Don't Spare the Rubber

I am still alive...

Tue, 07 Oct 2008 23:16:57 GMT

Just not writing at the moment. I've decided that writing only one chapter a week or so really doesn't work for me. The story gets disjointed and dreadful (more so than it already was), and I feel worse each time I post. I'm NOT giving up these stories, though. I think I can make some time in my schedule (I really want to make time) to get a chapter up at least every second day. Because of some upheavals around my place at the moment, though, it might take a week or two before my schedule is even remotely back to normal. I'll post at SteeleWriting when I've begun again. You're all fantastic readers, so I know you'll understand!

Helen

Neighborhood Steele - Part Thirteen

Sat, 27 Sep 2008 13:21:23 GMT

Laura stared at the case file in her hand, blankly skimming the opening paragraph for the tenth time. After realizing that, once again, none of what she’d read had sunk in, she closed the folder and relaxed back into the couch. It didn’t seem to matter that she couldn’t work tonight. Her mind was happily preoccupied with house payments, moving arrangements, and even the changes she would have to make to her morning schedule to get to the office on time when the new distance between work and home was measured.

She smiled to herself as she remembered how she and Steele had put their heads together with the realtor that afternoon, working through the complications of buying a house. For once, Steele had seemed interested in the insignificant details. Though Laura doubted whether he would ever be as obsessed with the agency as she was, his new enthusiasm towards every tiny aspect of their relationship delighted her. She wondered now whether this attitude had always been there and if, afraid of rejection, he had refused to let it show. He didn’t seem to be afraid any longer. Laura stood up and giggled at the empty loft, glad nobody was around to witness this childish giddiness.

Something had happened to Steele in Ireland. He had acquired an entirely new sense of where he belonged and what he wanted. Glancing at the piano, Laura envied his surety. It had become increasingly obvious that she was the one feeling insecure in their marriage. She wasn’t yet certain where the old, independent Laura fit into this new twosome. Though he hadn’t said anything, she knew Steele’s frustration with this had been climbing.

“The house will help,” Laura stated to the space around her. “This is what I want.”

She sat down at the piano and began to play something cheerful. Just as her fingers were becoming confident the door slid open and Steele came in holding a brown grocery bag. Laura stopped playing abruptly.

“Thanks for doing the shopping,” she said, coming over to help him put the food away.

He shook his head. “I’ll do this. You play.”

Laura took a deep breath. It would be easier to say she was just finishing and had work to do, but she knew he wanted her to keep going. Time to work through one of those insecurities, she decided, and went back to the piano. Steele’s happy smile was worth a little discomfort. She kept playing until a delicious smell tempted her back to the kitchen.

“Roast lamb?” she asked, peeking in the oven.

“It’s a special occasion,” Steele replied, tasting the gravy and adding some more salt. “I know it’s one of your favorites.”

Laura kissed him, licking the residual gravy off his lips as she pulled away. “Thanks.”

“Thank you for the serenade.”

Laura smiled and glanced at the ground. “Harry, I – um – I know I’ve been a bit edgy since we got home, but – but it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly. He switched off the burner and turned to face her. “Because if I’m doing anything wrong –“

“No! No, you aren’t at all. I’m just… adjusting.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Laura reached up and cupped his cheek. “I love the house. And I love you.”

“In that order of importance?” Steele grinned.

The corner of Laura’s mouth twitched. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Neighborhood Steele - Part Twelve

Sat, 20 Sep 2008 18:17:52 GMT

Steele called the realtor from the limo. Laura listened anxiously to his side of the conversation, almost sure that they would be told the house had been sold an hour ago.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Steele said. “No, we don’t need to see the inside before making a decision.”

Laura smiled to herself in spite of her nerves. She could well imagine the realtor’s bewilderment upon hearing that the couple who still hadn’t given him a definite answer after seeing each of the other houses four times had suddenly settled on a different one.

“Yes,” Steele was saying, “how much?” His eyes widened in alarm for a moment before he grinned nervously. “That’s fine, yes. This afternoon? We’ll be there. Yes. Bye.”

He glanced cautiously in Laura’s direction.

“How much?” she said dangerously.

Steele put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “Let’s not ruin the day with details, Laura.”

She began to protest, but he took her hand and squeezed it.

“We’ve got the house, Laura! A home!”

Laura laughed, enjoying his excitement as much as her own. “And it has a red dining room, and a garden.”

“And that bedroom,” Steele put in. “I think we’re going to enjoy playing house in there.”

He leaned down to kiss her, barely brushing her lips at first, but then nudging them apart. She responded eagerly, trying to convey just how much it meant to her that they had finally found a house. Suddenly, in the last hour, their relationship had acquired an entirely new feeling of permanence.

They didn’t notice when the limo pulled up to their office building. Fred finally cleared his throat and said, “Was there somewhere else you wanted to go, Mr. Steele?”

Steele wiped his lips and told Fred to take the rest of the day off.

“Do you ever wonder what he thinks of us?” Laura asked as the car drove away.

Steele smiled. “He certainly doesn’t let on much, does he? Maybe he takes notes and tries things on his own girlfriend.”

Neighborhood Steele - Part Eleven

Fri, 12 Sep 2008 00:42:28 GMT

They jogged across the street and up the winding front path, admiring the garden as they went.

Steele took a deep breath and said. “I love a good garden.”

After waiting at the door for several minutes, Steele peered in one of the front windows. “It’s empty,” he remarked. “Come on.”

“What?” Laura asked, following him as he made his way around to the backyard.

“Just a peek, Laura,” he pleaded. “I won’t even leave a scratch.”

Laura looked around at the back garden, at the large trees shading them from the sun and replacing the smoky, city smell with a fresh, earthy fragrance. She had to admit, this was heavenly.

Steele worked the lock quickly and held the door while she slipped in past him. They were in a large, open kitchen with more cupboards than they could count. These were made of warm-colored wood and gleamed brightly in the sunlight. Steele grinned broadly, almost laughing in his excitement.

“Imagine doing what we did last night in this kitchen, eh Laura?”

Laura gave him a wry smile. “That’s all you ever think about, isn’t it? Food and sex?”

He simply laughed and peeked inside one of the cupboards. Laura shook her head and continued on to the dining room. She stopped abruptly in the doorway.

“Harry!” she called, “Come see this.”

He caught up with her and looked inside, smiling widely at what he saw.

“A red dining room!” he exclaimed. “I knew this house was perfect.”

“What’s so special about red dining rooms?” Laura asked.

Steele merely grinned and gestured around him. “What isn’t?”

They continued through the rest of the house: living room, what could be a sort of den, large bathroom, and a dignified room filled with shelves. Steele had continued to ponder the possibility of have a study or library, and the room with the shelves seemed perfect for just such a space.

Upstairs they found a number of bright sunny bedrooms and another bathroom. The final door, off in one corner was slightly ajar. Steele pushed it open and stuck his head inside. He sighed.

“Take a look, Mrs. Steele,” he said quietly, smiling as he pulled her into the room.

It was the largest of the bedrooms, with a window that looked out over the back garden, and an enormous bed. Everything was colored a warm shade of cream; comfortable, but tasteful at the same time.

Laura sighed too. It was the sort of bedroom that elicited sighs. She stood in the middle of the floor and looked around, her smile growing slowly until she began laughing.

“Well?” Steele asked, grinning helplessly himself. “Have we found it?”

Laura took one last glance at the room before nodding. “I think so.”

