CHAPTER 4

Remington glanced at Laura from where he sat behind the wheel of the Auburn. She'd been inordinately quiet during their ride to Chez Rives. Was it because Daniel was in attendance? Or because of his own take on their child's physical traits during the ultrasound? Had he missed an error or committed another faux pas? Or was she simply summing up their quarterly tax obligations in her head? Was it because he was just ever the littlest bit late picking her up, when he was never late… at least when it came to play. He didn't know.

The first time he saw her this evening, she'd taken his breath away. The gown she'd chosen – a stark white little number that clung just enough to hint at what was beneath – had reminded him of another evening, when she'd dressed wearing white formal, when she still wasn't quite certain if she'd made the right choice by allowing him to take on the role of Remington's Steele.


"I must say you make a splendid Myrna Lloyd."

"Don't be so cocky. You're just lucky Dillon and Meacham had to forfeit. Where did you think you would be able to get fifty-thousand if you'd lost?"

"I'd no intention of losing."


That night, however, couldn't begin to compare to this one. He hadn't known his place in her life then, but that wasn't the occasion on this night. They were truly a couple about to embark on what he was sure would be an interesting journey, given neither of them had a bloody clue how to raise a child. Oh, they knew what not to do – beginning with not abandoning their child – but their own pasts had provided them with little background on how to raise an infant into a confident and successful adult, who never doubted their place in this world.

His eyes had been drawn straight to the slight rise of her abdomen. Tonight, she was his as wise the child she was carrying. He'd straightened slightly as the reality settled around him, cloaking him in a blanket of warmth, and he couldn't quite quash the slight air of propriety he'd taken since.

Four years ago, if he'd been told he'd be head over heels in love with a woman, creating a family with her, he'd have told that individual they were buggering egits. Not him. No one was ever going to put the shackles on him. He moved from day-to-day, week-to-week, month-to-month to exotic locales all over the globe, always alone, as he preferred.

How quickly things change, he mused, as he'd slipped an arm around Laura from behind, splaying his hand over the bump that was their child.

"You're stunning," he whispered the compliment in her ear, and he'd been rewarded with a dazzling smile. All had seemed fine at the loft. It wasn't until they'd gotten into the Auburn that she'd drifted away.

"What did the good doctor have to say?" he voiced the question that had been itching his curiosity since they'd departed the office.

"That the baby is right on track and I need to gain more weight before the next visit." She had no doubt what would happen now: Him, in the kitchen, cooking up a storm – breakfast and dinner – and demanding she leave the office for a 'decent meal' each day. Under normal circumstances she'd resist the calls for breakfast and lunch, but allowed him the luxury of cooking for her in the evenings several times a week. Now, her child needed the nutrition – which gave her the perfect excuse to indulge until her heart's content.

Once the morning sickness subsided, she reminded herself with a grimace.

"I'm sure I can arrange that," Remington grinned at her.

"I thought you might," she smiled at him, then fell silent again until another thought came to mind.

"Dr. Lloyd said at my next appointment, we can find out what we're having. Do you want to know?" The question gave him pause. It wasn't as though he'd spent a scintilla of time pondering what he'd want to do when this time came.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "One could argue there are so few mysteries left in life and this is one of them. On the other hand, I'm sure there are benefits of knowing." She was touched he'd given her a carefully considered reply.

"If we don't know, everything we buy for the baby would need to be neutral: Neutral crib," she began to tick off, neutral furnishings, neutral bedding, neutral decorations, neutral clothing, neutral diapers, neutral—"

"Neutral nappies? Are there any other kind?"

"I see commercials on TV all the time, advertising pink diapers for girls and blue for boys." He shook his head. Unbelievable. Why should the color of the nappy a toddler relieves itself in matter? "Then there is choosing a name." She shriveled her nose in apology. "I don't really care for Sean for a boy," she told him, his disappointment clear when his eyes flickered to her then away. "I'd like our child to have a name that honors both sides of our families, one that as simple as well. No Humphrey's or Cary's," she pointed a finger at him.

"One could counter that since I sought the shelter of a cinema on the coldest, most bitter days of winter, that Humphrey and Cary are my family, of a sorts."

"I was thinking more along the lines of what makes me think of you."

"Well, there you go then," he all but cheered. She frowned in return.

"I don't think of the movies when I think of you. I think of the rolling green hills of Ireland and, on bad days," she tilted her head from side-to-side, "the harsh streets of London. I think of bright blue eyes and black hair. She brushed back an unruly lock of hair as she spoke. Silly, she acknowledged, since they were driving with the top of the Auburn down. When I hear or say our son's name, I don't want to think of an abused little boy. I want to think of some point in time when you knew real happiness." He squirmed at the suggestion.

"Those times were few and very far between, Laura," he reminded, a slight edge in his voice.

