Part III
A persistent knocking penetrated Laura's sleep, and at the same time she felt little cat feet kneading her hip. A cat's musical voice queried "Mrrrppp?"
Laura sat up abruptly. "Nero?!" She reached down to stroke his sleek little black form, barely visible in the dark, as she realized the knocking had a voice that went with it. HIS voice.
"Laura? Please open the door."
Laura slowly walked down the stairs of her loft, and slid the great door open. "Mr. Steele." Those two little words seemed to slip through her lips without thought.
Steele stood uncertainly just outside the door, even after Laura opened it, the very image of contrition, holding a single perfect blush colored rose in his hand. The two stood starring at one another for several seconds, before Laura turned, walked to her sofa, and sank into it. Nero quickly hopped up beside her and settled into her lap with a loud purr.
"I think I must have forgotten to feed him when I got home." Laura admitted as she absently fondled his ears. "He's desperate for attention when he's hungry."
"Well, I imagine you were quite chilled by the time you got back." Steele stepped tentatively into the room, holding the rose just in front of him as if to test the safety of the air in the room. "Laura. Will you accept my apology? I'm sorry I wasn't more attentive to our docking process, and then a bit cavalier about your dunking."
Laura was starring around her loft. The plants, the artwork, the furnishings. The piano. A warm sensation flooded her at the memory of its arrival here in the loft before the renovations had even begun.
"Mr. Steele I've just had the oddest dream. Murphy was in it, Fred, and Mildred, and Miguel, the janitor at the Towers, but not you."
"Well, perhaps you would rather dream of anyone but me today." Steele suggested uneasily.
"Perhaps. In my dream my life was certainly different, very different, without you in it."
"Oh? A change for the better?"
"Oh, I don't know about that. I worked too hard, didn't eat regular meals, and didn't do anything that was just plain fun."
"And how is that different from your life with me in it?"
Laura grabbed a pillow and threw it at Steele, who dodged it, breaking into that wonderful, amazing, lopsided, loving grin of his as he sat down on the sofa next to Laura, still holding the perfect rose.
"Is that for me, or are you planning to perform a tango?"
Steele held the rose out to Laura. "It reminded me of the beautiful colors the sun cast on your face this evening."
"The sunset was lovely. The whole afternoon was, actually, right up until the…" Laura took a deep breath, inhaling the lovely fragrance of the flower. Her face was sober, eyelashes lowered, still somewhat distracted by the images she had dreamed so vividly. Her life, she realized, WAS better with Mr. Steele – complete with all his irritating, expensive, and egotistical ways. Mr. Steele had upended her perfectly orchestrated life and made it ridiculous, unpredictable, messy, and pretty close to – well, perfect.
"Laura. Can we start the ending over again? Go somewhere for dinner – just you and I? No Mildred, no Fred?"
"The pier?" Laura suggested playfully. "Unless you think you're likely to push me in the water again. I have to admit I'm starving, and for some reason I have a sudden overwhelming lust for cotton candy."
Steele leaned in to repeat his experimental taste of the blush on Laura's cheek – not the result of the sunset this time, but risen rather as a result of her own thoughts. He turned her face toward his, and gently claimed her lips with his own. When the kiss ended, Steele continued to contemplate the soft brown eyes that so completely captivated him, and ran his thumb over the deep dimple in Laura's cheek. "That sounds perfect Miss Holt. Cotton candy it is."