(Chapter 3)
Laura stood before the closet in their bedroom at the Four Seasons, lamenting her choices of clothing that she'd packed for the trip. Her bridesmaid dress, a casual dress for the rehearsal dinner, the hot little number that had left Steele drooling for the bachelorette's night, a few pair of casual slacks and blouses, and a couple of suit jackets. Nothing, whatsoever, appropriate for dinner at Tavern on the Green. I'll have to go shopping. She cringed at the thought. Laura Holt did not enjoy shopping, not in the least. Growing up in a household with her mother and Frances, who could live inside of stores joyously for the rest of their lives, had turned her off to the endeavor for life. She'd been held hostage with the confines of the mall, a small boutique, by the two of them one time too many, and had developed a lifelong aversion to the task as a result.
She glanced at her watch and heaved a sigh. Three-thirty. With dinner at nine, that left more than enough time for her to go explore the stores of New York to find something appropriate to wear.
Steele watched Laura from where he leaned back on a single elbow on the bed. Even beneath the layers of mint taffeta, he could find the sway of her delectable little bottom. His tongue flicked out to touch his lips. It had been too long. After endless weeks of exploring one another, it had been nearly a month since last he'd felt her under his hands, felt her hands on him. The first two nights in the City had not allowed them time to indulge in one another and by now he was verging on becoming desperate, especially after Laura's words on the dance floor. A glance of his watch showed it was nearly three-thirty. With dinner at nine, that left them hours to explore, to satiate their bodies and souls, indulge in a playful shower, then still arrive at the Tavern on time. That thought in mind, he pushed himself to his feet.
Laura smiled as his arm circled her waist from behind and pressed her back to his chest. Leaning her head back, she nuzzled her cheek against his. Clearly a good sign, his hand stroked the sensitive skin of her waist, the material of her dress only heightening the sensation. His other arm encircled her, a hand daring to find a breast, as his head dipped so that hungry lips could graze along her neck. She gasped at the sensation, a hand cupping the back of his neck, encouraging him to continue. When a thumb flicked over a cloth covered nipple she arched her back with a small moan, her lower body rubbing enticingly against a very sensitive part of his body, causing him immediately to harden. This time it was he who gasped, as he moved his mouth to lay next to her ear.
"I need to touch you, Laura," his husky voice rumbled. He was left baffled when Laura went lax in his arm and groaned audibly.
"I can't," she told him, nearly disconsolately, turning in his arms, disappointment written across her. "I have to go shopping." She said the last word with such distaste that she drew a laugh from him, despite his aroused state that would be left wanting.
"You do, do you?" he smiled down at her, while tightening his arms around her waist and swaying her in his arms.
"Yesssss," she hissed morosely. "I have nothing to wear tonight. You should have told me," she admonished, poking a finger into his chest. He picked up her hand from his chest and nibbled the pad of the same finger playfully, watching her eyes grow smoky.
"Then perhaps I would be well-served to let you know you will need a second… appropriate… dress for tomorrow evening," he told her, wagging his brows at her.
"Tomorrow evening? Our flight leaves at six," she pointed out. He looked at her semi-sheepishly, but his pleasure with himself shone through the act.
"I, uh, switched us to the red-eye." Seeing the frown appear between her brows and the purse of her lips, indicating she was about to give it to him, he hurried on. "Before that temper of yours sets off, we'll still be home in LA by eleven, in bed by one. Plenty of time to be up and at the office on time. A little worse for the wear, I admit, but it will be well worth it, I promise you."
She mulled his words, then with another tap on his chest, warned him, "It had better be." She glanced back at the closet. "Especially since I now apparently need to buy two dresses and their accessories," she groaned.
"I suppose as penance for my misdeeds, I'll just have to accompany you," he offered.
"I suppose you will," she agreed, then leaned up to run her lips over his. At his answering hum and his arms tightening around her, she wrapped both arms around his neck, her fingers dancing through his hair, urging him closer. Lips toyed, teeth nipped, a tongue flicked against his lips, then explored his mouth thoroughly. With a wicked little smile playing against her lips even as they clung to his, she ran a hand over his hip then down the cloth-covered length of his already engorged shaft. At the moan that rumbled deep within his throat, she released him, then turned to the closet to pluck out something to wear for the afternoon ahead.
