Steele Keeping Secrets
May 1987
Remington scowled at his
wife as the airplane made its final descent. “I thought you said
you hadn’t been here before?”
“Oh, well, it was only
once.” Laura looked at her hands as if to
find a chip on her unpainted nails.
He narrowed his eyes and
probed a little more. His wife was
avoiding both him and the question. “Then you have been here.”
“Well, yes. In
college. A long time ago.”
Now he grinned, crossed
his arms and settled back into his seat with
his eyes closed. “Ah. If you did a fan dance in Acapulco,
one can only wonder at the things you might have
done in Puerto Vallarta.” Laura winced involuntarily and then
busied herself with stuffing all of
her things into her tote bag. The crossword puzzle book, a pen, a
banana and Rei’s magazines all went
inside with more force than necessary. Sneaking a peek under his
lashes, he noted both the
flinch and her stiff frame, and he raised an eyebrow behind her back.
This trip just became a bit more fun.
Vigilance Insurance asked
them to look into a stolen set of jewelry
valued at nearly a quarter of a million dollars. With Keyes
out of the picture, the original contract
Laura had set up last year had become a nice sideline of income for the
agency. Mildred and Kaleb had the
usual cheating-spouse cases well in-hand this week, allowing the
Steeles to pursue a couple of leads into
Mexico. Remington hoped they could turn this into a short
vacation, but knew that Laura would insist on working
the case first. That was fine with him. After five years of
partnership and a little more than a
year of marriage, he knew what to expect. The fun part was seeing
how fast they could wrap up the investigation
so they could get busy playing the rest of the time.
It dawned on him a couple
of days ago that Laura hadn’t wanted to come
here. She’d pursued every possible lead in LA until it was clear
that either a trip to Mexico was
in order or they’d have to give up the investigation.
Because the latter stuck in her craw, their plane
was now touching down on the hot Puerto Vallarta Airport tarmac.
They settled into the
Villa Premiere Hotel perched on the edge of the
Pacific Ocean, with miles of white sand stretching out on either side.
Laura was fidgety and
distracted as she changed into white linen slacks and sandals.
She pulled out a red blouse, frowned, and then
exchanged it for a pale green sleeveless tank top.
When he couldn’t ignore it
anymore, Remington took her face in his
hands. “Laura, are you all right? You seem upset.” It couldn’t have been that bad, could it?
She shook her head.
“I, uh, I’ve been thinking about the
leads--deciding where to start.”
He recognized her evasion
for what it was and scowled. “I don’t
believe that, but we’ll let it lie for the time being. Now, where
do you want to begin?”
“We could check out the
addresses we have.”
“Of course. And then
we’ll see if a couple of fences I know are
still in the neighborhood.” He followed her out of the room and
down the hall to the elevator.
“Fences? You didn’t
say you knew this place that well.”
“I’ve only been here once,
but I never forget a name or a face, Laura.
Couldn’t afford it in my old line of business.”
“When … when were you
here?”
He smiled slightly.
“A dozen years ago, as I recall.” She
missed a step and stumbled. “In the spring, I think.” They
squeezed into the full elevator, halting the
conversation. Remington stood behind her and snaked an arm around
her waist. Idly, he stroked her wedding ring
as they listened to the mix of excited Spanish and English of the
tourists around them.
Remington didn’t needle
her any more that afternoon. He much
preferred her relaxed and focused for a purely self-serving reason:
they couldn’t close this case if she was
distracted unless he wanted to work twice as hard. The pale blue
sky stretched unbroken from mountain
to horizon, and the heat made the streets shimmer as he played
navigator while Laura criss-crossed the
little town in the tiny rental car looking for people and addresses.
Twice they stopped in
certain out of-the-way restaurants where Steele
made it known he was in town again. Both times, he sampled the
delicious local cuisine and
waited until his wife headed for the restroom before making quick
exchanges in Spanish with the bartender.
He hadn’t told Laura exactly how fluent he was in other languages
yet. She hadn’t asked, and
until then, he had less explaining to do.
That evening, one of those
contacts paid off. They were having a
quiet dinner in the hotel restaurant when a tall Latino approached the
table. Deliberately, Steele
welcomed him in English and the gentleman followed suit.
*****
“Carlos, good evening!
I understand you are looking for me?”
Laura raised a brow. Carlos?
That’s new.
“Of course, amigo.
Come join us. Let me introduce you to my wife, Tracy.
