A special thank you to Mrs. Peppler for her insight, editing and most especially her dreams.

Steele Dreaming

Vol. 3; Ch. 1

By R.J. Harrington,

"No … I can't do this." Laura said in short breaths as she pushed away.

"Laura?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I've worked too hard … for my agency, for my reputation. I can't just throw it all away for a moment of ple…"

"Pleasure."

"I have to go."

"Laura, wait. You're being ridiculous." Remington caught her before she reached the door. He grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. "Why does it have to be one or the other, eh? Who says you can't be successful and satisfied?"

"That's all this is to you isn't it? A romp in the hay to satisfy your curiosities."

"Is that what you think? You think I would make love to you simply to satisfy some lustful fantasy? What a lot of tosh. If that's what you think, then maybe you should leave. You obviously don't know me as well as I thought."

A tear streamed down Laura's face despite her need to seem unaffected. She stared at him in silence, then forced a whispered response. "Maybe, you're right. I should go."

They wanted to say so much; to stop the battle and enjoy the moment just needing one another and satisfying their urges. But, Laura couldn't. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hug him, to kiss him, to hit him. How did he get so deep under her skin?

Without a word, she turned and walked through the door of the condo, closing it behind her.

Remington picked up a glass vase and threw it against the wall, shattering it and sending a crashing thud down the hallway. The noise reached Laura as the elevator doors closed and she burst into tears.

Why can't you just tell him how you feel? Why is this so hard? You're playing a game, Laura, and you're going to lose. Tell him, tell him, tell him…

BZZZZ BZZZZ

Laura reached for the buzzer on her alarm clock and sat up reeling from her dream. She pulled her hair back into a messy bun with a band she'd laid on her nightstand and headed for the kitchen.

She poured her first cup of coffee and set it on the breakfast table, then walked to the front of her loft and pulled back the heavy door to retrieve the newspaper. She tried to read about a farmer's market opening down the block and a story about gang violence gone bad, but her mind was distracted. All she kept hearing was tell him, tell him.

"Uhhh!" She walked to the shower, hoping steam and relaxing heat would wash away the demons, but no luck. What is going on with me? She had to get this under control. She was headed for the office within the hour and he surely would recognize her reticence. He would prod her until he figured it out, and then all was lost. He'd have her cornered.

And, how was she going to explain her other dreams? The first three didn't involve stopping him, quite the contrary. They had groped and banged against the wall, tearing at each other's clothes and breathing in rhythm. She tore open his shirt, popping the buttons from their thread as she went. At least her clothing had stayed intact so far. Why did he have to be so damn sexy? Why couldn't I have met a slightly attractive, stable, somewhat boring bloke who liked to steal jewels and assume people's identities? Of course not. I had to attract a man whose magnetism calls to me in every way.

"Uhhh!" She downed the last of her second cup of coffee and opened her closet to get dressed.

"Something matronly; something exceedingly normal," she muttered to herself. Laura searched for five minutes, trying to find the right outfit that would keep her partner from looking at her the way he did, as if he could see beyond her v-neck blouse or a few inches above her tailored skirt. Triumphantly, Laura pulled out an old dress that her mother had given her a few years back. Abigail had found it at a going-out-of-business sale and thought it would be "just perfect" for her youngest daughter. It was a flowery number with a ribbon belt around the middle. It definitely did not cry: "Have sex with me."

She wiggled it over her head and into place, then slid on her pantyhose and heels before wrapping the pink ribbon around her middle and tying the bow on the side. She glanced in the mirror and gently laughed. "This has to do the trick." It certainly wasn't her usual attire and screamed more Frances than Laura. She headed down the stairs to her living room to grab her briefcase and one last sip of coffee before turning off the pot.

As she drove the back streets of LA, she flipped on the radio to catch the morning show of KROT, but the DJs were apparently on vacation. In their place was a "best of" retrospective that left a lot to be desired. She pressed the next button.

"…tell me, before I fall in love…"

She punched the next button.

"Two hearts, two hearts beating as one, my life has just begun…"

"Uhhh." She switched off the radio and turned into the parking garage of Century Towers. Laura hesitantly stepped from the elevator and stood down the hallway from Remington Steele Investigations. She took a deep breath and softly talked to herself to prepare for seeing him. "OK, you're fine. It was only a dream. You can do this."

"Do what?"

"Ah!" Laura whipped around to find Remington standing behind her. He was still waiting for an answer.

"Do what, Laura?"

"Uh, face my mother. I've got to call her today to talk about her next trip to California. And, you know how much I love talking my mother." She smiled awkwardly. Remington squinted his eyes in confusion, not sure what to say, but, he could tell something was wrong. Oh, God, he knows. I knew this would happen. Way to go, Laura. You can't even keep your fake life in order.

"Were you heading for the office?"

"Yes, the office." Laura led the way with her ever-guessing boss close behind. "Good morning, Mildred," she offered before heading to her office, rushing so fast she didn't hear Mildred's response or offer a reply. She swung the door shut in a whoosh of air.

"Something's up with our Miss Holt," Remington offered as he turned to Mildred.

"You're telling me. What are we going to do, boss?"

"I'm not sure, but whatever it is has her talking to herself and fumbling like a school girl every time I look at her."

Mildred smiled. She leaned over the desk from her chair. "Well, the last time I saw someone act like that was when my nephew had a crush on a college girl and was too flustered to talk to her."

Remington smiled deviously. "A crush, eh?" He looked at Laura's closed office door and headed for his with one last turn to Mildred. "Hold my calls."

"Sure thing, boss."

A moment later, Remington opened the red connecting door to Laura's office and stood in the doorway. "Everything OK, Miss Holt?"

"Yes, everything is fine," she said, keeping her head buried in paperwork.

Remington walked to her desk and perched on the edge. "Are you sure? You seem a little distracted."

"Everything is fine. I just have a lot of cases to catch up on….and my mother."

"Right, your mother." Remington put his fingers to his mouth in contemplation and lifted from the desk to stand behind her. "I thought maybe after you talked to your mother, we could have lunch?"

"Today? I don't know." Her head still bowed.

"Come on, Laura, you must live a little, let go, carpe diem, saisir l'occasion."

Laura didn't speak; she just rapidly started flipping through files. Remington grabbed the last one and laid it next to her. "Laura?"

"Nothing is wrong, OK." She looked up at him and froze. Those blue eyes were staring at her with glints of golden sunlight. His thick black hair framed his strong jaw and plump, moist lips.

"Uhhh!" She jumped from her desk and headed into the lobby. "Mildred, what's on the schedule for today?"

Remington followed and stood behind her, watching her move in frustration, to his great pleasure. Mildred flipped the page of the schedule book.

"Nothing, Miss Holt. Mr. Casswell rescheduled because of a family emergency and we aren't expected at the Thornton Estate until tomorrow."

"It appears you are available for lunch, Miss Holt." Remington chimed.

"Please, Mr. Steele, just because we don't have clients to meet, doesn't mean there isn't work to be done. … Mildred, can you bring me the Harken file?"

Mildred grabbed the case file and floated toward Laura's office, winking at Remington as she passed. His face wrinkled into a mischievous grin as he formulated his next move.

To Be Continued