Chapter 9

Was this the way Remington felt that night not long ago when the two of them had set out for Pico Union in search of Tony Roselli? Laura asked herself. The night when, if not for the last-minute intervention of the LAPD, he would've shot Roselli in a trash-strewn alley out of revenge for what Roselli had done to her?

She thought it probably was. And for the first time she appreciated what it must've been like to be in his shoes. For she would've gladly used any means available to wipe the maddening, supercilious smile off Anna Patton's face.

But the confrontation with Roselli had also taught her and Remington a lesson, one she couldn't forget, like it or not. Surrendering to the impulse towards violence had provided Remington with momentary satisfaction, but it had backfired on them in the end. Roselli had slipped through their fingers. He was out there somewhere, they were sure of it, biding his time, waiting to spring his next trap as soon as they least expected it.

She couldn't make the same mistake with Anna.

So she took a deep, steadying breath and felt her head clear. It didn't banish the anger altogether, but that wasn't a bad thing; she was the betrayed wife, and she'd play the role to the hilt. Just as long as drama was balanced by enough caution so she didn't reveal any damaging information, and enough logic to figure out what Anna was thinking and what she was after.

Within a foot of the Anna's car, Laura halted, barring the path to the front door. "What do you want?" Excellent, as Remington would say: though anger simmered in her voice, it was also even and controlled.

Anna appeared equally self-possessed. She ought to have been. Dressed in gray linen trousers and a white silk shirt, she was exquisitely groomed, her beauty burnished to a high gloss. She smelled of some expensive, faintly bitter perfume. Laura couldn't help but contrast the state of her own hair, pulled severely back into a ponytail to tame its unruliness, her lack of makeup—she hadn't even had time to shower!—and admit how far short she fell of Anna's standard.

But whose body had kindled Remington to fever pitch and beyond last night? Through whose hair had he run his hands, murmuring how lovely it was? In whose arms had he slept, sated, fulfilled, secure in the knowledge he was loved, even when circumstances between them were less than ideal?

Not Anna's.

"--To see you, of course," Anna was saying.

"Next time try my office."

"I need to speak to you in private, and this seemed to be the obvious choice," Anna replied. Her amused stare raked Laura up and down. "I must admit, I'm not sure whether to bid you good night or good morning. Whatever would Remington Steele say if he could see his wife creeping home at this hour? When the cat's away, and so forth?"

Ignoring the nasty implications of Anna's remark, Laura inwardly blessed the foresight that had guided Remington to suggest she wear her jumpsuit to and from the Plaza. "I was out doing my job. Honest work. You should try it sometime."

"No, thank you. I prefer to maintain the lifestyle to which I'm accustomed the old-fashioned way: marrying into it."

"A unique way of describing it. Not very flattering to your late husband, though. You still haven't told me why you're here."

"I think it's time you and I had a few things clear, don't you?"

"By all means, let's clear things up," said Laura. "I'll start. Get your claws out of my husband. Now."

"How very direct you are."

"I'm a firm believer in getting straight to the point."

"Then you won't mind me following your example. I have no intention of giving him up. What are you going to do about it?"

"SimpIe. I'll make you wish you had."

Anna raised delicately mocking brows. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"By exposing whatever dirty tricks got you out of prison. And whoever pulled them for you…Walter Patton…or Clayton Endicott."

"I assume that's what led you to pay that extremely ill-advised visit to my solicitor yesterday."

"Word gets around."

The condescending smile had returned, flickering at the corners of Anna's perfect lips. "It's no use, you know. Paint me in the most odious colors you like, make me the villainess, but you won't get him back. He's through being your Remington Steele."

While she was speaking, she'd moved a step closer to Laura, and now she lowered her voice as if to share a confidence. "He's tried, but he simply can't stand your narrow, provincial life. It runs counter to everything he is. He feels trapped, tied down. And really, how on earth did you imagine you'd satisfy him with—this?" She gestured dismissively towards the house. "After the places he's been and the adventures he's had?"

As a verbal lunge for the jugular, it was skillfully calculated. And it shook Laura in spite of herself. Yes, it was one of the unexpressed, free-floating fears she was still dealing with, that as soon as the novelty of marriage and stability wore off, the possibility of greater excitement would prove an irresistible lure, and Remington Steele would move on. How had Anna known?

Of course, Laura thought with a mental snap of the fingers. It was the line he was using to gain Anna's trust. It had to be.

Unless he was telling Anna the truth.

But: 'What we have together is the stuff of real life, Laura'. They were Remington's words; she recalled them from the day they'd decided to accept the house from Patsy Vance's estate, and again from New Year's Eve. 'I don't want to live any other way'.