Tracy, my old friend, Juan de la Santos.”
Laura smiled sweetly.
“Hello.” Damn, he
would pick
‘Tracy’ today. It was a running
joke between them to pick each other’s
cover names. He still preferred “Myrtle
Groggins” whenever she played a professional or his
mistress just because it annoyed her. “Tracy”
cropped up frequently because he knew she liked it, and “Laura”
was common enough not to be distracting.
But “Judy Peppler,” “Nora Bolt” and “Mickey Boggs” also
appeared from time to time, not to mention
“Ilsa,” “Vivian” and “Alicia.”
The man’s face lit up and
he nodded before taking his seat.
“Carlos, your wife is lovely.”
In true Latin tradition,
the two men made small talk for nearly an hour
over food and drink. Laura told herself not to fidget.
If she thought machismo was annoying in
LA, here in the heart of Mexico, it was thriving, and nearly the
only way to do business in the local community
where women were expected to be servile and
decorative--at least in public. She listened to
the conversation swirl around families and travels before eventually
focusing on the current business at hand.
“Carlos, what brings you
and your wife to my beautiful part of the
world?”
“I’m looking for
something. Something nearly as beautiful.
Would you like to see a picture?” Juan nodded and Remington
pulled the insurance photos from his dinner
jacket. “I have a client … who would like to see these returned
to him. It seems that they took a
little walk one night about two weeks ago from LA. I’ve traced
them here.”
Juan frowned. “I
might know someone who would have seen these
gems.”
“Your help is appreciated.
My … client is willing to compensate
you for your assistance.”
“Carlos, how is your night
vision? Still good?” He took a
careful sip of his tequila.
“As excellent as ever,
Juan.” Steele grinned broadly.
The fence smiled and wrote
down an address on a notepad pulled from his
pocket. “Here’s what you need to know. I’ll
be back the afternoon after next.”
“Excellent, amigo.
As always, my best wishes to your family.”
Remington took the note and shook his hand. Juan rose, nodded
at Laura, and left the restaurant.
Laura leaned closer to her
husband. “So let me get this straight;
he’s expecting you to steal the gems tomorrow night? And
we’ll cut him a deal for getting the address?
Why is he bothering?”
“He must have been passed
over for fencing the jewelry. He knows
we’re not planning to stay around here, so there’s little
risk to him. He knows I won’t roll over
on him. Besides--” He passed the piece of paper to Laura.
“It’s one of our
addresses.”
“So we’re on the right
track.”
“Good to know. How
does he know you’ll play him straight?”
“He’s made money off me in
the past for a bit of information.” He
scratched his nose and pushed back his chair.
Laura rolled her eyes and
finished her drink as Remington pulled out
her chair as well. “I should have known. Is that what
you were doing here last time?”
They strolled out of the
restaurant and into the marble-tiled lobby.
“More or less. Daniel and I decided to take a few weeks in
another part of the world. It seemed to be
a wise decision at the time. While we were here, a handful of
opportunities presented themselves.”
“They always do with you.”
He flashed a wide smile.
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it.
Come, love; the night is young. Let’s go dancing.”
“Dancing?” Laura
stopped in the middle of the lobby.
“Certainly.” He
raised his eyebrows at her reaction. “You
know, arms around each other, swaying in unison, letting our bodies
touch--oops, went a bit too far with that
one. Come; let’s see what the nightlife has to offer.”
Somewhat reluctantly, she
took his arm and walked out of the hotel.
By the time they reached
the downtown strip of night clubs, Remington
could feel through his fingertips that Laura was stiff as a
board and every muscle in her back strained
with tension. The setting itself was a postcard for amusement.
People streamed back and forth on the
sidewalk and in the street. Music pounded from every
direction, and lights flashed from doorways while
beautiful couples flirted and groups of friends shouted with
laughter across the narrow roadway.
They were walking past a
boarded up building between raucous clubs when
Remington stopped, pulling Laura around a corner and
placing his hand on the wall in front of her.
With a great deal of concern in his voice, he touched her
shoulder. “Good Lord, Laura, whatever
is the matter with you?”
*****
She looked anywhere but at
him. She knew she was taciturn this
night, but as they drew closer to her past, she’d been unable to
close it off. After a long silence,
her voice came low and hard. “I don’t like being here. It
reminds me that I did something stupid … a long
time ago.”
“You?” He arched a
brow. “How long ago?”
“Ironically, twelve years
ago. It’s a wonder I didn’t run into
you.”
