He found her sprawled out on the Malibu beach, wearing only a scrap of fabric that barely qualified as a bikini.  If she’d been more … robust … it would have been positively indecent.  As it was, the fabric clung to the sweet curve of her rear, and he groaned under his breath.  From where he was standing, he could see a shadow under the top edge, just hinting at the cleft below.  He frowned and counted.  Then counted again.  Four strings held all those scraps together--two on the top and two on the bottom.  He begged for mercy and restraint from God for a minute and then shrugged.  If Laura didn’t know him by now. …

He’d shown up at the office this gorgeous Friday morning, greeted Mildred and thanked the waiting client for his patience before taking the man into his office and gleaning the details for an unique art installment that needed security for a three-week showing in the lobby of a prestigious downtown building.  Two hours later, the client had left the office convinced that only Remington Steele Investigations truly understood the risks involved with the project and would be able to conquer the thieves undoubtedly lurking about.

Remington strolled into the reception area, hand in pocket, to request the whereabouts of Miss Holt as she’d been nowhere to be found either before or after the meeting.  He didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in his voice.  “What are we doing this time?  A marathon?  A hundred-mile bicycle ride?”

With a smile, Mildred passed him a note.

“Practicing being irresponsible.  At Zuma Beach working on my tan,” he read aloud, confusion making his scowl only more pronounced.  He demanded of Mildred, “Whatever's happened to the Laura Holt I know?”

She lifted a shoulder, amused by his reaction.  “She called early this morning, asked what was on the schedule, and said when you left, I could leave too.  So go home, Chief.  I’m ready to be done for the day.”  It was rare for the agency not to be booked stem to stern with appointments and cases anymore, and Laura had made an executive decision to have Mr. Steele handle the sole client before closing the agency for the weekend.   

Bewildered by this latest antic of Laura’s, Remington scratched his neck and frowned at the note again.  Almost absent-mindedly, he responded to Mildred, “Aye, I can do that.”

Grinning at his confusion, she snatched up her purse and shoved him out of the office.  “Get out of here.  We don’t want to wait around for Miss Holt to change her mind.”

“No, that we don’t.”  He walked her to the garage where he kissed her on the cheek.  “Have a nice weekend.”

She wiggled her hips.  “Will do.  Gotta hot date tonight.”  She arched her eyebrows at him.  “Good luck, boss.  Play your cards right and you might too.”

Remington honestly doubted the “hot date” portion.  “Hot dates” hadn’t been a part of his vocabulary for quite some time.  However, it was likely that he would spend the better part of the weekend in Laura’s company, and that cheered him a bit.  It wasn’t unusual for them to play a round of golf or for him to spend the evenings in her company.  But lately, she’d been inviting him to odd errands: some mundane--such as going to the market where they happily haggled over fruit quality and the nutritional value of loaves of bread--and others out of the ordinary.

Last Saturday had been an excellent example of the latter.  She had wanted to find a new dress for a benefit they were to attend tomorrow night and had asked him to go to the shop with her in exchange for lunch afterward.  The errand had become an amusing excursion as he’d turned down several perfectly acceptable outfits only to be perverse.  Annoyed by his unenthusiastic reactions to her selections, Laura had picked out a daring silk number and stormed into the dressing room.  Moments later, Remington had arched a brow as she’d flung the curtains aside.

The front was rather simple.  The bronze material neatly slashed across her throat and fell unembellished to the floor, clinging to her breasts and hips in a lovely way.  She’d narrowed her brown eyes and twisted her hair up onto her head before turning around to let him see the back.  Very casually, he’d leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin in admiration.  The silk dropped into a daring vee to cling to the curve just at the top her pretty little bum, leaving her back entirely bare.  He’d seen where her waist nipped in and had fisted a hand to stop himself from reaching out to touch the freckles scattered about her spine.

He hadn’t missed the gleam in her eyes in the mirrors once he’d managed to drag his own away from the view and knew damned well Laura hadn’t missed his reaction.  Her look was smug when she saw him cross his legs, and she'd stripped off the dress to hand it to the saleslady to ring up.  

She’d needled him about that periodically for the entire week.  Thinking about her in that dress with fire in her eyes had him hard and aching for about the hundredth time since last Saturday, and his temper had become rather short in the last twenty-four hours.  The studied look she gave him before leaving the office yesterday served only to confuse and annoy him.  Thinking about that had his mood going downhill, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

He headed to his flat to change into a swimsuit.  He wasn’t very comfortable in trunks--thinking his knees were too knobby and legs a bit on the skinny side for them--but a pair of sandals and a blue Hawaiian shirt with white flowers didn’t look too bad.  He snatched up a towel before zipping to the beach in the Auburn with the top down.