She glanced at Steele on the way to the bathroom. He still stood where she'd left him, eyes closed, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to rein his body in. At her lilting laugh, a pair of white-hot blue eyes opened to fix her in their gaze.
"Bloody hell, you don't play fair, Laura," he grumbled.
"I know," she smirked, then let her mouth settle into a lascivious smile. "Just a small taste… a very, very small taste… of what I have planned for you tonight," she told him, her eyes grazing over his body hungrily, eliciting another moan from him.
"Paybacks, Miss Holt. You know what they say about paybacks," he warned.
"Hmmmm, I do. Give it your best shot," she told him with a wink. A devilish gleam settled in her eyes, making him take an involuntary step back. Dropping her clothes on the chair near the window, she stripped off the little bolero jacket that she wore over her dress. Then holding his eyes with hers, she reached behind her and slowly slid down the zipper of her dress. At the flick of his tongue against his lips, she pushed the straps of the dress from her shoulders and let it slide to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a frilly little bra, a scrap of lace that passed as panties and… God help me, he mumbled to himself, lifting his eyes heavenwards before he looked back to feed on the sight of her… a garter belt and a pair of very, very sexy opaque thigh high stockings. His body visibly twitched, drawing a smug smile from her.
He took a step towards her, a hand outstretched, needing to touch her as he never had needed before. Positively absurd, he thought to himself, given how much I've needed to feel her under my hands for years. His eyes traced the path of her body again, stopping on the stockings, imagining himself rolling them down those glorious legs one at a time, as his lips following the path they would take… knowing it would not happen right now. Bloody hell, the woman's trying to kill me. Shower, I need a shower, now. On that thought, he yanked a pair of jeans and sweater out of the closet, then headed resolutely towards the bathroom. He was unable to stop himself from taking one final look at her. God help me, he thought, closing the bathroom door behind him with a resounding thud.
The door didn't keep Laura's trickle of pleased laughter from reaching his ears.
Paybacks, he nodded to himself as he stripped off his clothes then tossed himself under the freezing spray of the shower. Bloody hell.
Laura and Steele were ensconced in the backseat of a NYC taxi which was harrowingly navigating the very congested streets through Broadway. Having just picked up tickets for a matinee of 42nd street at the Majestic for the following afternoon – a makeup, in his mind, for the missed birthday opportunity two years prior when the blasted Cannes agreement was in effect – they were now headed toward Barney's on Madison Avenue. When the taxi jerked to a stop at a red light on the corner of Broadway and 72nd, Laura suddenly bolted upright.
"Can you let us out here?" she asked the driver while Steele considered her, clearly puzzled. Glancing around, not a decent store in sight, at least as far as he was concerned, he could not imagine what had gotten into her.
"Laura, we're nowhere near Barney's. Surely, you're not suggesting we trek across Central Park on foot, are you?" he asked warily. Laura shook her head and pointed her finger at something called "Gray's Papaya" sitting on the adjacent corner. He looked at the building with trepidation.
"What, exactly, is a Gray's Papaya?" he asked with a bit of a haughty sneer at the name.
"According to Bernice, the best hog dog ever made. A must try. Once in a lifetime experience," Laura told him with a grin.
"A… hot dog? Might I remind you, we ate not… " he glanced at his watch, "…two hours ago, and quite heartily at that?"
"Once in a lifetime, Mr. Steele," she reminded him with a roll of her eyes. She nodded towards the driver as she opened the door to the cab and started climbing out. "Pay the man, will you?"
Steele did a double take, looking at her, then the driver, then back at her. With a sigh, he pulled out his money clip, tossing the driver two twenties. "Do me a favor, mate, circle the block then pick us back up. The tip should cover us, eh?"
The driver glanced at the fare, and grinned. Nearly a thirty buck tip. Big spender here, he noted in his mind. "Not a problem. I'll be back in ten."
"Appreciate that," Steele acknowledged, slinging himself from the cab and taking several long strides to catch up to Laura before she crossed the street. Laying a hand on the small of her back, he guided her through the throngs of people walking with and against them. She laughed aloud as he gave a haughty look down his nose at their surroundings when they entered the restaurant.
"Your snobbery is showing, Mr. Steele," she teased him. "Seems to me, that about this time last year, you were ready to face bullets just to grab a hot dog from a street vendor," she told him, reminding him of when he slipped out of the strip club they were hiding in, determined to put some food on his stomach.
