I am still learning to write, and this is only my second attempt at fan fiction. Thanks to Wilma for being a wonderful beta reader and putting up with me while I learn.
This story was created for a challenge for Laura and Remingtons First Kiss. So it takes place in the first season.
To Steele Two Souls
Remington stretched out his long, lean figure to uncramp his back after having sat in the same position for the past hour in the rafters of the warehouse. He then leaned forward toward Laura and spoke softly, "Miss Holt, while we wait for the elusive Mr. Hubbard to arrive to relieve the safe of its contents, I have a question for you."
Laura also felt the stiffness setting into her body from maintaining the same position for so long on this stakeout. She put her arms in the air, reached up as high as she could, bent backward to stretch out her lower back and said, "Oh? And what question is that?"
"What were you and Murphy talking about before I walked into your office earlier today?"
"What were Murphy and I talking about before you walked into my office today?" she echoed back at him.
"Yes, talking. You know: to articulate words, to speak of or discuss something, to converse by means of a spoken language, to express one's thoughts or emo—"
"I know what the definition of talk is," she said with irritation in her voice as she interrupted his tirade.
"Then what was the subject of discussion, eh?"
Laura stuttered, then blurted out in one breath, "Oh, Murphy was just giving me the details of the autopsy report on Mr. Snow. It came back that he died from a fatal blow to the head. The coroner thinks that the murder weapon was a tire iron, but a thinner one that comes with the more expensive vehicles."
"No, Laura," Remington stated rather sternly. Then he took his fingers and tilted her chin so she would be looking directly at him and said, "The other topic."
Laura shifted nervously, clearly uncomfortable. "What other topic would Murphy and I be discussing?"
"A topic that sounded quite serious—and rather touchy—one might think by the tone in your voices when I entered the room," Remington said as he stared into Laura's eyes.
Laura looked down at her leg and started to play with a piece of lint on her pants, clearly feeling awkward. After a long silence, she finally sighed and began, "Oh, all right, if you must know, Murphy and I were discussing you and me; I mean me and you. Ohhhhh, I mean us."
"What about you, me, us, eh?" he asked with a little chuckle and a slight grin on his face.
She paused for several seconds before looking at him. Then, with a troubled expression, she said, "Murphy is worried about me where you're concerned."
With a very irritated look on his face, Remington stated, "That chap is wearing his plaid shirts too tight, I believe. Let me guess: he still doesn't think I can protect you out here."
Upset, Laura started waving her hands in the air as she loudly declared, "I don't need protecting by you or Murphy or anyone else for that matter. Why is it all men have the need to protect women!"
Remington put up his hands with his palms facing Laura in admission of guilt. "Miss Holt, I stand corrected. I realize you don't need protection; you can take care of yourself. But I do not apologize for the wardrobe assessment of Mr. Michaels."
Laura gave him a look that told him she was annoyed, then sighed, "As amusing as that image of Murphy you have planted in my head is, that is not what he is worried about."
"Care to elaborate on the subject, Miss Holt?"
"Murphy is afraid that I don't think rationally when I am around you."
"Do you?" Remington inquired.
"Yes, no, I don't know," Laura said, rather annoyed with herself.
Remington tipped his head back as he laughed and then gave Laura one of his half grins.
Laura returned an aggravated look. "It's not funny!"
"No, it's not, Miss Holt," he said as he reached up to her chin with his long fingers and leaned in toward her face.
Just as their lips were about to meet, a bullet whizzed by their heads. They fell to the ground, and Remington said rather loudly, "I think somebody is shooting at us!"
"Why?"
"I don't know, but I certainly hope this does not become a habit!" he shouted as they took off running. He yelled, "I feel like Clark Gable in Red Dust."
"What are you talking about?" Laura shouted as she exited the building.
"Red Dust, Clark Cable, Mary Astor, Jean Harlow, MGM, 1932. A love triangle where the man is wounded while kissing his lover."
Later that day, in Laura's office, she and Remington gave a recap of what had happened to Murphy and Bernice. After they filled them in on all of the details, Murphy and Bernice walked out, leaving them alone.
Laura sat in her chair looking up at Remington as he was seated on the edge of her desk.
"Laura," Remington started as he leaned down toward her, "have dinner with me tonight."
Laura shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I think I'm too tired to get dressed up and go out tonight," she blurted out very hastily.
"Then we'll stay in, and I'll just whip up something simple for us to dine on," he said in a low suggestive tone as he stared directly into her eyes and leaned his whole body closer to hers.
Laura returned his direct stare and licked her lips as she leaned in toward him and uttered, "What would you be able to just whip up for us? After the day we've just had, how do you have the energy to cook?"
"Oh, I don't know. I am sure I can come up with something suitable to tantalize your taste buds."
They both tilted their bodies even closer; their lips were just a fraction apart. Both were anticipating the way their lips would feel when they pressed them together for their first kiss.
Suddenly, they both jumped back from each other as Bernice walked in and said, "I'm out of here for the day if there is nothing else you nee— Oops, sorry for the interruption, Laura." With a knowing roll of her eyes, Bernice turned on her high heels and departed.
Remington walked to the door, turned to look back at Laura and told her, "Eight o'clock, my place, Miss Holt." With that, he strode out of the office.
Later on that evening, after Remington and Laura had finished up the delious meal that he'd cooked, they sat by the fireplace enjoying a bottle of wine together.
Remington leaned toward Laura, refilled her glass and casually asked her, "Laura, how did you know that Mr. Hubbard was the one that stole the money?"
Laura angled her back to rest against the rear of the couch as she grinned and then said, "It was actually easy after I realized that Mr. Hubbard was driving a car that cost fifty thousand dollars, and he only made a mere twenty five thousand a year. So I did a little digging around in my computer and found out that he had bought the car last month and paid cash for it."
"Ahhh," Remington acknowledged as he scooted his whole body closer to Laura's.
"You also helped me to see that he did murder Mr. Snow," Laura told him.
"Ah, how is that Laura?" Remington asked as he leaned in and mentally noted how lovely she looked by the glow of the firelight.
"Well, when you quoted the movie Red Dust, it got me thinking. That movie was about a love triangle. So I just did a bit more investigating and put two and two together to conclude that Mr. Hubbard was having an affair with Mr. Snow's wife, Bethany, and that meant he had a motive for murder."
"Laura, you know you are very good at this detective thing."
"You think so, Mr. Steele?" she said, softly laughing as they both leaned toward each other.
"I do, Miss Holt, I do. Now on to our earlier conversation," Remington said as he looked straight into Laura's eyes with desire. His right hand went under her chin, and the other went to the back of her head, his fingers entwined in her hair.
Her arms went freely around his neck where her hands played with his thick lustrous hair as she thought God, does this man ever not look so gorgeous?
Then both of their lips parted and connected for their first romantic kiss that deepened into a very passionate caress where two souls met ....
The End.