How did all that happen? And how did she end up in such a mess? What was it? Love? Pity? Curiosity? A friendly act of lovemaking? She was afraid of the answer. Sure, she remembered what she'd told him last night... If only things always looked the same in the morning. Was she having regrets about last night? Or just a plain case of cold feet? Last night had been splendid, but had there been more to it than pure passion?

She opened another eye and looked at the man beside her. He was sleeping so peacefully, dark hair spread over his pillow, one arm protectively laid across her body. Protectively or possessively? Laura carefully crawled from under the cover, trying not to wake him up, and sneaked into the adjacent bathroom. She needed some time to collect her thoughts.

Finding a robe hanging on the wall, she put it on and looked in the mirror. She didn't like what she saw there. No matter what she had told him, she knew what had really happened - she'd used him. If he had done the same to her...

Well, he had never fallen that low, she realized as she took her eyes off the image in the mirror. She couldn't face him; not now. Maybe later, after she composed herself and assembled her thoughts, and decided what to do next. Now, she should just leave quietly and go back to her hotel...

The door suddenly opened, scaring the living daylights out of her. Remington burst into the bathroom, naked, with fear-filled eyes and looked at her, as though not expecting to see her there.

She turned away from the mirror. "What? What is it?"

He didn't answer, just hugged her, holding her closely and tightly.

"You're hurting me!"

He let her go. "I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"Um... Yesterday I looked out of the window and saw you. I couldn't believe my eyes, thought now every woman would look like you, thought I was going crazy... Only it indeed was you... And today, when I woke up in that bed, alone, feeling your presence, remembering your touch, but still - alone... I thought... Well, I needed to make sure you had really been here."

Laura looked down and blushed. A couple more minutes, and she would have been gone...

Remington looked down, too, suddenly conscious of his state of undress, undoubtedly believing her embarrassment was on his account. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"That's OK. I just... need some time."

"You OK?"

"Sure." She didn't sound very sure. Or very much OK, either.

"Laura? What happened?"

"Just leave me alone, will you?"

He just nodded and turned around.

God, she hadn't meant to snap at him like that. She wanted to say she was sorry, that it was all her fault, that she didn't mean to hurt him, ever, but...

As always, by the time she was able to speak, he had already been gone.

Steele felt rotten, wondering if perhaps last night had been a mistake. He should have refused, but he was only human, after all. Steele felt rotten. Yes, she had said it didn't matter how the things might turn out... but deep down, he knew she still needed a commitment, as well as the security he couldn't offer at the moment, if ever.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world... All the romantic interludes he had coaxed her into, all the times he had been trying to get Laura to give in, every single attempt to prove his commitment, to assure her in his feelings, all those fruitless attempts - and she had practically insisted on sleeping with him when it had seemed their time together had come to an end. It was so much like Laura to take the initiative into her own hands. Well, she certainly had to do things her own way... He'd used to it over the years, more or less, but something was nagging him right now.

Remington put on his pajama bottoms and picked up his pajama top, shaking his head. Had last night been just another glimpse of that wild Laura he'd seen on such rare occasions? The reckless Laura who could throw herself into a stream without even thinking twice? Crossing the line while knowing they might never be together, knowing he might never be able to come back to her?

It just didn't make sense. Laura had always required proof of his commitment. All those tests she had made him pass in, all those tiny little trials she had put him through to show his commitment... Why, all of a sudden, would she practically jump into bed with him when she knew there was a chance they might not be able to stay together?

He took a step toward her. "So, last night was just another test, wasn't it? You did it to see if I still wanted to be with you, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Laura finally blurted.

He paused. " Did you just want to prove to yourself that I wouldn't come back to you if we went ahead and made love now?"

Laura was furious. "How dare you! Oh, I knew it was a mistake!"

Remington turned around and left the bathroom. As he was already in the doorway, he slowly turned and said, "I realize I am not in a position to be choosey, Miss Holt; I should just be grateful for what I am given. If I were a better man, I would have just sent you flowers to thank you for the splendid night."

She counted to ten, opened the door, and walked into the bedroom. Remington was sitting on the bed, his back turned to her, and his face buried in his hands. He certainly had heard her entering the room, but he didn't move.

"I'm sorry," Laura said in a small voice as she made another step toward him.

There was still no reaction from Remington.

She sat on the bed behind him and started again, saying, "I think you're right. I did want to see what happened after we... crossed the line. I'm not sure I realized that last night, but this morning, it became very clear. That's why I snapped at you while ago." She put her arms on his bare shoulders, but when he still didn't respond, she continued. "I meant what I said last night - I really did want to be with you. I still do," she said, kissing his shoulder.

He finally turned his head and looked up.

Laura saw tears in his eyes; just a glimmer, but still, they were there.

"Last night was not a mistake," she added softly.

"No, it wasn't."

Now she could also hear the tears in his voice. She kissed him on the temple, saying, "Can you forgive me?"

He closed his eyes and his lips found hers. When she finally pulled away, breathless, she was laying on her back and he was nearby, propped on his elbow.

She gave him a sheepish smile and confessed. "You know, this morning, when I realized what I'd done, I was so ashamed that I nearly left... I couldn't face you. And then, when you said you woke up and thought you'd just imagined that I was here with you, I was even more ashamed. Can you forgive me?"

He kissed her again and whispered, "You know I already have."

She smiled, and he traced dimples on her cheeks with his thumb.

He smiled with ever-so-familiar devil-may-care smile and said, "So, Miss Holt, what say we repeat the last night's experience, but without the baggage of guilt and fears?"

"So, you're not disappointed?" Laura asked quietly.

"Disappointed? At what? At you manipulating me? You've always liked doing things your own way and at your own pace."

"No, not that."

When Laura blushed, Remington finally understood that this was another Achilles heel for his ever-so-confident partner. Bending down to kiss her, he whispered, "Well, perhaps a seasoned professional like Clarissa might have a few tricks up her sleeve that neither of us could even begin to imagine, but, with a little practice..."

Laura noticed little sparks deep down in his eyes and realized he was kidding. She wanted to hit him with a pillow, but he was faster, pinning her hands with his free arm. She tried to get him with her legs, but his leg had already been strategically placed over hers. She bit his lower lip instead.

He screamed, "Laura! That's not fair!" - but he didn't let her go.

"Fair?" she said, trying to free herself again. "And you, the Kilkenny Kid, Pride of the Pampas, against me, the amateur - that's fair?"

"Oh, so you'd prefer boxing lessons instead, would you, Miss Holt?"

He finally let her go, and she immediately hit him with the pillow.

Remington smiled. "How about a truce, now that we've both gotten our revenge?"

He slid his arms around her waist and pressed her against his body. Then in a quiet, reassuring tone, he said, "Laura, I'm not interested in your hard-earned bed skills; I am interested in you. I want to be with you, to grow old with you, to go through good times and bad times with you. No one has ever made me feel the way you do, and that's all that counts."

Their lips touched and both stopped thinking for a while.

When the kiss ended, Remington pulled on the belt of her bathrobe, but Laura took his hand in hers as she said, "Mr. Steele, aren't you skirting an issue here?"

When he gave her a dumb look, and she continued, saying, "No matter how long we stay in this room, eventually, you will still have to go out and face Daniel. And truth be told, I would like to face some breakfast, as well."

Remington sighed and sat up. He had the feeling he wasn't the only one with a tendency to skirt issues, but at the moment, Laura was right. "In that case," he asked with a sly grin, "would you care to join me in the shower, Miss Holt? To bring the long awaited rendezvous with breakfast a tad closer, so to speak?"

"Mr. Steele, I would be honored," she said as he stretched his arms towards her. "But I'm afraid that would indefinitely postpone breakfast."

Then she slipped from his embrace and locked herself in the bathroom.

"Ouch!" Daniel hissed, waving his scolded hand in the air as he attempted to wipe up the water with his other hand. He was almost childlike in his attempt to busy himself with anything and everything in order to avoid facing Harry. In a way, he even welcomed the accident.

Laura rushed to his help, saying, "Put it under cold water while I will wipe up. Do you think you might need a doctor?"

"No, my dear; it's not that bad," Daniel assured her.

"I'm afraid it will take more than your smarmy charms to win Laura's heart," Remington said. "Good morning, by the way."

"Oh, good morning, Harry, Laura... I was just making some tea..."

"Obviously." Remington didn't know what else to say.

Daniel quickly gathered some kitchen utensils on a tray, saying, "I was going to take it to my room, actually. There are some important documents I've been reading..."

Remington peeled himself from the doorway and finally said, "Well, your room is a tad small for the three of us to have breakfast there, so I hope you can part with your reading for a while to join us."

"Harry, that is very thoughtful, but it's really not necessary. You two need some time together."

"And we want to spend part of our time with you, Daniel," Laura added, plunging in.

Remington took the tray from Daniel's hands, saying, "And don't try to convince me you really need all this for a private tea party."

Daniel finally looked at what he had managed to scrape together in his fruitless attempt to escape... an empty teacup, a can opener, two knives, and a pepper shaker. He raised his hands in retreat and minutes later, the kitchen was filled with laughter.

"By the was, Daniel, why are you here at home?" Remington suddenly asked, changing the subject. "I thought you were the Chief of Security for the Earl of Claridge."

"You know I was, Harry."

"Was?"

"Harry, it was way too boring; the same old routine day in, day out. Not for an old fox like me, so I quit."