Neighborhood Steele - Part Ten

Sun, 07 Sep 2008 18:21:09 GMT

I forgot to say, in the previous post, how much I appreciate everyone's encouragement. It's nice to know that people are interested in reading this and that they're not putting any pressure on me to hurry. Thanks!

“Thank you, Mrs. Evans,” Laura said, smiling as she shook the hand of a thirty-something woman with pretty blonde hair.

“You’re most welcome,” Mrs. Evans returned. “I hope you find them.”

Steele shook her hand as well, and he and Laura made their way to the sidewalk in front of the Evans home. “She didn’t seem suspicious either,” he said wearily, looking around the street. “Why don’t we let go of this, Laura?”

“We’ve still got one more,” Laura reminded him, pointing at the last house on the eastern side of the street.

“But none of the neighbors suspect anything. Admit it. Da Vinci’s mad as a hatter.”

“Devinsky,” Laura corrected. “And you may be right, but we’re here anyway and we might as well get to know the families around us. That’s assuming we’re actually going to move in here.”

Steele sighed and fixed his sunglasses back into place as they came to the end of the road. “Who’s this?”

Laura checked her list. “A doctor… Summerby.”

They made their way up the path to the door of the Summerby home. Music was coming from inside: quite a difficult piano piece.

“Hmm,” Laura smiled, listening. “They have taste.” She rang the bell and waited.

There was no answer.

“They probably can’t hear us over Mr. Brahms,” Steele said. He rapped sharply on the door.

The music stopped abruptly.

Steele raised his eyebrows. “That was awfully good for a live performance.”

A young man appeared at the door, his flyaway hair looking as though he’d spent ten years running his hands through it. Despite the mop, he was quite handsome.

“Hello,” he said pleasantly.

“Dr. Summerby?” Steele asked.

The man shook his head. “No, that’s my wife. I’m Simon. Also known as Mr. Charlotte Summerby.”

Steele took the hand he offered and glanced at Laura. She liked Simon instantly, he could tell. “Remington Steele. Also known as Mr. Laura Holt,” he said, inclining his head in Laura’s direction.

“Nice to meet you,” Summerby smiled. “Len told us you might be moving in.”

Steele sighed at the now-familiar response. “He seems to have been quite – um – expeditious in telling the whole neighborhood.”

Simon nodded sympathetically. “You get used to him. Charlotte and I have been here almost a month and he’s only just stopped calling once a day.”

“You’ve only been here a month?” Laura asked.

“That’s right.”

“So you didn’t know the last family who lived there at all? The Chans?”

Summerby shook his head. “Nope. Sorry.”

“Well,” Laura said, “Thanks for your time, anyway.”

“No problem. And if you need help moving in, give me a call.”

They said goodbye and returned to the sidewalk, stopping in front of the Summerby home when they reached it.

“Nice man,” Laura remarked.

“Mmm,” Steele said, grinning, “and so modern of him to let his wife be the family breadwinner.”

Laura shot him a sarcastic smile. “Okay, so I liked his attitude about that too, but really I think he was selling himself a little short.”

“Oh?”

“Simon Summerby is up-and-coming name in the classical piano world these days. I knew it sounded familiar.” She sighed. “Well, you were right, it was a waste of our time. Shall we get back to the office?”

Steele didn’t answer. He was gazing across towards the western side of the street at the house facing the Summerbys’. Laura looked too, noticing the For Sale sign on the lawn.

“I wonder why the realtor didn’t show us that one.” Steele said at last. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s bigger than we asked for.”

“Mmm,” he muttered. “But you have to admit, it is lovely.”

Laura took a closer look. The house, though modern, looked slightly colonial. It had wings on either side of the main section, and looked to be surrounded by greenery of all types in the back. It was white, but not boring, for the windows were large, and banality was the last adjective that came to mind when one looked at the explosion of color coming from the front garden.

“Don’t you think it’s lovely?” Steele prodded hopefully. “It looks very private.”

Laura nodded. “It’s beautiful. But it’s pretty big. For the two us it isn’t very –“

Steele kissed her before she could say ‘practical.’ “You really like it?” he asked, his eyes showing more excitement than they had in a long time.

She took another glance and nodded.

Steele grabbed her hand. “Let’s have a closer look.”

Neighborhood Steele - Part Nine

Fri, 05 Sep 2008 00:32:23 GMT

“There,” Steele said as they closed the door to the apartment behind them. “That wasn’t so bad. No embarrassing questions.”

“Not yet,” Laura put in, but she smiled. “They all love you. You didn’t have anything to worry about either.”

He smiled. “No, I didn’t. I like Frances and Donald. And the kids.” He looked down at the drawing in his hand. “It’s customary to hang these on the refrigerator, isn’t it?”

“You really want to?”

“I have to. I told Laurie Beth I would. She made me cross my heart.”

Laura followed him into the kitchen, where the messy picture was given an obvious space in the middle of the fridge door. It looked slightly odd, hanging there in the midst of the stylish kitchen, but, Laura thought, it also made the place look homier.

“Voila!” Steele remarked, with childish delight. “One masterpiece… installed.”

Laura hopped up onto the counter and tilted her head to look at it from another angle. “Are my ears really that big and disfigured?”

Steele pulled her close and kissed one of her ears. “On the contrary. Your ears are perfect.” He kissed it again. “Elegant. Delicate. And exactly the right size.” Another kiss. “Just like the rest of you.”

“That tickles,” Laura giggled. She turned to face him. “Your ears are pretty decent too.”

“Why thank you,” he said. “And the rest of me?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to look.” She undid his shirt and ran her hands across his chest.

Steele sighed and shivered slightly at her touch. “Well?”

Laura kissed him, her lips lingering on his until he reached out to return the kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do that for hours.”

They kissed again, and Laura felt his hand gently nudge her legs apart. It slid sensuously up her thigh, found the top of her underwear, and began probing gently. Laura gasped as it applied a sudden pressure to her clitoris. Pleased with her response, Steele continued his ministrations until she climaxed, and then nibbled her neck as she recovered.

Laura slid off the counter to lower her underwear. She helped Steele dispense with his trousers and took him in her hand, quickly bringing about a desperate erection. He lifted her back up and slid easily inside.

“I love you,” Laura breathed as he entered.

Steele paused momentarily. “Say that again.”

She kissed him. “I love you,” she repeated, and buried her head in his shoulder as he began to thrust.

He gave another two orgasms before letting his own take over.

“I love you too,” he panted after ejaculating.

“I’ve never done this in the kitchen before,” Laura said, smiling wickedly.

“And?”

“The counters in our new house had better be the same height.”

Apologies

Tue, 02 Sep 2008 21:35:15 GMT

I just wanted to apologize for the lack of chapters recently. A combination of writer's block, no time, an illness I'm just getting over, and other things on my mind hasn't been conducive to much productivity story-wise. I haven't abandoned it, though, and with any luck there'll be some new parts in the next few days. I hope you (if anyone's still bothering to check!) understand.

I wonder which episode I should watch to get my motivation back...

Neighborhood Steele - Part Eight

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 19:09:11 GMT

The conversation over dinner stayed, for the most part, in the realm of safe, casual chatter. It was only when Frances finally asked about wedding arrangements that Steele and Laura grew slightly nervous.

“San Francisco! What a wonderful idea!” Frances exclaimed. “Mother will like it.”

“Mmm,” Donald agreed, “And Elizabeth already lives there. It’s always best if she doesn’t have to travel at her age.”

“Elizabeth?” Steele asked.

Laura smiled apologetically. “My grandmother. She’s mostly harmless, don’t worry.”

Steele wondered briefly why Laura had never mentioned she had grandparents living. This thought, however, was driven quickly out of his mind at Donald’s next question.”

