Steele Holting My Heart
Date: Thursday, June 01, 2000
Linda <>

Steele Holting My Heart

*"I love you," he whispered into her ear, knowing that no words could everbegin to express the intensity of his feelings for her.*

*"And I love you," she replied, brushing his cheek with hers as she tightly closed her arms around him. She had never meant the words more as her love for him grew with each passing day.*

She sat at her desk, writing feverishly, but furtively. Muffled sounds of Mildred working in the next room drew her attention, and she instinctively covered her work with her hands. But since she remained undisturbed, and the words were practically writing themselves, she kept going.

*They closed the door behind them, entering their own private place. As the plane soared through the sky and the night grew dark beneath the clouds, the couple knew only each other. Their love, the depths of which only they could
ever understand, took them to places where no one else could follow.*

*The End*

Oh, this is good, she thought triumphantly. What a great feeling to finally finish it, and just in time for------

A soft <click> interrupted her thoughts and she looked up to find Remington Steele, his hand still poised on the knob of their shared door, regarding her quizzically. "Working hard?" he asked, a winning smile on his lips. He was unprepared for her reaction. Steele watched, perplexed, as she hurriedly gathered the reams of lined paper littering her desk. Jamming them into the middle drawer, she looked back at him, a nervous grimace betraying her uneasiness.

"Yes----no! Personal business. . . ."

"Ah." Willing himself not to be hurt by her brusque manner, he turned to more pleasant subjects. "Still on for dinner tonight? My place, say around 7:30?"

Laura sighed. The male ego, and this one in particular, could be so fragile. If he thought for one minute she was going to tell him what she'd been writing. . . . Was dinner still on?! Was he kidding? Not only hadn't she forgotten, but her favorite dress was back from the cleaners, and the luxury of a lunch-hour pedicure made her toes almost dance under the desk. Ok, deep breath, Laura, she reminded herself. Her ability to stick with their Cannes resolution was at its ebb, and if she played her cards right, they could be making new resolutions together by midnight.

Laura thought the two months since Cannes had been harder on her than on him. Having him so near, day in, day out, but yet having sworn off the possibility of love was almost unbearable. She wanted to turn back the clock, to be standing in that hotel corridor in Cannes once again, but this time, when he opened his door, it was only the two of them. No misunderstandings, no crossed purposes, just passion and promises. For Laura, love-making and commitment still traveled hand-in-hand, even in her fantasies.

She pushed back in her chair, rose, and met him more than halfway. Deciding to tease him with a working-hours version of a drop-dead kiss, Laura reached up to administer his consolation prize. But Steele surprised her, instead treating her to the kind of embrace one doesn't usually dispense to one's associate in one's place of business. When he met no resistance, but rather willing participation, Steele made unmistakable his intentions. For the first time in a long time, it seemed that they were on the same page,
and willing to turn the next one together. In his arms, Laura dreamily let go, and then-----

"Oops. Sorry guys. Client on line one, for you Miss Holt." Mildred bustled through the other door, intent on breaking up their romantic moment. Or at least so it seemed to Steele at the time. Reluctantly, he loosened his hold on Laura, but he felt her cling to him. Their eyes met for an instant, and
then. . . the spell was broken. Laura disentangled herself and stepped back into business mode. She turned to the desk, picking up the telephone receiver. Steele, meanwhile, threw a dark look at Mildred, who responded with her patented smirk and retreated to her post in the outer office. He waited, and in a moment Laura finished her telephone call.

"Mr. Zales wants to meet us on Monday. Seems he's not entirely happy with our security arrangements. He----" Steele listened while Laura droned on about business details that couldn't begin to sustain his interest. Not after that kiss, anyway. What did own his attention was the promise of
tonight. After Cannes, he'd had his own reason to carry a grudge. As ecstatic as he had been by the notion that for one elusive moment Laura was finally ready and willing to make love, he was angered by her lack of trust in him. He was also more than a little tired of her heavy-handed need for control. Stewing for the last two months, he'd reached an interesting conclusion. Laura claimed she wanted honesty, a declaration of his feelings for her. But did she really? What would happen if she got it?

Not long afterward, they both decided to dispense with the charade of a full day's work; too many emotions were coming to a head. Following chaste pecks on the cheek in full view of Mildred, they separated and headed for home, Steele to his dinner preparations and Laura to her personal preparations. By the time 7 o'clock tolled, Laura had washed, shaved, perfumed, and coiffed herself within an inch of her life. Steele, on the other hand, labored over dinner and the perfect table-setting until nearly that hour, and then hastily ran for the shower.