"Yes, well, we hadn't eaten in a day at that point. Desperate measures were called for and these…" he looked around him, "… are hardly desperate times."
They stepped up to the counter, and he reluctantly placed her order. "Chili dog, cheese and mustard, no onions."
Laura elbowed him in the ribs. "And a papaya juice."
With a sigh, he intoned, "And a papaya juice." After paying the cashier, they moved to the end of the counter to pick up her fare. Handing him the juice to hold, she took a large bite of the hot dog as they stepped back on the street. She groaned in delight.
"Bernice was right," she told him around a mouthful of food. "Have a bite." She shoved the hot dog at him, nearly taking out his nose in the process. He held up a hand between mouth and dog, and signaled with a downwards pat of his hand, that she could remove it from the vicinity of his mouth.
"I, uh, don't have a particular craving for, uh, bi-glycerin-sorbate at the moment." She took another bite of the dog, while giving him a puzzled look.
"Bi-glycerin-sorbate?" she asked around the food. Tipping a finger under her chin, he closed her mouth while shaking his head. Seeing their cab round the corner, he held out a hand towards the curb.
"Barney's awaits, Miss Holt." Giving him a grin, she climbed back into the cab as he held the door for him. A mile and a half and fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of Barney's. Again handing over the driver a couple of bills he asked, "Swing back around for us in an hour and a half?"
The driver looked at the bills hungrily… a little over twenty more bucks in tip. The next fare should net him enough for decent seats at the Yankee's game next weekend. "See you then, sir!" he answered enthusiastically. Dropping the hot dog wrapper and nearly empty cup of papaya juice in a waste can, Steele escorted Laura into the store, a hand laying possessively on her back once more. Laura spent nearly thirty minutes moving with calculation through the evening wear department, making several selections and having clerks move them to a dressing room to wait on her. Every once in a while she would hold up a particular selection for his opinion, which he acknowledged with a hum or a shake of his head. Finally, having collected nearly a dozen dresses to try on, she headed towards the dressing room, pausing before she entered.
"Wait for me?" He nodded.
"I'd planned on it." She gave a brief nod of her head, and continued on.
Five minutes later she emerged wearing an aqua, sequin covered cocktail dress. Spinning this way and that, she assessed her image in the mirror. She caught his image in the mirror, seated in a nearby chair, one foot crossed over a knee, watching. While his eyes meandered down her legs from knee to ankle, he appeared to have little interest in the dress. Never acknowledging his watchful gaze, she returned to the dressing room to reemerge in a cap-sleeved, sequined black cocktail dress that clung to her graceful curves. Again, she watched him watch her, his eyes running down her legs once more. Yet, still, she didn't see the reaction she hoped for, and returned to the dressing room again.
Never one to dress for a man in particular, there was something almost… seductive… in having him assess each thing she tried on.
When she emerged the third time, she wore a bronze silk, floor length gown, that hugged her curves, and left her shoulders bare, the top buttoning around her neck, leaving the freckles on her shoulders fully exposed. In the mirror she saw as he imperceptibly sat up straighter, his eyes roaming down the full length of her body, all but devouring the vision before him. With a small smile, she turned slightly, so that he could see the slit in one side of the skirt that traveled to mid-thigh, the flick of her tongue against her lips matching his own when he set sight of it. She turned then to face him fully, a blush climbing his face as he realized he'd been caught feeding hungrily on her vision. She watched as he shifted on the chair, his eyes taking in the outline of her breasts, her ribs, waist and hips. With a nibble at her lips with her teeth, she smiled at him.
"I take it you… uh… appreciate this one?"
"I think that's… er… apparent, don't you?" he rasped, as he glanced at his lap and shifted once more. She laughed, delighted.
"Seems so," she grinned, then with a toss of her head returned to the dressing room.
Four selections later she appeared in another silk dress, this one ending a mid-thigh, sporting long sleeves and a cowl neck. As clingy as the bronze number, his look once more focused on her legs, until she turned non-chalantly so that her back faced him. The neck of the red dress dipped so deep that it stopped just above the cleft of her bottom, baring her back to him nearly in its entirely. This time, there was nothing subtle about how he moved, as he shifted fully in his seat and a hand rubbed across his lower face.
