His plane was late.
Gone for nearly a month, finally on his way, and the plane was late.
Laura wandered around the baggage area, always keeping an eye on the board, it continued to flash 'delayed' around Flight 443 from London.
He'd gone to look for his father, he'd begged her to be patient, and this was one thing he had to do alone. Partially to show her trust in him, and partially because 'if you set what you love free it will always come back to you,' she'd honored his request. But she didn't like it; she had been bored and anxious for a month. Coming home to her empty apartment, going to collect mail at his, it had seemed like the longest month of her life. Oh, they'd talked a few times on the telephone; she was embarrassed to find herself looking forward to each call, sometimes even putting on her sexiest night clothes when she knew he'd call. Progress was slow, most of their conversations surrounded errands he needed from her and progress on the cases Laura was working alone. She found none of these cases very exciting. In fact, she found things lackluster without him, especially when she could no longer pretend he'd be gone just a few days. Last week, when he told her he'd booked a flight home she couldn't contain her excitement.
On his part, he hadn't finished investigating his father, he hadn't had that much to go on and he wasn't progressing, as days wore into weeks he just wanted to come home to her. His thoughts often drifted, he pictured her sleeping, in her office, talking to Mildred. She was now elusively close; a weather delay had kept him circling LAX for nearly 40 minutes. Finally, the plane touched down.
A long line of families, weary businessmen and stewardesses preceded him. She surprised herself with the anxiety she felt. They'd been apart before she reasoned. She still felt off-balance with him. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? And suddenly there he was.
She instinctively raised her arms to hug him around the neck as he dropped his bag to encircle her waist.
I missed you, he whispered in her ear.
I missed you too, she said back.
He pulled back to look in her eyes. He kissed her, softly and tenderly at first, but with growing passion. She kissed him back with equal intensity, but suddenly came back to her surroundings and pulled back. This was public, she didn't like displays like this, but her heart skipped a beat.
Yes, he missed me, she thought.
Fred is just outside . . .
He surprises her by picking up his bag with his left hand while grabbing her hand with his right.
He'd never held her hand like this, it seemed so . . . possessive. Sure, she'd held his arm on occasions, but holding hands when they didn't need to for polite society seemed so much more intimate . . .
Fred opened the door to the limo and took Steele's bag as they climbed inside. Steele couldn't stop looking at her. For the first time he noticed the new dress and the necklace he'd given her months ago glittered in the streetlight.
She turned to look at him, he kissed her again, softly, and she returned the gesture.
Home Fred, he said without taking his eyes off her.
The look in his eyes was mesmerizing, he was openly lusting after her and to her surprise, she didn't take it as a joke.
She tried to make small talk, how was the flight? Did he want to go to dinner? Did he find any new clues since the last time they'd talked?
Each question was met with a non-committal answer and an intense stare, finally she broke,
What? She asked. Why are you looking at me like that?
No, Laura, I don't want to eat and I don't want to talk about my father, I want us to go home.
He patted her hands and smiled.
She smiled back.
She turned to look out the window. Where is all this going? she thought for the millionth time. His intensity was back, she hadn't realized she'd been freed from this pressure for a whole month. There it was again, just under the surface of every look he gave her. And now she was out of practice, her rote response to him had time to be upended during this month. She used to say 'no' because if she said 'yes' she'd never be able to control him, but now, now she didn't need to control him. In fact, she liked how he took control. She secretly loved to be nabbed into his hold and kissed passionately. She loved that he wanted to be in control of their personal relationship. He decided and she trusted him. With everything but that . . .
And now here he was looking at her again, he'd undoubtedly make another pass at her, she wanted him to, but she wasn't so sure what her answer would be this time, and that terrified her. The limo stopped in front of his apartment, he held the door open as she got out. She wasn't sure how they had arrived at the idea that Fred wasn't to continue to her loft and drop her off, alone, but suddenly Steele was saying 'goodnight' to Fred and steering her with his hand on her back up the path.
He went to put his bag in the bedroom while she moved to turn on the lights in the dining room and kitchen, intending to pour them a glass of wine. She was retrieving the wine glasses when he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.
I really missed you, he said again.
She turned in his arms, glasses in hand, brushed her lips across his and asked,
Which wine?
She turned to place the glasses on the counter, expecting him to release her, and is startled to be locked in his arms.
I really missed you.
His stare is so intense; she is rooted to the spot. She reaches up to hold his face, this time his kiss is voracious, deep and long, he is holding her more tightly than he ever had. The intensity is overwhelming.
Let me make love to you, his voice just over a whisper.
He doesn't wait for an answer but kisses her neck, his hands, normally respectful, touch her in unexpected places. She can't help tilting her head back to allow him greater access to her neck.
Laura, I missed you, I need you, he murmurs.
The words come from her mouth almost unwillingly, certainly without her usual control, yes, she breathes.
Hours later, she lays, head on his chest, eyes closed and a satisfied smile on her face. His right hand plays mindlessly in her hair.
I love you, he says barely audible.
Her eyes open wide; did he think she was asleep? Was this a confession she was meant to hear? It doesn't matter, she already knows.