Remington cocked his head
and wore an odd smile that she didn’t see.
“Go on.”
“I … I was a freshman in
college and we were on Spring Break. I
did some things down here I’m not proud of.” She
crossed her arms and rubbed them as she always did
when she was nervous.
“You couldn’t have been
more than what, nineteen? We all do silly
things when we’re young, Laura. Why are you so troubled?”
She looked at her shoes.
He tipped her chin up and ducked his
head so he could look her in the eye. “What’d you do, Laura?
Drink a little too much? Sleep with
someone? It’s okay. I’m the last person to throw stones at anyone.
But if something is upsetting you, I’d
like to know what it is.”
She fidgeted and then
turned to walk back the way they came.
“Laura--" He caught
her by the waist and gave her a hard hug.
“It can’t be that bad, can it?”
With her face buried
against his shoulder, she knew that Remington
wasn’t going to let her avoid the conversation. She
tried to step back but had to settle for
leaning back in his arms when he wouldn’t let go. She took a deep
breath and picked at his shirt buttons.
“A group of my girlfriends came down here on Spring Break. We
drank a lot, danced and played on the beach.
The girls all bragged about the boys they’d slept with while
they were here. And they were having fun.
I … I was the only one who hadn’t … been with a man--at all.
On the last night we were here, I
decided I didn’t want to be left out anymore. I went to a
bar, picked up a handsome man and … had sex
with him.”
“Just like that.”
She echoed his words,
“More or less,” and then moved away from him out
of embarrassment. He let her go this time but braced
his arm again so that she shifted to lean
against the wall.
“So what about that
bothers you, Laura?’
“Mostly that I was so
intoxicated that I don’t remember much of it.”
“What do you remember?”
“It was here.” She
tapped on the wall to her right.
“This one?” He
stepped over a barricade and pulled her into the
building with him. The streetlights outside gave off a pale
light that barely filtered in from windows on
the second floor. Construction dust covered the tiles and the
circular bar poked up in the middle of the
enormous room. Laura looked up into the mezzanine.
“There used to be places
up there--small tables, chaise lounges,
sofas--where a couple could have privacy.” She
shrugged. “I picked out someone. He
spoke some English, but I don’t think I bothered asking his name. We
went upstairs and … well … we did it … and he
was upset when he realized I was a virgin. I remember
hearing him swear--in English and in
Spanish. I … don’t remember much beyond that. Just going
home with my girlfriends. Later, I realized
that he’d taken one of my earrings.”
“Your earrings?”
She sighed. “I had
these gold earrings that had my initials on
the back of them. My guess is that he took one as a trophy.
They weren’t very valuable.”
“And that’s why you regret
it.”
“Mostly. It was
foolish, but I don’t like being anyone’s prize.”
She stuffed her hands into her pockets as they walked out the side
door again.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. Not at all.”
She quirked her lip in remembrance.
“When he figured out what was going on, he ... made it okay.”
Much more than okay,
really.
“Tell me again about the
earring.” She frowned and dug in her purse for a moment before
holding it up to the streetlight where
he could see the small pendant dangle.
“You carry it with you?”
“To remind me of my
idiocy.”
“You’re too hard on
yourself, Laura.” She shot him an opaque look
and dropped it back into the side pocket of her purse while
Remington leaned against the lamppost with
his hands in his own pockets. “What do you remember
about the man you were with?”
Laura stiffened.
“Why? Haven’t I embarrassed myself enough?”
“Just tell me.”
“It was awfully dark in
the bar. Tall, dark hair and he had a
mustache.” No need to mention that I
think he had blue eyes.
“Good.”
“What?” She was a
little shocked.
Those same blue eyes
glowed in pure triumph as he held up her matching
earring in his right hand. “I had hoped you would remember
me. It wasn’t a trophy, Laura. You
gave me something very special that night, and I wanted
something to remember you by.”
She shook her head and
shoved away from him. “No. You’re
making this up to make me feel better. You couldn’t possibly have
been that man.”
He cocked his head,
pocketed the earring and walked beside her.
“You wore red. Red blouse, red skirt. Gold earrings and a little
tennis bracelet on your left wrist.
You had your hair pulled back on one side with a pink flower pinned
over your ear.” Laura’s mouth dropped
open, and her hands came up to cover her face before she walked
a short distance away.