"But they existed." She sighed. "It might be the hormones speaking, but I just want a little boy that reminds me of you."

"And should it be a girl?"

"The same," she answered, with an affirmative nod.

"It would seem we have a lot of thinking to do," he summarized.

"We do," she agreed. "Which brings us back to: Do we want to know?" He pursed his lips.

"Seems a rather big decision to make on the way to dinner," he pointed out.

"You're right," she agreed, with a nod of her head.

"Then let's pick up the discussion tomorrow. Was that all the good doctor had to say?" Laura looked away and crossed her arms, unconsciously.

"If you think you're going to wrap me in bubble wrap and stow me away 'for my own good' during this pregnancy, you have another thing coming," she warned with more irritation than she'd attended. His brows shot up and lips lightly parted. Well then, no need to worry any longer over her previously silent state. When her words sank in, and their implications, he began to laugh.

"You'd have my head on a platter if I so much as tried." When that didn't seem to satisfy her, he elaborated. "Look, Laura, I trust you'll know what situations are safe…" He lifted those brows again, to underline what he was about to say, "…And which are not for you and our Little Crusoe there, with the understanding that losing you or the babe would take me to my knees." She eyed him cautiously, seeking any sign of deceit on his handsome face and found none. She let out a deep breath that she felt she'd been holding during the drive.

Thank goodness.

Then he went and ruined it all.

"On a professional level, of course. On a personal level, if I wish to coddle you a bit more than normal, I'll do so." Her eyes narrowed at the imperiousness of the statement.

"You'll. Do. So?" she asked, warning flashing in her eyes as she enunciated each word.

"Yes," he replied simply. "It is not realistic to expect a man to resist his God given instinct to protect hearth and home. You and this child are my home. I will do what I need to insure it is secure and well. And who knows? If you allow yourself, you may actually enjoy it." Her lips pinched, indicating he was treading dangerously near a full blown argument.

"You'd do what you need? If I allow myself?" He reached over and patted her thigh.

"Relax, Laura. I'm not talking of carrying you across the room endlessly or keeping you in bed with pillows fluffed. I mean a good meal, a foot rub or a massage or running to the grocery in the middle of the night because you've a craving for sardines and applesauce, or some other disgusting concoction. A man needs to feel useful, even though he knows it is you who the babe depends upon." Stroking her throat, she considered his argument. A little pampering might not be the worst thing if all she'd been reading about throbbing feet, aching backs and cravings were true.

"Within reason," she acquiesced, pointing an accusatory finger at him, as he smiled widely in return, "But if you take it too far," she warned, "I'll clobber you." His smile widened.

"Oh, I've no doubt." But who was to know what was too far, until they'd breached that line?

He'd have a lot of fun finding out.


"Lin-, Laura, my dear," Daniel quickly corrected, "You look lovely this evening," he complimented, while taking her hand and bussing her on the cheek.

"Thank you," she replied, unable to keep the skeptical note out of her voice. Based on the way Daniel's eyes twinkled, he found her response amusing. She drew herself up to her full height and looked him boldly in the eyes. "You cut quite the dashing figure this evening as well." Both he and Remington had gone with tuxes.

"Mr. Steele, wonderful to see you again. Your table is waiting," Claude, the maître de greeted, exchanging handshakes with Remington. "And Miss Holt," he turned to her, taking both her hands in his, "It is always a pleasure and if you don't mind me saying so, you positively glow this evening." Laura felt herself blush to her roots. Could people just look at her and tell? She gathered her wits and presented him with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Claude. It's good to see you, too."

"If you'll just follow me," he addressed the group, holding out an arm, indicating the direction. He hadn't needed to even guide them. It was "their" table, after all, the place where Remington and Laura always sat, often late into the evening, talking and laughing, while sharing a good meal and great wine. "Ballet this evening?" he assessed their attire as they walked.

"Opera, actually," Remington offered.

"La Traviata at the LA County Opera?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"It has received stellar reviews," Claude approved.

"Good to know."

Claude waved a hand behind himself. A nearby waiter grabbed a carafe of ice cold water and went directly to the table to serve the trio.

"Your drinks and appetizers will be right out," Claude announced, dismissing himself.

"You always have needed your roosts, Harry," Daniel commented, looking around the place. They'd dined here a few years back and even then Claude had been more than familiar with him.

"My roosts?" Remington asked.

"His roosts?" Laura echoed.

"In any city he's visited for any period of time or has visited on more than one occasions he finds a pair of establishments he favors and spends a good deal of his time there." Remington's brows lifted.

"I hadn't realized you were aware." Laura's ears perked up at the possibility of learning a little more of Remington's past presented itself.

