Chapter 9

Laura gave herself the once over in Remington's bathroom mirror, nodding her head in approval when she finished. She'd pass the muster as a poker dealer, if she did say so herself. Thanks, in large part, to Mr. Steele's private tutelage, she acknowledged to herself with a smile.

She laughed, softly. She'd been smiling almost non-stop since they'd returned from Aspen two weeks ago. If she'd had any concerns regarding how the change in their personal lives would affect their professional life or now that he'd seen and conquered it would mark the beginning of the end – and both thoughts had been frequently on her mind – well, those worries and concerns had been firmly put to rest.

If anything, where work was concerned, her Mr. Steele had become more diligent than he'd ever been before. Coming in earlier, leaving later, completing paperwork without too much fuss. Hell, he'd even – voluntarily! - done some legwork. She wasn't so foolish to believe he didn't have his own motives for these changes. He arrived at the office with her in the morning because they'd spent the night together the evening before. He stayed late at the office because he enjoyed going home together and it guaranteed better than even odds she'd be next to him when he fell asleep. As for that paperwork and legwork? He'd quickly realized the sooner it was completed, the sooner they could depart… without a bunch of inconvenient homework following them home.

Yet, no matter his motive, it had been an unexpected – and very nice – surprise. Had she known newfound dedication to his work would have been the natural outcropping of their more intimate personal lives? Well, she laughed silently to herself, We may have crossed that line a lot sooner.

The simple truth of her constant smile was that she was happy. Happier than she'd been in a long, long time.

She startled when a hand reached from behind her then brushed aside her hair so a pair of lips might whisper over her neck. As had become natural in the past weeks, she leaned ever so slightly against him and reached for his hand.

"Might I say, you are the loveliest dealer I've ever laid eyes upon," he complimented in a low voice, next to her ear, their eyes meeting in the mirror. She turned in his arms, took a moment to admire him. After a slight adjustment of his tie, she ran her hands over the shoulder of his jacket, then the arms before giving his ensemble her seal of approval.

"You don't look too shabby yourself," she returned, then stepped out of his embrace and left the bathroom, he following on her heels. "Cards are marked?"

"They are," he confirmed, as they walked out of the bedroom and into the living room of his flat, where a temporary poker table had been set up.

"I gotta tell you, kids," Mildred announced, as she emerged dressed in a server's uniform from the kitchen, "The two of you sure know how to put on a first rate sting."

"Merely customized for our quarry, Mildred," he replied, while Laura took a seat at the table then looked it over.

"Mildred, can you prepare a bowl of nuts for our guests?"

"You got it," she agreed easily, turning around to return to the kitchen.

"One last time?" Laura inquired, as she shuffled the cards.

"If you insist," he agreed, then watched as she spread the cards out in an arc, then flipped them over in a single motion.

"A bit showy," he warned. She lifted her brows and smirked at him in answer to the admonishment.

"Ready?" With a tug of his ear, he shifted his stance, and, growing serious, concentrated on the deck of cards in her hands.

"Go ahead." She placed a card face down on the table. He studied it for a tick of the second hand on his watch.

"Six of diamonds." She turned over the card, revealing the six of diamonds. An impressed smile dancing on her lips, she dealt a second card. "Jack of spades." A turn of the card confirmed. As Mildred emerged from the kitchen with the requested bowl of nuts, Laura dealt a third card. His eyes never left the card when he spoke. "Reminds me of you. Queen of hearts." Her face lit up at his words.

"I still don't get how you do it," Mildred praised, when the card was revealed.

A knock at the door indicated the evening was ready to begin.

Remington sank down on his couch with a glass of scotch in his hand. To say the evening hadn't gone as planned would be a gross understatement. Grogan had pulled a fast one, cheating himself into one-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars, which, incidentally the Agency was on the hook for and Laura was furious, with good reason. The bugger of it all was he was on the hot seat for the lot of it. His plan, his failure. It was as simple as that.

Laura, to her credit, hadn't scampered away, as he'd fully expected her to. No, she'd stayed, although he wasn't sure that was necessarily in his favor, given she'd locked herself behind the bathroom door near on twenty minutes ago now.

He took a long draw of his scotch, then stood and walked out onto the terrace. Leaning against the railing, he had another drink while watching out over Hancock Park.

He'd meant what he'd said to her earlier in the evening. Like the thief in the night he once was, she'd stolen away with his heart. Had a long, long time ago, in truth. If he'd ever doubted that, when she'd ended things between them in Cannes, that ache in his chest that had gnawed at him in the interminable months afterwards would have been a wake up call. But he'd known. Did know.