Remington’s voice was
quiet and sincere. “I wasn’t swearing at
you; I was muttering curses because I knew I didn’t have the
chance to make it special for you. No one
as seductive and gorgeous as you had any right to come on to me
as expertly as you did that night and still
be innocent of sex. If I had known, I would have turned you down
flat. If I had guessed, I would have
walked away. But I didn’t. You’re very good at getting what
you want, in case you didn’t know that.”
He arched a brow at her back. “If we’re being honest, you
took full advantage of me and then disappeared
into the night. Perhaps you don’t remember our last
kiss--sweet, hot--you tasted like the rain on a
warm summer day. I nicked your earring then. And
you were gone--like Cinderella and her glass
slipper. It was all I had to remember you by.”
Hoarse with shock, she
stared at the wall in front of her and forced
out the strangled words, “You’ve known all along then.”
He touched her shoulder
and she turned to him. “I recognized you
in my viewfinder when I was scoping out the setup for the
Royal Lavulite. I nearly swallowed my
tongue. Really, Laura, what are the chances?” He grinned
at the last question.
Recovering a little, she
retorted, “I’ve learned not to play the odds
with you. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t know how
much you remembered and I didn’t want to
embarrass you. Obviously, you didn’t recognize me,
and I’m quite willing to blame the
alcohol you imbibed for that. I remembered though. And I assure
you, the wait was worth every frustrating,
annoying, irritating minute.” Now he pulled her to him and ran
his hands along her back so that she sealed
her body to his. “’Tis quite arrogant on my part, but I rather
like knowing I was your first … and your
last.” He wiggled his brows at her.
She dropped her head on
his shoulder for a second. “You couldn’t
resist that, could you?”
“Not for a moment.”
He chuckled while she shook her head.
“But--” He let his hands slide through her hair. “And this is
going to sound ridiculously sentimental,
Laura. When I saw you again, five years ago, I knew we were meant to be
together--kismet, you might call it--and
mostly it didn’t seem to matter when it happened.”
“You’re right. That
is sentimental. But I like it, Mr.
Steele.” Her mood lightened and his laughter chased away the darkness.
She had still been foolish on that long
ago spring night, but perhaps she could put it in perspective at
long last and have a laugh at the curiosities
of fate.
“Excellent, Mrs. Steele.
Now, are you in the mood to dance?”
“As long as it’s somewhere
we can put our arms around each other, sway
in unison and press our bodies--" She quirked a
smile at him.
“Do we need a dance floor
for that?”
“Not really, Rei.”
He saw her quick, sultry
glance toward the old bar and his shadowed
eyes deepened to indigo in an instant. “Damn,
Laura--you do it to me every time.”
In seconds they were back
inside the vacant building, where the music
from the street thumped in time to their breathing as clothes
shifted and lips pressed. The heat
trapped inside from the summer night steamed in contrast to the
cool wall where they braced their bodies.
Sweat dripped and more buttons were brushed away as the
pair let recollection collide with reality to
culminate in a heart-pounding coming-together of bodies
and minds. As he had in that first
moment, and each time since, Remington watched Laura surrender to
the sensations deep inside her. When
she reached the peak, her glazed eyes opened and she said his
name. In that moment, he capitulated,
once again unable to resist his need for her.
As perspiration rolled
between them and the music slowed to a swaying,
melodious beat, Laura began to laugh. In her
tangled web of fantasies and memories, she realized
that at least the physical aspects of her fictitious Remington
Steele had been based on that single, long-ago
escapade. How else to explain the clothes that fit her Mr.
Steele nearly to perfection when he’d assumed
the role? And when he had appeared, she hadn’t
wanted to explore those memories/fantasies too
closely--lest she be disappointed.
Rei raised his head from
her neck, his own smile brightening in
response as he eased from her and let her toes touch the ground.
“What’s so funny?
She quirked an eyebrow.
“I don’t know if I should tell you.
It might inflate your ego. And if that gets any bigger, it might
explode.” She didn’t resist the urge to kiss
and stroke his chest one last time before he fastened a handful of
buttons.
“I’m sure you’ll find a
way to puncture it later.” He turned her
around, refastening her bra and laying kisses on the back of her
neck while she shook out her own blouse and
slipped it on.
She waited until they
walked out of the building and took his proffered
arm. While the night breeze cooled their sweaty skin,
she commented, “It seems I might understand
how all those clothes fit you when you first stepped
into the role of Remington Steele.”
He tugged at his ear and
grinned. “I always thought there might
be a reasonable explanation for your knowing my shoe size.”
