Steeling a Dream
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Steeling a Dream
Part 2: Under a Steele Dark Sky
Part 2: Under a Steele Dark Sky
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Steele Holting On
Steeling a Dream
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Steeling a Dream
Part 2: Under a Steele Dark Sky
Part 2: Under a Steele Dark Sky
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Steele Holting On
Chapter 4 Healing
Johnny stared at the reports. He’d spent the last two weeks shifting his assets among off-shore
accounts, and Interpol had tracked them down nearly as fast as he'd moved them.
He’d bribed everyone he could think of to drop the case--to no avail. Some agent by the name of
Buchanan was determined to bring the Dublin Six down. Tommy O’Meara was already behind bars
without bail, and word was that Berk Garrity was on the run.
He blamed O’Callaghan, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that the man had pissed off someone
good and proper. Whoever it was had brought in Interpol to nail him to the wall and appeared to be
taking down his associates at the same time. He hadn’t thought Ciarán had that kind of power and the
connections to pull it off … but apparently he did.
He did wonder why Ciarán had bothered to warn him. Certainly, there was no love lost between
them. Then again, without the tip, he might have blamed this all on the itinerant thief.
Johnny scratched his head and downed the last of his whiskey before slamming the glass on the table
in frustration.
Physical therapy ended on a good note for Laura. The crutches were retired in favor of a metal knee
brace that she would wear for the next two weeks. She was chagrined to be told that pregnancy would
only slow down the rehabilitation process. Because a woman’s ligaments naturally loosen up while
expecting, she would have to rebuild them carefully to ensure they were strong and flexible in the end.
But the therapist had given her cautious hope that her knee was healing well--even while warning that the
coming week would be painful as the leg muscles adapted to walking again.
When she left, she directed Fred to an unfamiliar address and asked him to wait for her. Once he saw
she'd made it inside the four-story white building, he pulled out Patricia Cornwall’s latest novel and lost
himself in the quirks and turns of her latest mystery.
Laura walked into Dr. Angelo’s office with a confidence she didn’t feel, automatically noting that the
décor hadn’t changed much since her last visit. The sofa was new, as were the lamps on the side tables,
but the psychologist’s enormous desk and the soothing landscapes on the wall still graced the room.
Mariah brought her a glass of water and indicated the couch where Laura gingerly sat on the edge.
The counselor took in the woman’s carefully neutral face and commented, “You’re not a failure because
you walked through that door.” Laura’s face crumpled, and her eyes watered as she buried her face in
her hands.
Mariah waited patiently with her fingers clasped around her knee and watched her patient cry. In six
years, Laura hadn’t changed much, still sporting that freshness of face associated with youth. Her hair
was shorter, only shoulder-length rather than falling to the middle of her back, but even now she held
herself erect in the way only years of dance instruction will impart. As Laura regained control of her
emotions and dropped her hands into her lap, Dr. Angelo noted the dark smudges under her eyes and the
hollow look of one who hasn’t been sleeping or eating well.
“I’m sorry,” Laura automatically said, brushing the wetness off her face. She despised weeping--seeing it
as a sign of weakness. For the last month though, it seemed that it was all she’d done.
“For what?”
“Losing control, I suppose.” She yanked another tissue out of the box resting on the coffee table to mop
up mascara and tears.
“I didn’t see you lose control. I saw you reacting honestly to your emotions.” Mariah knew from past
experience with Miss Holt--Mrs. Steele now--that the detective’s own brain was her best asset in battling
whatever demons beset her. Most of the struggle was in getting those emotions out where she could see
them and give them a fair assessment. “Tell me about today.”
This was an old routine and Laura rubbed her arms. “The morning started off all right. We made an
appointment with the obstetrician and told Mildred, our senior investigator, the good news.”
“Why tell her?”
“Because she’s the closest Remington has to a mother. And because she figured out something was up.
She was there in Ireland helping us.”
"Yes, the intuition of mothers everywhere. Have you told your family?”