“What about your family, Remington? Will they be here?”

There was an awkward silence. Laura gripped her fork very tightly and Mindy took a large slurp of milk.

“My – um – both of my parents have passed away,” Steele said at last.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Donald said quickly. “I didn’t know.”

Steele shook his head and muttered, “Quite alright.”

“And – and your siblings?” Frances went on tentatively.

“I haven’t any.”

There was another, even more uncomfortable silence, until Steele fixed a smile on his face and said, “But let’s not dwell on that. I’m sure it’ll be a rousing party with just the Holt side of the family.”

Donald nodded and raised his glass. “To the family. Including its newest member.”

“The family,” the adults echoed, and Steele looked much happier.

Neighborhood Steele - Part Seven

Fri, 29 Aug 2008 11:55:50 GMT

Frances answered the door almost before the bell sounded. She hugged Laura tightly before turning to Steele and giving him a warm, if slightly awkward smile.

“Come in, come in!” Donald called from the room behind. “Steele, can I pour you drink?”

The flurry of hugs, handshakes, and excited shrieks from the children when they saw the Auburn parked in the driveway left Steele looking a little dazed. As they followed Frances into the living room, Laura whispered, “Are you alright?”

Steele gave himself a little shake and nodded.

They sat together, drinks in hand, on the sofa, and Mindy promptly flung herself down on Laura’s other side.

“So when’s the wedding?” she asked with a unsuccessful attempt at boredom.

“Mindy!” Frances chided. “Don’t pester them with questions like that! Let them get settled.”

“It’s okay,” Laura told her, then turned to Mindy and whispered “September.”

Steele felt a tap on his knee and turned to find Laurie Beth standing in front of him with a timid little grin on her face and crayon all over her hands. She held out a drawing.

“I made this for you,” she said in little more than a whisper.

He took the picture and examined it. Amid the eruption of colorful squiggles, there were two stick figures, both with very large heads, standing beside each other, holding hands. ‘Aunt Laura’ was scrawled in messy capital letters underneath one, and below the other, which had a scribble of black hair, was written an equally untidy ‘Uncle Remington.’ Steele stared at the word ‘uncle,’ for a moment, which, despite it’s backwards N made his heart jump.

“My, my, that’s very good. Thank you,” he said, taking her onto his knee and kissing her forehead. “Did you do this all by yourself?”

“Danny helped with the spelling.”

“Do you know what this reminds me of?” Steele went on.

Laurie shook her head, pleased that her drawing had gotten so much attention.

“It looks a good deal like a very lovely painting that I saw once. In Paris.”

“Where’s that?”

Laura smiled to herself as the conversation went on, but turned to Frances. Her sister, she noticed, had been eyeing her closely.

Frances grinned apologetically. “I’m sorry. This was all such a surprise!”

“That I decided to get married?” Laura was unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

“No, no, I was sure you two would get there eventually –“

Laura and Steele exchanged embarrassed looks.

“- but it happened so quickly. We had no idea the two of you were so – so –“

“Together,” Donald finished.

Steele smiled, set Laurie back on her feet, and took Laura’s hand. “Well, you know Laura. Always so secretive.”

Laura frowned for a moment before fixing her smile back in place. Secretive? What the hell did he mean by that?

Neighborhood Steele - Part Six

Thu, 28 Aug 2008 13:12:56 GMT

Sunday afternoon passed far too quickly for Laura’s liking. Before they had begun living together, weekends seemed to drag on and on; two whole days of unproductivity and loneliness. Now, however, she found herself looking forward to them eagerly and treasuring the time she and Harry could spend alone.

Today they had talked about the wedding, and movies, and music, and had gone for a stroll late in the afternoon during which Steele had stealthily taken hold of her hand. She had given his a squeeze and he’d lifted hers to his lips in a gesture that made fellow pedestrians blush and smile to themselves. They were young, they were beautiful, and, she realized with fresh astonishment, they were in love. She’d fallen in love with a crook, a Casanova whose past she still didn’t fully understand, but who, by some wonderful twist of fate had fallen in love with her just as much, and had willingly left his past behind him.

Laura frowned to herself as a car horn brought her reverie to an abrupt end and reminded her where they were going. She loved Frances and Donald dearly, but had been dreading the day when the saga of the Remington Steele agency and the people behind it would have to come out.

“Ha’penny for your thoughts,” Steele said from the driver’s seat.

“They’re not worth a penny?”

“Daniel always used to get things out of me that way.”

Laura smiled. “You know, he was a very good father, once he got the chance.”

“Yes, he was,” Steele said wistfully.

Laura thought it best to change the subject and asked, “What were you thinking about?”

“I was just going to ask if there’s anything I should know about the traditional family Sunday dinner. I’ve never really – really done this before.”

Laura patted his arm reassuringly. “There’s nothing to it. You waltz in there with your million-dollar smile, talk about business with Donald for a while, and flirt with the hostess. A little,” she added.

Steele grinned. “Not too much, eh?”

“Definitely not, or you face the consequences.”

“The consequences being…”

“I might have to make love to you in the living room just to remind you which sister you married.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He turned to smile at her, a smile that contained indecent amounts of lust and desire, and which Laura found herself returning.

Steele forced his eyes back to the road. “It’s going to be a long evening, isn’t it?”

Neighborhood Steele - Part Five

Sat, 23 Aug 2008 20:55:07 GMT

Steele realized he must have slept very late when he woke to the sound of bells tolling from the church down the street. Laura’s side of the bed, not surprisingly, was empty. He threw on a robe and found her sitting at the dining room table with a cup of coffee and a calendar.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She took a sip of coffee before answering, “Frances and Donald are going to ask about wedding plans. We’ve been so busy at the office, we haven’t even picked a date.”

Steele sat down beside her. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“You have?” Laura wondered whether she should have sounded quite so surprised.

“Haven’t you?”

“Whenever I think of the wedding, my mind jumps from date to location to guests and flowers and clothes and presents and back again and I feel dizzy.”

She plopped her chin despairingly into upturned palms and slouched over the table. Unfortunately for her, Steele found this irresistible.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure Mildred will be more than happy to help.”

She sighed, nodded, and said, “So what did you come up with?”

Steele pulled the calendar towards him, flipped ahead to September, and pointed to a day.

“September twentieth?” Laura asked.

“Yes. It’s a Saturday, and it leaves us plenty of time to get ready.”

Laura nodded enthusiastically and sat up straighter. “I like it.”

Steele grinned widely, pleased with himself.

“Any particular reason you want that date?” Laura asked.

He hesitated. “Yes, actually.”

Laura waited for him to go on, wondering what on earth could be coming.

Steele twiddled his thumbs absent-mindedly for a moment before continuing. “That – um – that was the day almost nineteen years ago when Daniel plucked me out of the gutter.”

“I see.” She touched his arm gently and waited for more.

“The novelty of being out on my own had begun to wear off by then, and I was getting worried about the winter coming. Suddenly I found myself in a lavish London house with the first person I’d ever met who would listen to me.” He paused in quiet remembrance for a minute. “That evening I sat with him in his sitting room. He didn’t make me talk, he just stayed close, probably to make sure I didn’t run away. He read the evening paper and I remember noting the date, 20 September, 1967.”

“I think it’ll be perfect, Harry.” Laura reached over and kissed his forehead. “Thanks for telling me.”

Steele smiled. “I’m glad you approve. I always celebrated the day after that year, almost like a birthday. My deliverance, as it were.” He reached over and touched her hair. “Now I can also celebrate my salvation.”

