Proposal in Steele

By Suzy Steele

A story in the series "Becoming Steele"

How did Laura, Steele, and Murphy come to their work arrangement at the end of the first episode?

A-Side

Lester Giddons rose as his consultation meeting with the Remington Steele agency concluded, a very happy man. "Mr. Steele, Miss Holt," he said, shaking their hands in turn, "I appreciate your time and consideration."

"We'll give your problem the very close attention it deserves," replied the gentleman whom Giddons thought was Remington Steele. "I can personally assure you that Miss Holt and Mr. Michaels will assign it their highest priority."

Laura Holt continued to escort Giddons from Mr. Steele's office. "If you would leave the information we requested with our secretary, Miss Fox, we'll get back to you in the next several days with a firm proposal."

"That would be splendid! I must say, Miss Holt, I appreciate initiative, and your Mr. Steele has it in spades."

"'Initiative' is the very word, Mr. Giddons."

"He's just the type of man I like to do business with."

"I couldn't have dreamt up someone better myself," she agreed sweetly. As she settled Giddons with a madly curious Bernice, the latter whispered in her ear, "What's going on in there?" and Laura held up a hand. "Later," she said, then she sailed back into "Mr. Steele's" office. She barely broke stride, kicking the door closed with a beige pump as she wheeled to confront this intruder who now sat at what had been an empty desk.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing? Reappearing like this unannounced? You can't be Remington Steele!"

The man adjusted his French cuffs and replied mildly, "That went rather well, don't you think?"

"Lester Giddons thought you were Remington Steele!"

""I think I already am. And you now have a new client. A lucrative one, from the sound of it."

"That's beside the point! You're an imposter!"

"Your client didn't seem to believe so. Besides, everyone's an imposter about something." He held her gaze and added, "So very few of us dare to share our real selves with each other. Pity, don't you think, Miss Holt?"

Laura ground her teeth. Try a different tack. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in San Francisco. Trying to steal the Royal Lavulite again."

"Change of plans. For the better, really. Too many people were trying for those stones. Rank amateurs. Making a cock-up of everything. Puts an honest professional right off."

"You mean that events here in L.A. drew too much attention to you in San Francisco. Much easier to pretend to be a detective in Los Angeles."

"I thought it could be useful," he replied, correcting her.

"Hmph!" She folded her arms and viewed him skeptically. "What is it you really want?"

"A beautiful, spirited woman. Champagne. A moonlight night."

"Why do I expect a straight answer from a crooked man?"

"Because you adore a challenge." He held her gaze for a long moment, then changed the topic. "Mr. Giddons was quite pleased at receiving the personal attention of Remington Steele."

"You did seem to handle it reasonably well," Laura agreed reluctantly. "I suppose managing people is part of the con man's trade."

"It wasn't a con. Mr. Giddons received exactly what he expected, the personalized attention of the ersatz Mr. Steele. A little exertion on my part. A happy, paying client on your end. Strikes me as a fair bargain."

"We aren't bargaining. And I didn't invite you back."

"Didn't you?"

"No," she shot back. Too quickly.

"From that busy office out there, it looks to me like business has grown in the past few days."

"The Gordon Hunter case did attract a good deal of media attention," she allowed. "It wasn't exactly the publicity I envisioned. But in L.A., all publicity's good publicity."

"The case did have its notable attractions. And your agency received full marks from the police and press at its conclusion. I, ah, did see the morning papers."

"You call that successful? It was nearly disastrous! Successful would be if Nothing. Happened."

"Admit it, Miss Holt. You enjoyed yourself." He rose and came around the desk.

Her anger softened, remembering. "Maybe a little." She met his gaze. That blue-eyed charm. Not going to work on me. "What is it you want? Why did you come back?"

This time she waited him out and it was he who broke contact. He stepped back and perched on the edge of the mahogany desk. "You have a problem, Miss Holt. I offer a solution."

"What problem? I don't have a problem!"

"The problem of Mr. Steele." He waited a moment, as if to let that sink in, then continued. "He's on today's front page. Clients will ask for him. Now consider this. How much energy and money did you and Mr. Michaels expend to make Remington Steele real for Gordon Hunter? Energy that could have been expended on security to meet your client's needs?"