An hour later in the sunny afternoon, he found the Rabbit parked among the mass of cars in the public lot.  Locating his wayward associate’s lithe body lying face down on her towel took less time, and he made his way across the warm beach to reach her.  Her sunscreen had tilted over in the sand, and the cooler nearby had a portable radio sitting on top, blasting the latest pop tunes from KROT.  He smiled at the setup.  Apparently, she had come prepared to stay for a while.

She didn’t move when he dropped his own towel and shirt next to her.  He studied her for a moment, trying to decide if she was feigning sleep or honestly drowsing in the warm sun.  Well, there’s certainly an easy way to discover the answer to that question.  He retrieved her bottle of sunscreen and poured a small amount into his palm.  Setting it down again, he reached over and plucked the lower string of her bikini top loose.  Her eyes popped open, but the pressure of his hand on her back kept her from jumping.

“Ah ha.  I knew you weren’t asleep, Miss Holt.”  In another quick movement, he slipped the string around her neck free as well, and she squeaked as he rubbed the area where the ties had rested before changing to long, slow strokes along her spine that had her eyes drifting closed again.

Laura smiled to herself and tried to pretend that his touch didn’t thrill her to her toes.  She’d neatly timed her arrival, settling onto the beach only in the past half hour.  Lazing about the loft while knowing that Remington was working had been deliciously satisfying.  “Nice to see you too, Mr. Steele.  I take it the office is closed for the day?”

“The boss ordered it.”  He leaned over and placed a kiss on her temple.  She sighed with pleasure at the sweet touch and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensuality of his hands.

Remington was at a complete loss for words.  Laura never let him do this.  Maybe, just maybe, if she was in an extraordinarily good mood, she might allow him to work her feet over or massage her back.  Most of the time he was restricted to exchanging kisses, playing with her hair and stroking whatever skin she had bared at the moment.  But lying prone and letting his hands roam over her with abandonment?  What has gotten into you, Miss Holt?  

Testing the waters, he placed his thumbs under the top edge of her bikini bottoms and eased it down an inch.

“Mr. Steele!” she objected.

“Do you want sunscreen on your swimsuit, Laura?” he countered as his fingers skimmed the area and trailed heat in his wake.  He didn’t miss the fact that while she had protested, she hadn’t moved away.  Of course, he’d stranded her on the towel by unlacing the strings, but either way he was going to take advantage of the moment.  “By the way, I’m impressed.”

“Why?” she wondered as she settled in to enjoy his slick hands.

“This is a very nice way to be irresponsible.  I’m rather enjoying it myself.  Beautiful weather, nice scenery, and a lovely woman by my side.  I couldn’t ask for more.”

She "hmmmed" under her breath and smiled as she closed her eyes again.  She’d complained about the bikini more for form’s sake than for any real displeasure--but she didn’t want him to know that yet.  After a few minutes of his warm hands on her, she discovered honest sexual desire clouding her mind and begging her not to move.  It was a matter of habit that had her shaking her head to clear it.  “Mr. Steele, would you please retie my top so I can get up?”  She didn’t hold much hope that he would comply with her wishes, and there was absolutely no way to retie the top without revealing herself to the world.  But the request would keep him distracted from her real intentions.

“No.  I’m not done yet.  I do rather enjoy having my hands on you.”  The warm lotion dripped between his fingers before he placed them on her feet.  He knew she loved having her feet rubbed and took his time working the crème into her skin.

She moaned under her breath.  “That feels incredible.”  If sex with him is as good as his foot rubs, I’ll be put off any other man for life.

After massaging her feet, it was only natural for Remington to glide his hands over her calves, into the little dip at the back of her knees and across her thighs.  Shaking his head, he virtuously kept his thumbs away from the inner edge.  Instead, he moved to her hands and worked his way up her arms and to her shoulders before skimming lotion-laden fingers over her bare back again.

He thought she was relaxed enough now to venture a question that had been on his mind as of late.  “Laura?”

She dragged one eye open again.  “Yes?”

“Do you remember the conversation we had about wanting to advance our relationship?”  Two bloody months ago, Laura, and you’ve managed to avoid talking about it the entire time.

Laura had been anticipating this question for several weeks now and made sure that she controlled her reaction.  She didn’t want him to feel her inevitable tension while his hands were stroking her lean muscles.  “Yes.”