Just as he knew loving Laura Holt had never been easy, and likely never would be. She with her lists, her rules. But he'd always been a man who enjoyed a good challenge, and she had been that… was still that… would likely always be that. It was one of the things he loved most about her…

But it also meant he never quite knew where he stood with the woman. Like now. She'd stayed. That would normally stand as a testament to the strength of their relationship these days. Wouldn't it? And there was the rub: For all he knew she was sitting in the bathroom writing his letter of resignation for him, whilst preparing to give him the old heave ho, personally and professionally. You never knew with Laura Holt…

Which is why declaring himself to her held such risk… always had. Such a statement of his feelings, might have her throwing herself into his arms, overcome with joy… or it might lead her to show him the door out of doubt and fear.

Nevertheless, he'd meant what he'd said tonight. She was the queen of this Irishman's heart. When he'd said the words, his tongue had felt heavy, yet somehow the words had come out far quicker than he'd meant for them to. They were to be an introduction – a preview, if you will – of the words he was working himself up to say. Thankfully, despite the less-than-romantic delivery, they been taken by her in the right way.

Yes, he'd made up his mind: he was going to, at long last, declare both feelings and intent to her. He wanted the commitment, him to her, her to him. And the man who'd once laughed at the very idea of permanency with any woman, wanted precisely that. He wanted them to move in together, whether her with him, or him with her… or them somewhere else altogether. He wanted to know that in good times and in bad, such as tonight, they would come home to one another.

Well, the evening's debacle had certainly put a hitch into that plan. Such a declaration tonight would fall on suspect ears, that little voice that was always nagging at her questioning if he was sincere… or if he was simply using such a momentous announcement to get back in her good graces. No, no. That couldn't happen. It was one thing to be prepared to leave your heart on the table and say 'let the cards fall as they may' when things were going well. To do so now carried too much of a risk that she'd quit the table.

What he needed was to come up with a plan to get them out of this fix, because unless he did, there might never be a need to say those words.

He went back inside, locking the French doors behind him. Setting his glass down on the coffee table, he decided it was time to test the waters. When he stood before the bathroom door, he found himself at a loss. Test the door knob or give a knock? His hand reached for the knob, stopped, then turned over so his knuckles could rap softly on the door.

"It's open," Laura called. Reaching for the knob, he cracked the door open and peeked in his head, judging whether or not it was safe to enter. "You can join me, if you like," she invited.

Yet more proof one can never predict what Miss Holt might do, he reminded himself. He'd imagined any number of responses to his knock: Dead silence; a bid to go away; her, storming out of the bathroom, ready to give it to him. But join me in a bubble bath? No, even he wasn't imaginative enough to conceive of that.

"Love to," he heard himself agree. He considered it promising that her eyes didn't leave him as he stripped down until he was as bare as she. They'd quickly learned the art of enjoying a bath together in the Aspen cabin. She automatically slid forward, then once he'd positioned himself behind her, his legs on either side of her, she scooted backwards until she relaxed her back against his chest.

She felt the nervous tension in his frame.

"You can relax," she told him lightly. "I'm not going to bite."

"It's not necessarily your teeth that have me worried," he quickly answered.

"I realized I had only two choices, Mr. Steele," came her eerily calm reply.

"Oh, and what were those?"

"I could blame myself and you. Myself for once again placing my future in the hands of someone eIse, which," she held up a single finger, "Let me add, I had promised myself I would never do again. And you, for coming up with the foolhardy plan that has landed us where we are. In which case, I could storm out of here after issuing a warning of what would happen, to you, should we not come out of this right side up." He swallowed hard.

"Or?"

"Or," she drew out the word, "I could believe we'll find our way out of this mess, as we always have. In which case, I could enjoy the hot bath I've been thinking about most of the day, then take you to bed afterwards." He ducked his head down and rested his lips next to her ear.

"I approve of your choice… and your plan, Miss Holt," he commended, quietly.

"I thought you might," she answered, dryly.

"With one minor alteration," he added.

"Oh, and what might that be?" She was smiling as his hands gripped her waist and lifted her in the water. Gladly, she turned around and straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pursed his lips and waggled his head.

"A merger, of sorts." She narrowed her eyes on his face.

"What kind of merger do you have in mind?" One hand drew firmly down her back, while the other cupped the back of her neck, and drew her lips near. Their eyes met and held.

"You know… precisely… what I mean," he challenged.

And she did. She was smiling, her eyes twinkling with mischievousness, when her lips met his.