"Don't you mean the 'energy we expended' trying to thwart your attempts to steal the gemstones? Well, our plan worked, if you noticed, until Mr. Steele spilled the security details to Mr. Hunter. And the deception didn't cost us any money. All the clothing was returned."

"True. But you had to go through the exercise of renting the hotel suite, and purchasing, displaying, and then returning the items that created the artifice. How often must you need to do that? How much easier to present the real man?"

"You aren't the real man. He doesn't exist. Remember?"

"But think of the simplicity if he did. A real Remington Steele could woo clients as pricey as Mr. Hunter. Pricier. You must admit that your American press loves a sensation and you can't afford to refuse that publicity."

"Don't tell me what the agency can afford."

"Merely a rhetorical point. I would never dare tell such an intelligent woman what she doesn't already know."

"You're trying to smooth me," she pointed out. "And that makes me wary." She sat back in her chair and assumed a relaxed position, sending the message that he wasn't going to bully her. That she was in control, not he. "What's in it for you? A cushy job? Hiding from the authorities? And don't look at me like that, with that innocent gaze. I expect there are people out there looking for you."

"Did you find anything when you looked?" he challenged her.

"No," she replied, reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean it isn't there. And you're trying to change the subject. What's in it for you?"

"Would you really like to know?"

"You think I can't handle it?" she challenged him back.

"I expect there's very little you can't handle…Very well. A respite. It isn't always fun spending one's time in transit. Living out of a suitcase."

She looked him over for long moments, wondering if was being honest. Decided to go with gut instinct. "No, I can't imagine that it is. Murphy thinks you're trying to lie low and avoid the authorities. Maybe he's right."

"Mr. Michaels isn't the head of this agency. I have worked that out. Do you think he's right?"

"As you pointed out, Remington Steele's in the L.A. papers this week. Maybe a few nationals. If you were on Interpol's Ten-Most-Wanted, you wouldn't have risked that photo."

"I can promise you, I'm not on that top-ten list."

"I'm glad to hear it. But then what happens when you become bored with this? Decide to hit the road again? We'll be left with reinventing an invisible man."

"You seemed to be doing an admirable job before I appeared. It needed a trained impersonator – no, I won't deny those five passports – to detect the shell game you were playing. I've no doubt that Laura Holt can pull it off again, if need be. Unless," and now he held her gaze, "you decide that you don't want me to leave."

She considered that, and then chuckled. "I won't pretend a quick tumble might be fun," she agreed, surprising herself. "But what I need is a professional." She held up a hand and ticked it off her fingers. "Someone who will entertain the clients when asked, do the glad-handing at receptions and fund-raisers, put in an appearance when needed. You'll be answering to the agency's needs."

"Do a little detection?"

"Not a chance."

"Then what's in it for me?"

"As you said. A respite." He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe it will do you some good to be helping other people for a change, instead of just looking out for yourself." At his startled expression, she realized that what she'd meant as a jest had instead hit a bull's eye. My, my. What part of your secret past have I just uncovered? Could be interesting to see what's under that smooth exterior. "I don't know how much you know about it," she continued, "Maybe not much more than the movies. But being a private eye isn't about Sam Spade. Solving the puzzle's fun, don't get me wrong. But it's real work. No one shoots at us. The pay is decent. But the payoff is knowing we've helped someone to solve a problem or help them achieve a goal." She grinned. "Who knows? You might actually like it."

When he didn't answer, she frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"

He stared at her with a look that could have been astonishment. "How could you…" he began, as if to himself, then left the sentence tantalizingly unfinished. Then he seemed to shake himself. "No. You haven't said anything wrong. Quite rather the opposite, actually." But he didn't explain and Laura suspected that, if she had pressed the point, he would not have been forthcoming.

Instead, he asked, "Does this mean you've just offered me the position?"

Now it was Laura's turn to blink. "I suppose I just have," she agreed, amazed at what had just transpired. "Do you want it?"

"I do," he said, suddenly serious. Then he added, "I imagine you'd feel better about it if you drew up a formal contact?"

That made her blink. "A what? I mean, yes. Yes, I'll do that. I'll contact our lawyer and have something in a few days." Her wits returned. "You'll receive a commensurate salary for your effort. Provided, of course, that you bring in the clients. And keep your end of the agreement."

