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."