“Exactly how are we going to do that?”  Now he danced his fingers over her skin, making goose bumps ripple.  She thought of the incredible words he'd written in his letter to her and flushed--making him smile when he saw the red tint to her skin before it flowed away just as suddenly as it had appeared.  “Laura?” he prompted.

Damn.  She didn’t mean to blush.  “I … I suppose we … spend the night together.”

Triumph streaked through him.  He suddenly felt as if he had navigated every trick and turn of an incredibly complex heist to see the exquisite jewel lying inches from his hands.  All he had to do was to lift it into his fingers and carry it home.  He leaned down and placed his lips near her ear.  “And see what happens?”

“Um, I guess so, Mr. Steele.”  She tried hard for just the right amount of reluctance in her voice.  But the shiver caused by his breath on her neck was involuntary.

“Good.”  Now he lifted his fingers from her flesh and stretched out on his own towel with his eyes closed, curious to see if she would follow.

She did.  Bereft of his touch, she started to sit up, then stopped to gather the towel to her chest before sitting on her knees and shaking the sand out of his shirt with one hand.  He opened his eyes to watch her slip it on, one arm at a time, and fasten the buttons before pulling the towel out from underneath.  Clever.  Without another thought, he sat up and pulled her head to his.

There was a possessiveness to his kiss that Laura hadn’t felt before.  With his hands clutching her head and his thumbs stroking her ears while he plundered, she brought her hands up to hold his wrists to keep from losing her balance and falling forward into him.  Poised there, Laura could feel the desperate need in him and let herself give whatever it was that he demanded.

When he broke off the kiss, he waited until she sat back again and released her grip before dropping his hands.

Her whole face lit up, and she smiled, really smiled, at him.  “That, Remington, is what I love about you.”  Oh Lord, did I really say that?

She caught him off-guard with both her candid statement and her incandescent glow--and he didn’t miss that she’d called him “Remington.”  “What is that, Laura?”

In for a penny, in for a pound.  “You never take without giving something back.”

He tilted his head quizzically.  “What do you mean?”

Blushing a little again, she touched his face.  “You had me off-balance.  Instead of letting me fall and look like an idiot, you held still until I was ready to let go.  You always do that.  It’s part of your nature.”

Remington heard honest compliments so rarely that he didn’t know what to say to her.  To cover his rush of emotion, he joked, “If I’d let you tumble over, I’d never hear the end of it.  Besides, it ruins the image.  We’re supposed to be graceful and elegant.”

Laura shook her head in amusement, realizing that he, too, was embarrassed by her bold statement.  To recover the moment, she insisted, “Turn around and let me put sunscreen on you before you burn.”

He started to tell her that he rarely burned--perhaps from spending so many years on the Riviera--but closed his mouth because he wanted to feel her hands on him.  He stretched out on his towel, pillowing his head on his arms as she sat beside him.

Laura wondered how something so simple could have her hands humming as she worked the lotion into Remington’s skin.  She duplicated the soothing motions he’d used on her, first massaging and then moving her hands up and down his spine.  She discovered that he liked it when she used her nails to lightly scratch his back.  He didn’t exactly purr, but he hummed low in his throat a couple of times when she hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Remington could have stayed there in the warm sun for the rest of the afternoon soaking up her touch.  It felt damned good.  He started to fantasize about making love to her in his flat and wondered if he should order dinner or make it himself.  The former left more time for them to play; the latter was a fabulous way to seduce the senses.

But Laura had other things on her mind.  With a last caress through his hair, she sat back and stretched her legs out beside his head.  A little disappointed, he rolled to his side and propped his head on a hand--and then was completely distracted by the fact there wasn’t anything between her and his shirt she was wearing.  Right now, he really wanted to be that shirt.

Catching the direction of his gaze, Laura looked down.  “Is that really all you think about?”  She was amused but arranged her face in a scowl just on principle.

Bloody hell.  Caught with my hand in the till.  “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you in the room?  Am I thinking about you?  Can I smell your perfume after you’ve left my flat?”  She laughed as he scooped up a handful of sand to dribble onto her toes.  “Do you not think of it, Laura?” he asked seriously.

She looked away.  “I do.”  If you had any idea how MUCH I’ve been thinking of it. …

“Throw me a crumb, Miss Holt.  I’m starving over here,” he pleaded comically.

Still distracted by her own thoughts, she quipped without thinking, “What, you’ve gone a week without female companionship?”