“Not yet. I … no, not yet,” she repeated without rancor. “I will … when I’ve got myself more
together. They’re still looking for answers about … about what happened, and I’m not ready to deal
with them and this too.” Inwardly, Dr. Angelo smiled. Last time there had been a great deal of
animosity between Laura and her family. It appeared that might not be the case anymore. She made a
mental note to discuss it later.
“What else happened today?”
Laura flinched and picked at her nail. “Remington upgraded some of the technology in the office. Gave
everyone beepers.”
“And that bothers you?”
“No. Yes. … No, because it’s a good idea. Yes, because we didn’t talk about it first … which is really
just an excuse. It's sensible and smart. We should have done it years ago.” She fell silent.
“But--” Mariah prompted.
“But it’s a harbinger of things to come. I want … I want to have a family, but I don’t want to give up
being a detective. I love hunting down clues, putting them together and solving the mystery. And I like
doing it with Mr. Steele.”
“So what’s wrong with that?”
“Just before we married, he asked me if I was planning to keep this up if I had children one day. He
asked if I was going to ‘feed the little tykes breakfast in the morning and then rush off to a nice, juicy
murder.’ At the time we made a joke of it, but now I’m not too sure he didn’t mean it.”
“You were partners before you married, right? I’ve read the papers. How have things changed since
you've tied the knot?”
Laura shrugged. “In some ways we haven’t changed at all. I think we’re better than before, but I
attribute that to experience and knowing each other well. We are more careful about diving into
dangerous situations, but we both get a certain thrill out of them.”
“What do you think will change now?”
“I think … no, I know Remington won’t allow us to put a child in danger of being without both of his or
her parents. If something is that risky, he’ll insist that only one of us go.”
“Do you disagree?”
“On one hand I see his point; it’s a valid and important one. On the other hand, we’ve been successful
these past six years because we make an excellent team.”
“Are you angry with him?”
“No. Why should I be?”
“Are you angry with yourself?” A long silence followed her question. “Laura?”
She slid her hands under her thighs before she answered. “I thought I would be ready to be more of a
mentor and a supervisor to other detectives before I had children--ready to sit back and let others do the
work. I thought I would lose my taste for the action. But I haven’t--at all.”
Dr. Angelo changed tactics. “Do you have to make a permanent decision? All or nothing right now?”
Light came into Laura’s eyes. “No.” Now why didn’t I think of that?
Now Mariah smiled. “So make the decisions that are sensible for the next year and reevaluate then. I
can’t tell you what is right in the long run. Only you can decide that.” Seeing her patient relax gave her
the opportunity to delve deeper. “Now tell me about your homework assignment. Obviously, you told
your husband.”
“I did. We had a picnic.” Laura told the story with a reflective smile.
When she was finished, Dr. Angelo asked, “How’s he handling Ireland?”
Jumping a little at the change in subjects, Laura shifted in discomfort before answering. “I don’t know. I
noticed his knuckles were bruised on Saturday. That usually means he’s angry and working it out on the
punching bag.”
“You haven’t talked about it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Laura looked down at her hands. “Because I know he feels terrible about what he did. I don’t want to
make him feel worse.”
“Why do you think he feels terrible?”
“I’m certain that he thinks he abandoned me in the castle. He and Murphy had at least one disagreement
about letting me … get out on my own. Murphy was livid.”
“So why aren’t you angry about it?”
“Rei trusted me. No one else would have done that.” Laura picked at her nail again. “Even Murph
would have blown the whole thing by trying to get me out by himself.”
Playing hard ball with her, Mariah probed. “But you were seriously injured. How could he possibly
have known you would get to safety? From what you told me, you were hardly conscious when Ms.
Sweeney found you.”
Laura’s eyes blazed in anger as she sat up straight. “First, if Rei had tried to get me out personally, he
would have failed. O’Callaghan didn’t want me; he wanted Remington. If he’d disappeared with me,
they would have come after us within a few minutes. Second, if Rei hadn’t taken a car after making his
own escape, they would have searched on foot and found him ... and me. If the car had been anywhere
near the castle, they still might have found both of us. But none of that happened. Rei took a look at my
injuries and saw that I could get out. He’d been watching me and knew that I’d already figured out that
the window was the best avenue of escape and that I could pick the lock. Then he bought me nearly two
hours to do just that before making his own move.”