Remington was worried, fearful that Daniel had returned to his old line of work. "Daniel," he asked, "Does this mean you...?"

"Not at all, my boy, not at all; it's still the straight and narrow; after all, I'm getting... umm... older. I explained my reasons to His Lordship, and he completely understood. So, now I am merely consulting with His Lordship on security matters. He was so pleased with the arrangement that even recommended my services to some of his friends. Believe me, Harry, it's much better this way - plenty of free time, different people, different mansions - variety, my boy. Not to mention that the artwork I get to enjoy has been obtained legally! Easier on somebody my age."

Laura shook her head in astonishment... just a bit, but it didn't escape Daniel's attention.

"Why, Laura," he admonished. "If Harry could change, why can't I?"

Laura looked at him and said directly, "Daniel, if memory serves me correctly, you were going to retire when we first met, weren't you?"

"Ah, my dear, I did, but retirement turned out to be a boring thing," Daniel explained. "Now I have something new to interest me. Like I said, I'm actually enjoying my new situation." He paused uneasily, as if contemplating something, then added, "Harry, I was going to talk to His Lordship about your problem."

"No need to trouble him, Daniel." Remington responded quickly, not wanting to raise the painful subject.

"No trouble. He inquired after you several times - I think he regrets the way things turned out. I'm sure he'll understand when I explain your situation to him. A man with his connections could help you just by talking to the right people. Unfortunately, though, the matter is too delicate to discuss over the phone, and he and his wife are currently in the South of France. They're due back in a couple of weeks, so we will just have to wait until then."

"Of course." Remington nodded. "But I still don't feel right asking His Lordship."

"I feel right about asking him, so you don't have to." Daniel was very determined. "After all, Harry, this is my mess, and I fully intend to do whatever I can for you."

"All right, Daniel." Remington said, deciding to let it go. After all, maybe Daniel was right. "But we'll see what I can do on my own, for now. But before I talk to the authorities again, I'll need some information from you - the name of the convent where I was born, as well as any other names and dates you can remember."

"Of course, Harry. I'll write everything down as soon as we're finished here."

"OK, but we are finished." Remington said, rising from his chair. "You cooked, we'll clean."

When the last cup was removed from the table, Daniel handed Remington a small sheet of paper containing the promised information. "Not much, as you can see," he told him with a sheepish green. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really have to get back to those documents I've mentioned; it's the new security system specifications for one of my clients. Harry, you know where the spare key is if you need one."

"I should really get back to my hotel."

"Of course. Do you want me to swing by with you, help you with your suitcase?"

Laura looked down, unable to speak.

"Laura? You're not going to stay at the hotel after last night, are you?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Oh?"

"It's all so sudden, so..."

Steele lifted her chin and said as softly as he could, "Laura, I really need to take care of a few things right now. Please, promise you won't leave before I get back. I'm not asking for anything else. I'll come back, and we'll talk. I don't want to force you into anything, but I really need to know you'll still be here this afternoon. Alright?"

"Alright." Laura nodded and made a step back. "What few things?"

"What?"

"You said you needed to take care of a few things."

"Ah. Merely a figure of speech." Remington said, trying unsuccessfully to sound casual. "I need to talk to the Immigration, tell them about the new development in my case; that's all."

Sensing by his nervousness that he was holding something back, she said, "Back to that again, are we?"

"Why, Laura, whatever do you mean?"

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me the whole truth?" she asked, her look revealing that his little ruse hadn't fooled her for a second.

Remington sighed and lifted his arms. "Okay, okay - but keep in mind that this is a free-will confession."

"Uh-huh," Laura nodded in agreement. "Everything wrung out of you without arm twisting can be considered free-will."

Putting on the ever-so-familiar mask of hurt pride, he explained, saying, "I, uh... I need to stop by my London solicitor and, uh... turn some of my investments into cash. I just didn't know how you'd react when I told you about it, and I didn't want to upset you any more. I should just have come out and told you, but frankly, the matter's a tad embarrassing. "

"What? What are you talking about? What investments?"

"It might be hard to believe, but there were times in my life when I was making more than I could spend; I invested the rest, and my investments have turned out rather well. Now it's simply time to reap the benefits. Before I became Remington Steele, I kept all my papers with a London firm, and that's where I'm headed."

Realization dawned on Laura. "I never really thought about it. I mean, I thought your salary as Remington Steele was your only source of income. But still, you don't have to..."

"Yes, I do," he said, interrupting. "I won't live off the Agency if I can't be Remington Steele." He paused and added, this time softer, "I'll need to use the Agency cards for another couple of days, though, but I'll repay you." He put his finger on her lips before she could say anything and continued. "I... umm... I didn't expect things to come to this, and most of my investments will take quite some time to liquidate... Well, everything I have in the States, at least. Here in London, though, I should be able to get my hands on something in a week or so."

The implication of what he was saying took her by surprise. Never in a million years would she have suspected that her Mr. Steele, The Wanderer, had made long-term investments in the US. "I had no idea you had money..." she softly said. "Well, you didn't think I stole the ring, did you?"

"The ring..." Laura said, looking aside in embarrassment.

"Laura, it's okay that you haven't worn the ring yet. I really don't want to force our relationship on you, especially since we might not even have a relationship much longer."

She smiled, saying, "You know, when Mildred gave me the ring, it reminded me so much of you. You must've had a hell of a time looking for it."

"I had a great time designing it for you," he confessed with a smile as he gently smoothed a strand of hair over her forehead.

"You did?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "I didn't know you could design jewelry."

Still smiling, Remington added, "I didn't make it; I just drew it." After a moment of contemplation, he added with a touch of pride, "Incidentally, the jeweler offered to make it free of charge if I'd let him make several copies of it."

She looked at him curiously, wondering if he'd taken the jeweler up on his offer.

"I refused," he added firmly. "This ring is one of a kind, just as you are one of a kind."

Laura giggled. Indeed, she felt like a school girl. "It's beautiful," she said. "I've never even seen a triangular diamond before."

"Yes, they're rare, but it seemed to be the perfect choice for you. You said it reminded you of me, but actually, it reminded me of you."

"Well, maybe we are alike, after a fashion." Laura paused, and then added softly, "You know, I think I will bring my things here while you're battling bureaucracy."

Steele was breathless as he pulled her into a tight embrace and found her lips with his. When the kiss ended, he said, "Do you want me to flag you a taxi?"

"No, the weather is so beautiful, I'll walk for a while," she informed him. "When I get tired, I'll just take the subway."

He grinned, saying, "Well, that might prove a bit difficult." When she gave him a surprised look as he continued, "However, you could take what Londoners call the tube."

"Oh, this is no time to be talking semantics!"

"Perhaps not," he admitted. "But since you've always been so generous in pointing out my mistakes, I thought I'd inform you that subways are those underground pedestrian passages the locals use instead of jaywalking."

Steele laughed as Laura stuck out her tongue at him.

She was sitting in the living room, talking to Daniel. When he came in, she rose from her chair to kiss him and asked, "So, how did it go?"

Remington sighed, muttering, "It's Mildred's territory."

"That bad, huh?"

"Water into sand... Oh, they've written down everything I said, asked if there is anybody who could vouch for my story and whether that person would be willing to testify..."

"Of course, my boy, of course," Daniel said quickly, rising to greet him as well.

"Umm... Yes, well... thank you," he said. "That's what I told them." He then paused, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say next. "You know, Daniel, I think I'm getting used to it."

"To what, Harry? To your predicament?" Daniel asked.

"No, not yet... to your being my father... But then, you're the closest thing I've ever had a father anyway, so..."

Both men looked down, not knowing what else to say. Finally, Daniel mustered up his courage and said, "Thank you, Harry."

Laura took a deep breath and said, almost in awe, "It's beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!"

"Yes. I wanted you to see this park. Actually, it's the best time of the year in London. Well, it's my favorite time, anyway."

"Well, maybe we'll have to send some of those flowers to our friend Keyes? To thank him for this romantic interlude, so to speak?"

Steele laughed uneasily. "Frankly, I'd rather send him some poison ivy."

Laura laughed too. "Yes, that'd be good."

They walked for a couple of minutes in complete silence before Steele spoke again, "So, Detective Holt, shall we talk, eh?"

"We are talking." Laura said, feigning ignorance.

Steele stopped and turned to face her. "You know, Laura, our relationship is a strange thing. You insist on total honesty on my side, but you pull away every time I ask a question. You want to know about my feelings, but never tell me about yours. Just a couple of weeks ago you accused me of never wanting to talk and now pretend there is nothing to talk about. I thought we agreed earlier to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you. So, do you want to tell me about it, or shall I guess?"

Laura sighed. "Sorry. It's difficult."

"I know. But it's worse yet not knowing."

Laura nodded. "You're right," she agreed, putting her arm through his. "Let's walk, all right? It makes thinking better."

For a minute they just strolled along the narrow path. Finally, Laura said, "I think I'm just lost. I don't know where I stand anymore."

She looked at Steele, trying to decide if she was making any sense. He nodded, and she continued, saying, "I've always had a purpose, could see the direction. I knew what I had to do, had a plan laid out, everything was clear... until you showed up, that is. Still, I knew what I wanted; I knew what I was up to. But now, I don't even know that anymore."

Steele nodded again, not willing to interrupt.