With a salacious smile playing on her lips, Laura walked slowly towards him. Leaning over, she placed her hands on either arm of the chair in which he sat, giving him a clear view of pair of exquisite and currently unencumbered breasts. "Lauraaaaaaa," he warned on a low growl. She laughed, and bussed his neck, thrilled at his response, then stood, returning to the mirrors. Pretending to adjust the skirt, she lifted the hem just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her stocking on one leg. She watched in the mirror as he all but swallowed his tongue in response. Another laugh trickled across the air, as she disappeared beyond the dressing room door.
He spent the time until she reappeared trying to bring his raging body back under control. Be careful what you hope for, old sport, he reminded himself. I've spent years trying to lure the bold Laura out of hiding and here she is. Might have thought twice had I known she'd spend a great deal of time devising ways of putting my body thoroughly on edge. He laughed at the folly of that thought. Wouldn't trade it for the world.
Thirty minutes later, shoes and accessories picked out, they stepped back into the cab that had delivered them and returned to the hotel to prepare for the evening.
At eight-forty, they sat in the back of a limousine, on their way to Village on the Green. Laura had at first questioned his decision to rent a limo for the evening – on him, he'd reminded her – thinking a cab to and from the restaurant would have been far more practical. He'd finally convinced her his decision was not that far-reaching when costs of cab fare were compared to the cost of having a car at your immediate disposal all evening. Therefore, when the car pulled up to the curb outside of the Four Seasons, she'd happily settled into the cozy setting. As instructed when he'd made the reservation, the tinted glass was up, providing the privacy they'd need.
He glanced over at Laura. She was wearing the coat he'd given her in Vail atop the enticing little red number she'd picked up that afternoon. When she'd asked his opinion on what to wear that evening, he'd no doubt that he'd looked at her as though she'd lost her mind.
"Laura," he'd warned after crossing the room to wrap his arms around her and tuck her lower body against his, "unless you wish to end up being dragged to the restroom on the plane and joining the… what do they call it?... Ah, yes… the Mile High Club in some fashion, you'll be wanting to wear that little red dress tonight so that I can show you exactly what it does to me when we arrive back here." He'd kissed her, hot and hungry, in a hint of exactly what that was. With a laugh, she pulled herself away from him, reemerging for the evening in the red dress, snow white stockings and a strappy little pair of heels to pull it all together. As he'd helped her on with her coat, he'd been incapable of not tasting at least a couple of the freckles spattered across the nape of her neck.
Now, his eyes skimmed down her silhouette, the coat providing far too much coverage. With the merest of a brush of fingers against the back of her neck, Laura shrugged the coat free and turned her bare back to him, knowing it was the skin there he was seeking. He gave a quick glance at his watch, noting they would arrive in ten minutes, or there about, at the restaurant. Timing, would be everything. That determined, he began his sensual assault on her body.
The backs of fingers traveled along the length of her bare skin atop her spine, before lips settled along her partially bared shoulders. Tiny flicks of a tongue against dappled skin, gentle nips at the delightful little splotches and a tongue reaching out to taste nearly each one, had her pulse racing, her breath coming in small pants. An "Oh, god" whispered as he lowered her to her back on the seat, then stretched across her, as he wriggled the dress down, baring her breasts to his eyes. Fingers brushed and flicked against the luscious little twin mounds, before a mouth lowered to worship their pink peaks. A mouth covered hers, muting her cry when a hand journeyed up a thigh and a single finger traced along her core, sweeping panties to the side on its travels. Fingers danced across skin, as a mouth tugged upon hardened tips of a breast. When a horn blew, Laura didn't even notice, she was so lost the hum of every nerve in her body, awake and begging for more. A mouth claimed hers again, as a single finger found its way inside her sheath. She cried out arching wildly against him. The car halted, fingers rapped on the privacy window and he slid away from her, while offering her a hand up.
"You're kidding, right?" she growled, her breath coming in short gasps. She'd been on the edge of oblivion and her body ached from the completion it demanded. She watched as he slipped the digit that had been inside her into his mouth, his hum of appreciation making her entire body twitch. Only then did hands reach to help her right her clothes, as her entire body continued to shimmer with its demand for more. Helping her back into her coat, his lips fluttered down the column of her neck, before settling next to her ear.