“How could he possibly know that you could break out as injured as you were?”
“Because he knows me and what I can do.”
Mariah cocked her head. “What about the rest of it? What he did to you?”
Furious, Laura snapped, “Sorry, Dr. Angelo. You’re not going to get me to put any blame on
Remington. He did exactly what he had to do. He didn’t cause any of this. You want to point the finger
at someone? You’re going to have to point it at a dead man.”
“Then why are you angry with yourself? You had no control over the situation any more than your
husband.”
Laura didn’t have an answer. She rose and began pacing as much as her new brace would allow.
Eventually, she crossed to the window and looked into the street as she made herself think about
Mariah’s words. “Damn.” She glanced at the counselor with a wry expression and an arched brow
before looking back down. “Never try to evade a detective or a determined husband.” Remington was
leaning against the Auburn and chewing a toothpick as he stared at the building.
As if to herself, Laura began speaking while she watched him. “Do you know what it’s like to find the
one person that you can’t fool? For a year and a half, I'd pulled off one of the biggest cons in the city.
And then he walked into my life and turned it upside down. If I hide, he finds me. If I lie, he calls me
on it. If I play a role, he steps in--smooth as silk--and stays in character with me.” She fell silent.
Mariah cocked her head. “So what’s the attraction? I would think someone like that would irritate you--
with your not having the upper hand.”
Laughter hung in the air. “It’s irritating, annoying and fascinating as hell. But I don’t let him get away
with any of it either. Not with me. It doesn’t matter where he comes from. He tries to protect me from
his past, but I can handle it.”
“How bad was it?”
Laura turned haunted eyes to Mariah. “No one should have to live as he did. It’s criminal what he went
through. The wonder of it is that he has this amazing capacity for love. He’s terrified of being a father
because he doesn’t know how to be one. Because of that, he’s going to be brilliant at it.” Her whole
body relaxed as her eyes lit up in anticipation.
“You love him.”
Laura’s voice dropped to a notch above a whisper. “So much that when I thought he was killed, I didn’t
want to live either. I didn’t want to imagine life without him. And that’s cowardly. Remington told me
years ago that the only choice any of us ever have is to go on even when our whole world falls apart.”
Mariah re-crossed her legs and smiled inwardly. Now she knew why Laura was angry at herself and
could help her deal with it. “All right. You want a candid assessment of that?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t confuse grief with life. What you were thinking and feeling was absolutely understandable at the
moment. But if you honestly wanted to end your life, you would have sat down in that freezing river. In
ten minutes, you would have been asleep. In an hour, you might have been dead. I’ll lay money the
thought never crossed your mind.”
Laura sat on the sofa again in surprise and smoothed her skirt. The black cloud lightened substantially,
though not entirely. “No. You’re correct.”
“Think about it, Laura. That’s enough for today. We’ll meet Wednesday at the same time. Work on
the rest of your homework.”
Knowing that hugging your therapist wasn’t exactly professional, Laura held out her hand and squeezed
Mariah’s. “Thank you. I think we’re probably even.”
“We’ll never be even, Laura. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
Laura exited the front doors of the building. The Auburn had replaced the limousine, and Remington still
waited patiently as he leaned against the car. He raised a brow when he saw the crutches had vanished.
She walked with a slight hitch in her step due to the brace, but she was on two feet again. From past
experience he knew that by the end of the week, no one would know she was wearing it unless it showed.
With her odd behavior that afternoon and his pledge to himself not to let things get out of hand again,
he’d called Fred a few minutes after she'd finished with her therapy to learn if she was going home or
coming back to the office. The driver, with his usual quiet reserve, indicated that Mrs. Steele had a
different destination in mind and gave him the address.
Laura stopped in front of him and stared at his jacket lapels before raising her eyes to meet his. “I guess
you called Fred?”