Laura was grateful for his understanding. "I'm torn," she admitted. "I am worried about you, but I'm also worried about the Agency. I want to be with you - I really do - but I also want to go back to Los Angeles before it's too late. I wish I could just forget about the Agency and stay here with you, but... you were right, what you said yesterday. I couldn't live like that. I just don't know..."

She signed again and grew silent, waiting for him to say something. When he did, however, it was not what she'd expected.

"Laura," he said. "Just a couple of months ago, I thought I had all the time in the world to tell you how I felt about you. When it turned out I didn't, I concocted a foolproof scheme that was supposed to buy me enough time to straighten things between us. After that failed, I came up with another carefully laid plan - the one you've graciously agreed to help me with."

Laura was losing her patience. "What are you driving at?" she asked.

"As I told you once before, none of us is ever in complete control of our fates."

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"I don't mean to push, but why don't you let up on yourself a bit? Treat yourself to a Roman Holiday?"

"I thought you weren't supposed to leave London."

"No."

"No?"

"No. Roman Holiday. Audrey Hepburn, Gregory Peck, Paramount, 1953. Hepburn portrays a heiress to a throne who escapes from her golden cage to..."

"Yes, I've seen the movie. The similarity is uncanny, Mr. Steele, but correct me if I'm wrong - Audrey Hepburn's holiday was just for one day, wasn't it?"

"Laura, you will always be the queen of my heart, but as far as the rest of the world is concerned, you are only a private detective."

"So..."

Remington was entering dangerous waters, but it was important, so he plunged ahead, "So, I think you could ignore your duties a bit longer." He put his arms on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Give us a week. No case. No clients. No interruptions. Just you and me. Let's just let the chips fall where they may."

"And then?" Laura asked sadly.

"And then... you'll go back to Los Angeles while I try to straighten out everything here," he said softly, trying to reassure her. "We'll see where we go from there."

Laura buried her face in his chest and kept silent for what seemed like an eternity. Then she looked up and said, "I really do want us to be together, you know; I don't want to loose you."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear, but maybe he just wanted too much. He held her close in silent agreement.

She felt Remington standing directly behind her back and said, smiling, "Thanking me for the splendid night, Mr. Steele?"

He wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered, "'Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman' would be a more accurate description." He turned her head with his other arm and leaned into a kiss, adding, "Last night was splendid, though."

When the kiss ended, Laura said with a sly grin, "They're gorgeous, but I think I should also thank your fellow conspirator."

"What are you talking about?"

She turned to face him, pressed her finger into his chest and said, "I'm talking about your sneaking out 'for a moment' to talk to Daniel while I was getting ready for bed last night."

Remington sighed and admitted with a smile, "Nothing gets past you, Detective Holt!"

"Earl of Claridge?" Laura repeated, shocked. "Daniel, you don't mean..."

"My dear, you have the most suspicious mind I've ever seen in a woman. I couldn't very well have asked His Lordship's permission, now, could I? I simply had a little chat with his gardener last night, that's all. The rightful owners certainly can't enjoy their lilacs while they are out of the country, and by the time they return, the blossoms will be long gone. Don't you agree that the Earl of Claridge has the rarest and most beautiful flowers you've ever seen?"

Laura sighed in exasperation, saying, "Really, you two..." She didn't know what else to say, but both men could see she was flattered.

Steele gave her another dumb look, so she explained that while she had high hopes for his ability to battle bureaucracy, she wanted to have all possible bets covered, including those in the American Embassy. "We should talk to the Consul General and inform him about our problem," she said, finishing her explanation and smiling at Remington, who sat gaping.

In less than an hour, Remington found himself in Laura's wake, waiting to see the US Consul General, one Mr. Herbert Bailey. The task proved to be more difficult than she had expected since just about everybody in the Consulate was absolutely sure their petty problems weren't worth the attention of Mr. Bailey. Laura was absolutely adamant and refused to talk to anybody else. As a last resort, she even used some tricks from Mildred's vast arsenal.

Finally, her dogged determination had brought results, and an hour later, Laura and Remington were entering Mr. Bailey's office.

"Miss Holt, Mr. Steele. It's a pleasure to meet you," Herbert Bailey said as he rose from his chair to greet them. He was a tall man in his early forties with slightly thinning red hair and a body that could definitely benefit from regular physical activity. His smile was open and sincere. "I am from the Los Angeles area myself and try to follow your cases whenever I can. Please, sit down. How can I be of assistance?"

Laura explained the problem.

Mr. Bailey listened, making notes and shaking his head once in a while. "Well, Miss Holt, this is a most unusual case... but then, I'm sure you realize that. If you don't mind, I'll contact the INS agent you've mentioned - Estelle Becker, wasn't it? It's not that I doubt your story, but I would like to have all necessary documents at hand." Pausing a moment, he added, "You understand, though, that I can't do anything for you until Mr. Steele has resolved his problem with the British authorities."

Laura definitely liked the man. Despite his age, his weight problems and his bald spot, he had some boyish charm. "We understand," she assured him. "But considering that I have to return to Los Angeles in just a couple of days to keep the Agency open, I thought it'd be better if we talked to you in person."

"Why, certainly, Miss Holt," Mr. Bailey said. Then turning to Remington, he added, "You're lucky to have such a smart and reliable associate - not to mention a charming fiancée, of course."

Both jumped slightly when he referred to Laura as Remington's fiancée. Though she had mentioned their prominent marriage, the actual word 'fiancée' hadn't been used and it sounded strange to both of them.

The couple rose from theirs seats as Bailey said with a shy smile, "Actually, Miss Holt, when my wife saw your picture in a paper once, she mentioned that she had studied with you at Stanford. I'm not sure you'll remember her... Irene McCall."

"Irene?" Laura was surprised. "Of course! Tall, blonde, good looking. How is she?"

"Oh, she's fine, fine. I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear about you. Actually, if you'll excuse me for just a second..." The Consul General stood up and promptly left the room.

Laura smiled at his boyish pace and shook her head. "Nice guy, isn't he?"

"Yes, indeed." Remington said curtly.

He had been slightly standoffish for the better part of the morning. In light of his current situation with the British authorities, he had been extremely hesitant to talk to the US Council. But if he had said something, at best, Laura would be upset; at worst, she would accuse him of not being willing to return to Los Angeles. He didn't want to argue with her over the matter, so he'd kept his misgivings to himself.

In a moment Mr. Bailey came back, shining like a new coin. "Miss Holt, Mr. Steele, my wife and me would like to invite you for a dinner tonight. Unless you have more interesting plans in mind, of course."

"We'd be delighted," Laura said.

All in all, it was a much more pleasant evening than Remington had expected. Good food, good wine, and a conversation with a smart man made him temporarily forget his problems, and Laura seemed to be far more relaxed as they left the hospitable home.

On their way home, he commented, "You seem to have enjoyed the evening. Pleasant reunion?"

Laura smiled as she said, "You know, when I was at Stanford, Irene McCall wouldn't say two words to me unless she had to."

"Oh?"

"Well, we knew each other, talked to each other on occasions; she didn't exactly try to avoid me. It's just that socially she... drifted toward other circles."

"More upscale?" Steele asked, wrapping his arm around Laura.

"More or less. I was on math scholarship - low profile, not very popular. And Irene definitely knew what she wanted."

"And what was that?"

"A rich husband with a strong position in society."

"So you think for her, it's just a marriage of convenience?"

"Well, I don't know; it's just kind of hard to picture them together. He's such a nice guy, but not what I would normally call Irene's type. You seem to like him as well."

"Yes. He is a nice guy indeed. Smarter than he looks, too."

"Interesting coin collection?"

"Not very; more extensive than impressive. But then, he knows that - it's his baby, his other passion."

"Other?"

"Well, I think he dotes on his wife." Remington lightly kissed Laura on the forehead.

And with that the Baileys were dismissed altogether.

"Whatever you say, Harry," Daniel said, finally giving in. "And does it mean Laura's turn is coming soon as well?" he asked, picking up his newspaper.

"Absolutely," Laura assured him. "Between your and Remington's cooking we could all use a couple of lean days."

Remington added at the same time, his voice mingling with Laura's, "Daniel, I think for the length of Laura's vacation we could spare the lady some housekeeping."

"That bad, huh?" Daniel unfolded the newspaper. "Harry, I should think someone with your experience could offer a lesson or two."

"Ah, Daniel, the kitchen is the last place he has in mind when I'm at his apartment." Laura added gaily. "Actually, I don't think he lets anybody in there."

"Laura," Remington added in mockingly offended tone. "You should've told me you wanted to cook breakfast."

Laura chuckled, as did Daniel, who was still looking through the newspaper. Suddenly he grew serious, spread the paper on the table, and said, "Laura, Harry. I think you should take a look at this."

Laura and Steele moved in closer. There, under a picture of Irene and Herbert Bailey, were big letters saying "Diplomat's Wife Murdered in Her Home."

"Oh, my!" Laura said as she weakly sat down, and Remington squeezed her shoulder in silent support.

The newspaper article said that the US Consul General had come home late the previous night to find his wife murdered in what had looked like an attempted burglary.

"Late last night?" Daniel asked, surprised. "I thought he spent the evening with you."

"Well, we left early. Perhaps, he was summoned on official business..." Remington speculated.

Laura folded the newspaper, gave it back to Daniel and said, "I think we should visit Mr. Bailey and offer our condolences.

"Well, we did spend last evening with them," Laura insisted. "I feel we should call on Mr. Bailey; after all, I don't think they have a lot of friends in London."