Laura brushed a tear from her cheek. “I love you.”

He kissed her tenderly.

Neighborhood Steele - Part Four

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 19:35:38 GMT

Laura smiled and nestled into Steele’s arm. In response, he wrapped the other one around her too. This was something they’d both come to love: snuggling on the couch in the evenings to watch an old movie, relaxing comfortably together into something they each knew the other enjoyed. It was especially wonderful on Saturdays, Steele thought happily, when he knew Laura wasn’t moaning internally about the work she could be doing. He looked down and grinned. It felt wonderful, having her head in his lap.

“You know,” Laura said as the credits rolled, “if we’re really thinking of buying that house, we should look into those last occupants. Make sure nothing’s wrong with it.”

“What are we looking for? Jinxes?”

“You don’t believe him?”

“I think he has an imagination that likes to work overtime. The fact that those people didn’t live there very long doesn’t mean there’s something worth investigating in the house. Maybe they got jobs somewhere else. Maybe they didn’t like living next door to Da Vinci.”

“Devinsky.”

“Whatever.”

Laura smiled. “He does seem a little nosy.” She thought for a few minutes. “I’d still like to talk to the other neighbors. Ask if they noticed anything unusual.”

“Do you have to?”

“Why not?”

He sighed. “Laura, this isn’t supposed to be work. This is our life, our home. If you’re uncomfortable with the house, we’ll get one of the other ones. But don’t turn this into a case.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“A little, maybe,” he acknowledged.

“Wouldn’t it be romantic, living in a haunted house?” she wheedled.

“Potentially haunted.”

They stared each other down until Laura broke into laughter.

“You are going to investigate, aren’t you?” Steele asked, grinning.

“Once a PI, always a PI, I’m afraid.”

Steele let out a long, defeated breath. “I suppose it’s not such a bad way to break the ice with the rest of the neighborhood: ‘Hello, did you happen to drive the last two families away?’”

“And why haven’t you done it to Mr. Devinsky yet?” Laura added.

“Hmm.” Then, because he realized he hadn’t said it yet that day, he whispered, “I love you.”

She squeezed his hand and planted a little kiss on his arm. “Even if I am a workaholic?”

“Because of that.” He hugged her more tightly. “After all, one of us has to make some money.”

“I can’t wait to do this in our house.”

He smiled widely. “You can’t? Good. I was worried that you might be getting cold feet.”

“No.” She sighed. “But as soon as we move in, my mother will be down for a visit. I’m not looking forward to that.”

“You don’t think she’ll like it?”

“I’m sure she’ll like the house. But she won’t stop telling me what I’m doing wrong housewife-wise.”

Steele kissed her forehead. “Then I won’t stop telling you what you’re doing right.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, and reached up to kiss him. “Maybe we should have a couple of kids right away so there’s no room for my mother.”

He laughed. “Speaking of your family, what time are we expected in Tarzana tomorrow evening?”

Laura groaned. “I’d forgotten. Six o’clock, I think. Frances is worried that I’m not feeding you properly. That’s why they’ve asked us. We should have them over next week to show off your cooking.”

She stood up and switched off the television. Steele, whose thoughts had been wandering to slightly more active forms snuggling followed her lead and hopefully asked, “Time for bed?”

“It’s eight-thirty!”

“Exactly.

Laura smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You know, I wonder sometimes whether it’s good for us be indulging so much.”

“We’re still honeymooning,” he answered, pulling her closer. “Years from now we’ll probably look back and wonder why we didn’t indulge even more.”

Laura kissed him passionately, reassured, as she always was, when he spoke of the future. He was briefly startled, but quickly began responding to her, especially when he felt her unbuckle his belt and slip a hand inside his trousers. She worked at arousing him.

“Oh, Laura,” he breathed after a few minutes, when he was erect and beginning to feel desperate.

He backed her onto the couch and removed her trousers, shirt, and bra. (His pants had already fallen to the floor.) Her legs opened eagerly. Once inside, his fingers found her moist and ready.

“Harry,” Laura groaned as he continued to fondle. She found herself doubly excited by the way his shirt hung half-open, displaying but not completely uncovering his gorgeous chest. “I’m ready, Harry.”

He slid inside easily and began to thrust, quickly picking up speed. Neither had any breath for kisses; the sensations were too powerful, and were happening too fast. Laura’s panting turned into little cries of pleasure as Steele thrust deeper. She was close, he could tell.

“Laura,” he found himself moaning when the contractions from her orgasm finally forced him over the edge.

She clung to him as he ejaculated, and kissed his sweaty forehead. Steele collapsed on top of her, his head resting between her breasts.

“You’d think we’d be bored of each other,” Laura said breathlessly, “after this month.”

“Uh-uh.” Steele kissed her chest. “It keeps getting better.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Just think how much fun we’ll have with three bedrooms to test.”

Neighborhood Steele - Part Three

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 20:40:55 GMT

“Beautiful hardwood floors, French doors out to the patio…”

Now in the third house on their list, Steele and Laura found themselves beginning to tune out the realtor’s commentary. They’d also finally given up shooting furtive glances at each other, trying to make out their feelings about every detail.

He doesn’t like the railing on the staircase, Laura thought nervously. With everything else we’re spending money on right now, we may not be able to replace it anytime soon. And the kitchen was so much bigger in the last house. He really wants a nice kitchen.

Steele, on the other hand, noticed the small room at the back of the house. That would make a nice little study for Laura. She would love something like that. But she really liked the master bedroom in the first house, and if it’s a choice between a nice study for her and a nice bedroom for both of us…

“Shall we go out back?” the realtor asked, seeing their undecided expressions.

They followed him out into a nice garden. A fence ran around the outer edge, bordering two other properties, and there was a lovely big tree in the far corner.

“Well,” the realtor said, when he had finished pointing these things out, “I have another client to meet.”

Steele shook his hand. “Thank you. We’ll let you know what we decide.”

When they were alone, he turned to Laura. “Any thoughts?”

She let out a long breath. “Choosing a house is harder than I thought.”

“You don’t have a favorite?”

She was about to answer when they were interrupted by a loud “Psst!” from behind them. They turned to see a small man, mostly bald and wearing round glasses, straining to peek over the fence from the yard on the left. He gestured violently for them to come over.

“Can we help you?” Laura asked politely.

The man ignored her. He turned to Steele and said quickly, “You’re Remington Steele, aren’t you? The Detective. I’ve seen you in the newspaper. Front page at least once a month. Must be nice. I was in the newspaper once. Fifth grade volleyball team. We were the county champions. I had measles the day of the tournament, but they let me pose with them for the paper. I was sitting –“

Steele held up his hand and the man fell silent. “What can we do for you Mr. –“

“Devinsky. Leonard Devinsky. Like Leonardo Da Vinci, only… yeah, anyway. I’m an inventor too, you know. I specialize in kitchen gadgets. My new take on can openers got me into this neighborhood.” He reached an awkward hand over the fence.

Steele took it. “My pleasure, Mr. Devinsky. This is my wife, Laura.” Steele couldn’t help smiling as he said this. He reveled in every opportunity to introduce Laura as his wife.

Devinsky nodded at her before going on, “Are you moving in around here?”

“We’re thinking about it,” Laura answered, with a thoughtful look at the house beside them.

“Oh.” Devinsky seemed disappointed. “I thought you might be here about – I mean – you can tell me if you are. I understand. I won’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?” Steele asked.

“The Murphys? The Chans?.” He said this as if it should have been obvious. "They were the last two families to live in this house."