He scowled.  “You don’t really think that, do you?”

“Okay, a couple of months,” she shot back.  He arched a brow and waited.  “Six months?” she hazarded another guess.  He kept a steady gaze on her face and didn’t say anything.  “A year?”  More silence.  Laura’s eyes widened as she realized what he wasn’t saying.  The hurt in his blue eyes was unmistakable, even as it took her a moment to accept what she saw.  Damn.  Is this for real?

Finally, he looked down at his hands and confessed, “Laura, in the time that I’ve known you, since the case where we posed as the Pepplers--what, nearly three and a half years ago--I’ve had only one liaison.  It was after I realized you were serious about the Cannes agreement, and I was angry with you, terribly frustrated as it were.  But it wasn’t what I thought it would be … and I knew then that I would rather wait for you.”

“But you’ve gone out with other women,” she retorted, despite the fact she was more than a little thrilled by his disclosure.

“Not since I went to London over a year ago.  Prior to that, I discovered that being called away on a case was a very convenient way to end a date without hurting a lady’s feelings.  Fred became rather good at paging me at the appropriate time.”  He waited a moment and added, “Why does this surprise you?  Do you not realize how much I want to be with you?”  When she didn’t answer, he turned the question around.  “Laura, why haven’t you gone to bed with anyone since we met?”

As if I’m going to answer that question and boost your ego into the stratosphere.  Gathering the courage to make her final move, she shot him a sly smile and stood, holding out her hand.  “Let’s play in the water.”

Remington groaned and followed her into the waves, a little annoyed she hadn’t given him an answer.  Then again, he hadn’t really expected one, knowing her as he did.

With hands interlocked, they jumped the breakers and wandered across the sandbars.  Each time they topped one, he noted his shirt clinging to her curves as she rose out of the water.  Laura, I absolutely adore you, but this abstinence thing surely qualifies as one of Dante’s nine circles of hell.  If it doesn’t, it damned well had better give me credit for time in Purgatory.  He forced himself to quit looking and to concentrate on where he was placing his feet.   

The waves pulled and pushed at Remington’s shirt, teasing Laura’s breasts and making the sensitive tips peak.  Any other shirt would have been just cover up, but the feel of her bare skin under the loose fabric that had so recently adorned his body, coupled with the fact that she was only an arm’s length from him, had her … itchy.

She’d planned this weekend with all the strategy of Napoleon himself.  And like the brilliant general, she had several alternatives sketched out.  Execution depended on the actions of her opponent.  She would not let him seduce her, nor allow him to pick the time and place of their first … what did he call it? … liason.  But time was running out.  Either she made the first move or he would always hold the upper hand.  Much better to let him think the first time was a happy accident.

Out here, dozens of yards from the shoreline on a distant sandbar, the cold water played around her breasts.  The couple had moved well away from the surfers and found themselves alone in a broad swath of water.  Remington still held her hand, laughing and pulling her up out of the water when she took a step off the sandbar and went in over her head.  “Damn, I missed,” she sputtered as she wiped the salt water off her face.  She treaded water, looking for the sand with her toes, when he shifted his grip from her hand to her waist.  The water tugged at the shirt so that his hand landed on bare skin.  A swift inhalation of breath told her he wasn’t unaffected.

It was more instinct than conscious choice that had her bringing her legs up to settle about his hips.  His eyes darkened when she laid her arms across his bare shoulders; her voice was husky when she said, “Good thing I can hold on to you.”

“Always, Laura.”  Not sure what to do, he kept very still.  This was the very thing that had him frustrated beyond belief.  Any woman other than Laura would have responded to his caresses and verbal hints.  But it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d thrown herself into his embrace only to withdraw moments later.

She leaned in, meeting his mouth for an uninhibited kiss unlike any he’d experienced before--it was all bright sunlight, aching need and simple joy--and it left him staggering.  His hands slid upward of their own volition, encountering only more bare skin, and he clutched his fingers into the flesh covering her ribs.

Laura let herself drown in the flavor of him--all dark, heady spice and smooth cognac--while trailing her mouth across his jaw and neck, tasting sea water along the way.  She held a handful of his hair with one hand and raked her nails lightly across his shoulder with the other while her tongue danced along his collarbone.

Need clawed at him instantly and Remington felt his knees wobble.  He forced himself to open his eyes and look past her in spite of the temptation screaming at him.  Laura seemed to sense his problem and let go to tread water.  But he couldn’t make himself pry his hands off her just yet.  In a heartbeat, she came back to press another kiss to his lips.  “Let’s go home.”