"And you're sure our being here has nothing to do with you wanting to find out where he was when your friend Irene was murdered?" Remington asked.

"College mate, not friend," she corrected. "And we're already here, so I think we should postpone this conversation."

Steele sighed and rang the doorbell. The policeman who opened the door listened to them and asked them to wait. In less then a minute they heard all-too-familiar voice.

"Mr. Steele! Miss Holt!" Inspector Lombard exclaimed as he appeared in the doorway. "While I'm glad to see you, I certainly hope you're not entertaining the idea of investigating this particular murder."

"Not at all, Inspector; not at all," Steele assured him, rushing in before Laura could say something to the contrary. "It just so happens that Miss Holt and Mrs. Bailey studied together at Stanford. We thought it was appropriate to offer our condolences, since we had dinner here last night."

"Oh. I apologize for jumping to conclusions, Miss Holt," Inspector Lombard said sympathetically. "I had no idea the two of you were acquainted."

"I understand." Laura said, suddenly shivering.

Remington took her hand, trying to warm her.

She continued, saying, "When we saw the morning paper, we thought we needed to... But if Mr. Bailey is busy... We probably should've called first."

"He'll be able to see you in a few minutes. Minor formalities. Come in." Inspector Lombard led them into the house.

"How did it happen, Inspector?" Laura asked quietly.

"Burglary attempt. Mr. Bailey was away, Mrs. Bailey was probably upstairs. Point of entry is that back door," the Inspector said as he indicated the door on the other side of the house.

From where they stood it was easy to see that one of the glass panes was broken.

"Whoever did it must have broken the glass and opened the door, thinking there was nobody home. Mrs. Bailey must have heard something downstairs and gone into the study; the intruder probably heard something that scared him, then killed her with a letter opener and run away."

Laura shivered again. She had seen a lot of deaths, but none of them had been somebody with whom she'd had dinner the night before. "Nobody heard anything?" she asked.

"Not yet; we're still talking to the neighbors. Her husband found her in the study when he came home..." The Inspector paused a moment as something they said earlier suddenly rang a bell. "Did you just say you had dinner yesterday?"

Laura was busy looking at the back door. "Yes, that's right," she replied in a strange, preoccupied voice.

Noticing her preoccupation, Remington pitched, saying, "We did, Inspector, but we left quite early, around nine."

"Ah," the Inspector responded thoughtfully.

"When we read the paper," added Steele, "we just assumed that Mr. Bailey had been summoned on official business"

"When did it happen?" Laura asked.

"Difficult to say yet." Inspector said. "Between midnight and one a.m. The Council came home around three-thirty."

"Did anybody in the house clean up the broken glass?" Laura asked, still staring at the back door.

"I beg your pardon?" Lombard asked, turning to follow her look.

"The shattered glass - it was broken from the outside, wasn't it?" Laura asked. "But yet I don't see any pieces in the room..."

Remington noticed that ever-so-familiar gleam in Laura's eyes.

"Oh. Interesting; very interesting. Your associate is a very perceptive lady, Mr. Steele. You seem to have trained her well," Inspector Lombard said, almost surprised.

Laura dug her nails into Remington's hand when she heard the chauvinistic remark, causing him to stifle a scream.

"Umm... I think Mr. Bailey can see you now," the Inspector added as two policemen appeared from the study, followed by Herbert Bailey.

After offering quick condolences, Laura and Steele promptly left the house.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and said, "You're awfully silent."

"It's not every day my college mates gets killed," she reminded him. "We've just had dinner yesterday, for God's sake!"

"Laura, you can offer the dinner story to Inspector Lombard, maybe he'll buy it. I recognize the gleam in your eyes."

"Do you?" she asked ironically, stopping and turning to face him.

"Laura, you don't really think Herbert murdered his wife, do you?"

Laura's anger was gone. She paused and said quietly, "No, I don't. But something just doesn't add up... Inspector Lombard said Irene had been upstairs. Not asleep, just upstairs. Probably, dressed. Right?"

"Right."

"The light must've been on, then..."

Now Steele understood. "Nobody in their right mind would break into a house when the light is still on; not in this neighborhood, at least."

Laura only nodded, thinking.

As the boat took off from Westminster Pier, Laura, indeed, was too busy looking around, enjoying the riverside, listening to Remington's occasional comments regarding the sights. They were standing on the deck, side to side, Remington's arm around Laura's waist, her head resting on his shoulder. By the time they landed at the Tower Bridge, it seemed as though there was only the two of them...

The place didn't look much from the outside, but that was fully compensated for on the inside by the quiet music, the dark wood panels, and the candlelit oak tables covered with checkered napkins. Despite the bright sunlight outside, the dining room was dark and romantic. Remington certainly knew what he was doing when he chose the place, hoping that the intimate atmosphere, the excellent food and the impressive wine list would help keep Laura away from the events of the morning.

It almost worked. He told her some stories of his early days with Daniel; mostly about his mentor's attempts to persuade him that a knife and a fork were just as convenient as a spoon, sometimes even more so, and that although a napkin was a convenient tool, but couldn't entirely replace washing one's hands. Sitting with her chin propped in her hand, Laura smiled quietly as she looked at the debonair man seated before her and tried to see that dirty street urchin in him.

Halfway through the lunch something happened; if Remington hadn't known her so well, he wouldn't even have noticed the change. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but it was there. Laura still smiled, still listened to his small talk, but...

After the lunch he suggested to do more sightseeing, but Laura said she was tired and suggested they go home.

In the living room they saw Daniel with a book and some notes. He rose to greet them, "Ah, Laura, Harry! I was just going to make some coffee. Care to join me?"

Laura nodded absent-mindedly, and Daniel, sensing something was out of place, quickly said, "Don't worry, don't worry, I can manage the coffee alone. I need to run anyway."

When Daniel was gone, Steele took Laura's arm and said, "Laura, what's wrong?"

She feigned ignorance. "Wrong?"

"Was it something I said? Did I hurt you?"

"No."

"Well, with all due respect, I don't think you are this upset about the death of your long-forgotten college mate, so it's got to be something else."

"I'm just thinking about this case," she admitted. "There is a nuance there that escapes me."

"Need I remind you that we don't have a case?" he pointed out. "And that your license is back in the States?"

"No, you don't need to remind me. And by the way, I appreciate your attempts to take my mind off of it this morning."

Remington signed in exasperation. "You're a very perceptive woman, Laura Holt. I was only trying to keep your mind on the holiday we'd both agreed on."

"Thank you." Laura gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"So, we've scientifically proven you cannot relax for more than half a day, eh?" he said, giving her his most cunning smile.

"Empirically, not scientifically," she said, automatically correcting him. "Besides, just one occurrence doesn't prove anything. And anyway, it's not that; It's everything... I don't know... Everything's just so different here..."

Steele was at loss. "Different from Los Angeles?" he asked.

"Yes. But it's beautiful, too... I just can't help thinking of Irene. When we were talking after the dinner, she went on and on about how she liked it in England and how she was happy to be here." Laura looked at Remington, but he couldn't hold her stare. "What is it?" she asked him.

"Nothing," he said. Then giving her his most innocent look and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he added suggestively, "Tomorrow we'll try to think of something that will distract you for more than half a day."

She didn't pull away, but resisted his embrace enough to prevent him from kissing her. "Give," she ordered.

"Laura, what are you talking about?"

Then she did pull away from him.

With a quiet sigh Remington gave up his effort to distract her, saying, "After dinner, Herb told me about the promotion he would be getting soon. It'd have been a big step up for him, but it also meant they'd have to spend several years in some third world country."

Laura grew serious, and said quietly, "I think we really need to talk to our Mr. Bailey."

She stood up before he could reach her for a kiss.

When they arrived at the Baileys' doorstep, their way was blocked by a policeman. He informed that Mr. Bailey was under house arrest and wasn't allowed to have any visitors or to receive any phone calls. Quick reading of a newspaper purchased at the nearest stand answered further questions. Apparently, Laura's words about the back door and pieces of glass hadn't gone unnoticed by Inspector Lombard. Growing suspicious, he had searched for and found Irene's 'stolen' jewelry among the Council's things.

"I don't understand," Steele commented at this point. "You don't suppose the Inspector actually got a warrant and searched the house, do you?"

"Read on," was Laura's sharp response.

Further reading showed that Herb had gone out for a walk before Irene was killed, leaving before midnight and returning in the wee hours of the morning.

Laura and Remington, equally puzzled, exchanged glances, and Laura said, "I think we've got our work cut out for us, Mr. Steele."

"Laura, surely you're not implying..."

"Indeed, I am. It's not like you've never broken into a jail before."

Steele snarled.

"Where can one get some... um... working clothes in this town?" Laura added with a cunning smile.

When the last toy was paid for, Remington pointed out a dress he'd been secretly admiring for the best part of their shopping tour and said, "Um... Laura, we still have plenty of time until the dark. What say you try this dress on?"

"Why, Mr. Steele, you don't mean to buy it for me by any chance, do you?"

"The thought has crossed my mind."

Laura shook her head. "I'd rather you wouldn't..."

"Why not?" Remington was puzzled. The dress simply spoke of Laura - businesslike, yet very elegant. "You don't like it?"

"That's not it." Laura was uncomfortable. "I don't know. It's... inappropriate."