“I, uh, thought we might go for tea after your session. Want to tell me whom you were seeing in here?”
He waved his toothpick toward the edifice behind her. “This is a professional building chock full of
counselors and doctors of all kinds. We’re not working a case that would call for that.”
Looking away, Laura stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. “I went to talk to an old friend. I
needed--need--to clear my head about Ireland.”
“All right.” He hugged her, longer than usual, and then led her around the car and opened the door.
She cocked her head as he pulled away from the curb. “No questions?”
“If this is what you need to do, Laura, I’m not going to second-guess your decision.” He didn’t speak
for a minute as he wove through the LA traffic. “I see you’ve lost your crutches.”
Brightening, she looked down at her knee. “Yes. It is sore though. We did several new exercises, and
it’s beginning to stiffen up. I can’t wait to get into the hot tub.”
Thinking about the way she’d isolated herself these past two weeks, he was somewhat diffident as he
asked, “Care for company this time?”
Slanting a warm look that thrilled him in his belly, she replied, “I’d love some.”
Later, Remington held Laura in his arms as the bubbles danced and streamed against his skin. His wife
had boosted the temperature up, but he stayed her hand when she would have let it hover just under
scalding. “Not too hot today.”
“Why not?” She drew her brows together.
He tugged at his ear. “I’ve been reading one of those books we picked up on Saturday. Can’t have the
water too hot for … you.”
“For me? Or for the baby?”
“Ah, the latter, I think.”
Languorously, Laura turned in his arms until she sat across his lap. He brushed her damp hair back,
appreciating the way it hung to her shoulders in little ringlets. “Already worrying about me?” she asked.
“Some. But wondering, mostly.”
“About what?” She dropped her head onto his shoulder and traced her finger around his chest, playing in
the wet curls.
“How you feel? I’d like to know if you’ve noticed any differences yet.” He absently massaged her knee.
She raised her head again to look him in the eye. “Can you?”
“I don’t know if it’s fanciful imaginings, but I rather think you’re fuller here,” he touched the curve of
her small breast, “and here.” He laid his hand on her belly, and a curious smile crossed his face. “The
idea of a little tyke bouncing around still seems peculiar, Laura.”
“On that I’ll have to agree. And in answer to your question, I’m a little sore--as you figured out the other
day. I’ve had a couple of moments of nausea, and I can’t keep my eyes open half the time. It’s a little
disconcerting to be talking to a client and have to pinch my wrist to keep awake.” She dropped her head
onto his shoulder again and closed her eyes. “Did that book happen to tell you how long that might be
the case?”
“Hmm. Maybe a month or two?” He chuckled when Laura groaned.
“I wouldn’t laugh too hard. If I’m asleep, it means you have to cover for me.”
“Don’t remind me. Of course, even legwork might be preferable to the media circus of these last two
weeks.” A faint crease marred his brow in remembrance of the rounds of television, radio and
newspaper interviews to which he’d been subjected. Most of the time he didn’t mind being the agency
front-man, but he’d found himself resenting the attention after the third day. By the beginning of the
second week, his patience had been sorely tested, and he was grateful to be considered “old news” as the
media moved on to other, more current events.
Sighing heavily, Laura pondered the questions she’d had for most of the day. “What are we going to
do?”
Remington raised a brow. Ah, here it comes. “About what?”
“The agency. My working. I … I’m wondering how much you are going to let me do.”
His mouth gaped while he grasped to make some sort of connection in his brain synapses. He leaned his
head back so that he could see her eyes. “Laura, in what universe did you ever think I would dictate
what you can and can’t do while you’re pregnant? Logic says you’ll have some limitations, but I don’t
think I’m the one to determine what they’ll be.”
Suspiciously, she leaned back so she could see his face better. “Not even a little bit?”
Very seriously, he asked, “Are you planning on tackling a suspect? Or stepping into a building where
someone is brandishing a gun?”
“It’s not on my agenda, but you know that sometimes things get out of hand.”