When his ringing doorbell announced Laura, his hair still damp but everything else impeccably groomed, Steele ran to the door and threw it open to find Laura looking her loveliest. Ushering her in, he took her wrap and draped it over a chair, all the while surreptitiously drinking in the sight of her. She was radiant this evening, exuding a sense of confidence coupled with passionate mystery. Laura, meanwhile, appraised Steele's appearance; she felt as if he had dressed only for her, even if he didn't know it. He
was wearing black denim jeans topped by that deep blue shirt she loved, with the first couple of buttons carelessly unfastened. When he stepped closer to her she caught the scent she'd come to know was his: a clean, musky smell, a
combination of soap, aftershave, and desire, along with, she imagined, tonight's dinner.

Steele clasped his hands together. "What would you like to drink? Champagne, perhaps?" When she agreed, he turned and headed for the kitchen, saying, "Wait 'til you see what I have in store for you this evening."

Ooh. She knew he meant dinner, but just the same, other possibilities were more worthy of consideration. When he returned with their champagne flutes, they toasted, simply, to each other in turn.

Dinner was, as always when created by Mr. Steele, exquisite. Laura found herself wishing she'd worn a more forgiving outfit since she acquiesced to second helpings. She helped him clear the table; in the simple act of washing dishes, they found that easy rhythm they claimed so readily together. She watched him dry his hands on a tea towel before pulling a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries out of the refrigerator. It was then that it struck her how often and how hard he worked to please her, and how rarely
she acknowledged that.

They adjourned to the living room, Steele carrying the champagne and Laura the dessert. Sitting on the floor before the fireplace, they tasted the strawberries and pronounced them delectable. They talked about nothing and everything, safe topics they'd chewed over before. Suddenly Steele turned toward her.

"What were you doing when I walked in your office today?"

Before she could stop herself, before she analyzed whether it was a 'safe' topic to discuss, before she convinced herself she couldn't tell him, she blurted out the answer.

"I was writing a fanfic story."

"A what?" If possible responses had occurred to Steele, this wasn't one of them. He was baffled. What was she talking about?

Laura took a deep breath. No turning back now. Confession time. She shifted slightly to face him. "Well, it's a short story I wrote, based on a TV show."

"You're joking." Not the right thing to say. He backtracked, "What TV show?"

"Hart to Hart."

"Don't watch much TV. What's it about?"

"A couple of glamorous millionaires who are amateur detectives, solving mysteries."

Steele contemplated the fact that Laura continued to amaze and surprise him, and he decided he liked it. "Men?"


"Your glamorous detectives."

"Oh. No, they're a married couple."


"Hmm what?" Where was he going with this? Laura was almost afraid to ask. She clutched the nearest inanimate object, a throw pillow, to her chest.

"They sound like us. Except for the 'amateur' part, anyway. And the 'millionaire' part, of course."

"But they're married."

"Head-over-heels in love?" Steele grinned.


"Anything else in these stories of yours?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replied innocently. "Say, romance, for instance."

"Could be."


"Of course."

"See? They do sound like us."

Laura didn't respond. Steele paused, taking stock of his feelings, a rather new experience for him. She certainly wasn't making it any easier for him, although why should he expect her to, given their history together? He decided to plunge ahead despite Laura's noncommittal demeanor.

"I love you, Laura. Can you say the same?" His tone was simple, guileless, matter-of-fact, but also caressingly soft and seductive. He waited for an answer.

Automatically, without stopping to think, Laura nodded, slowly, wordlessly. Her gaze was fixed somewhere past Steele's left shoulder. Where had this come from? Left field, obviously.

Steele reached over, sought Laura's hand, and held it. She turned to face him, as her eyes met his. He swallowed hard, once, then continued. "You and I, we were meant to be together. What do you say? Shall we get on with the business of being in love? Or keep dancing around one another?"

Her wits once again her own, it occurred to Laura that his declaration wasn't out of left field, but was rather a simple confirmation of the way he lived his life with her. Although still reeling a little from Steele's confession, Laura stated simply, "I'm tired of the dance. Let's sit the next one out."

"Indeed." He gathered her in his arms, while Laura considered the probability that she might soon have some real-life experiences which would eclipse the fantasies she created for the Harts.

The End

Author's notes:
1. This is dedicated to my friend Anne and to all the other wonderful Steelefic writers I've met. Ladies, you are great!
2. Thanks so much to my friend Susan Boyle! I borrowed the end of Susan's story Max's Hart for Laura's prose at the beginning of this story. For more of Susan's H2H stories, check out
Susan helped me a great deal with information about H2H, a show, I must confess, I've never seen.