The memories enabled her to return Anna's stare without the slightest sign of agitation. "For someone's who's dissatisfied, he sure has stuck around a long time. He could've left whenever he wanted. No one held a gun to his head."

"Oh, but you did. Marriage or…nothing. Isn't that the way it worked between the two of you? Dreary little prude that you are?"

This time Laura couldn't stop herself from flinching. Objectively she knew that Remington had never confessed anything of the kind, that Anna had hazarded a guess and drawn her own conclusions, but to hear their relationship described in those terms by her adversary--reduced to a vulgar allusion—herself accused of the oldest feminine trick in the book—gave Laura pause. Could he possibly have dropped a hint to Anna--?

Though it was hard to continue standing her ground, she managed it.

But Anna wasn't finished. "He couldn't resist the challenge of storming your citadel, I suppose. That's the kind of man he is. But now that he's married you, do have what it takes to keep him…interested…for more than a few months?" Again the insolent gray eyes surveyed Laura from head to toe. "He must be absolutely out of his mind with boredom. He wouldn't have come to me otherwise."

"Don't flatter yourself," Laura said sharply. Circumspection be damned: the reckless mood was driving her now, just as it had in Endicott's office the previous day, and with a soaring sense of liberation she gave it the upper hand. "We both know you had to blackmail him into that first meeting. And he wouldn't have left me if you hadn't forced him into it somehow." Skating a little close to the truth, she knew, but she retained enough command of herself not to press the point too far. "But I'll make you a promise. I'll find out how you did it, and get him out from under whatever it is. And when I do, you're history. Guaranteed. Do we understand each other?"

"I think we do." Anna was still smiling, but now it was as if at a joke Laura couldn't see.

The enigmatic Mona Lisa act had worn out its welcome, in Laura's opinion. "Good," she said, making a half-turn towards the Rabbit. "I'll be back in two hours. I trust you'll be gone when I get here. Don't plan on coming back."

She would've stalked off, but Anna's hand snaked out to catch her wrist. Her slender fingers were cool, her grip startlingly strong. "I must insist you stay away from my solicitor in future," Anna said.

"Or what?"

"Perhaps you'll discover actions have consequences…Mrs. Steele."

"Threats, Mrs. Patton? The judge who handed down the commutation of your sentence would be very interested to hear them." Without waiting for an answer, Laura withdrew.

Speeding back to Century City, she wasn't aware of much except the acute sensation of Anna's poison starting to work—and her own disturbing inability to throw off its effects. Anna's barbs had been too damned accurate to be entirely random. Laura's mind kept circling back to the only credible explanation. Remington must have handed Anna the ammunition somehow, maybe inadvertently…maybe on purpose.

Laura didn't want to think it; it just happened.

It wasn't long before she was bursting through the agency's main doors and addressing Mildred without any sort of preamble. "Drop whatever you're doing and get me a work-up of Anna Patton's finances right away. Cash accounts, real estate, stocks, anything you can get your hands on. If she so much as buys a stick of gum, I want to know about it."

"You got it. Anything special I should be looking for?'

"I'll know it when I see it. Thanks, Mildred. When Mr. Steele gets here, tell him I need to see him right away."

"Why not tell me yourself?" Remington said from behind her.

She turned. If his office door was open when she arrived, she hadn't noticed, but now he was leaning against its jamb, arms folded. There was no telling how much he'd overheard. One thing she was sure of, however: he looked as tense as she felt. Mildred, whose antenna was always sensitive to undercurrents between them, glanced from him to Laura with wide eyes but refrained from speaking.

So did they. Even when Laura turned again, this time towards her office, Remington followed her in silence. It was only when he'd shut them both in that he demanded: "What is it?"

It was washing over her again, the fury, the knowledge that Anna had won another round, that despite her best efforts Anna had gotten under her skin. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and fought to contain the emotional backlash so it didn't spill over onto him.

"Laura--"

"Anna was waiting for me when I got home."

"She what--? The bloody hell--!"

From the sound of things, his outrage was spontaneous and genuine. Opening her eyes confirmed the impression. He looked as if he would've strangled his old lover without a single regret if only she were within reach. At his obvious animosity, some of her own—the share she'd half-unconsciously apportioned to him—ebbed a little.

His next words helped, too. "Are you all right?"

"Fine."

"Did she say what she wanted?"

"I guess she didn't like me questioning her lawyer. Boyfriend. Whatever Endicott is."

"And?"

How to frame the rest of it for him? Here in this safe, intimate space, with him lingering diffidently nearby, concern for her evident in his very posture, it was hard to believe he'd exposed her and the inner dynamics of their marriage to Anna's scorn.