"Come now, Harry, do try to remember who is the master and who is the apprentice. There's little you can hide from me." He turned his attentions to Laura. "I imagine there's a dive he favors here in LA? One he doesn't wish you around?" A corner of her lips lifted as she looked from man-to-man.

"As a matter of fact, there is." She'd only been made aware of it when they were on a case and he'd needed something from Weasel.

"Harry is nothing if not predictable," Daniel assessed. Remington took exception to that but had to pause in his rebuke as the waiter arrived. A fine scotch for Daniel and he to begin and for Laura…

She snorted a laugh.

"A chocolate shake?"

"Technically a virgin Mudslide, at least I believe that's what Claude called it." He silently groaned as Claude's earlier words and Remington's order connected. Claude knew. The small circle of people who knew they were expecting had just expanded by one. She set aside a discussion on loose lips for later, not wishing to ruin the evening ahead and took a sip of the drink.

"It's very good," she complimented. Remington returned his attention to Daniel.

"I am anything but predictable!" he protested Daniel's last point.

"I don't know, Daniel has a point," Laura inserted. "Every Wednesday Mildred and I can count on you to appear after a long lunch, with some outlandish story or other to tell, even though the three of us all know you sneak off to the matinee on Wednesdays."

"That…That… That's tradition," he stuttered the defense, "Not predictability."

"I know that any day now you'll show up with one of those video cassette recorders accompanied with some ridiculous reason we need it."

"I never planned to do any such thing!" he sputtered the denial. Truth was, he'd rung up Monroe already and asked to have one on hand for him to pick up first thing Monday morning.

"We'll see," she answered with a doubtful lift of her brow while sipping on the mudslide. The three let conversation dwindle off when the waiter arrived with their appetizers. Laura looked down at the bowl of soup in front of her with surprise."

"Papaya and Pineapple soup with ginger and lime," Remington informed the table, then leaned in to speak near Laura's ear, "Everything prepared this evening includes a selection of herbs designed to relieve your morning sickness, but is rich enough to tempt your palate. Ginger is excellent for curbing morning sickness."

"We'll talk about this later," she whispered back, then sampled a bit of her soup. She hummed appreciatively. "This is good," she pronounced, then tried a second spoonful, "Very good as a matter of fact."

"Prepared just for you by Claude's very own hand," Remington shared, hoping to score at least a few brownie points before Laura took off his head for telling Claude.

"My compliments to the chef," she mumbled around another spoonful.

"So, tell me Daniel, how long do you intend to visit LA?"

"Two, three months, perhaps longer." Remington nodded knowingly.

"That hot, eh?" Daniel lifted a single brow.

"Felicia and I brushed up against some would-be assassins, I'm afraid. I wasn't about to stick around for either the Yard or the miners to show up on my doorstep. Let both sides believe we've taken to the wind." Remington had seen the way Laura's hand had ever so slightly flinched and the flash of hurt that crossed her face. Damn it, Daniel! Already a strike down in her book by telling Claude about the pregnancy, now he'd been served up another – not even by his own hand – by Daniel bringing Felicia up at such a time… or at all. There was a conversation to be had.

"Mmmmm," Remington hummed. "How do you intend to keep yourself occupied?"

"Harry, my boy, are you suggesting I might have a plan afoot?" Remington raised a brow, asking silently if he was out of line to do so. "I give you my word, my hands will remain clean as a whistle while I remain in your little town. I thought I'd play a bit of tennis, try my hand at golf. Why your beaches and all their beauty alone are enough to keep me entertained for the day."

"See to it you keep them that way," Remington advised. "Laura and I – particularly Laura – has worked hard to create the vision of Remington Steele while maintaining the Agency's sterling reputation." Daniel saw it for the warning it was, but laughed it off, good naturedly.

"You worry too much, my boy." Laura didn't trust his assurances as far as she could throw the man. If, however, things were as hot in Europe as he alleged, then for a man who appreciated his hide, he might be inclined to keep his head down this visit. Time would tell.

Daniel regaled them with stories of past Operas he'd attended across Europe as a second course of salad with avocado ginger dressing…

"Avocado is an excellent source of B6 and magnesium, which are said to calm nausea," he'd informed her quietly.

Then a third course of filet of sole with mint and roasted squash.

"Mint quells nausea and the squash and fish are laden in B6 and magnesium."

And for dessert? Dark chocolate fudge brownie cake laden with almonds.

"I don't want to know," she told Remington, lifting her fork after shoving a large piece into her mouth. "I just want to enjoy…"

And not think about what all this food will be like coming up if he's wrong about the menu. She shook the thought off, refusing to ruin her enjoyment of the rich dessert, her eyes sparkling up at Remington when she caught him avidly watching her. Her weakness when it came to chocolate never ceased to amuse him.