"Paybacks, love," he whispered, before nipping gently at the lobe. He stiffened slightly when he'd realized the whispered endearment, then relaxed when it seemed she was too caught up in unsatisfied desire to notice. Opening the car door, he stepped out, offering her his hand once he'd stood. With a glare from her and a laugh from him, she joined him on the walk outside of the restaurant.
"This isn't over," she warned, as he led her, hand at her back, towards the restaurant doors.
"Of course it isn't," he answered agreeably.
"I'm serious, Mr. Steele," she continued.
"Of course you are," he nodded, flashing his pearly whites at her.
"As you pointed out… paybacks," she promised. With a hand around her waist, he spun her into his arms, pulling her close.
"I look forward to it, Miss Holt," he swore on a roughened voice, before his lips descended on hers. His lips brushed against then tugged on her own, until she opened under them. His tongue swept against hers in an erotic dance, letting her know exactly how much he was looking forward to what was to come. Low hums of pleasure rose from each of their throats, as his hand buried itself in her hair.
"Yo, get a room already," Murphy yelled from down the walk.
Laura and Steele tore their mouths apart and turned their heads towards him, Laura's face sporting a dazed look, Steele's a slight frown at the interruption. Gathering herself together quickly, she smiled towards her old friend and his wife. When kisses on cheeks, reluctant handshakes and pleasantries were exchanged, the two couples entered the restaurant together where they found Jason and Bernice already waiting. Seated in short order, thanks to reservations made months in advance, the three couples settled in for an evening of conversation, laughter and good food.
Steele ordered, as was tradition, for both he and Laura. Chestnut soup to start the meal, followed by Scottish Salmon with roasted artichokes, marble potatoes and citrus aioli and, in a departure from the decadent chocolate treats he normally tempted her with, an expresso crème brulee for desert. After their order was placed, he tested the waters to see where Laura was going to take her stance on acknowledging their personal relationship. A finger brushed the side of her hand. Without a moment's hesitation she slid her hand towards his. He covered it with his own, his fingers stroking the back of it. Her eyes caught his and with just a look, both acknowledged that they were not going to engage in subterfuge this evening in order to avoid Murphy's censure.
When the waiter departed, Jason leaned casually back in his seat, then addressed first his wife then the group as a whole.
"So, would someone like to fill me in on that bit this afternoon about breaking into the Federal Reserve and Laura falling off a beam?" His question was met with laughter from around the table.
"It's been eating at him all afternoon," Bernice informed the others with a great deal of amusement. "I told him he'd have to wait until tonight to get the full story because I wasn't there." She emphasized the last three words, as Jason had been nagging her on-and-off about the extent of her involvement.
"There's really not much to tell," Laura began.
"I pulled a man off a bridge before he could jump to his death, you see…" Steele continued, then paused for Laura to continue.
"He had been framed by someone and was at risk of being charged with stealing two and a half million dollars from the reserve. And he had done it, technically speaking, although under duress and then the money was stolen from him…."
"In order to prove his innocence," Steele picked up from where she left off flawlessly, "we had to find out who had been pulling the strings, so to speak, behind the scenes as well as locate the missing money and have it back in the bank before it opened Monday morning…" he gave Laura a smile, and with a squeeze of her hand, she finished the setup of the story.
"So I decided that we needed to break into the Federal Reserve, so that we could find the missing money and identify the actual thief," she finished with a shrug of her shoulders.
"You decided to break into the Federal Reserve…" Jason sat flabbergasted. He knew, of course, that they had from conversations earlier that afternoon but still couldn't believe it. He turned to Bernice. "And where were you?" She laughed at the question, having told him at least a dozen times before.
"It was the weekend. I was off, remember? I had no idea any of this had happened until after it was a fait accompli." Jason nodded and turned to Murphy and Sherry.
"And the two of you?" he asked.
"Oh, well, uh, Laura and Steele recruited me to watch after the client to make sure he didn't try to, uh, kill himself…" Murphy began.
"And since I was at Murphy's place that weekend and utterly fascinated, I decided to stick around and see what happened…" Sherry inserted.
"When they decided to break into the Reserve, they needed someone on the ground to… divert.. anyone that might happen by. Of course, I wanted in so I volunteered…" Murphy gave way to Sherry.
"And I insisted that I go because, frankly, I didn't want to miss out on all the action."
"Which was truly fortunate," Steele added, "As the only way Laura and I could get to the top of the building where it was easily breached, was to take a ride on a beam as it was lifted by a crane…"
"And I was the only one who knew how to operate the crane," Sherry filled in.