“Then when things get out of hand, I hope you’ll keep in mind that your well-being isn’t the only one at
stake.” Laura didn’t say anything to that, just rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.
Remington held her there, still taken aback by her seeming submissiveness.
Chapter Five--Disclosure
Johnny stared at the reports. He’d spent the last two weeks shifting his assets among off-shore
accounts, and Interpol had tracked them down nearly as fast as he'd moved them.
He’d bribed everyone he could think of to drop the case--to no avail. Some agent by the name of
Buchanan was determined to bring the Dublin Six down. Tommy O’Meara was already behind bars
without bail, and word was that Berk Garrity was on the run.
He blamed O’Callaghan, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that the man had pissed off someone
good and proper. Whoever it was had brought in Interpol to nail him to the wall and appeared to be
taking down his associates at the same time. He hadn’t thought Ciarán had that kind of power and the
connections to pull it off … but apparently he did.
He did wonder why Ciarán had bothered to warn him. Certainly, there was no love lost between
them. Then again, without the tip, he might have blamed this all on the itinerant thief.
Johnny scratched his head and downed the last of his whiskey before slamming the glass on the table
in frustration.
Physical therapy ended on a good note for Laura. The crutches were retired in favor of a metal knee
brace that she would wear for the next two weeks. She was chagrined to be told that pregnancy would
only slow down the rehabilitation process. Because a woman’s ligaments naturally loosen up while
expecting, she would have to rebuild them carefully to ensure they were strong and flexible in the end.
But the therapist had given her cautious hope that her knee was healing well--even while warning that the
coming week would be painful as the leg muscles adapted to walking again.
When she left, she directed Fred to an unfamiliar address and asked him to wait for her. Once he saw
she'd made it inside the four-story white building, he pulled out Patricia Cornwall’s latest novel and lost
himself in the quirks and turns of her latest mystery.
Laura walked into Dr. Angelo’s office with a confidence she didn’t feel, automatically noting that the
décor hadn’t changed much since her last visit. The sofa was new, as were the lamps on the side tables,
but the psychologist’s enormous desk and the soothing landscapes on the wall still graced the room.
Mariah brought her a glass of water and indicated the couch where Laura gingerly sat on the edge.
The counselor took in the woman’s carefully neutral face and commented, “You’re not a failure because
you walked through that door.” Laura’s face crumpled, and her eyes watered as she buried her face in
her hands.
Mariah waited patiently with her fingers clasped around her knee and watched her patient cry. In six
years, Laura hadn’t changed much, still sporting that freshness of face associated with youth. Her hair
was shorter, only shoulder-length rather than falling to the middle of her back, but even now she held
herself erect in the way only years of dance instruction will impart. As Laura regained control of her
emotions and dropped her hands into her lap, Dr. Angelo noted the dark smudges under her eyes and the
hollow look of one who hasn’t been sleeping or eating well.
“I’m sorry,” Laura automatically said, brushing the wetness off her face. She despised weeping--seeing it
as a sign of weakness. For the last month though, it seemed that it was all she’d done.
“For what?”
“Losing control, I suppose.” She yanked another tissue out of the box resting on the coffee table to mop
up mascara and tears.
“I didn’t see you lose control. I saw you reacting honestly to your emotions.” Mariah knew from past
experience with Miss Holt--Mrs. Steele now--that the detective’s own brain was her best asset in battling
whatever demons beset her. Most of the struggle was in getting those emotions out where she could see
them and give them a fair assessment. “Tell me about today.”
This was an old routine and Laura rubbed her arms. “The morning started off all right. We made an
appointment with the obstetrician and told Mildred, our senior investigator, the good news.”
“Why tell her?”
“Because she’s the closest Remington has to a mother. And because she figured out something was up.
She was there in Ireland helping us.”
"Yes, the intuition of mothers everywhere. Have you told your family?”
“Not yet. I … no, not yet,” she repeated without rancor. “I will … when I’ve got myself more
together. They’re still looking for answers about … about what happened, and I’m not ready to deal
with them and this too.” Inwardly, Dr. Angelo smiled. Last time there had been a great deal of
animosity between Laura and her family. It appeared that might not be the case anymore. She made a
mental note to discuss it later.
