The Alternative Universe Series
Toss the Twilight Zone experience of Season 5 into the proverbial trash can. These stories pick up after Steele of Approval. While Approval still exists, more importantly these stories look at season 4 as most of the viewers saw it - Laura and Remington had crossed that line, imbuing that Season with the "Mr & Mrs Steele" feeling that most experienced.
To get the most out of my stories, I recommend reading them in the following order:
Steele Forsaken (Part 1 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series)
Steele Mending (Part 2 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series)
A Holt New Beginning (Part 3 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series; Takes place during and after Steele Searching)
Holt the Presses (Takes place during and after Steele Blushing)
The Holt Truth (Takes place during and after Forged Steele)
You've Gotta Know When to Holt 'Em (Takes place during Premium Steele)
Holt the Sugar (Takes place during and after Coffee, Tea or Steele)
Not So Merry Steele (After Dancer, Prancer, Donner and Steele)
Snippets of Steele (Missing scenes from Steele on the Air, Steele Inc, and Steele Spawning)
Holting Down the Fort (During Suburban Steele)
Steele Admired (During and After Santa Claus is Coming to Steele)
Steele Moving Forward (Sensitive Steele) - Coming Soon
Her Holt Heart (Pre Beg, Borrow through the end of Season 4 [No Bonds]) - Coming Soon
As usual, I do not own the characters. I simply borrow them.
Chapter 1
Laura walked into Remington's office, and closed the door soundly behind her. A smile dancing on her lips, she crossed the floor to where Remington sat with his feet propped up on the corner of his desk, newspaper in hand. Lowering it as she approached, a matching smile lifted his lips but before he could greet her a good morning, she dropped her purse on his desk then bent down and brushed her lips against his. His smile widened. Despite the intimate relationship they'd shared for months, not to mention the years of them dancing close then away from one another, it was still a rare treat for her, indeed, to instigate a kiss in the office. In fact, he could count on one hand, after three and a half years, the number of times she had. He smacked his lips together, when her lips left his, his blue eyes twinkling at her.
"Thank you," she told him softly.
"Mmmm. What is it I've done?" He wondered, dropping his feet from the corner of the desk, then tossing the newspaper onto it. "I'll have to be certain to do it more often if this is how you show your appreciation."
"The flowers are lovely," she praised. "They started off the day on the perfect note." He sat up a little straighter in his chair, his smile fading.
"What flowers?" he clipped out the question. She laughed quietly.
"The ones you sent." He only stared at her, saying nothing. "To the loft." She held out both hands, palms up. "This morning." When he continued to silently regard her, she picked up her purse, opened the flap and retrieved the card which had accompanied the flowers. "'Just as the sunshine brightens the day, your smile brightens mine,'" she read aloud.
"Laura, I didn't send you flowers," he denied, "To the loft or anywhere else." She fought for patience.
"It's signed, 'Your secret admirer.' Sound familiar?" He plucked the card from her hand and studied it.
"Should it?" She began to lose patience with him.
"We've been down this road before, Mr. Steele," she reminded him. "Two years ago? You emptied out every florist in town, trying to impress me?"
"Yes, yes," he answered, impatiently. "But, regardless, I have nothing to do with this." He flipped the card upwards between two fingers for emphasis. She regarded him at length, then standing fully, a radiant smile on her face, took the card back from him and returned it to her purse.
Without so much as a farewell, she floated from the room mumbling, "I wonder who it is."
Friday had, at last, arrived. Remington and Laura would be spending this weekend at the loft, which meant a stop by the grocery would be demanded. Not only was her refrigerator perpetually empty, lest he stocked it, but it had become habit for him to whip up several dishes across the weekend which were both freezer friendly and easily warmed. While some might consider it a chore, frankly, he enjoyed it, given it was one of the few things she allowed him to do for her.