"Then Laura fell off the beam…" Jason supplied. Three heads nodded while one shook in the negative.
"I didn't fall," Laura insisted with a laugh, offended by the implication that she would be so clumsy. "I was knocked off when the boom suddenly yanked for some reason."
"How high were you when it happened?"
Laura looked at Steele, thinking about that night. "Ten, twelve stories?" she asked Steele. He shrugged.
"Sounds about right, although it's not something I try to dwell on," he pointed out. Her fingers laced with his and gave them a squeeze.
"That's more than a hundred feet," Jason pointed out. "You could have been killed." Three heads again nodded while one shook in the negative.
"He wouldn't let that happen. Didn't." Laura spoke confidently, while looking at Steele. His lips twitched in an air kiss.
"So don't keep me in suspense. What happened?"
"Oh, we found the money hidden in the ceiling of an office. The suspect pulled a gun on me…" Steele offered.
"Then I yanked the chair he was standing on out from under him…" Laura continued.
"And I fell on him, then knocked him out…" Steele noted.
"Case solved." Laura concluded.
Jason sat with his mouth hanging open. "Is this business as usual for you then?"
"Only after Steele stopped working in a purely 'advisory capacity'," Murphy said drolly.
"Happy to keep things interesting for you, Michaels," Steele smirked.
"So, you've had… similar cases?"
Murphy snorted, earning him an elbow in his side by Sherry warning him to behave.
"A few," Laura hedged with a smile. "Murphy and I were just talking about some of them earlier today. Weren't we, Murph?" Seeing Steele's look of surprise, Murphy was suddenly game to participate.
"Hmmmm, yeah, we were, weren't we, partner," he answered, emphasizing the last word to tweak Steele's nerves. "There was the time that the two of them broke into a museum to steal a famous painting that the Agency had been hired to protect. Laura ended up getting arrested during that case, if I remember, correctly, of course."
"I spent the night in jail," Laura clarified, for Jason. "And all the charges were dropped, of course."
"We broke Veronica Kirk out of an insane asylum, of course that was after Steele absconded with her and…" Murphy began, receiving another elbow in the side from Sherry and glare from Laura. Steele looked away, refusing to rise to the other man's need to bait him, if for no other reason than Laura's sake. He brushed his fingers across the top of her knuckles letting her know silently that all was fine. Jason unintentionally defused a potentially explosive situation, when he sat up straight at the name Veronica Kirk.
"Veronica Kirk? As in Lady from Montana Mountains, Veronica Kirk?" he asked. Steele lifted a brow and smiled, impressed with the man, telling him as much.
"I'm impressed, Jason. Not many people are familiar with the B movies, no matter their value."
"Bernie gets the credit for that," Jason shrugged. "She got me hooked on old movies a long time ago." He grimaced when he took the toe of a shoe into a shin under the table. Turning to Bernice he found himself on the wrong side of a glare, while Laura tittered on the other side of the table.
"Laura, how did you do in the triathlon last week?" Bernice asked Laura, changing the topic as quickly as she could. Steele grinned at her, his eyes dancing with merriment. Bernice glared at him for good measure while squelching the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
The three couples discussed the various cases that Steele and Laura had been embroiled in as well as Murphy's agency and Jason's journey in scouting for a well-known label after he'd left his own band. Dinner conversation was light and full of laughter, and when the last of the plates had been cleared, all three couples sat back, appetites sated, with an aperitif in hand. Laura took a cursory sip from hers before setting it down on the table.
"Murphy, would you like to dance?" she asked. Two pairs of eyes moved to rest on her, one pair regarding her quizzically while another pair regarded her guardedly.
"Uh, sure, pal," the owner of the second pair hesitantly agreed. As she stood, Laura brushed her hand along Steele's arm then stilled against his shoulder for a moment. He lifted a hand and glanced fingertips against hers, letting her know he understood and all was well.
"Something tells me Murphy's about to get it," Bernice predicted, turning to see Sherry's reaction to this turn of events. Sherry smiled sedately.
"I warned him. But you know Murph," Sherry commented with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "He's a stubborn man."