“What else happened today?”
Laura flinched and picked at her nail. “Remington upgraded some of the technology in the office. Gave
everyone beepers.”
“And that bothers you?”
“No. Yes. … No, because it’s a good idea. Yes, because we didn’t talk about it first … which is really
just an excuse. It's sensible and smart. We should have done it years ago.” She fell silent.
“But--” Mariah prompted.
“But it’s a harbinger of things to come. I want … I want to have a family, but I don’t want to give up
being a detective. I love hunting down clues, putting them together and solving the mystery. And I like
doing it with Mr. Steele.”
“So what’s wrong with that?”
“Just before we married, he asked me if I was planning to keep this up if I had children one day. He
asked if I was going to ‘feed the little tykes breakfast in the morning and then rush off to a nice, juicy
murder.’ At the time we made a joke of it, but now I’m not too sure he didn’t mean it.”
“You were partners before you married, right? I’ve read the papers. How have things changed since
you've tied the knot?”
Laura shrugged. “In some ways we haven’t changed at all. I think we’re better than before, but I
attribute that to experience and knowing each other well. We are more careful about diving into
dangerous situations, but we both get a certain thrill out of them.”
“What do you think will change now?”
“I think … no, I know Remington won’t allow us to put a child in danger of being without both of his or
her parents. If something is that risky, he’ll insist that only one of us go.”
“Do you disagree?”
“On one hand I see his point; it’s a valid and important one. On the other hand, we’ve been successful
these past six years because we make an excellent team.”
“Are you angry with him?”
“No. Why should I be?”
“Are you angry with yourself?” A long silence followed her question. “Laura?”
She slid her hands under her thighs before she answered. “I thought I would be ready to be more of a
mentor and a supervisor to other detectives before I had children--ready to sit back and let others do the
work. I thought I would lose my taste for the action. But I haven’t--at all.”
Dr. Angelo changed tactics. “Do you have to make a permanent decision? All or nothing right now?”
Light came into Laura’s eyes. “No.” Now why didn’t I think of that?
Now Mariah smiled. “So make the decisions that are sensible for the next year and reevaluate then. I
can’t tell you what is right in the long run. Only you can decide that.” Seeing her patient relax gave her
the opportunity to delve deeper. “Now tell me about your homework assignment. Obviously, you told
your husband.”
“I did. We had a picnic.” Laura told the story with a reflective smile.
When she was finished, Dr. Angelo asked, “How’s he handling Ireland?”
Jumping a little at the change in subjects, Laura shifted in discomfort before answering. “I don’t know. I
noticed his knuckles were bruised on Saturday. That usually means he’s angry and working it out on the
punching bag.”
“You haven’t talked about it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Laura looked down at her hands. “Because I know he feels terrible about what he did. I don’t want to
make him feel worse.”
“Why do you think he feels terrible?”
“I’m certain that he thinks he abandoned me in the castle. He and Murphy had at least one disagreement
about letting me … get out on my own. Murphy was livid.”
“So why aren’t you angry about it?”
“Rei trusted me. No one else would have done that.” Laura picked at her nail again. “Even Murph
would have blown the whole thing by trying to get me out by himself.”
Playing hard ball with her, Mariah probed. “But you were seriously injured. How could he possibly
have known you would get to safety? From what you told me, you were hardly conscious when Ms.
Sweeney found you.”
Laura’s eyes blazed in anger as she sat up straight. “First, if Rei had tried to get me out personally, he
would have failed. O’Callaghan didn’t want me; he wanted Remington. If he’d disappeared with me,
they would have come after us within a few minutes. Second, if Rei hadn’t taken a car after making his
own escape, they would have searched on foot and found him ... and me. If the car had been anywhere
near the castle, they still might have found both of us. But none of that happened. Rei took a look at my
injuries and saw that I could get out. He’d been watching me and knew that I’d already figured out that
the window was the best avenue of escape and that I could pick the lock. Then he bought me nearly two
hours to do just that before making his own move.”
