he pulled back, he said, "Of course, if we don't make things right with Mr. Davis, we can kiss this place goodbye."
"There you go, worrying again," Laura sighed. "I have every confidence in your ability to charm clients," she assured him. "Oh, I forgot the best thing about the room," she said, pulling him toward the vertical blinds that lined one wall. "Stay there," she said, moving to grasp the chain and slowly reveal the view beyond the glass.
"You can see the beach from here," Remington realized.
"It's the only room in the house with this view," Laura confirmed, opening the multi-paned doors that led onto the deck. "There's another path to the beach right over there," she told him, pointing to a break in the wall. "An entrance to our own, private, paradise," she suggested.
Remington slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as he looked down at the expanse of sand. The sound of a board creaking made Remington smile. "Daniel," he said, turning around. "How was the guest house?"
"Adequate," Daniel confirmed. "A bit smaller than I'd planned on, but it will do." He stood beside them on the deck. "Quite a view," he commented. "Are you going to take the house?" he asked.
"Yes, we are," Laura said.
"We haven't decided," Remington said at the same moment.
Daniel shook his head and smiled. "I'll be in the limo when the two of you finish this discussion," he said.
"It's finished," Laura declared. "We're buying it."
"Laura, this is the first place we've looked at," Remington reminded her. "I think we should at least give Daniel the chance to find a place that he'd be more comfortable in."
"Don't worry about me, Harry," Daniel insisted. When Remington sent him a warning glance, Daniel smiled. "I'll just- wait in the limo, as I said." He stepped into the master bedroom.
"There," Laura responded. "You see? Daniel's fine with this place. So it's settled."
"Laura, what IS it about this house that fascinates you so much?" Remington asked. "I don't think we should rush into this. We have time-"
"I thought you wanted to find Daniel a place other than my loft?" Laura reminded him. "So he wouldn't have to worry about those stairs?"
That stopped Remington. Dr. Becker HAD agreed that those stairs could become a problem, and had strongly suggested that Daniel find a place with easier access. "Yes, but- "
"Tell you what, why don't we discuss it over dinner tonight?" Laura suggested, running a finger down the length of Remington's loosened tie, then lower, until Remington's quickly drawn breath stopped her. She grinned, looking up at him. "Candle light, champagne? One of your gourmet creations to tempt- the palate?"
"I'll agree to that on one condition," Remington temporized. "That we look at a couple of the other houses on the list."
Laura took a deep breath. "Okay," she agreed. "I think I can afford to be generous."
"Is that so?"
She nodded, her eyes locked with his as her finger continued the journey it had begun moments before. "Because I'm going to get what I want in the end, anyway." She smiled and turned toward the house. "Coming, Mr. Steele?" she asked.
Remington exhaled, shaking his head before turning to follow her.
***
"Has Mr. Davis called?" Remington asked Mildred as the three of them entered the office.
"No, he hasn't, Chief," the woman replied.
"See if you can get him on the phone, will you?"
"Right away." She smiled as she dialed the number. "I see you found Miss Holt," she commented.
"Hmm," Remington nodded, picking up the stack of message slips with his name on them. "Damn," he sighed.
"What's wrong, Remington?" Laura asked, looking at her own messages.
"An appointment with my tailor that I'd forgotten about."
Mildred hung up the phone. "Sorry, Mr. Steele, but Mr. Davis is out of the office for the rest of the day- his secretary says he had an appointment in San Francisco-that he was delayed leaving for it and won't be back until sometime tomorrow morning."
Remington looked at Laura, who shrugged and grinned at him, as if to say, "Oh, well."
"Have Fred meet me downstairs," Remington told her. "I shouldn't be more than an hour."
A well dressed young woman entered the office as Remington pushed open the door. "Excuse me- are you Mr. Steele?" she asked.
"Yes, I am-" Remington began, looking at Laura, silently asking her to rescue him. Phillipe, his tailor didn't like it when he was late. And good tailors were difficult to find these days.
"I'm Laura Holt," Laura said, coming forward. "Mr. Steele's associate. Can I help you?"
"I'm Phoebe Gleason. I have an appointment to see Mr. Steele-"
Mildred nodded, confirming the young woman's words. "Something's come up that I can't put off, Miss Gleason," Remington told the woman. "I can assure you that Miss Holt can handle any problem you may have with the same diligence as I would. If you'll excuse me," he said, glancing at his watch, "I'm late."
Phoebe Gleason watched him go, then looked at Laura. Laura smiled warmly. "Why don't you step into Mr. Steele's office, Miss Gleason? I'll be right in." Laura turned to Mildred as Miss Gleason entered Steele's office. "What time is the next appointment?"
Mildred consulted the calendar. "Mr. Carrington at three."
"Pull the Carrington file, for me, will you? I'll try to look it over before he gets here."
"You got it," Mildred said, going to the file cabinet near the desk. When she turned back to her desk, she noticed Daniel was looking at the now closed office door with a troubled expression. "What's wrong, Daniel?"
"I could say that I've suddenly realized that I have to locate a tailor in Los Angeles," Daniel told her, then sighed. "But I'm afraid that we aren't finished with Laura's problems, Mildred."
"She seems fine to me," Mildred said.
"Here in the office, yes. But you didn't see her in Malibu."
Mildred frowned. "Malibu? What she was doing there? She went with Mr. Davis-"
"Apparently she convinced him to take her out there to look at a house."
"Oh. No wonder Mr. Steele was trying to call Mr. Davis." Her gaze followed his to the door, then looked at Daniel. "What did Dr. Becker have to say?" she asked.
"Tell you what, why don't I save that and a few other matters for dinner tonight?" Daniel suggested. "Laura and Harry have plans of their own, so-"
"What other matters?" Mildred asked, eyeing him curiously.
"I've already set a plan in motion to help snap Laura out of this. But I'm going to need your help," Daniel told her.
"MY help?" Mildred questioned.
Laura opened the door. "Mildred, could you join us, please? I need your expertise."
"Be right there, Miss Holt," Mildred said, rising as Laura disappeared again.
"I'll see you at seven," Daniel told her.
"What are you going to be doing til then?" Mildred asked.
"To do a bit of-research," Daniel said with a secretive smile.
"Research?"
"Mildred?" Laura called again.
"On my way," she called back. "Daniel, -"
He placed a hand on her arm. "Things will work out. Trust me, my dear." He nodded toward Steele's office. "I wouldn't keep her waiting any longer." He remained where he was until the door closed behind her, then moved to the desk.
The Davis file was still sitting there, and Daniel, with a glance toward the door, flipped the cover open, making a note of Davis' address. Picking up the telephone, he dialed a number.
"Marty? . . . Daniel here. Have you had a chance to gather the information on Gerald Davis that I called about earlier? . . . Excellent. There's a coffee shop on Yarrow, I believe, in the fashion district," Daniel told him. "Can you be there in twenty minutes?" Daniel smiled. "I'll be waiting." He hung up the telephone, hoping that Harry's tailor hadn't changed locations after all this time . . .