Trying to lighten the mood, Steele leaned back and his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. With an amused smile, he turned to Bernice. "So, Ms. Wolf, satisfy my curiosity if you will. Precisely when did you become a connoisseur of old films, eh?" Bernice scrunched her nose at him.
"Couldn't you just give me a pass on this one?" she asked. He quirked a brow at her.
"Now where would the fun be in that?" he quipped, drawing a laugh from her. "So now, you and your love affair with old movies…."
On the dance floor, Murphy held Laura in frame stiffly, knowing full well that she was about to give him an earful. The longer she was silent, the more antsy he became. When she knew he was on edge, she struck.
"I never realized you thought I was stupid, Murph." Murphy's eyes widened as his jaw dropped.
"I have never once said you were stupid, Laura," he protested vehemently. "You are without a doubt one of the most intelligent women… No people," he corrected, "that I know."
"Naïve then. Incapable of seeing people for who and what they are. Easily conned, manipulated. Lacking common sense. Which is it, Murph?" she demanded in a heated whisper.
"You know better…" he began, for her to plow right over him.
"Do I? Three, four years ago? I get it. I was as skeptical, suspicious even, as you were. But enough's enough. It needs to stop…now."
"I'm just concerned about you…" Laura shook her head vehemently at him.
"I'm tired of saying this, so listen up. I can take care of myself. I don't need protection from anyone, most especially him. So let me make myself very clear on this: He's not going anywhere. He's a part of my life – a big part of my life – and if you can't be civil, let go of your issues with him, then we won't be able to get together any longer."
"Laura, you can't be serious," he protested. "You and I have been friends for more than a decade, partners for several years at that. You wouldn't just end that over…"
"I wouldn't like to, but yes, I will Murphy." She closed her eyes, thought carefully before she spoke again. "It's taken me a while to realize that each time you take a potshot at him, sling a barb, and I say nothing at all, I'm making a choice: you over him. He's never once complained, never asked me to defend him. He just takes it, out of respect for me, what our friendship means to me." She shook her head at the thought. "Well, no more. He deserves… No that's not the correct word… He has the right to know that I choose him. Every time. That what we have takes precedence over anything else."
Murphy examined her critically for a minute. "You trust him," he stated simply.
"I do," she answered, straightforward in her answer. He nodded, considered her again.
"You're in love with him." Laura laughed softly, then turned her head to Steele, waited until she caught his eyes. Without a word spoken between them, he set his napkin on the table, and stood, heading towards her.
"That's between him and me. But I will say this much on the topic and nothing further: You told me within the first two months of him being with the Agency that I was getting in too deep." She tapped his shoulder lightly with her hand. "What did you think that meant, Murph?"
He laughed lightly. "It was that damned magnum of champagne, wasn't it?" Laura looked at him, a bit sadly, and shook her head in the negative.
"I hope you really don't think I'm that shallow." She smiled at Steele as he neared. "No, it was when we were at the morgue after his friend Wallace was murdered. The attendant treated Wallace like any other derelict in the street, and I'll never forget what he said."
"That stiff once made 27 straight passes in a crap game, he had a daughter he put through college, he liked to fish off King's Point, and he read the 'Wizard of Id'. That STIFF was my friend."
"He didn't care what happened to himself, even knowing that I blamed him, blamed Wallace," she continued on. "He vowed to find out who killed Wallace. Then when we did, he donated the $50,000 he won in a polo match to Wallace's mission. No, it was never the champagne. It was his heart." And, like earlier in the day at the wedding, Murphy knew by the change in her expression that Steele was standing behind him. Bussing her on the cheek, he leaned in to speak next to her ear.
"I'll do my best, Laura. I don't want to lose you either." Laura closed her eyes and nodded, then moved away from him to slide into Steele's arms, pressing herself close to him when she did. Tucking her head underneath his chin, they danced in quiet throughout the remainder of the song that had been playing before he dipped his head down so his lips brushed her ear.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly. Laura lifted her head and smiled at him.
"No. Maybe later." Her voice was calm, but still he searched her eyes, her face. When he found she looked pensive but did not appear to be upset, he nodded his head slightly. Her fingers pressed against the back of his neck, and he brushed his lips against hers in response. "The only thing I want to do right now, Mr. Steele, is dance with you, if that's okay?" He touched her lips with his again and pulled her back close to him.
"It always is, Miss Holt, it always is." He closed his eyes, and lost himself in the music and Laura.
(Continued)