“How could he possibly know that you could break out as injured as you were?”
“Because he knows me and what I can do.”
Mariah cocked her head. “What about the rest of it? What he did to you?”
Furious, Laura snapped, “Sorry, Dr. Angelo. You’re not going to get me to put any blame on
Remington. He did exactly what he had to do. He didn’t cause any of this. You want to point the finger
at someone? You’re going to have to point it at a dead man.”
“Then why are you angry with yourself? You had no control over the situation any more than your
husband.”
Laura didn’t have an answer. She rose and began pacing as much as her new brace would allow.
Eventually, she crossed to the window and looked into the street as she made herself think about
Mariah’s words. “Damn.” She glanced at the counselor with a wry expression and an arched brow
before looking back down. “Never try to evade a detective or a determined husband.” Remington was
leaning against the Auburn and chewing a toothpick as he stared at the building.
As if to herself, Laura began speaking while she watched him. “Do you know what it’s like to find the
one person that you can’t fool? For a year and a half, I'd pulled off one of the biggest cons in the city.
And then he walked into my life and turned it upside down. If I hide, he finds me. If I lie, he calls me
on it. If I play a role, he steps in--smooth as silk--and stays in character with me.” She fell silent.
Mariah cocked her head. “So what’s the attraction? I would think someone like that would irritate you--
with your not having the upper hand.”
Laughter hung in the air. “It’s irritating, annoying and fascinating as hell. But I don’t let him get away
with any of it either. Not with me. It doesn’t matter where he comes from. He tries to protect me from
his past, but I can handle it.”
“How bad was it?”
Laura turned haunted eyes to Mariah. “No one should have to live as he did. It’s criminal what he went
through. The wonder of it is that he has this amazing capacity for love. He’s terrified of being a father
because he doesn’t know how to be one. Because of that, he’s going to be brilliant at it.” Her whole
body relaxed as her eyes lit up in anticipation.
“You love him.”
Laura’s voice dropped to a notch above a whisper. “So much that when I thought he was killed, I didn’t
want to live either. I didn’t want to imagine life without him. And that’s cowardly. Remington told me
years ago that the only choice any of us ever have is to go on even when our whole world falls apart.”
Mariah re-crossed her legs and smiled inwardly. Now she knew why Laura was angry at herself and
could help her deal with it. “All right. You want a candid assessment of that?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t confuse grief with life. What you were thinking and feeling was absolutely understandable at the
moment. But if you honestly wanted to end your life, you would have sat down in that freezing river. In
ten minutes, you would have been asleep. In an hour, you might have been dead. I’ll lay money the
thought never crossed your mind.”
Laura sat on the sofa again in surprise and smoothed her skirt. The black cloud lightened substantially,
though not entirely. “No. You’re correct.”
“Think about it, Laura. That’s enough for today. We’ll meet Wednesday at the same time. Work on
the rest of your homework.”
Knowing that hugging your therapist wasn’t exactly professional, Laura held out her hand and squeezed
Mariah’s. “Thank you. I think we’re probably even.”
“We’ll never be even, Laura. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
Laura exited the front doors of the building. The Auburn had replaced the limousine, and Remington still
waited patiently as he leaned against the car. He raised a brow when he saw the crutches had vanished.
She walked with a slight hitch in her step due to the brace, but she was on two feet again. From past
experience he knew that by the end of the week, no one would know she was wearing it unless it showed.
With her odd behavior that afternoon and his pledge to himself not to let things get out of hand again,
he’d called Fred a few minutes after she'd finished with her therapy to learn if she was going home or
coming back to the office. The driver, with his usual quiet reserve, indicated that Mrs. Steele had a
different destination in mind and gave him the address.
Laura stopped in front of him and stared at his jacket lapels before raising her eyes to meet his. “I guess
you called Fred?”
“I, uh, thought we might go for tea after your session. Want to tell me whom you were seeing in here?”
He waved his toothpick toward the edifice behind her. “This is a professional building chock full of
counselors and doctors of all kinds. We’re not working a case that would call for that.”