Suddenly he smiled, and Laura had the strong sense that he wasn't acting. That he was genuinely delighted. And that was a surprise on top of all the others in this unexpected conversation. "I look forward to the challenge, Miss Holt."

"Who are you?"

"A friend. Who does want to help." He held her gaze, and she felt herself being drawn in. Irresistible. She caught a hint of his expensive aftershave. The flecks in his impossibly blue eyes.

She was suddenly, acutely, self-aware, and she pulled back abruptly. Passed a protective hand against her throat. Hoped he didn't see…He did see, dammit, because those blue eyes were twinkling.

"I'll have our lawyer draw up an agreement," she said briskly. "It will take a couple of days. Do you, um, need a place to stay? You can't stay in a hotel indefinitely."

"Are you making an offer?" She began to object, and then something in his face made her realize that he was merely teasing.

"I'll find something and let you know."

"Um, do you, ah, need an advance?" She was unsure of how to ask and was relieved that he seemed to understand.

"I have resources, Miss Holt. I don't expect anything I haven't earned."

"Do you know, I believe you."

He offered his hand, and Laura took it. She half-expected him to again raise it to his lips, but this time he offered a gentlemanly handshake.

"I think we have a deal."

"I believe we do, Mr…?" She faltered. "Wait. What I am I supposed to call you?"

He cocked an eyebrow in that irrepressible expression. "I think the name you've already devised is admirably suitable. Till then, Miss Holt."

B-Side

"You did what!?"

Murphy Michaels liked to think of himself as an easy-going guy. Uncomplicated, given to jeans and open-necked shirts. This morning, however, he nearly spilled his coffee as he stared at his business partner. She looked sane and her attractive, elfin features were alight with excitement. The two of them were seated on opposite sides of Laura's desk in her agency office. They were in the midst of their daily morning meeting to review case progress and outline the day's workload before disappearing for their respective duties. It was a good habit they had started upon first founding Remington Steele Investigations nearly a year ago. Unfortunately, today's agenda had taken a sudden left turn and blind-sided him.

"I think it's a good proposal," Laura said and reached forward to gently tip his ceramic mug upright. She wore a pale green blouse and linen pencil skirt that set off her slim figure to its best advantage. Murphy found himself noticing these things recently. Her jacket was draped over her chair and she hadn't yet swapped cross-trainers for her heeled pumps. She continued, "And as soon as you're thinking rationally again, I'll explain why."

"Thinking rationally? Who's not thinking rationally here, Laura?" He set down his mug and stared at her.

"We sat down and talked it through—"

"We? Meaning you and Him? You mean he hustled you," he corrected.

"—and at the end of it, decided it would do the agency good to have him periodically appear as Remington Steele."

Murphy stared at his near-empty mug. "I think I need another cup. Because I'm clearly not hearing this correctly." He pointed a warning finger at her. "Don't do anything. I'll be back," and stalked to the outer office, returning moments later with the entire Mr. Coffee carafe.

"Don't put it on my desk, Murph. You'll scar the surface."

He grumbled and set it on a stack of manila case folders. Then he picked up the conversation where it had left off. "I don't believe I'm hearing this, Laura. You decided to let this jewel thief with five passports under five different identities pose as Remington Steele?"

She rose from the table and began pacing back and forth. "I know it sounds unconventional—"

"Suicidal, more like it."

"—but it actually make sense, when you think about it. It's true, most of our clients buy our story that 'Mr. Steele prefers to serve in an advisory capacity'." She used finger quotes as she said it. "But we have lost a few good ones who insisted on meeting him directly. Gordon Hunter was almost one. And look at the publicity we're getting from that case! Morning headlines, for god's sake!"

"I'm thinking about it," he said and winced as he touched the still-sensitive bruise at the back of his head. "Remember our agreement? We drop any client who wants to meet Mr. Steele."

"But don't you see?" she said earnestly, pausing to lean across the desk and make her point. "Now we don't have to. We can have all of them!" Any more enthusiasm and Murphy feared she would squee with excitement. Time to apply more cold water.

"This is way beyond rational, Laura. You're mad. You're going to introduce clients to an international jewel thief? My, god! Talk about the perfect set-up! You may as well unlock the client's safe and save him a bit more work!"