The promise in her voice had his heart beating double-time and he pulled back to look at her face.  “Laura--"   What has gotten into her?  Laura doesn’t make innuendos; I do.     

The siren in his arms glowed with anticipation.  “Do you really want to stay here?  I can think of much better places I’d rather be.”  While one hand pressed on the back of his neck, the other trailed down his chest, a single fingernail circling and flicking lightly at a nipple along the way.  “I can think of places I’d rather have you.”  He jolted at her touch, desire flashing through him.

He did not believe what he was hearing.  “Laura,” he groaned, “only you would get me out in the ocean and do this to me.  It’s going to take a while before I’m decent enough to walk back to the car--and you can’t be doing that if I’m ever going to get there.”  She had found a perch on the sandbar with her toes and was letting the waves rock her body against his.  The shorts he wore concealed nothing from her slim form--or from her seeking fingers.  He closed his eyes as her hands slicked up either side of his arousal and then opened them in a daze when her small hand made its way under the waistband to grasp him fully.  “Laura--“ Her name seemed to be the only thing that his stuttering brain could get out.

But a small functioning portion insisted that if she could touch, so could he.  Laura gasped when his thumbs brushed her nipples.  As she stroked and teased with her fingers, so did he.  Distracted beyond all reason, he lost track of one of her hands while she was kissing him, only to rediscover it when she draped the rest of her bikini across his shoulder.

Shocked, he set her away and clutched at the scrap of fabric with four dangling strings.  “Laura, what are you doing?”  Here?  Four years and she wants to do it here?  What happened to champagne, roses and a seduction by the fireplace?

Taken aback by his response, she froze.  “I … I’m sorry.  I got … carried away.  I thought we … had the same idea.”  Napoleon prepared to call a retreat.  Perhaps some battles could be fought another day.

But Remington could never be accused of being dimwitted.  He reached for her hand before she could swim away and pulled her to him with a delighted grin.  “Damn right we do.”  With his mouth on hers, he fisted his free hand into her hair before sliding it down to her deliciously bare bum and fitting her to him.

“Remington?” she breathed.

“Hmm?”  His hands were busy discovering the softness of her flesh while his lips were doing the same to her neck.

God, this felt good, she thought.  Not just what he was doing to her but the whole way she was throwing caution to the wind.  It had been so long … and this was right.  Right time, right man.  “Your shorts are in the way.”

He shot her a quick glance to make certain she wasn’t joking.  “So they are.”  With a little bit of comical wiggling, he managed to get them off without losing them in the water.  He handed both swimsuits to her.  “Don’t let go of these.”

She let out a peal of laughter that absolutely delighted him as she tangled them in her fingers before wrapping her body around his.  He dug his toes in the sandbar for an extra bit of leverage and settled her over his arousal.

“You’re sure?” he asked.  One hand found her deliciously wet, and he toyed with a very sensitive knot with a thumb.

Trying not to shiver at his touch, she said, “It’s a good thing I am, because if I wasn’t, you’re not playing fair.”  As she spoke, he pressed, letting her body absorb him into her heated, wet depths.

“I never play fair if it’s something I want, Laura.  And Good Lord, I’ve wanted you.”  With one hand around her waist and the other her back, he held her to him while he slid in to the hilt.  Time stopped while the waves rocked them in the sensuous rhythm as they savored the moment.  For a long while, they could only stare at each other as their bodies melded--perhaps they were just a little shocked to know that this was really happening.

Laura broke first as the sheer fullness of him inside had her aching to move.  She touched her mouth to lips that opened under her seeking tongue.  Remington held her still for a moment longer--relishing the taste of her, the feel of her slim body under his hands, and the contrast between the cool water and the scorching heat of her core--before letting instinct take over.  This first time, with both of them extraordinarily sensitized from the heat of each other and the rocking of the waves, he didn’t have to move much to send her soaring into the sun.  With her head tilted back, lips parted and eyes closed as her body contracted around his, he fastened his lips to the hollow of her throat and discovered the light for himself with a hoarse cry of her name.

As they recovered their sensibilities, Remington was astonished by the exhilaration he could see in Laura’s face.  Her eyes danced with glee, and her satisfied smile had him grinning back at her.  “Rather pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“Oh, Mr. Steele, you have no idea!”  Napoleon had cleared the field and to the victor went the spoils.  The man she held in her arms was a treasure beyond price.  It had taken them what seemed like an eternity to get here, but after the letter he’d written to her, she finally believed that he was hers.  And she’d quit resenting the fact that she had been his from the moment she first spoke to him.