When he arrived at the loft, Laura hadn't yet made it home. She'd had a couple more case files to close out and planned to stop at the dry cleaners on the way home. Setting the bags of groceries on the floor, he fished in his pocket for his keys. After unlocking the padlock, he pulled back the door, then gathered up the groceries and stepped inside… and found himself instantly irritated.
Flowers decorated several surfaces throughout the loft: Red roses on top of the piano; purple roses on her small desk that sat tucked next to the kitchen; pink roses on the end table by the couch; and arrangements of lilies, red roses and daisies on the kitchen bar. She'd made no mention of more arrangements being delivered, but it could only be assumed that there had been as this wouldn't have been her doing. She was drawn towards simple greenery to decorate the apartment, making the home she'd created for herself warm and inviting, as opposed to the flowery, feminine puffery taking up space everywhere. With a puff of annoyance, he dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and began putting away his purchases. Midway through the unpacking process, a knock sounded at the still open door.
"Delivery," the man in his early twenties called out. Of course it is, Remington noted silently, and sourly, to himself. Crossing the room, he signed then accepted the latest delivery, tipping the man for his troubles. Setting the vase of lilacs on her coffee table, he removed the card from its holder, even as his conscience niggled at him. Still, he justified, a man had a right to know where he stood, what he was up against.
Your beauty is a feast for the eyes of a starving man. ~ Your Secret Admirer
He snorted his derision while returning card to envelope. It was a hell of a thing to have another man courting the woman you loved, shared a bed with. More so, it was worrisome, for he remembered all too well how besotted she'd been when it was he pretending to be her secret admirer. Bloody well obsessed with discovering who was behind it and, worse, seemed interested in testing those waters should the man's identity be revealed.
Could, whoever this was, be competition? He'd like to say, emphatically, no, but he couldn't. Not with complete confidence, at least. He'd seen the uncertainty, the questions, lingering in her eyes time and again in these last weeks. Yet, he was no less… trapped, tongue-tied… than he'd been straight along. She wasn't the only one who needed assurances and until he knew she wouldn't run or send him on the way again, he was shackled by his own fears.
But, should this bugger decide to reveal himself, he, Remington Steele, certainly wasn't going to stand idly by. He'd claimed Laura for himself long, long ago and by virtue of their commitment to one another last fall, it was now official. He'd neither let her go, nor walk away. Never mind, all the uncertainties between them at present. Laura Holt was his past, present and future. They simply had to figure out, together, what that future was to be… and how to get there.
Thus, arrived the woman currently occupying his thoughts: still dressed in her prim little suit, briefcase and purse slung over one arm, carrying their dry cleaning in the other. Dropping her load on a chair in the living room, she walked into the kitchen and pressed up on her toes to kiss him in greeting.
"The dry cleaner was a madhouse," she offered as an explanation for why she was running behind. "Mind if I take a run before dinner?" Embracing her waist, he pulled her to him for another taste of her sweet lips.
"Not at all. It is what we do on the weekends, after all, isn't it?" he pointed out when he released her. "You run while I cook?"
"It is," she agreed. "I just wanted to be sure I wouldn't delay whatever you have planned."
"I just got here myself." He gave a nod towards the potless stove. "I was thinking we'd keep it simple this evening. Salad, chicken alfredo, garlic knots and a crisp white wine."
"Sounds wonderful." She kissed him again, her lips lingering for a split second longer than normal before slipping out of his embrace, conveying her thanks for both his meal plans and patience. "I shouldn't be gone more than an—" Her words, and feet, came to a halt as she spied the newest arrangement on the coffee table. "When did these arrive?"
"Five, ten minutes ago, perhaps," he provided, then couldn't help adding, "As though the loft isn't already coming to resemble a hothouse." Without turning to look at him, she laughed a single, silent laugh, while retrieving the card from the pick. "Oh, my," she murmured aloud, not missed by his keen ears, then with card still in hand went upstairs to change into her running clothes, with a bit more pep in her step than when she'd arrived.
Whoever this sodding secret admirer is, Remington thought to himself, he's beginning to annoy me.