"Laura, that's ridiculous! Are you saying it's inappropriate to accept an item of closing from the man you sleep with? Why? Because I'll want to take it off of you?"

"Perhaps, you're right. Perhaps I just need to get used to the idea."

"Well, what can you accept from me, then? A watch? A purse? A pair of shoes?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"No." he said, giving her his so familiar boyish smile. "But I would really like to give you something."

Laura took a deep breath and decided. "OK. Close your eyes."

"Laura, need I remind you that we're in a public place?"

"Close them."

He did. She took his arm and led his way. After so many steps, one staircase, and two near falls, Remington suspiciously asked, "And where might you be taking me, Miss Holt?"

"Obviously, Mr. Steele, patience is not one of your stronger suits. You'll know soon." After several more paces, she stopped, saying, "You can open your eyes now." Then with a seductive smile she added, "Do you see anything you'd like to take off of me?"

Remington looked over her head and, much to his amazement, found himself in the middle of a lingerie department.

Laura had never thought the day would come when she sees him blush...

At first, Daniel seemed very calm; but when he realized it was Laura who was going to make use of them, his demeanor changed.

"Umm... Daniel..." he begun, trying to clarify the situation. "Laura and I are going to..."

"Oh, whatever makes you happy," Daniel said quickly.

"Daniel, I thought you were retired," suspiciously said Laura, who'd just finished trying the gloves on. They were big, but still, better than nothing.

"Winters are still cold in this country, my dear," Daniel pointed out.

"Ladies first, Miss Holt," Remington said with a bow as he stretched his arm to help her up.

Herbert opened his eyes and saw two dark figures leaning over him in dim glow of a flashlight. A wave of panic swept over him, but at his first attempt to scream one of the figures pressed a hand over his mouth.

"Icy calm, Herb," instructed a familiar voice. "It's Remington Steele. I need to talk to you."

Herbert nodded, and the hand was removed. He looked at the second figure, and the tentacle's voice said, "We're sorry to break in, but it seemed to be the only way to reach you."

Bailey inhaled and said, "Oh, Miss Holt, you scared me half to death. I thought whoever did this to Irene had returned for me... Or do you think I'm guilty, too?"

Laura put her hand on his arm and said, "No, Mr. Bailey, we don't."

"Call me Herb, please," The Council insisted with a smile. "What can I do for you, then?"

"Herb, first of all, I must apologize." Laura paused. "It was me who pointed out the pieces of glass to the Inspector. It's my fault. We - Mr. Steele and I - don't think you killed Irene, and we want to help."

Steele realized Laura was determined to get to the truth by any means. Bailey's arrest was merely the last straw...

"Oh... I see..." Herb said apologetically as he sat up in the bed. "Well, I'm sure somebody else would have noticed it eventually. This Inspector looks shrewd; perhaps, he'll be kind enough to find the real murderer," he said despairingly.

Laura said, "Herb, the police think they've found their murderer; they're not going to look anymore. Do you mind if we take a look around? Look for a clue that the police has left unnoticed?"

Bailey nodded. "Would you mind if I put on something more appropriate first?"

Remington shook his head in disbelief. He definitely liked this man; he was not only smart, but he had such an amazing presence of mind, too. "Just don't turn the lights on. This..." Steele said, pointing to the flashlight, "...should be enough. We don't want to attract your guards now, do we?"

While Herb was changing, he filled in some gaps in the murder investigation. "You see, after you left, Irene and I had a fight. She was upset about... Well, doesn't matter; it was not entirely my fault... We both lost our temper, and I left when I couldn't take it anymore - just slammed the door and left. I had a drink in the bar on the next street, and then I just walked, trying to calm down and think things out... When I came back... Well, you know..."

"Sorry you have to go through it again," Laura felt uncomfortable. She was used to prying, but now it didn't seem to be a part of her job. It seemed more personal.

"Herb, how did the police find the missing jewelry?" Remington asked, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, I just opened my desk drawer and it was there, just laying on top of my papers. I would never have opened that drawer in the first place if I had put the jewelry there, but Inspector said I was too nervous when I did to remember. Considering our fight and the fact that my coin collection was intact, they say I staged the entire thing."

"But your coin collection..." Steele began, not knowing how to put it.

Herb guessed, though. "Oh, I know it's not much, still, it has some market value; a burglar wouldn't have missed it. But only our bedroom was really ransacked."

"Upstairs?" Remington was puzzled.

"Yes, of course. This room," said Herb.

"I don't understand," Steele said, shaking his head in disbelief. "It doesn't make sense. Why would a burglar who had just killed someone decide to go upstairs to finish the job, and then forgot to look through the study on the ground floor?"

"Well, that's what the police must have thought," agreed Laura. "Herb, I don't quite know how to say it..."

"Just say it directly," Herb said as he smiled weakly. "The only way you can make things worse is if you actually prove I did it. And yet, I don't think the police need additional proof anyway."

Laura nodded. "Do you think Irene had a lover?"

Herb paused. "I don't know." He paused again. "A few months ago I would have said 'No'. Now, I don't know. Irene had changed recently. There was something... I couldn't put my finger on it, but she wasn't the same," he said with a sigh.

Steele gently touched his shoulder and said, "That's why you were fighting, isn't it? Marital problems?"

Herb gave him a sad look and finally agreed, "Well, there is no point in denying it now. I just couldn't offer what she needed anymore."

"And with the promotion you've mentioned..." pointed out Remington softly.

"...she would have to live in the middle of nowhere until my next one, and who knows where that might have been. Diplomats are a lot like soldiers; we don't choose our jobs, and while we do have a right to reject one, it's better not to do so. Irene was young when we got married, she didn't realize parties and soirees were just a façade."

Laura stood up and asked, "Do you might if we look through her things?"

"I suppose that wouldn't matter to her anymore."

Having gone through Irene's vanity table, Herb moved to the bureau. Opening a top drawer, he said in surprise, "That's strange!"

"What?" Laura turned her head in his direction.

"It's empty."

"What was there?"

"Letters. Irene didn't normally keep them, but whatever she kept was here. And they're gone."

"When did you last see them?" Laura asked, standing up and moving closer to take a look.

"About a week ago."

"Laura, have a look at this," Remington said as he exited the closet holding a shoe box.

"What is it?" Laura and Herb asked together.

"I think we've found our culprit.

Inside the box, under a pair of very elegant and very expensive shoes, were several letters and three photographs of Irene and a tall blond man in his late thirties. Herb glanced at the man's face, cringed, and dug into the letters. Remington gave him the flashlight and drew Laura closer to offer Bailey some privacy.

After several minutes Herb put the letters aside with a deep sigh.

"Did the letters help?" she asked sympathetically.

"Yes, it's all here," Herb nodded. "And here I'd always thought she didn't even like the jerk."

"I'm sorry," Laura told him, unsure of what else to say.

"Laura, Remington, I really appreciate your help, but if you don't mind, I need to be alone right now."

"Of course," Remington said as he stood and then helped Laura up from the floor.

"Herb, talk to that policeman first thing in the morning and ask him to call Inspector Lombard. Tell Lombard you couldn't sleep and you found the letters looking though Irene's things," Laura instructed him. "I'll talk to him in the morning, too."

Herb nodded absent-mindedly, still looking at the letters.

"Will you be alright?" Steele gently touched the man's shoulder.

Bailey raised his head, "Yes. Thank you. I will be alright."

Steele and Laura quietly left. The Council watched them climb out of a ground floor window and disappear into the darkness. Shaking his head, he went back to reading.

At that point, Laura kissed the tip of his nose and said suggestively, "But Mr. Steele, I'm sure you want to get it over with as much as I do."

"Of course, I do!" he declared, frustrated that the conversation wasn't going in the right direction. Not for him, anyway...

"Then you won't mind getting up a bit earlier to see Inspector Lombard."

Steele sighed and muttered under his breath, "Why, Laura, just what I need after a successful break-in. I bet I'll dream about Scotland Yard the entire night."

"Sweet dreams, Mr. Steele." Laura said firmly, turning off the light.

"Mr. Steele, Miss Holt. Please, do come in. What can I do for you?" Inspector Lombard asked as he stood up to greet his visitors.

"Ah, good morning, Inspector..." Steele stumbled.

Laura picked up the baton, saying, "Good morning, Inspector. We're sorry to barge in unannounced, but I remembered something from our last conversation with Irene Bailey - something I thought might help you find Irene's killer."

"Oh, you did? How nice of you. And Mr. Steele?" Inspector was slightly ironical.

There was something unusual about Lombard today, but the reason escaped Remington.

Laura, however, didn't lose a beat. "Mr. Steele merely agreed to accompany me here."

"Miss Holt is only here for a week," suddenly blurted Steele.

"I understand," Lombard slightly smiled, looking at Laura. "And what was so important that made you to forego your sleep and come to see me so early?" he asked, sounding more like his normal self.

"I'm on Los Angeles time," explained Laura.

"Exactly. Unless I'm wrong, it's sometime past midnight there."

Laura quickly recovered. "Um... Well, I think my internal clock is broken. Jet lag and all that... Anyway, when we talked with Irene after our dinner, I got the impression she had somebody on the side."

"She told you that?" the Inspector asked, rising slightly from his chair.

"Not in so many words, but I've known her for years..." Laura said as she made a vague gesture, which indicated that old buddies couldn't hide their secrets.

Steele couldn't believe his ears. He knew Laura would come up with something to make the police reconsider, but she was really going astray.