A nearby surfer, oblivious to their heated embrace, skimmed the surface of the water and restarted time for them.  With great reluctance, they broke apart.  She handed him his shorts, laughed as she watched him figure out how to put them back on, and then had to ask for help getting her own bikini tied in the swirling water while he chuckled.  Laura was blushing furiously by the time his hands finished investigating nearly every part of her body in the process.  

Holding hands again, they alternated wading and swimming in the waves until they reached the shore.  It was only when they had gathered their things and began walking to the parking lot that Remington remembered they were in separate cars.  He placed the cooler and radio into the Rabbit and touched Laura’s face.  “Where do we go from here?”

Laura knew what he was asking and went with her heart as she answered.  “I’d like to go home, shower and change.  I’ll warn you that you might not ever see this shirt again.  I seem to have developed an attachment to it.  After that,” she turned her hands out, “well, I missed lunch while I was waiting for you.  I’m hungry.  Perhaps I could come to your place?”

“It's going to be that easy, Laura?”  He wasn’t referring to the plans she suggested.

“Yes, Remington.  I think so.”  He started to ask a question, but checked himself, not wanting to press her too soon.  But Laura knew him too well and caught the brief hesitation.  “What is it?”

He felt ridiculous having to ask.  He’d never had to ask.  But with Laura, one could never assume.  “Will you stay the night with me?”

The flirtatious twinkle in her eyes did something to his heart, making it trip and thump again.  “I was planning on it.”  She raked her gaze over his bare chest and looked back at him from under her lashes.  “You didn’t think we were done, did you?”



They chased each other along the streets.  The Rabbit darted in and out of traffic with ease, only to be passed on the straightaways by the Auburn.  Laura turned away first with a jaunty wave as she headed for her loft.  It took Remington another twenty minutes to reach his flat.

His first thought was to arrange for dinner.  A quick call to his favorite restaurant promised champagne and a meal for two to be delivered at eight.  He would make dinner for her another night.  The second was a dash to the fridge to determine what would constitute lunch for them.  Sandwiches seemed rather mundane for a celebration.  Ah, there we go.  Brie and crackers, fruit, wine.  Perhaps a bit of prosciutto.  All except the wine landed on a tray and was set on the counter.

He breezed through the condo, making certain it was neat as a pin before diving into the shower.  He took his time under the hot water as he washed away the salt and thought about Laura--still more than a little dazed by the last couple of hours.  He remembered their conversation on the beach about sleeping together--surely she hadn’t thought he'd meant right then?  No, of course not.  Once out of the shower--his second of the day--he finished his toilette while analyzing Laura’s actions.  And then gave up.  Logic was her forte, not his.  Neatly folding his towel, he dropped it over the shower door to dry before pushing open the bathroom door.  Nude, he strolled around the corner to dress.

Laura, obviously freshly washed with her damp hair curling about, was asleep on his bed dressed in a flowing summer skirt and white sleeveless blouse.  He tended to forget that she had a key because she used it so rarely.  She’d found the platter of food and set it on the corner of the bed.  Two wine glasses and a bottle of chilled Chablis from his refrigerator stood on the floor beside it.

He didn’t think she was feigning sleep this time.  Her breathing was too even and her lips were slightly parted.  He moved the platter and wine to the dresser before settling down beside her.  To wake her, he began by stroking her neck and kissing her bare shoulder.  Her eyes drifted open, and she stretched once before rolling on top of him and sitting up.  A quick movement stripped the blouse away, and she tossed it into the corner.  The skirt turned out to be a wraparound kind, and she had it off with a tug, leaving her sitting on top of Remington as nude as he.

“Now, where were we?” she asked.   

*****

Somewhere around three in the morning, Remington was lying awake in his bed watching her.  A very satisfied smile curved his lips as he rubbed his thumb against their joined hands.  Laura had laced her fingers with his moments before falling asleep--and hadn’t let go.

He’d known.  Passionate didn’t begin to describe her.  The ease with which she aroused him staggered him.  She gave and took with equal fervor even as the afternoon had been all for her.  She’d taken her time, slaking a raging thirst for him as she tasted, savored and devoured every part of him.  She seemed to be determined to discover as many of his secrets as possible.  He didn’t have many--anything she did felt incredible.  Their coming together had been fast and furious as she drove him over the brink after
taking him to the edge a handful of times.