She wrinkled her nose and
thwapped him with her purse, but the smile on
her face belied her apparent irritation.
* * * * *
Upon waking in the morning
to bright sunlight, Laura became aware that
her feet hurt. Dancing and walking as much as they
had last night would do that. She lifted
her head to discover the other side of the bed was empty and the
white hotel sheets rumpled. A hand to that
side found lingering warmth.
“You’re up.”
Remington appeared, wrapped in a black silk dressing
gown, with two cups of steaming tea. He sat on the
edge of the bed beside her before passing one
over.
“I am. What could
possibly entice you out of bed before me?”
She ran a hand through her hair as she sat up and took the tea.
Her eyes swept across his bare chest
peeking out of the silk before dropping to the rim of her cup.
“I saw that.”
“Saw what?” she countered
innocently, her eyes flicking up to meet his.
“You were leering at me.”
“I’m not leering.
I’m appreciating. Leering implies
something malicious or unkind. I assure you there is nothing of the sort in my
perusal of you.” She blew on her tea.
“My God, Laura.
You’re beginning to sound like me.”
She bit her lip and
smiled. “Take it back.”
“No. Can’t do that.”
He sipped his tea, and she reflected
again that only European men could drink from a teacup and have it
look acceptably masculine. An American
man with a cup of tea wouldn’t spark the kinds of lascivious
thoughts she was having this morning.
“Take it back and tell me
how you managed to get out of bed without
waking me. I’m certain this is only the third or fourth time
since we’ve been married this has happened.”
“ 'No’--to the first.
And ‘easy enough’--to the second.
Your head was buried under your pillow and it’s nearly noon. Even I
wake up eventually.”
“Noon?”
“Noon. I’ve ordered
lunch.”
“How long until it gets
here?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Then there’s plenty of
time, Rei.”
“Good grief, woman.
Do you think I’m twenty-two again?”
Laura trailed a finger
along the sash holding his dressing gown closed.
A slight tug released it and she grinned at what she found
underneath. “Apparently some part of
you is willing to cooperate with me.”
Very deliberately,
Remington set down his cup and then took hers and
did the same. He crawled over her, forcing her to lie on
the bed again. “I might ask you a
question.” He dropped a kiss on her throat and lingered.
“What’s that?”
He breathed in her ear.
“Are we going to do this your way?
Or mine?”
“I’m open for discussion.”
She trailed her hands across his spine
as he hovered millimeters over her.
He rained kisses across
her neck and collarbone as he murmured, “Good.
Because if we do this your way, we’re going to have
to notify the local police within the hour if
we’re going to have any hope of recovering the jewelry
today. Of course, that means we have to
hope some paper pusher doesn’t decide that he wants to keep the
damn things tied up in court for months while
he figures a way to keep them. If we do this my way, then we
need to do a bit of reconnaissance before we
liberate them this evening.”
Laura dragged her brain up
from her nether regions and refocused it on
his words. “You’re talking about the case?”
“Of course, Laura.
What did you think we were discussing?”
If a small blunt object
had been at hand, she might have clocked him a
good one. Instead, she groaned in frustration and shoved him
to his back. “We’ll do it my way for
now … and yours later.”
He let out a sharp laugh
that changed into a groan in short order.
Laura rarely admitted to
herself how much she enjoyed these night
forays with Remington. It was one of the few times she gave in
to her desire to walk on the edge of reason.
Prior to his joining the agency, nighttime work was rare
and only conducted when she had no other
options in solving a case. With Rei and his rock-solid
confidence, she now considered it just another tool
in their investigative arsenal. It wasn’t necessarily
lawful--but it was fun and got the job done.
She’d learned much just by
watching his movements. It was
unlikely that she would ever approach his sheer brilliance and
stealth, but she came close enough to be a solid
asset.
Earlier today, Laura had
posed as an American tourist desperately
looking for a bathroom. In broken Spanish, she managed to
get her needs across to the smiling housekeeper
who waved her inside with a chuckle at the silly
American girl. In the meantime, Remington
slipped inside via the back door and made a quick foray through the
house to discover where the jewelry might be
kept. In something under ten minutes, he identified
three possible options and took note of the
security system before slipping out a bathroom window Laura had
left unlocked.
Unlike LA, where they both
dressed in black for these forays, here they
wore white to blend in with the stucco and the
light-colored décor. In the small hours of
the morning, he boosted her up enough for her to find that the high
window was still unlocked. She pushed it
open and slipped over the edge with the ease of a gymnast.