"Well, that only supports our theory, Miss Holt," the Inspector said as he sat back down in his chair. "Mr. Bailey found out his wife was cheating on him and killed her."

Laura supplied another version. "Or, she was blackmailing her lover and he killed her while her husband was away."

"Blackmailing." Inspector seemed to be surprised. "Miss Holt, you seem to be overly influenced by your cinema."

"Oh, come now, Inspector," said Steele. "Surely you don't think human passions belong only to the silver screen era."

"Not at all, Mr. Steele; not at all. However, your... associate's idea seems to be quite far-fetched."

"My... associate's... ideas often seem far-fetched," Remington explained when he noticed that Laura was gritting his teeth. "However, I've learned to trust her instincts; they've helped us solve a lot of cases."

Laura gave him an appreciating look.

"And why didn't you tell me this yesterday, Miss Holt?" the Inspector asked.

"Oh, well, I was devastated by the news; it simply skipped my mind."

"Did it?" Somehow, Lombard wasn't convinced.

Steele once more wondered what the man was holding back while Laura clarified, saying, "I may be a private detective, but none of my cases has ever involved a murder of anybody I knew. It was a nerve-splitting experience."

Inspector Lombard slightly leaned forward, looked Laura in the eye, and said, "Tell me, Miss Holt... Does your sudden flash of memory have anything to do with the fact that one of Mr. Bailey's neighbors reported two strangers, a man and a woman, leaving his house last night through the back window?"

Laura and Remington exchanged quick glances. Indeed, they had heard distant sirens shortly after they'd left Herb's house, but hadn't connected that fact with their break-in.

Laura cleared her throat and said coarsely, "Inspector, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking, Miss Holt, about two people who were seen leaving Mr. Bailey's house - two people who fit your and your boss's description."

"But Inspector, the evening papers said Mr. Bailey was under house arrest," Remington said, deciding his best defense was to plunge forward. "Surely the house was guarded by the police."

Lombard, realizing that Remington was apparently worthy of his reputation, gave him an angry look. Obviously, he couldn't accuse the two of them of breaking and entering without admitting to the inferiority of the London constabulary.

He chose to ignore the rebuke and continued, saying, "When the police car arrived, they found Mr. Bailey looking through his wife's papers. He claimed he had found the letters from her lover, and demanded to talk to me."

"You see, Inspector? There was a lover," Laura exclaimed.

"It seems so, Miss Holt. And please, don't try to change the subject."

"Well, Inspector," Remington said, interrupting, "I don't see another subject. Surely you're not seriously considering charging us with the possible penetration of the Council's house, which was under the watchful eye of the London finest, based purely on an anonymous neighbor's phone call?"

Lombard gave him another angry look. "You seem to know this neighborhood very well, Mr. Steele."

"I grew up in London."

"Of course, you did. But now, you're going to leave the police work to the police. I don't want either of you near Mr. Bailey's house again."

"Inspector, you know I'm merely in London on vacation," Laura reminded him.

"My point exactly," Lombard said, suddenly unsure where this conversation was leading.

"However..." Laura continued. "As a fellow countrywoman of the late Mrs. Bailey and a member of the same college sorority, I certainly want the real culprit to be brought to justice."

"Miss Holt, don't try to threaten me in my own office."

"I wouldn't think of it," Laura said, backing off a bit. Realizing her threat hadn't worked, she decided to play her last Ace, which was of very dubious origin. "There is one more thing, though. It's rather personal, and I was hesitant to bring up, but... I think Irene was pregnant."

Remington had never been more grateful for his poker skills - his poker face, to be exact. One thing was true beyond any doubt - Laura was full of surprises these days.

Inspector Lombard was surprised as well; it was clear enough as he leaned forward and said in a low voice, "Where did you get that idea, Miss Holt?"

"A woman can tell, Inspector," Laura said smoothly as she went into the deep end. "While I have never had the pleasure yet myself, I did have the chance to observe my older sister's pregnancy, as well as that of several of my close friends. A woman's face changes, her expression changes - it's difficult to explain, really; comes with experience. But intuition is not a home pregnancy test, of course, so I could be wrong..."

"Still, Inspector, apparently there is more here than meets the id," Remington said, coming to the rescue as Laura seemingly run out of reasons. "Ah! A Place In The Sun? Montgomery Clift, Elizabeth Taylor, Shelly Winters, Paramount, 1951."

Laura didn't even wince at the movie reference.

Encouraged, Remington went on. "A social climbing young man wanting to marry the rich girl of his dreams kills his inconvenient, working class, pregnant girlfriend."

Now Laura winced.

The Inspector didn't seem to be convinced either. "Well, Mr. Steele, it seems we're going into the fiction area. Mrs. Bailey hardly fits the profile you've described. Now, I'm afraid I have other things to do." He stood up, indicating that the conversation was over. "If it makes you feel better, Mr. Bailey's case is not closed; not yet. Miss Holt, I hope the rest of your... vacation... will be more pleasant."

"Well, she had a husband and a lover; she could be." Laura looked up at him with a devilish smile.

"Laura, you were grasping at straws."

"I needed something to get his attention. It worked, didn't it?"

Remington tugged at his ear. It was so unlike the scrupulously honest Miss Holt he used to know. Making up stories had been right down his alley, and she had inevitably chastised him for each and every one of his inappropriate flights of fantasy. But yet here she was, wandering down that alley on her own.

"Laura," he wagered. "If I my memory serves me right, when Frances was pregnant, she still lived in Connecticut."

"What's your point?"

"Oh, just wondering."

"Well, what makes you such a pregnancy expert?" she asked.

Steele leaned closer and gently kissed her on the forehead, saying, "Nothing. Not yet, anyway."

He shrugged, feigning ignorance, and said lightly, "This place would give chills to any of my... um... former colleagues."

"Is there something you didn't tell me?" At first, she was teasing, but then she asked uncomfortably, "You don't mean... if the Inspector starts digging..."

"Laura, I am shocked. Absolutely shocked." He stopped and turned to face her. "You don't really think I would be seen anywhere within walking distance of this place if there was anything for him to dig for, do you?"

"Thank God!"

He put his hands on her shoulders, making her look up, and then said gently, "Laura, I've never been in prison. That's what you wanted to ask, wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"Well, not until I became Remington Steele, anyway," he added, giving her his best devil-may-care smile.

"Mr. Steele," Laura returned in mockingly offended tone. "I was only trying to make an honest man of you. Are you implying I've corrupted you instead?"

"Well, 'endangered' would be a better word."

"Oh, really? And before you became Remington Steele, your life was on the safe path? Now that I've made such close acquaintance with all those scars on your body," Laura suggestively traced her finger down Remington's chest, "I somehow find it hard to believe."

"Well, I've had some mishaps, stepped on a few toes... But at least I haven't been shot at or bashed about with any great frequency, and I wasn't framed for murder or for a jewel heist."

"You didn't have to be framed for a jewel heist, remember?"

"Why, Laura, I thought you were doing your best to forget about my inglorious past."

"Absolutely," she replied playfully. "That's why we have to make sure you won't stay here with your cronies. I bet they would love to see the return of the prodigal! Come on, let's go."

Laura took his arm as she turned around and stepped down from the curb.

A horn blared, brakes screeched, and at the last possible moment, a scared-as-hell Remington pulled Laura away from the wheels of a big red bus.

He held her close, his hands shaking as pressed her trembling body against his. Covering her temple with kisses, he whispered, "Laura, God, are you all right? Laura, say something! Laura?! You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't know what I would do without you..."

Laura, white as a sheet, finally lifted her face and blurted, "You... You..."

"I am a terrible, rotten, degenerate, ungrateful human being," he erratically whispered into her ear. "Please, forgive me, Laura!"

"You... drive on the wrong side of the road!"

Remington exhaled. "Yes, we do," he said as he put his arm around her shoulders. "Let's blow this pop stand; we both could use a drink."

"Laura," he asked. "Do you think I could be a detective?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I could be a detective by myself? Without your help?"

After a long pause, Laura said, "I don't know."

Though his heart sunk at her response, he hoped she wouldn't notice as he calmly said, "I understand."

"I never gave you that formal training you asked for, did I?"

"There always was something more important," Remington said reassuringly. The last thing he wanted to do now was to upset her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it."

"I guess I thought it was just a whim," she continued.

He kissed her, accepting the apology.

Laura pulled away slightly. "I want you to know something," she said. "The Agency would have never been so successful if it hadn't been for you and your hard work."

"Oh, Laura, you don't have to sweeten the pill; I can accept the truth. We both know you're the real Remington Steele. You were the one who solved the Bailey's case, with your attention to details, your intuition, and your determination - all I did was try to stop you."

"That's just one case... and you're missing the point," she said calmly. "It's hard for me to say this, but there were a lot of cases in the last four years that I would never have been able to solve if it hadn't been for your help."

"Why, Laura..." Remington began. Overwhelmed by her sudden confession, he just pulled her closer again.

She snuggled silently against his chest for a few moments, then suddenly declared, "I've decided to stay in London with you."

Remington's heart sunk. "Laura, we've been down this road before. You cannot stay with me," he said firmly.

"I don't see why not."

"Because if you do, you'll lose everything you've worked so hard for."

"Is that the only reason you don't want me to stay?" she asked, moving away from him slightly.

"Just what are you saying?" he said, letting her go.

Now they were laying face to face on opposite sides of the bed.