"Shh! He'll hear you!" She glanced anxiously at the door that led to Mr. Steele's office.

That made him laugh, and he made a show of looking at his watch. "It's eight-twenty. You know he won't be here any earlier than nine-thirty."

"Besides, he isn't like that!"

"He certainly is like that. He waltzed in here impersonating a South African police official to uncover our security plans for the gems. As Remington Steele, all he has to do is bide his time and wait for the next lucrative job. It's the perfect job for a jewel thief. Of course he came back. He'd be a fool not to. And what a sweet little position you're giving him."

But instead of agreeing with him, she looked as angry as he felt. She could be as obstinate as he could be at times. Controlled, it was a quality that made her a brilliant investigator and a great partner. But on occasion it drove him crazy. Like right now. God, Laura, you are infatuated with him. How do I make you see the danger?

Unfortunately, when Laura was mad, she either clung even more tenaciously to her argument or she changed the subject. She opted for the latter.

"I'm going to see if Bernice got that information on Brody yet." She opened the door and stepped into the outer office. Murphy followed right behind her.

Bernice glanced up from her desk. "Good thing the clients aren't here it. I can hear every other word. Did you really offer Skeezits a job?"

"We're still working on the details. Brody info, please?"

Murphy interposed himself between Laura and Bernice's desk. "I'm only trying to protect the agency, Laura. And you."

"Me? Why me?" She was clearly oblivious to what Murphy knew was the real danger. I don't want to see you hurt again. One Wilson fall-out was bad enough. At least that break-up didn't cost your career like this one could. Please don't fall for him, Laura.

She took the offered file. "Thanks, Bernice," and sailed back into her office. He trailed her back, feeling more like a faithful puppy than a partner. "I think we can trust him on this. He could've walked off with those stones but didn't. Let me remind you that he declared a truce. He promised me that he wouldn't try to steal the gems while they were our responsibility. And he didn't."

"Wait a minute. I hadn't heard that part of the conversation. He admitted to you he was a thief?"

Murphy wanted to tear at his hair.

"And he kept his word. He didn't try. At least, not until Hunter had them at the airport."

"See? He only said it to butter you up. Get you on his side."

"It wasn't butter," she said frostily. "It was professional respect. I know the difference."

"Do you?" He stopped and rested his palms on the table, leaning over her to press his argument. "Listen to me. I'm your partner. I've got eyes, too. He only said it because he was hoping to get into your bed." As soon as the words came out, he realized that he had gone too far. He had never meant to say that. Hadn't thought it, in words, till just now. He could feel his cheeks warm. Hell.

"Laura, I'm sorry," he said quickly. "That was out of line."

She sat back in her chair, arms folded tightly, her face a mask. "Yes. It was."

"Crap," he muttered and rubbed at his face. Hadn't this started out as a fine morning? Try a different approach. "So. Tell me this. How do you propose keeping this guy in line? Because he doesn't strike me as someone whose willing to follow the rules.

"We'll have it in writing. A contract."

"You have it in writing?" He was so astonished that his voice broke on the word 'writing'.

"Well, of course," she answered, a little defensive. She began fiddling with her lined notepad and pencil. "It was his suggestion, actually. And it makes a certain amount of sense."

"Sense?" He threw up his hands. "If it was his suggestion, then it's bound to be a bad idea! What has that guy said yet that makes sense? 'Good-bye', maybe."

"Then just think about it, Murph. I know you're not so keen on managing the business side, and I'm fine with that. So what's the best approach to protect the agency? We lay out the scope of expectations. We have him come in to do the meet-and-greet with clients. Do that 'hail-and-well-met' shtick that he can probably do in his sleep." She was warming to her topic. "You missed him at Gordon Hunter's reception. His performance was amazing! I may have been beyond pissed at him, but whatever his background, he's a natural in front of an audience. Comfortable. Said all the right things. The cameras loved him. He had Hunter practically purring."

"Well, he would, wouldn't he?" Murphy shot back, still angry. "The guy's a professional con-man. Fooling people is his stock in trade."

"So what? So we use it to benefit the agency."

Relief washed through him. "That's the first sensible thing I've heard you say in this conversation. Maybe that con-man hasn't turned your head as much as I thought."

"Of course he hasn't! Why are you so upset about this, Murphy? It isn't like you. We always see eye to eye."