Laura frowned. “Why would we want to know anything about them?”

“Well, they both left in a hurry, and neither of them stayed very long. Didn’t say why they were leaving either.”

Steele glanced back at the house looking worried. “You’ve never noticed anything wrong with it?”

“Not from the outside.”

“What about the other neighbors?” Laura asked. “Do they know anything?”

Devinsky hesitated. “Not that they’ll admit to.”

Steele took a deep breath and looked around him. “You liked the neighborhood, eh Laura?”

Neighborhood Steele - Part Two

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 16:35:48 GMT

The realtor was late, though this didn’t surprise them. Everywhere they went, signs of leftover celebration told them that they’d be lucky to find anyone that morning besides themselves who didn’t have a severe hangover. Their own Independence Day had been fairly quiet; enjoying a Friday away from the office during a long drive in the Auburn, a delicious home cooked feast, a prime view of the fireworks from Steele’s balcony, and then…

Steele smiled to himself, remembering. Even if Laura had become a little skittish in some respects, their sex life, fortunately, hadn’t suffered. If anything, it had heated up. Evenings that began with edgy frustration often ended with explosively powerful reminders of why they were together, trying to make things work. Laura was the most intense lover Steele had ever been with – or would ever be with – and seemed to know exactly what he enjoyed. He was confident that she felt the same way. If only we could relax outside the bedroom.

Laura checked her watch, frowned, and then pulled some photos out of an envelope she had been carrying. There were three pictures, each of a different house. She gazed at them wistfully, comparing them to each other, and then looking at them separately. Their search for a house had yielded these possibilities.

“Each one of these is perfect for us,” Laura mused aloud, “but none of them really stands out. They’ve all got three bedrooms, two bathrooms, nice kitchens, and enough space for entertaining… if we really have to.”

Steele didn’t miss the woeful tone of voice she applied to the last remark. “Having room for company was your idea, you remember.”

“Well, one of us has to think of it. You’re Remington Steele. Now that you’re married, it’s going to be expected, and I’m the one they expect to do it.”

“Hey, Laura,” Steele said gently, “that’s not true. I don’t expect it.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“We got off on the wrong foot this morning. This is supposed to be exciting, remember?”

Steele was relieved when she smiled. “Yeah. It just gets a little overwhelming. I am excited.” She kissed him.

He returned her smile and straightened his posture. He was confident that buying a house would, if not solve their problems, at least help. It would show her that he really wanted to share a life with her, and neither of them would need to feel like guests when they decided whose apartment to use.

He pointed to the photos. “I’m not sure I care for the yellow one, on second thought. It was different, but the white does look nicer.”

“I agree. You liked the dining room, though,” she reminded him.

“I liked the color. We can paint whichever one we end up with.” He examined the pictures and held up a white one with a pretty stone walkway and large windows. “I think this is my favorite.”

Laura hesitated before agreeing, “Mmm. I think so too.”

“What’s wrong?”

She pointed to the last of the houses. “We both really liked this neighborhood; quiet, but lots of young people. And the house is nice.”

Steele nodded pensively.

She went on quickly, “But if you like the other one, that’s fine.”

“No it isn’t!” he frowned. “We’re not choosing this house for me, it’s for both of us, remember?”

A car pulled up at that moment and the realtor they’d been waiting for jumped out. “Sorry,” he said through a yawn. “Late night yesterday. Or this morning, I should say.” He gestured to the house behind them (the yellow one). “Shall we?”

Neighborhood Steele - Part One

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 18:52:55 GMT

She lifted her arms, stretching up far over her head, growing miraculously taller as her rib cage lifted. One hand swept downwards. A swift, fluid motion brought it back up, accompanied this time by a foot. She paused, leg held straight in a pose that looked equally painful and graceful, defying the confines of physical ability. She released the leg, brought the other one up, and froze once again, the only movement that of her abdomen expanding and deflating as she breathed.

She can’t possibly take it any further.

She began to rise. It was so seamless at first that an onlooker might have thought it was merely her spine lengthening a tiny bit more. But the foot remaining on the floor was slowly unfolding, until, with a tiny hop, she was supporting herself on the very point of her toes. She remained that way for several seconds before releasing the leg above her head and coming down fluently onto two flat feet.

Unbelievable.

Laura turned around, breathing heavily, and smiled at him. He was sitting up in bed, staring at her as though she’d just sung the Queen of the Night’s aria while standing on her head with her nose plugged.

“What?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Was that as painful as it looked?”

“Probably,” she grinned.

“Do you always do this in the morning?”

Laura blushed. “Most mornings. It gives me time to think before the day starts.”

“Have you been doing it for the last month?”

“Usually before you’re awake, I guess.”

Steele frowned. “Is it something I’m not supposed to see?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why have you been trying to hide it?”

“I haven’t, it’s just…”

“What?”

She sighed heavily. “Just private, that’s all.”

Steele sighed too, but in obvious frustration. Issues like this had been a growing problem since they’d settled in to life together. The problem is that we haven’t settled, he thought. At the office, Laura continued to be her usual, workaholic self, absorbed in their cases, and happy to be in control of every situation. At home, however, she danced around him as though on tiptoe, cautious about everything she did in his presence. She would only play the piano while he was in the shower. If they watched a movie, she invariably insisted that he choose it. Now he found out that she only did ballet while he was asleep. In short, she was becoming unbearably accommodating, and he felt as though he were intruding.

Laura looked at the ground and said, “We promised that realtor we’d meet him at 9:30. I’d better take a shower.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” Steele answered, watching ruefully as she turned her back to him.

What am I doing wrong?

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-Nine (Final Part)

Sun, 17 Aug 2008 16:10:56 GMT

Thanks again, everyone, for bearing with me through this. Your comments really help to keep me going! There will definitely be another story after this one, hopefully starting over the next few days.

“So Peterson worked for Fitch?” Steele narrowed his eyes as the events of the past week seemed suddenly to make sense. “A protégé of sorts?”

Mildred nodded. “Yep. They covered for each other. When Roselli exposed Fitch, Peterson was out of there faster than you could say snake in the grass. He’d always had a problem, woman-wise. I guess losing his job kinda set him off. And it was Tony’s fault.”

They were in the loft, washing lunch dishes. Mildred had arrived at noon with news from Benjamin, who had managed to uncover Peterson’s motive.

“Has Tony been released?” Laura asked, grimacing slightly as she picked up a large bowl that was too heavy for her injured wrist.

“Not yet, but he will be.”

“I wonder what problem he’s going to dump on our doorstep next,” Steele muttered audibly.

Laura shot him an exasperated look and he shrugged.

“Well, I’d better skedaddle,” Mildred sighed. “Bowling practice. See you on Monday.”

She left. Laura took a deep, relaxed breath and sighed.

Steele looked at her. “Feeling better?”

“Mmm. It’s hard to believe we’ve only been home for a week. Ireland seems like months ago.”

They finished the dishes in pleasant silence and then sat together on the sofa.

“Could we sleep at your place tonight?” Laura asked suddenly.

“What about the broken window?”

“The bedroom’s okay. At least it has curtains.” She glanced nervously at the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?”

She looked down at her hands and hesitated. “You remember Thursday night? At the piano bench? I thought I heard someone outside at the window?”

Steele nodded. “Yes, but – wait a minute…”

“He was there, watching us,” Laura’s voice began softly, but grew steadily louder and more furious. “That was private, between you and me, and he just sat there spying on us!” She stood up quickly and wrapped her arms around herself.

Steele looked angry too, but he kept it under control. After a few minutes he said, “We’ll go to my place, don’t worry.”