"What do you really want?" she said, raising her voice. "Do you want me to return to Los Angeles to take care of the Agency, or do you just want me to leave?"

"I could ask the same question," he declared. "Do you want to stay here so we can be together, or do you want to stay with me because you don't trust me to handle the situation on my own?"

Laura angrily turned away from him and pulled the covers over her head. So did Remington, only the covers were pretty much taken. After trying and failing for several times to find a comfortable position, he got up and left, nearly slamming the bedroom door.

Remington went to the window and looked out into the darkness. Finally, he asked, "You heard?"

"Your last remark was hard to miss."

Remington nodded, and then shook his head, saying, "She is, without doubt, the most stubborn, obstinate woman I've ever met."

After a long pause, Daniel said, "Harry, I'm not in a position to say anything here, but I want you to know - the greatest mistake of my life was losing you and your mother."

"Would you rather have dragged her to jail with you?" Remington asked harshly.

"No; of course not."

"Umm... Daniel," he said, trying to apologize. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"I know," the older man said, rising from his chair and coming to stand by Remington. "You've changed, my boy."

"Oh?"

"You've finally grown up," Daniel explained.

"Daniel, I've been on my own for the better part of my life," Remington reminded him. "I grew up before I began shaving."

"It only seemed that way," Daniel said, with a sigh. "Deep down, there was always an angry teenager lashing out at anything and anyone who crossed his path."

"And now?" Remington asked quietly.

"And now, you have another person to care for."

"Daniel, I can't allow Laura to destroy her life because she loves me," Remington said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Then don't. Talk to her... argue with her... but don't abandon her in your own bed."

"She wouldn't listen," he said desperately.

"Harry, during all our years together, have I taught you nothing at all?"

"Of course, you have!"

"Than go back there. Go and talk to her," Daniel said, slightly pushing him in the direction of his bedroom.

At the door Remington paused and turned around. "Thank you," he said. "I, uh, may have grown up, Daniel, but I still need you... as a good friend, as well as a father."

He closed the door behind him before Daniel could say anything.

Remington sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. Then giving her a gentle squeeze to draw her attention, he said, "Laura, if I couldn't earn your trust in four years, I don't think I can do it in a week. Will you please just listen to me?" She turned her head in his direction, and he went on, saying, "Think for a minute. What are you going to do if you stay here? Hmm?"

"I can apply for an investigator's license," Laura begun.

"You'll most probably have to start as apprentice somewhere."

"Need I remind you I have years and years of experience?" she declared passionately.

"Yes, but experience earned in another country."

"It didn't stop me from solving Irene Bailey's murder."

"One murder, Laura," he pointed out. "You don't know London, you don't know the British law, and you are not familiar with the local underworld, for God's sake!"

"Well, the latter can be easily compensated for by you and Daniel, I suppose."

"That's not the point," Remington said.

"What is, then?" Laura said, frowning.

"You've worked very hard to achieve something. If you stay in London now, you'll be nobody again. No reputation, no license, not even another Remington Steele to invent. How long would it be before somebody accused you of moving to London because you simply couldn't function without your boss?"

"What about you? What are you going to do if you have to stay in London?"

"I can't even apply for a license without having all my papers in order," he reminded her.

"Then I'll start over. I've done it once; I can do it again," Laura declared.

"Perhaps," he said gently, giving her a kiss before she could say anything to the contrary. "But think what happens if somewhere down the road, you realize the situation is beyond your control?"

"I could always go back..." Laura said uncertainly.

"You'd have nothing to go back to; not anymore. The Agency would be closed and you'd have to start over again." Pausing briefly, he added, "Think of Mildred - what will happen to Mildred? What is she going to do? Become a secretary again? She's not getting any younger, you know."

Remington knew he'd gotten her attention, so he pressed on, saying, "Laura, believe me, it hurts me as much as it hurts you, but why don't we try the safer way? Go back to Los Angeles... take care of the Agency. You can take all the vacations you've hoarded through the years and visit me again on Fourth of July weekend, and then on Labor Day weekend and..."

"...and then?" Laura asked.

"...and then there's Thanksgiving weekend, and the entire week between Christmas and New Year's, when the only people interested in Remington Steele Investigations are crazy Santas." Giving her his most endearing smile, he added, "You can just spend the holiday season here with me instead, eh?"

"And then?" she asked again.

Remington tried to remember what else there was. He'd never paid much attention to holidays, seeing them as nothing more than unpleasant reminders of all the things he was missing out on in life. "Easter break?" he wagered.

"Easter break is only for schools," Laura said, correcting him.

"I wouldn't know," he said, suddenly embarrassed.

"You never went to school?" she asked, surprised.

"I did for a while; long ago."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Silence fell into the room.

Finally, he said, "Laura, they can't keep me hanging forever. Sooner or later, I'm bound to receive some papers, and then you'll come here, we'll get married..." < a light kiss > "...and you'll return to Los Angeles..." < another kiss > "...and hire a ridiculously expensive lawyer, who'll arrange for my return in no time. Just think what kind of a lawyer you'll be able to afford now that you won't have me to overspend the Agency funds."

"Sounds tempting," Laura admitted, finally smiling. "Only I won't have you to attract clients, either."

"If you return now, the Agency will recover," said Steele firmly. "In six months, it won't. You have to go back, Laura; you really do."

Laura nodded and sighed, unable to speak. Then something he'd said earlier caught her attention. "But after we get married, why would we need a lawyer? Can't you just return to the US?" she asked, frowning.

"Laura, I was deported," he softly reminded her. "It would take more than a marriage to straighten things out now."

"How much more?" she asked, alarmed.

"Not much," Remington assured her. "Just paperwork. Nothing a good lawyer can't handle." He paused and then tapped on the bed, saying, "Come here. I'm freezing."

They got under the covers and he wrapped his arms around her now familiar body. Teasing, he said, "What would you say, Miss Holt, about Daniel escorting you down the aisle, eh?"

"Daniel?" Laura asked, surprised. "I thought he'd be your Best Man."

"Best Man?" Remington repeated thoughtfully. He'd only started this conversation to take Laura's mind of their problems, but it was once again becoming more serious by the minute. "I haven't thought about it. Couldn't he do both?"

"How would I know? I've never gotten married."

"Makes two of us."

"What about Mildred?" she asked.

"Wouldn't look good in tuxedo," decided Remington.

Laura giggled. "No, she wouldn't. But we'll invite her anyway."

"Laura," he said playfully. "Considering her track record, you don't suppose Mildred might interrupt our wedding, do you?"

Laura giggled again, saying, "Oh, I don't believe we're even talking about this!"

"Is it really that hard to imagine?" he asked shortly as he once again became serious.

She paused, then admitted, "It was at one time."

"Tell you what," Remington suggested, as she snuggled against his chest. "When you return to Los Angeles, why don't you decide what kind of wedding you want us to have, what kind of dress you want to wear, whom we want to invite..."

Remington kept talking until finally reassuring sound of his voice lulled Laura to sleep in his arms.

He, however, couldn't sleep. He was grateful Laura hadn't been with him when he talked to Immigration officials. He was glad she didn't know how long it could take him to establish his identity. And even more importantly, he was glad she didn't know just how much paperwork would be needed or just how long they might be forced to be apart from each other...

He desperately wished there was an easier way for them to stay together...

Parks offered the perfect resort. They walked down pathways, hand in hand or arms wrapped around each other's waist, stealing an occasional kiss here and there until they could find a secluded spot. They spent hours just sitting under a tree, looking around and seeing nothing but each other. They even rented a row boat and sailed on the Serpentine, allowing themselves to be lulled by the soft rocking of the boat and lapping of the water.

Steele was surprised by this calm, relaxed, and at times, suddenly wild and carefree Laura... by this Laura who, when they were alone, could go from a purring kitten to a wild tigress and back in a split second... by this Laura who, in the Hyde Park, had nearly dragged him to the Speaker's Corner so he could tell everybody the story of the great U.S. detective who was stranded in London... by this Laura who never once brought up the Agency in their long conversations.

This was the very Laura that Remington had been trying to unearth for so long. He would have enjoyed the change more, however, if he hadn't known it would soon come to an end. Sometimes, when they were sitting on the grass, her head in his lap, he just wished that time would stand still. No matter how peaceful or how serene their time together was, there was always this terrible, inaudible ticking in the back of his mind. The clock was running, and he knew that nothing he could do or say would change it.

Daniel tried to make himself as scarce as possible, allowing Harry and Laura their privacy, feeling they just wanted to be left alone. They saw him in the mornings and even went out to dinner together once, but most of the time, he was either gone or locked in his room, pretending to be busy.

Remington was grateful for not having to face Daniel just yet. They talked, they got along, but once in a while, Laura sensed something foreign between the two. She realized she was acting as a buffer, but that didn't trouble her. Still, Remington knew that after she returned to LA, ha and Daniel would have to straighten things out between them.

After she was gone...

Laura was as afraid of those words as Remington was. The lazy days without cases, clients, or interruptions had a strange effect on her, and she did something she hadn't done in long, long time - she did nothing. She had never had so much time to think. Now, whether she was lying on the grass with her head in Remington's lap or sitting in a boat looking at him, she was focused on trying to reassess their relationship. Their past, their present... and their future...