Looking away, Laura stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. “I went to talk to an old friend. I
needed--need--to clear my head about Ireland.”
“All right.” He hugged her, longer than usual, and then led her around the car and opened the door.
She cocked her head as he pulled away from the curb. “No questions?”
“If this is what you need to do, Laura, I’m not going to second-guess your decision.” He didn’t speak
for a minute as he wove through the LA traffic. “I see you’ve lost your crutches.”
Brightening, she looked down at her knee. “Yes. It is sore though. We did several new exercises, and
it’s beginning to stiffen up. I can’t wait to get into the hot tub.”
Thinking about the way she’d isolated herself these past two weeks, he was somewhat diffident as he
asked, “Care for company this time?”
Slanting a warm look that thrilled him in his belly, she replied, “I’d love some.”
Later, Remington held Laura in his arms as the bubbles danced and streamed against his skin. His wife
had boosted the temperature up, but he stayed her hand when she would have let it hover just under
scalding. “Not too hot today.”
“Why not?” She drew her brows together.
He tugged at his ear. “I’ve been reading one of those books we picked up on Saturday. Can’t have the
water too hot for … you.”
“For me? Or for the baby?”
“Ah, the latter, I think.”
Languorously, Laura turned in his arms until she sat across his lap. He brushed her damp hair back,
appreciating the way it hung to her shoulders in little ringlets. “Already worrying about me?” she asked.
“Some. But wondering, mostly.”
“About what?” She dropped her head onto his shoulder and traced her finger around his chest, playing in
the wet curls.
“How you feel? I’d like to know if you’ve noticed any differences yet.” He absently massaged her knee.
She raised her head again to look him in the eye. “Can you?”
“I don’t know if it’s fanciful imaginings, but I rather think you’re fuller here,” he touched the curve of
her small breast, “and here.” He laid his hand on her belly, and a curious smile crossed his face. “The
idea of a little tyke bouncing around still seems peculiar, Laura.”
“On that I’ll have to agree. And in answer to your question, I’m a little sore--as you figured out the other
day. I’ve had a couple of moments of nausea, and I can’t keep my eyes open half the time. It’s a little
disconcerting to be talking to a client and have to pinch my wrist to keep awake.” She dropped her head
onto his shoulder again and closed her eyes. “Did that book happen to tell you how long that might be
the case?”
“Hmm. Maybe a month or two?” He chuckled when Laura groaned.
“I wouldn’t laugh too hard. If I’m asleep, it means you have to cover for me.”
“Don’t remind me. Of course, even legwork might be preferable to the media circus of these last two
weeks.” A faint crease marred his brow in remembrance of the rounds of television, radio and
newspaper interviews to which he’d been subjected. Most of the time he didn’t mind being the agency
front-man, but he’d found himself resenting the attention after the third day. By the beginning of the
second week, his patience had been sorely tested, and he was grateful to be considered “old news” as the
media moved on to other, more current events.
Sighing heavily, Laura pondered the questions she’d had for most of the day. “What are we going to
do?”
Remington raised a brow. Ah, here it comes. “About what?”
“The agency. My working. I … I’m wondering how much you are going to let me do.”
His mouth gaped while he grasped to make some sort of connection in his brain synapses. He leaned his
head back so that he could see her eyes. “Laura, in what universe did you ever think I would dictate
what you can and can’t do while you’re pregnant? Logic says you’ll have some limitations, but I don’t
think I’m the one to determine what they’ll be.”
Suspiciously, she leaned back so she could see his face better. “Not even a little bit?”
Very seriously, he asked, “Are you planning on tackling a suspect? Or stepping into a building where
someone is brandishing a gun?”
“It’s not on my agenda, but you know that sometimes things get out of hand.”
“Then when things get out of hand, I hope you’ll keep in mind that your well-being isn’t the only one at
stake.” Laura didn’t say anything to that, just rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.
Remington held her there, still taken aback by her seeming submissiveness.
Chapter Five--Disclosure