He didn’t get his way with her until after dinner where he seduced her by firelight--taking his own time to learn her body in a wholly different way than she had his.

By midnight they were spent.  This last joining had been overwhelming for both of them.  He’d kept it achingly slow and had both of their bodies begging for release in the end.  He could see Laura struggling not to cry as she went over the last time with him.  And all he could think as he was inside her was I’m home.  He wasn’t entirely sure--but perhaps he'd said the words aloud, and that might have been the cause of her tears.  Certainly, when he'd collapsed on top of her, she’d wrapped her arms around him and held him for the longest time.

Satisfied she was still there, Remington settled a little closer to her and closed his eyes, never moving his hand from hers.

*****

In the mid-morning, they woke with her back warming his chest.  As if they’d done this dance before, they made love that way with an economy of motion that had them trembling when they were through.  Still joined, body and hands, slumber came once more.

*****

Laura crawled from underneath Remington somewhere around noon.  He’d slept with an arm around her and a leg intertwined with hers the entire night.  Her body ached from head to toe, undoubtedly more from their shenanigans yesterday than from sleeping in the one position the whole night through.

The shower soothed most of the soreness away, and she grinned in reflection.  Wilson used to give her grief about her libido, saying she expected too much and was much too passionate.  Having sex twice in a day with him was an extraordinary occurrence.  What he did while he did it had been good, but she’d often been left longing to do it all again.

Remington was either more inventive, or, hell, the man’s stamina was a thing to be worshiped.  He seemed to like everything she did--no "don’t do that, honey" or "not there."  Then again, she’d probably talked more during their lovemaking than she ever had before.  They’d laughed, moaned, needled each other with words and kissed endlessly.  Come to think of it, Remington had been rather vocal about what he liked--either with words or with actions.  There wasn’t any second guessing on her part because he was attempting to stay “composed.”

She’d known it would be this way.  What they had done up until yesterday, which was little more than stray caresses and heart-stopping kisses, had been enough to demonstrate what they would be like as lovers.

Lovers.  Now that was a word that certainly applied to them, but it seemed inadequate to describe what they had.  Friends?  They were certainly that.  Best friends?  That took some thinking, but yes, it too applied.  Whether dealing with a case or her mother, Remington was the first person to whom she turned.  Best friends turned lovers.  She pressed a hand to her heart and leaned against the shower wall, wondering if there was really any more for which one could ask.



Remington didn’t think so.  He’d come to a similar conclusion upon waking and finding a long brown hair on the pillow next to him.  He inched over while listening to the shower run and found he could smell her on the pillowcase.

Damn.  He’d lost track of the number of women he’d bedded over the years.  He’d had one or two encounters nearly as physically satisfying as they’d had yesterday.  But he’d known then that it was a short-lived experience and had departed with a wink and a smile.

Only Laura had caused the pang of need in his belly.  It was the same need that had clenched his gut the first time they spoke.  The feeling used to irritate him.  At first, he’d thought it to be unrequited lust and the annoyance of being turned down.  As time went on, he’d grown used to it.  They’d become friends.  And he’d learned to tolerate it until the idiotic Cannes agreement.

The single liaison he’d spoken of to Laura had been singularly unsatisfying.  He hadn’t stayed the night at the young woman’s place, nor did he call her again.  He’d gone home alone feeling as if he’d betrayed Laura--and didn’t know why.

By the time he flew to London, the need had grown so huge and terrifying that he’d been grasping at straws to find a way to satisfy it.  Discovering she’d come for him had soothed it for a while, but the feeling had been quietly growing stronger.  By the time they had gone to the Friedlich Spa, it had been swallowing him whole again, and he’d lashed out at her in anger.  He’d managed to tamp it down again after their walk on the beach.

Now, for the first time in ages, the need didn’t hurt.  It was still there, but it rested quietly and waited for her to come out of the shower.



She pulled the door open.  The unguarded smile on Remington’s face had her easing onto the bed next to him and threading her fingers through his hair before dropping her hand to run a thumb over the stubble on his cheek.

He moved his head to kiss her hand and quipped, “Shall I call Murphy and tell him where you were last night?”

Laura groaned and snatched a pillow, shoving him backward so that she could pretend to smother him with it.  “Absolutely not,” she giggled.

He pulled the edge of the pillow up and winked.  “Then perhaps I shall wait until Monday, and I can tell him you spent the whole weekend with me.  Or I with you.  Whichever you like.”