And yet…how could Anna have known?

Remington was watching her carefully. "Laura?"

"To inform me I'll be waiting a long time if I'm a big enough idiot to believe you're coming back to me."

"But that's not all. Is it?"

It really was frightening, how well he knew her. Even if he hadn't, it was impossible to hide from the blue eyes that never strayed from her face. She felt the telltale scarlet rising in a hot tide to her hairline, and bit her lip.

"Tell me," he said gently.

"That you're better off with her, because I've tied you down to a life you can't fit into and never wanted in the first place."

Nodding, he blew out a long breath. "I thought as much. What else?"

This part was harder; she had to shift her glance away from him in order to vocalize it. "How impossible it would be for a dreary prude like me to hold your interest for more than a few months. How bored you are already. Sexually speaking."

There was a pause. When he spoke—he was the one to break the silence—his voice was charged with such vehemence, her gaze flew straight to his face. "Laura, I never said that."

"Relax. I didn't think you did," she replied. And wondered if he realized she was lying.

Most likely the answer was yes, but Remington refrained from calling her on it. Instead he crossed the few feet that divided them, grasped her hands and pulled her from the chair into his arms. He handled her in much the same fashion as he had last night, a little tentative, not as confident of her welcome as he usually was. He wasn't entirely unjustified; residual bitterness made her hesitate to rise at first. But then she relented and settled into his embrace.

And once again, under the influence of his physical proximity, the stirrings of distrust subsided. The power of Anna's venom began to abate. The resurrected fears crept into their graves. She could discuss the episode rationally.

He said: "She had another motive in showing up, I suspect. Checking on your whereabouts, seeing as you dropped off her detective's radar last night."

"The thought did occur. And that she called you for the same reason."

"It had to be. It's the first time she's done anything like that. I was as surprised by it as you were."

"I know. And I know you were only playing along. It just…got to me for a minute." She smiled ruefully. "But I'm over it."

"Are you?" The worried frown still creased his brow.

"We've got too much riding on this masquerade for me to blow up over something you can't control."

"On to the next line of attack, then? Her finances?"

"I warned her I was going to find a way to get you out from under her thumb. I meant it. With you working your angle at the same time, we'll resolve this nightmare that much sooner."

"What about Endicott? You haven't said much about him."

"Not much to tell. You were right; I couldn't anything out of him. But he had an interesting reaction when I implied there was something between you and Anna. Looked a hell of a lot like jealousy to me."

"An excellent two days' work, Mrs. Steele." By now he was leaning against the window sill, holding her within the circle of his arms. "You never got a chance to shower, did you? I'll wager you didn't have breakfast, either."

"I didn't want to set foot in the house while she was there."

"How about this? I'll run down to the coffee bar and pick something up. Yogurt? Some fruit? Eh?"

She gazed at him in bemusement. "Mr. Steele, you're scaring me."

"Perfectly harmless suggestion. Nothing to be alarmed about."

"I mean you. You don't have to try so hard. You really don't. I'll grab something later. I need to go home and change, anyway."

They went their separate ways then: she to her desk, he towards his office, where he would phone Anna and set about soothing any suspicions that might have erupted since their previous conversation. But on the threshold he wavered. "Laura…about tonight."

"What about it?"

"Will you come to the hotel if I can manage it?

Laura's heart leapt—and immediately sank. Of course she wanted to be with him more than anything; the prospect of a solitary night at Windsor Square, relieved only by his phone call, was a dismal one. But could she afford the risk? Her defenses were wearing thin. She wasn't certain they would bear up under another emotional onslaught. If Anna encroached for the third time in twenty-four hours…

"Do you really think that's wise?" she asked.

"Why not? I'll have all my calls routed to the answering service. We won't be interrupted."

'This time'. He'd left it unspoken. The phrase hung in the air between them nevertheless.

On the one hand, she couldn't bring herself to refuse him; on the other, in light of what had transpired that morning, she was leery of saying yes. So she fell back on the coward's' resort, and hedged. "Let's wait and see what develops. Ask me again later, huh?"

A discernible change always came over Remington's features when someone hurt him, a bleakness that blotted out his usual deviltry and merriment. It was painful, watching that look shut down, knowing she was the one who'd caused it.

"Laura," he said, and cleared his throat. "It's what's getting me through this, the hours we spend together. Do you understand? I can't do without you. Keep that in mind while you think it over."

He went out. As soon as the door had closed behind him, she raised both hands and buried her face in them.

She did understand. She felt the same way about him. What she didn't know was how much longer their bond could withstand the escalating pressures on it.

TO BE CONTINUED