Laura relaxed a little. “Thanks.”

“And on the subject of lodgings…”

She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“It’s Saturday, we’ve just dispensed with another case, and the weather is perfect for a leisurely drive through Pacific Palisades, don’t you think?”

She grinned. “That sounds nice. Have you ever been house-shopping before?”

“Not seriously. What do we look for?”

“Something elegant.”

“Something cozy.”

“Something private.”

He acknowledged this with a tilt of his head. “Yes, that’s an important one, I suppose.”

Laura smiled. “I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic about this.”

“Does that mean you’re beginning to trust me?”

“After last night, Harry, I think I’m even almost ready to marry you.”

The End.

A Steele Between Two Thorns, Part Thirty-Eight

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 15:44:38 GMT

Steele woke slowly, gradually noticing that he was alone in bed. He sat up and looked around the darkened loft. There was light coming from the bathroom. The door was closed, and he thought he heard the shower running.

“Laura?” he called softly, tapping on the door.

There was no answer, but a small muffled sound was suddenly choked back. He tried the door, surprised to find it unlocked.

“Laura?” he tried again, before opening the door.

He found her inside, sitting under the running water, knees drawn to her chest, sobbing. Alarmed, he hurried to the tub and switched off the faucet. Laura hugged herself more tightly and buried her face in her hands.

“Hey, Laura, it’s alright,” Steele said softly, holding her wet body as close as he could with the edge of the tub between them. He wasn’t sure what else to do.

Laura’s sobs gradually became little gasps, and finally subsided altogether. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just felt… dirty.”

This was exactly what Steele had been afraid of. “He isn’t going to touch you anymore, Laura. Nobody will.”

“Not even you?” Laura asked in a small voice.

Steele paused, choosing his words carefully. “That’s your decision.”

She let out a tearful little laugh. “Of course you can. I just – I just didn’t realize how much this would bother me.”

He held her for a few more minutes. “You could have woken me. If you needed to talk.”

“I wanted to be alone,” Laura said carefully. “It’ll take some getting used to, this sharing everything with someone else. I’ve always been so independent.”

“Are you saying you’re feeling crowded?”

“No. Just different. Things changed so quickly. It scares me sometimes.”

Steele pulled back and peered at her closely. “Are you still happy about – things?”

“Yes.”

She shivered slightly, and Steele reached up for a towel to wrap around her shoulders. He noticed that she was smiling.

“What?”

“I’d gotten to know Mr. Steele so well. In some ways, Harry is a completely different person. I suppose he was there all along, but I didn’t see him very much.” Steele raised his eyebrows, so she continued. “You’re much more open now, you know. I can tell you anything. I can ask anything. I know what you look like first thing in the morning. I know how long it takes you to brush your teeth and take a shower. And you know the same things about me. It’s nice.”

Steele smiled, relieved, as days of tension seemed to disappear.

“Thank you, Laura.”

“For what?”

“For marrying me. I like it too.”

They sat in contented silence until Laura began to shake again.

“Let’s get back to bed,” Steele said, helping her step out of the slippery tub. He fetched a warm nightgown and they settled beneath the covers, holding each other closely.

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-Seven

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 14:55:53 GMT

“And – and then Mr. Steele and he fought, and I – I picked up the gun and shot him in the leg.”

Lieutenant Benjamin nodded as he took down Laura’s account. “Right. And did he actually confess, or was this all a total waste of time?”

Laura frowned at the officer and self-consciously adjusted the orange jumpsuit that she had donned in place of her own torn outfit. “He didn’t say anything definite, but he – um – alluded to another instance.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can get on him.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Steele said quickly, wrapping an arm around Laura’s shoulders. “Are we free to go?”

Benjamin paused, looking at her carefully. “You know, Mrs. Steele, it really doesn’t take long to collect a rape kit, and –“

“I wasn’t raped,” Laura said through gritted teeth for the tenth time. “I’m fine.”

The officer glanced appealingly at Steele, but he was looking at Laura with narrowed eyes. She, in turn, was staring determinedly at Benjamin.

“Fine. Have it your way,” Benjamin said at last, tucking his notebook away. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

He left them standing together in silence. After several minutes, Steele gently said, “Laura? Why don’t we get out of here?”

She nodded and followed him to the van, still parked around the corner. Neither said anything as they drove. Mildred sat behind them, glancing from one to the other, obviously full of questions, but aware that it was the wrong time to ask.

The silence persisted until they reached the loft, when Steele finally said the only thing he could think of. “Can I – um – can I get you anything?”

Laura shook her head. “I’d just like to take a bath, if it’s alright.”

“I’ll go run it,” he said, but he didn’t move. “Laura – um –“

“It’s alright, Harry, you can say it.”

“Say what?”

“I told you so.”

Steele raised his eyebrows. “Why would I say that?”

“Because you were right. It wasn’t a good idea to go in alone.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I was stupid.”

“So was I. I let you go.”

Laura looked up into his eyes for the first time since the incident. “Are you angry?”

He sighed. “Of course not. I’m just worried about you.” He paused before continuing in a very quiet voice. “What did he do to you?”

She turned her eyes to the ground and didn’t answer.

“Laura, I know it’s not something you’d like to tell people, but if he – if he –“ Steele’s voice broke. “You should really tell Lieutenant Benjamin.”

To his surprise, Laura smiled. “He didn’t go that far, thanks to you.”

Steele breathed an enormous sigh of relief and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank God.” He held her for a few minutes before asking, “What did he do?”

Laura pulled back. “I held him off pretty well, but he – he touched me a few times.”

“I see.” Steele noticed that she wasn’t looking at him again. “I’ll go run that bath.”

When the tub was ready, he gently reached for the jumpsuit and began to remove it. He tried not wince as several unpleasant cuts were revealed on her abdomen, but he couldn’t help grimacing when he saw the ugly bruises that circled her wrists.

“Would you rather be alone?” he asked, when she had eased into the water.

Laura looked for a moment as though she was about to say yes, but then she shook her head. “No.”

Steele carefully began to wash her body. It didn’t escape his notice that she looked uncomfortable as he touched her at first, but he continued until – to his relief – she relaxed.

“Harry,” she said later, when they were sitting on the couch with steaming bowls of soup. “This morning I promised that we could… tonight. But I don’t…”

He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “I wouldn’t expect it tonight, love.”

She smiled. “You know you make a very good husband.”

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-Six

Fri, 08 Aug 2008 19:07:58 GMT

Steele stroked his chin nervously and twisted the volume dial on the microphone receiver. Mildred reached out and turned it back.

“Too loud,” she said apologetically. “Everything’s okay so far, Boss.”

He nodded and went back to listening as Laura’s voice, clear and confident, came floating into the van. “How are you liking Los Angeles?” He hoped she wouldn’t spend too long getting to the point. As he waited, he gently ran his hand over the pocket in which the agency gun was tucked, fully loaded.

Quite suddenly, he heard her ask, “How did you know he was innocent?” He froze, ears alert, ready to spring into action if necessary.

A construction worker across the street started his jackhammer, causing both Steele and Mildred to clap their hands over their ears.

“Damn!” Steele shouted, though he couldn’t hear himself over the racket. “Laura!”

Mildred leapt out of the vehicle and waddled across the road making violent motions with her arms to get the workman’s attention. When at last he saw her, he merely gestured warningly to his own earmuffs and carried on hammering. It took a swift kick in the shins before he finally dropped his tool.

Steele, meanwhile, pressed his ear to the receiver, desperately trying to hear what was happening in Peterson’s living room. Even after the noise from the jackhammer ceased, it took him a minute to realize that his carefully placed microphone was no longer transmitting.