“Oooh!”  She shoved the pillow back down and scrambled off the bed.  Remington reached for her and missed but saw the happiness in her face and could do no more than echo her grin.  “Just for that, you have to get dressed and take me to lunch,” she insisted.

He didn’t protest and dove into the shower.  By the time he was out and strolling around the bedroom wearing only a pair of black briefs, Laura had made his bed and was putting her things into her tote bag.  He frowned at it but said nothing.



After lunch, they returned to his place and Laura retrieved her bag.  “Where are you going?” he asked, disappointed that she wanted to put an end to their interlude.

“I’ve got a few errands to run, and then I need to get ready for the benefit.  What time are you picking me up?”

The fact that she still assumed they were going together mollified him somewhat.  “Would you prefer for me to drive or would you rather I call Fred?”

“You drive.  You can stay the night if you’d like.”  She said it with such casual aplomb that he nearly missed the invitation.

He looked into her face, elated to see her small smile and eyes glowing with banked fire.  “Seven-thirty.  We’ll attend, and then I’d like to take you out afterwards.”

“It’s a date.”  She walked to him and wound her arms around his neck as their mouths touched. 

He deliberately ran his hands along either side of her before letting go.  “Until tonight then, Miss Holt.”

* * * * *

He showed up a half-hour early hoping to catch her before she finished dressing.  He had something for her and had thought long and hard about how to present it to her so that she wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

Her face was made up and her hair pinned into an elegant twist, but Laura was still wearing her robe when she slid open the door and saw him, resplendent in his black tuxedo and carrying an overnight bag.  “Oh,   you’re here.  I’m sorry I’m late; I thought you said seven-thirty.  Give me just a few minutes.  I … I won’t be long.  I just need to change and I’ll be ready.”  He followed her after she closed the door and, after dropping his bag by her bed, leaned against the railing of her bedroom while she changed.  A
hint of color in her cheeks told him he'd caught her by surprise in this too.

But she made the most of it.

He watched as she slicked on thigh-high stockings that looked as if they were dipped in sparkling bronze just a shade or two paler than the dress.  She slipped off the robe, hanging it on a hook in her closet and revealing that she was only wearing a tiny scrap of panties meant not to ruin the lines of the dress.  As slim as she was, she didn’t bother with a bra.

Laura saw the cool flames of desire in his eyes and smiled to herself.  Napoleon was going to have a victory celebration tonight that none had seen in a century or more.  She stepped into the dress, wiggling a little bit to get it to slide over her hips before settling the bodice in place.  She turned to make certain that the back was straight before stepping into a pair of bronze shoes and reaching for her jewelry box.

Remington walked up behind her to look over her shoulder into the mirror.  “You look beautiful, Laura.”  He indulged himself this time by running his fingertips from her wrists to her throat, stroking there for a moment, and then skimming them from her neck to the base of her spine.  She shivered and he made himself turn her around so that she was facing him.  He dipped his hand into his pocket.  “I have something for you.”

She cocked her head and waited.

He cautiously explained as he handed the flat black box over, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.  “I have a gift.  It’s not one for sleeping with me yesterday.  I was with you when you selected this dress and … and I wanted to do something for you.”

Laura opened the box to discover a pair of unusual earrings inside.  Remington picked one up and chattered as his nerves got the best of him.  “They’re antiques, Art Deco, ah, early twenties.  Topaz and copper as it were.  Maybe a diamond or two here and there.”  He brushed a stray curl away and fastened the intricate chandeliers to her earlobes.  “I found them on Wednesday.”

She turned around and looked first at herself in the mirror, admiring the way the earrings complemented her dress, then at the handsome man standing beside her.  “Thank you.  They’re lovely.”  He placed a kiss on her neck before taking her hand and leading her down the short stairs of the loft.  Laura picked up her evening clutch, and before they walked out the door, she stopped him with a ravenous kiss.  “I’ve wanted to do that since you walked through that door.  Thank you for explaining about the earrings.  You know me too well.”

“The earrings are for a beautiful lady, my partner and my friend, whom I wanted to indulge.”  He took her arm and walked her out of the loft and down the three flights of stairs.  When they reached the bottom, he opened the door to the Auburn and helped her in.

As he sat in the driver’s seat, he handed her another box.  She shot him a questioning look as she opened it and found a complementary piece of more diamonds, copper and chunks of topaz.  “A bracelet?”

“Now that, Miss Holt, is for being in my bed yesterday.  And my congratulations for a well-executed campaign.”

Her laughter echoed down the street as the Auburn pulled away.  



26 June 2009