He followed with cat-like grace and landed
beside her on the cool tile floor. The house was quiet, and the
pair drifted into the study where the first
safe was located.
Remington studied it for a
moment and then stepped back, waving Laura
to stand in his place. He arched a brow in challenge and
she leaned down to listen, spinning the lock in
slow increments. As the first tumbler fell in place, she
felt his fingers twitch in time on her upper
back. Reversing the spin, she eased the dial until she felt,
more than heard, the second tumbler click.
Again his fingers twitched and when the last tumbler fell, his
tiny caress on her spine was his sole indication
of triumph for both of them.
Unfortunately, the safe
held a fair amount of paperwork but not the
missing jewelry. On to the next one.
The second safe was kept
in the downstairs library. This one was
more complicated and required Remington’s delicate touch
to first disarm the security system and then
to pick the lock. Laura was nearly as fast as he with
a single pick, but two took her longer than
she liked. He lifted out the necklace, inspecting it with his
briefly bare fingertips and then the flashlight
and loupe. Confirming they were real, he passed them and the
other pieces to Laura where she wrapped them in
a white velvet pouch and slipped it underneath her
blouse. Two more minutes had the
security system reactivated, and then the pair slipped out the way
they came.
Two streets over they
flagged down a taxi and had it drop them first at
a small bar where they clearly demonstrated they were on
their honeymoon. Twenty minutes later
another taxi carried them to the hotel. From start to
finish, the whole project took hardly an
hour.
In the hotel room,
Remington spread the jewels on the table and spent
several minutes making certain they were real and matched
the descriptions supplied by Vigilance
Insurance. Hair wet from her quick shower, Laura leaned over
to peer at the matched set. “I thought
jewelry was supposed to be pretty?”
A half-smile crossed his
face while he concentrated. “You
wouldn’t believe how many frightfully ugly pieces I’ve seen, love.
Some of them are so ornate and garish that any
beauty is entirely lost.” Putting the piece down, he glanced at the
collection. “You know, I think these
might qualify. And to think someone actually wants them back.
I could split this set, redesign it
entirely and sell it for twice the value,” he commented with off-handed
aplomb as he looked at the bracelet through
his loupe.
She patted him on the
shoulder. “That’s good to know if we ever
get into a financial crunch.” He twitched his brow at her
and began packing the jewelry into the velvet
pouch again.
“Carlos” passed Juan a
thick envelope with a smile and nod of thanks
the next afternoon, just two hours before the Steeles caught
a plane to LA. Puerto Vallarta security
wasn’t very tight, and Laura walked through the metal detector
wearing every bit of the jewelry. Her
hair concealed the chandeliers; the high collar and long sleeves of
her blouse covered the bracelet and
necklace. Only the latter caused a peep from the machine, and when
Laura drew a simple silver heart out of the
neck of her shirt, the security guard waived her through.
Once on the plane, she
slipped into the tiny bathroom and placed all of
the jewelry into a specially constructed can of hair
spray and inserted it into her tote bag.
As she sat beside him, Remington caught her smile. “Nice
enough, Tracy.”
That was the name she used
that long ago night. Damn his
infallible memory. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
“I’ve spent five years
wondering if you would remember me.”
Laura crossed her arms and
shot him a hard look. “You know, I
might ask the question of exactly what you were doing in a bar in
Puerto Vallarta. And why you were
perfectly willing to pick up a random woman that night.”
“I was twenty-two!
I’m not going to spill every detail to you.
Besides, you’ve never told me why your friend, Milton, calls you
‘Binky.’ “
“And that, Mr. Steele,
will remain on a need-to-know basis.”
He brushed his hand across
her neck, sliding his hand to the back of
her head. Before he laid his lips on hers, he whispered, “So
what you’re telling me, Mrs. Steele, is that
you’ll keep your secrets and I’ll keep mine?”
Keeping her laughing brown
eyes on his wily blue ones, she replied,
“Absolutely!”
30 April 2009
edited 1 May 2010
Author's Note: My
thanks to Krebbie’s “Rikki” series that inspired this story. You
can find it on her website at www.steeleinlove.com. If
she can go to Acapulco, then I can go to
Puerto Vallarta.
Click here
to read the
follow-up story "Holting Out for a Steele" -- the real story behind the
"secret."
Steele Holting On
Steele
Holting On