“Laura!” he moaned, jumping out of the van and sprinting around the corner. The door had been locked. Steele threw his shoulder against it three times before it fell in and he ran to the living room.

Peterson had Laura pinned to the couch, her wrists held tightly in his fists as he tried to kiss her. Steele let out an angry yell and pulled him off, punching him soundly in the stomach. He reached for the gun. Peterson saw this, however, and dodged the bullet by lunging forward. Steele dropped the gun as Peterson knocked him to the ground.

They wrestled frantically, Steele throwing punch after punch at his opponent, who seemed quite capable of matching him. As Peterson hit him hard under the ribs, winding him completely and sending him reeling backwards, another shot rang through the room. Peterson let out an agonizing cry and crumpled, clutching his leg. Behind him, Laura’s hands shook as she dropped the agency gun.

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-Five

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 15:04:59 GMT

“Bill Peterson?” Laura held out her hand. “Laura Holt. Tony Roselli gave me your address. I’m trying to help him.”

Peterson took her hand, looking her up and down as he did so in a way that sent shivers through Laura’s back. He stood aside for her to enter.

“My apologies for the mess, Miss Holt. I’ve only just moved to Los Angeles.”

“Oh? Where from?” She had already guessed.

“London.”

They sat in the living room.

“How are you liking Los Angeles?” Laura asked pleasantly.

“Very well. Such wonderful weather.”

He spoke with a clipped, precise British accent that conveyed to the listener the image of a haughty, slightly stale gentleman. His eyes, however, told a different story. Laura shifted uncomfortably as they continued to roam her body, and she kept a careful watch on his hands, which were continuously rubbing and wringing each other sensuously. She had no doubt that they had found their man.

“How – how long have you known Mr. Roselli?” she asked.

“Goodness, let me think! I’d say ten years now.” One of his hands began idly fondling his knee. Laura automatically reached down and moved her skirt to cover her own leg.

“He’s a friend?”

Peterson paused. “Yes, he was always a very good friend.”

Laura didn’t miss his use of the past tense. She decided to cut to the chase. “How did you know he was innocent?”

Peterson gazed at her intensely for several long moments before whispering. “Come now, Laura. We both know why you’re here.” He stood and walked away from her, towards the television set. “You and your husband.”

Laura watched as he stopped and stood still. “Why did you do it?” she asked at last.

His hand reached slowly around the television until it found the little black microphone that Steele had installed. In one smooth motion he ripped it off and threw it out the nearest window.

“He doesn’t need to hear.”

Laura stood. “Will you tell me, then? What did Tony do to you?”

Peterson didn’t answer. He turned and approached her, his hands stroking each other excitedly.

“I didn’t think Tony had such exquisite taste,” he said, his voice steady and precise. “You’re beautiful, Laura. Far prettier than she was. More delicate. And without your clothes on –“

“How do you know?” Laura cut in. “You’ve never seen me like that. Maybe I’m not pretty underneath.”

Peterson smiled. “I’ve seen. I watched you last night, with him.”

“You –“ Laura’s mouth hung open in horror. It took her several moments to collect herself enough to say, “He’s close, Mr. Peterson. He won’t let anything happen to me.”

“Oh? Why isn’t he here now then?”

Laura had been thinking the same thing, Hurry, Harry. She backed away from him until her legs hit the sofa.

“You’re scared,” he remarked charmingly. “That’s nice. It’s better if you’re afraid of me.”

Laura straightened proudly. “I’m not afraid.”

Peterson closed the distance between them and grabbed hold of her arms. His grip was too tight, but Laura refused to give him the satisfaction of asking for relief. He stood looking at her intently for a few moments, before, quite suddenly, leaning in to kiss her. She turned her face away just in time.

“Don’t make me do this,” he whispered, bringing a hand to her jaw and forcing it back towards him. “I’d hate to leave marks on your lovely neck.”

Laura slammed her heel down on his toe as hard as she could, stunning him momentarily, but he caught her as she tried to wiggle free and threw her back onto the sofa, pinning her legs underneath his as his hands held her wrists.

For the first time in years Laura found herself without a way out, panicking as he began to rip her clothes with his teeth. Teeth! she thought, but his head was too far down to bite. He was going to rape her and there was nothing she could do.

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-Four

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 22:36:02 GMT

Steele pulled his baseball cap further down over his eyes and adjusted the bright orange jumpsuit. Should he try the cockney rogue or the bumbling Yorkshireman? Deciding the Yorkshireman sounded slightly more trustworthy, he picked up a small tool kit and made his way to the front door of number ninety-two.

The house’s occupant took his time answering the knock. In fact, Steele had begun to turn away when he heard the door open with a little creak behind him, and he swung around to find himself looking at a perfectly ordinary man in glasses and a checkered shirt. Steele faltered slightly. Normalcy was something he hadn’t expected in the killer they were after, whom he’d already begun to detest for what he’d done, and especially for what he intended to do. The man merely blinked at him blankly and cast a pitying eye over his jumpsuit.

Why did Mildred have to choose orange? he thought, before remembering himself.

“Mr. Peterson? Bill Peterson?” Steele held out his hand. “Sam from Hollywood Home Television Repair.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, Steele, after bluffing his way through an assessment of Peterson’s television set, held out a clipboard.

“Now, if you’ll just sign here, sir, I’ll be on my way.”

The man hesitated, then took the offered pen. Steele watched closely as he shifted it to his left hand to scribble a signature.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, and turned to the street.

Laura passed him on the walk, giving no indication that she’d ever seen him before. He nodded politely at her before climbing into the van Mildred had parked alongside the curb.

“Did you do it, Boss?” the secretary asked.

He nodded. “The microphone’s set up by the television. Let’s hope Laura remembers to keep him in the living room.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I’m going in after her.”

They watched as Laura introduced herself to Peterson, and then as he stepped aside to let her in. Steele gripped the wheel tightly to keep himself from following. He wondered if he was making too much of the way in which Peterson looked at her.

“We’d better move, Chief,” Mildred said gently.

Steele took a deep breath and drove the van to a safe spot around the corner.

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-Three

Mon, 04 Aug 2008 19:44:41 GMT

“I need to go in alone.”

Steele brought the car to a screeching halt and turned to face her. “We agreed, Laura! No chances on this one!”

Laura sighed. She knew he’d react like this. “I need to provoke him, force him into admitting he’s the killer. He isn’t going to try anything if you’re with me.”

“I don’t want him to try anything!”

“Then how are we going to prove he did it?”

Steele looked around, as though hoping a solution would present itself. “I have a bad feeling about this, Laura.”

They were both silent.

“It’s the only way we can nail this weasel, Harry,” she said eventually. “We simply don’t have enough evidence to do it without a confession.”

“It would help if we could find out whether or not Peterson’s left-handed, or –“ Steele’s eyes lit up. “Aha!”

“What?”

He started the car again. “One dead weasel, coming up.”

“How, exactly?” Laura clung to the bottom of the passenger seat as Steele pulled a U-turn.

“I’ll let you go in there alone on one condition: that I’m standing by with a nice little receiver, listening to everything, ready to leap to the rescue at the appropriate moment. That way we can have evidence on tape, and you can – um – work your magic – with backup.”

Laura crossed her arms. “There’s just one problem: how on earth are we going to set up a bug in Peterson’s house?”

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-Two

Sat, 02 Aug 2008 17:28:59 GMT

“I had a think last night, Laura.”