Here in London, everything felt so different. Not only Laura was different, but Remington was different, as well; she was surprised just how soft, gentle, caring he could be. Well, he had been sometimes that way in the past, when she had allowed him to be, and now she found herself wishing that she had allowed him to be that way more often. At night, when she was laying in his arms, she felt so safe, so secure - as though nothing bad could ever happen to her as long as he held her close. She hadn't felt so secure in a long, long time... perhaps, never.

That very security, however, was scaring living daylights out of ever-so-confident Laura Holt.

Allowing the chips to fall where they may had certainly raised a lot of dust...

"This is my London!" Remington exclaimed.

"No. Not this London... I want to see the London where you grew up. Brixton, wasn't it?"

"Laura, there is nothing there - just dumps and slums," he protested.

"I would still like to see where you grew up," she said, turning up all her charm.

"I grew up in Ireland," Steele blurted out.

"Well, we can't go to Ireland now, can we?" Laura said as she gently stroked his hair. " Of course , you don't have to go with me..."

As soon as Remington looked into her deep brown eyes, he realized it was a mistake. He couldn't refuse this soft, purring Laura. Reluctantly, he took her to Brixton.

The Brixton Remington showed Laura, however, was no longer his Brixton. The place had changed in the years since he had struggled to survive there. Though the streets and even some of the houses were the same, Steele hardly recognized the rest. He found himself gaily pointing out places of note from his past, places that used to mean so much to him.

The old sweet shop which had been a magnet for every child on that street, never failing to irresistibly pull them inside, had closed down and been replaced by a... flower shop? Happy to see that the bakery he used to swipe pastries from was still there, he went inside, intending to give the owner a real surprise by actually paying for something for a change. But the woman at the counter didn't look familiar, so he decided against it.

Instead, he said, "There is an old brick house just around a corner. I used to squat there."

"Squat?" Laura repeated. Years and years of aerobic exercise went through her head in a moment, but she was quite sure that her Mr. Steele did not mean that.

Seeing she was lost, he elaborated, "Um... I used to break into empty flats and houses, live there until I had to move on. There were squatters in America, weren't there?"

"But... isn't it illegal?" she asked. When he gave her a look, however, she let the subject drop.

Remington decided that the building where he used to squat had apparently been restored. With bright curtains and health children playing on the pavement in front of it, it didn't look the same. Steele gave it one long look, and led Laura away.

The only thing that hadn't changed a bit was the old cinema where he used to sneak in the back door, hide from the usher, and watch movies for free.

"Ah, this sets some memories stirring..." he said, squeezing Laura's shoulder. "You know, that was the first place where I was really happy." Pausing, he added, "You know, everything's so different now - so much better. I wonder what my life would have been like if I'd stayed here... if I hadn't meet Daniel?"

Laura gave him a long, serious look and said quietly, "Well, at least one of us would have had a very sad and lonely life."

Steele met her stare, and responded in the same tone, saying, "I suppose I owe Daniel for that."

When he smiled, Laura decided to pry a bit more. "Where did you two meet? Here?"

"Yes, more or less," he shrugged. "Over there, a tad farther."

He was vague, very vague - a sign that had never failed to put Laura's antennae up. "Did you squat there, too?" she asked innocently.

"Worked, actually," he said, trying to sound just as innocent.

"And what did you do there, if you don't mind me asking?" she inquired.

"Umm..."

"Come on, it can't be much worse than what I already know, can it?"

He smiled. "Er... Well... I picked pockets."

"Oh, of course you did," Laura said with a smile. "Daniel's pocket, too?"

"Well, he looked like he could afford it..." Remington said, unsure of her reaction.

"I bet he did!" Laura laughed. "Can you show me the exact spot?"

"Why?"

He knew the wild, passionate Laura was back again when she answered, "I want to see the place where my mystery man met his fate!"

Remington smiled back and said, "Very well, Miss Holt; mind your wallet!"

All too soon, it was their last night; Laura's flight was leaving in the morning. They had made love slowly and passionately, savoring their last, precious moments together. Tired, they still laid in each other's arms, afraid to break the spell.

Finally, Laura asked, "What are you going to do... now?" The question had been on the tip of her tongue the entire week, but she had been afraid to ask it. She wanted to add, "...when I'm gone", but the words stuck in her throat.

Remington understood her fears, though. "I don't know," he said softly. "I haven't thought that far ahead." Then, stroking her neck, he added, "Laura, I cannot enter the same river twice. Whatever I do will be absolutely legal, though, so please, try not to worry." Then, feeling her muscles relax, he asked, "Will you come to visit me again?"

She nodded and kissed his shoulder, leaving a wet place on his skin.

Remington felt the tears and realized she had been crying. Pulling her to his chest, he whispered, "Don't cry, love. We'll be all right... Somehow, things will work out... There must be a future for two people who love each other..."

When they drifted off to sleep, her head was still laying on his chest.

They were almost finished with breakfast when the doorbell rang.

Daniel opened the door, then stepped aside to admit Herbert Bailey and a woman who introduced herself as Annette Connor of the Immigration and Nationality Directorate.

"Har... Remington!" Daniel called out, trying his best to squelch his curiosity.

Remington came to the door, closely followed by Laura.

Miss Connor explained, simply and plainly, that Remington was being granted a British passport. And as if that wasn't cause enough for celebration, Bailey had good news, as well: the United States government had reconsidered Remington's situation. In consideration of the service he had rendered to the United States over the years, he was being allowed to return.

Remington gaped, feeling as if he had come in on the wrong reel of a movie. A quick look at Laura and Daniel's surprised faces assured him that he hadn't been dreaming; indeed, they were as shocked by the sudden turn of events as he was. Somehow, he remembered his manners and thanked Miss Connor. Having accomplished her mission, she put a large envelope into his limp hands and prepared to leave. Herb then explained that he would like to have a few words with Mr. Steele and sent her on her way.

Remington emptied the contents of the envelope and found himself looking at a brand new British passport in the name of Remington Steele.

Laura peeked over his shoulder and exclaimed, "Oh my! That was fast!"

"Miss Holt, Mr. Steele," Bailey began. "I want to thank you once again for helping me."

"Our pleasure," Laura assured him, answering for Remington, who was preoccupied with his passport.

"Well, that's not the only thing I wanted to say," Bailey added hesitantly. "Just between us... Uh, I don't quite know how to put this..."

Remington finally came to his senses. "Directly would be the best way," he told his new friend with a slight smile.

Bailey sighed. "Directly... You see, your interference with my wife's... case... proved to be rather embarrassing to the British authorities. They're grateful that you helped bring the right man to justice, of course, but... Irene's... lover was a high roller - an important person, with money and connections..."

"They gave me a passport because I'm an embarrassment to them?" Remington asked in disbelief, reading between the lines.

"Mr. Steele, they gave you the passport in the hope that you will now leave the country."

"You're not implying he's being... thrown out of the country, are you?" Daniel asked worriedly. "That he can't return, even for occasional visits?"

"No, of course not," Bailey assured everyone with a smile. "You are welcome to stay if you like, Mr. Steele, but I have a feeling you'll be more welcome here on brief visits - for the time being, at least."

"I see," said Remington.

"Actually," the Council continued. "The main reason you've been granted entry to the States is because you saved us from even more embarrassment... You and Miss Holt, of course," he quickly corrected.

Steele laughed. "Tell me - which came first, the American visa or the British passport?"

"I can see that you are a very shrewd man, Remington," Bailey replied evasively. Then turning towards the door, he gave a slight bow and said, "It was a real pleasure to meet you both."

After good-byes were exchanged and the door closed behind him, everybody grew silent.

Finally Daniel spoke, saying, "Well, congratulations, my boy! Congratulations. You haven't got much time if you want to catch Laura's flight. Don't worry about your things; I'll send them to you right away."

"Umm, Daniel... Do you mind if I have a word with Laura?"

She thought she knew what he was going to say, but she was still afraid, and she positively hated herself for her doubts. She knew what she wanted him to say, what she needed him to say, but...

He finally turned around and said, "Laura, there is no easy way to say this, but I hope you'll understand." Taking a deep breath, he continued. "As much as I want to return to Los Angeles with you today, I really think..."

Laura's breath caught in her throat and she fought to keep her panic in check as she said, "Yes?"

"...that I need to spend some time with Daniel."

With a dizzying feeling of relief, Laura replied, "Of course." Then licking her lips, she added, "I should have suggested it myself. I mean, you ended up spending the entire week with me."

"I'm glad you were here," he admitted. "It gave us the chance to straighten some things out between us. But now I need to spend some time with Daniel, to get to know him not only as my friend, but as my father." He sighed. "Just one more week."

Laura let out the breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. "Of course," she said, giving him a weak smile. "That's the only fair thing to do."

Aware that she was holding something back from him, he gently lifted her chin with his thumb and asked, "Laura?"

She mustered all the courage she had left, looked in his eyes, and said, "I'm sorry. Just for a moment there it occurred to me... that you're free to do anything you want now; you can go anywhere you want. You've found out who you are, you have your father - and you don't even need me to be Remington Steele. I mean... it's wonderful, but..."

Remington put both of his arms on her shoulders and said, "Laura, I may not need to marry you anymore, but I still want to... when you're ready."

She dug into her purse and handed him the familiar, velvet box. Then smiling seductively, she asked, "Would you care to do the honors, Mr. Steele?"

When he lowered his head over her hand, she was overcome by a wave of déjà vu. The circle was complete.

To be continued in Part 3 of the Trilogy...