"Do I have to spell it out? I'm worried that you can't see this. We're partners, Laura. I thought partners made important decisions like this together."

Now she looked down at her lap and it made him feel like a jerk. But he had to spell it out. She needed a reminder where the agency's priorities were. What their priorities were. Not those of this self-absorbed newcomer with the winning smile and dangerous ways.

He waited. Finally she looked up at him, large brown eyes meeting his. "I'm sorry, Murph. I didn't think to ask. It happened so fast, and made so much sense, that I naturally assumed you'd agree. We agree on so much."

"I know," he said gently. "And that's why this proposal worries me. It's the first time you haven't consulted me on something this big. When you invited me to join you and leave Havenhurst, I did it because I knew we'd be good together. You were better than anyone else there. I was flattered and have never, ever regretted it. Even when we were eating beans and baloney sandwiches for four months." That elicited a smile, remembering. "I trust you completely, Laura, and I know you do the same. So let's not blow what we have on this, this…" He struggled to find a kinder word than the choice phrases he really wanted to use. "Charlatan."

"I seem to be doing a lot of apologizing. Forgive me?"

"Any time. Partner." He held her gaze. It felt good to have her back. With him. Not with that crook. Time to let her think he was buying it. Time to keep her on his side while figuring out how to get rid of this guy.

"So, Laura? How do you propose writing a contact that will pass legal muster but not give away that Remington Steele's a fraud? I mean, we don't dare tell Rueben the truth."

Finally she relaxed, recognizing safer ground. Her smile warmed him all the way through, and that was definitely worth it. "I had the same question. So I asked Ted." Ted was the criminal lawyer they kept on retainer. "He asked his partners in business law. They suggested we treat him as a sub-contractor. Hired for the occasion. They didn't think it was a big deal. Apparently it's done all the time."

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?" he said in wonderment.

She squirmed. Praise always made her squirm. "Well, I wanted to see if this was even feasible."

"Now that's my partner talking." His natural good humor started to return. "I was afraid you had taken leave of your senses. I couldn't imagine Laura Holt falling victim to a con-artist with good looks and a cheap accent."

"I didn't 'fall' for him, Murph. I promise you that my eyes are wide open. I think the proposal makes good business sense."

"As long as it's only business sense." He let himself touch her hand. For a moment. "We've known each other a long time. I don't want to see you hurt again. Not like with Wilson. You're too good for that."

She placed her hand on his and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks, Murph. I know you care. And I appreciate your advice. I shouldn't say this, but you're like the brother I never had."

He suddenly felt like she had shot him. Brother? Oh, you shouldn't have said it. You're right. Definitely not brotherly. Not any longer. And I didn't know it myself till just now. Oh, Laura, what are we going to do?

He realized she was looking at him with puzzlement. "Something wrong?"

Everything. "Nothing."

"Okay." But she didn't sound completely convinced. She added, earnestly, "We won't blow it, Murph. We make a great team. I didn't choose to work with just anyone, either. And if it doesn't work, then I agree with you. Out he goes."

"You mean that?" He couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice.

"Mm hmm."

And then she tilted her heart-shaped face and gave him that broad smile that was so effective at capturing a susceptible man. "So. Do we have an agreement? Partner?"

He sighed. "All right. Partner. We have an agreement. But for him? We spell it out in a contract. He works for us. Not visa versa. He does the agency's bidding." Then he thought of something else that rocked him back in his chair. "My god. Does this mean we have to pay him?!"

"I think it would build a sense of obligation. And trust."

"No company credit card," he warned.

"Tight leash," she agreed with a nod.

His sense of humor started to restore itself. "You just want him to work here because he's hot."

"No, he isn't."

"Oh, yes, he is."

She laughed. "All right. He is. And maybe we can use that to our advantage, too. Think of the rich female clients he'd bring in!" She flipped open the folder that Bernice had given her. "Now. Let's get our schedule finished before 'Mr. Steele' turns up and manages to destroy a perfectly productive workday."

He pulled his own case files forward, but had one parting comment on the subject. "You do realize, don't you, that his signature on any contract probably won't even be legally binding? After all, he isn't our Remington Steele."

"Oh, shut up!"

But she was smiling as she pulled her legal pad forward to outline their day's work.

THE END