Laura smiled and took another bite of her omelette. “What about?”

“Our wedding. The next one, I mean.”

She frowned. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, no. Making plans.” He grinned at her. “For your approval, of course.”

“I’m glad one of us has ideas. I swear I’ve seen a friend married in almost every church in the city, and none of them felt right.”

His smile widened. “How about San Francisco then? I distinctly remember you saying once that it was –“

“The most romantic city in the country,” she finished. She put down her fork and thought for a moment. “I like it.”

Steele felt his heart give an enormous, happy thud, and he laughed triumphantly.

“We’d better do it fairly soon,” Laura said, “or my mother’s going to be breathing down our necks.”

“As soon as we’re done with this Antony affair, we’ll get things under way.” He paused. “There’s something else that occurred to me, though.”

She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“What names are we going to use? Remington Steele and Laura Holt are already married.”

Laura shrugged. “That’s alright. We don’t have to get another marriage license. If anyone asks, we’re just…”

“Sanctifying things?”

“Exactly.”

“And what about during the service?” he asked quietly. “Are you going to make your vows to Remington… or Harry?”

Laura smiled reassuringly and took his hand. “Harry, of course.”

“Won’t that raise some uncomfortable questions?”

“We’ll tell people it’s your middle name. Besides, you won’t want my entire family calling you Remington for the rest of your life.”

He nodded and went back to his food for a few minutes. “Laura?”

“Mmm?”

“This – wedding thing. It is something you want to do, isn’t it? I mean, if we’re going to get married I don’t want it to be an ordeal.”

“It won’t be,” she smiled. “It’ll be lovely.”

Steele grinned widely. “Good. I’m looking forward to it as well. I’ve never been to a wedding where I didn’t have to think about liberating some jewelry from the guests.”

Laura laughed. “Just promise me a few things: no Mendelssohn, no drunken bachelor party the night before, and no funny stuff with the garter.”

“Not even when we’re alone afterwards?”

“Well, maybe then. But not in front of my mother.”

“Why do I feel as though you’re speaking from previous experience?”

She blushed a little. “Donald did it with his teeth.”

Steele couldn’t get rid of his grin. “And what did Frances say?”

“She giggled. If I begin to giggle, promise me you’ll throw some water on my face.”

“It would spoil your dress. I’ll kiss you instead.”

“That works too,” Laura smiled. “Now, we’d better get to work. Do you have that address?”

Steele pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Bill Peterson, 92 Leicester Drive –“ His voice trailed away as he stared at the words.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked.

He looked up at her, “Our suspect’s name is Peter Williamson.”

“So? It’s an alias.”

“For Bill Peterson, possibly?” He pointed to the name.

Laura’s mouth formed a silent “Oh” as she made the connection. “The murderer would be the only one truly sure that Tony was innocent.”

“And he’d want to keep Antony close to make sure he stays free of suspicion.”

They both fell silent for several moments.

“But why?” Laura asked finally. “Tony knew him before this happened, didn’t he? And people don’t just suddenly decide to become serial rapists.”

“Perhaps he had a grudge against him. Antony seems to attract that sort of thing.”

“Come on.” Laura said abruptly, grabbing her purse.

“Wait, Laura! You’re his next target, so you plan to go marching up to his front door?” Steele knew even as he said this that arguing with her would be no use. It never was when she got that childishly excited look on her face.

“I’m also the perfect bait,” she said, confirming his fears. “If I’m the intended victim, who better than me to flush the criminal out?”

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-One

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 11:26:28 GMT

Laura yawned and looked across at Steele, still sleeping beside her. She smiled as she watched him. He looked endearingly vulnerable – boyish, almost – when he was asleep. She knew he’d been awake much of the night, but had decided that her staying up to worry with him would only make him more upset. Truthfully, she found it quite flattering that he was so concerned about her.

She’d always known that Mr. Steele would be a magnificent lover, but it was the possibility of his not being able to commit to anything else that had forced her to keep pushing him away. If the sex were too powerful, then she would be completely at his mercy; exposed, something she’d promised to avoid after Wilson had left. Her fears hadn’t been completely ungrounded. Making love with Harry was powerful – more intense, in fact, than anything she could have imagined, - but it didn’t leave her feeling defenseless. On the contrary, she felt safe and loved. She was beginning to realize that it was much more than sex when they were together.

Laura brushed a loose strand of hair from his face and whispered, “Harry.” The name suited him – not the famous detective, but the man behind that, who needed to be loved and trusted. In response to this thought, Laura reached down and began to fondle, only touching lightly at first, but then stroking more confidently.

He smiled and opened his eyes. “You know, acting as an erotic alarm clock is my trick, Laura.”

“Would you rather I stopped then?”

Steele glanced down to see himself fully erect. “No, no, carry on. I might even join you.” He reached towards her, but she caught his hand.

“Just relax, Harry. Let me.” She kissed him and squeezed a little as she continued stroking. He closed his eyes. Laura watched happily as his face told her that he was slowly losing control.

“Oh, Laura!” His breathing became ragged. “Yes, oh yes!”

She leaned down to kiss his neck and let her other hand trail lightly across the lower portion of his stomach. He gave a deflated little sigh as he ejaculated on the bed sheet.

“Rise and shine, Mr. Steele,” Laura said, smiling at him.

He caught her round the neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “Thank you, Laura. Now just give me a few minutes before we –“

Laura shook her head. “Much as I’d like to, Harry, we don’t have time. Besides, it’ll feel better if we can get this case out of the way. Tonight, I promise.”

Steele nodded, watching as she wrapped a bathrobe around her shoulders and brushed her hair. He’d never been with anyone who had done quite what Laura just had. And, he smiled, she was the most beautiful. Especially in the morning.

A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty

Thu, 24 Jul 2008 20:15:05 GMT

Steele couldn’t sleep. After lying awake for some time, he carefully untangled himself from Laura’s arms and slipped downstairs, stopping to pull some pajama bottoms out of his overnight case. He found himself at the piano.

The loft looked eerie in the dark. Steele was used to this, of course, having spent many long nights in shadowy alleys, where he always felt removed from the rest of the world, trapped in an odd sort of half-life, waiting for the next break while everyone around him got on with their lives and slept peacefully. The same sort of restlessness seemed to have settled on him now. He and Laura were so very close to perfect happiness together. For the first time the normal life that people outside the alleys had led was within his reach, but something was still bothering him.

Is it only this case? he wondered. The thought of Laura meeting with the same fate as the young Mexican girl sent uncontrollable shivers up his back. Protectiveness was a feeling that he’d felt very seldom, but it was unmistakably strong as he glanced up at the bedroom, assuring himself that she was there, asleep. He wouldn’t let this Williamson bastard touch her.

His worries came to rest on Tony. It bothered him somewhat that Laura had felt an obligation to help Roselli clear his name again. He was relatively sure that she loved him much more than she could ever love Tony, but the possibility of her feeling any emotional responsibility to the Rat (as he’d come to think of him) was less than reassuring.

Both of these thoughts slipped through his mind fairly quickly. What bothered him most, he decided, was the sense of uncertainty that seemed to be present in their relationship. Ironic, he thought, that the same feeling I thrived on for years is what’s keeping me worried now. It dawned on him gradually that they were never going to feel secure while they still wondered whose apartment to sleep in every night and had an unplanned wedding hanging over their heads. They had solved many problems in Ireland, but, he realized now, they had also created many more questions. Avoiding answers had been a policy of his for a long time. Now, however, with Laura involved, he felt they needed some security.

Instinctively, he found himself heading back to the security of Laura’s bed.