"Laura, how are you and the child faring?" Daniel asked. Laura's fork paused midway towards her plate. It wasn't like Daniel to inquire after her well-being, and it set her off balance briefly. She resumed slicing the next bit of cake.

"Fine. The baby's right where it should be."

"Although the doctor advised Laura needed to gain some weight." He sucked in a swift breath when her foot collided with his shin. Disgruntled, he didn't even bother to conceal bending over to rub at the offended shin. She'd made her point. She was off limits. "Actually, Daniel, I'd rather like your opinion on a matter. The doctor has informed us we need to decide if we wish to know the gender of our child at the next—" That foot landed again. "Oomph." He glared at her, forcing the last word past his lips. "…visit."

Daniel watched on in amusement, then feigned being unaware Remington had just been informed the topic was off limits.

"I'm far too much a planner to not know," he offered with a smile. "These days, at least, you have the opportunity while in my youth you'd no choice but to wait."

"I would like the nursery to be just as we want it when we bring the baby home," Laura said a bit wistfully. Both the tone and that she'd volunteered such caught his attention. It would seem his Miss Holt was beginning to lean in one direction. "And I want you to illustrate it," she added. Remington choked on the sip of brandy he'd just taken.

"I'm sorry. You want me to do what?"

"Illustrate it," she shrugged.

"I saw your ability during the The Blaster case and you do have formal training…"

"That he walked away from," Daniel thought to add.

"Still, I saw what you did on the comic strips and your drawings of me were beautiful." She'd barely finished the final word before she realized her slip. Remington had no idea she'd searched the house for him, including his private quarters. Leaning back in his seat, Daniel watched the pair while tapping his tumbler absently.

"You were in my quarters?" Remington asked. Daniel had never mentioned it. It irritated him a bit, because his drawings and paintings were a private part of himself of which only Daniel was aware. Laura considered apologizing for invading his privacy, but decided she'd be as good as lying if she did. She felt no remorse… only avid curiosity, particularly about why he'd never said anything to her before.

"I searched the entire house for you," she answered, with an unapologetic shrug. "I was convinced you'd taken refuge in one of the rooms to avoid me."

"I might have, had I been there," he admitted, just as casually. "Dare I ask how much you saw?" There was that shrug again.

"Only what was in the sketchbook on the easel. You're very talented." To his horror, he felt himself blush.

"I couldn't get your freckles quite right," he demurred.

"Even Monet didn't paint every blade of grass," she returned, with a smile. He reached for her a hand with a smile that was for her alone.

"Never has there been a blade of grass as glorious as—"

"Mr. Steele!" she whispered harshly to stop him before he completed that sentence, while purposely slanting her eyes towards Daniel. He was a bit embarrassed to realize he'd forgotten, if only for a moment, that they were not alone. He quickly cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, we should be going if we intend to make the Opera before the lights go down…"

The second part of the evening had been as enjoyable as the first. Laura lost herself in the story and the music, but not so much that she didn't notice the frequent brushes of Remington's shoulder or hand against hers. Once, she'd captured his hand in hers, twining their fingers together, deciding it was safe enough under the low lights to do so. Seeing the look on his face, she wondered if she really even cared if people knew. After all, it would be obvious soon enough they were a couple… Like earlier in the evening, she set aside the thought for later contemplation.

By the time the last aria had been sung, Laura's weight against Remington's shoulder had grown heavier. At a glance he could see the weariness around her eyes and the exhaustion glazing her eyes, even as she kept a smile upon her lips, feigning feeling fine. He made an executive decision, and when Daniel asked if they'd like to return to his place for drinks, he'd declined for both of them. That Laura hadn't argued his imperiousness spoke to how tired she was. She stumbled through getting undressed then dressed for bed, refusing his help, then tumbled into bed, her hair splaying across her pillow and his and her limbs lying akimbo, the shirt on her pajama's ensemble rising just enough to reveal a swath of flesh over her abdomen. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face.

"If you weren't so tired, I'd positively devour you right now," he hummed, only partly teasing. She made a positively delightful portrait, laying there as she was. The remark earned him a flash of dimples.

"And if I weren't so tired, I'd take you up on that."

"Another time then," he leaned in to brush his lips over hers. "Get some sleep." Swiveling on the bed, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her stomach, as naturally as though he'd done it a hundred times before. "Goodnight, little Crusoe." She focused on clearing the lump in her throat brought on by the action. By the time she had, he'd already turned out the light and had begun to walk across the room.

"Remington…" She called quietly. He turned to regard her in the dim light coming up from the living room below.

"Yes, Laura."

"I love you." She watched as he closed his eyes for a heartbeat, savoring the words. When his eyes opened, she could see the emotion in them even from across the room.

"I love you, too," he returned, hoarsely. With a smile she turned to her side and gave her pillow a couple good punches before settling down.

"I know," she answered with a confidence she felt to her core…