Steele Investments
Part 5
by Melinda
 
"It's a veritable roster of our former clients--who are not currently in jail," he observed. "Sheldon Quarry, Buddy and Ivy Shapiro."
 
"Ooohhh! This is getting us nowhere! All I can see is a blur--numbers and names!" Laura fumed, slamming shut the accounting ledger on her lap in a sudden release of frustration. She put her fingers to her temples and leaned forward, rubbing circles.
 
"Laura, you're exhausted." He set the open book on his lap upon an end table and checked his watch which read 2 a.m. Unlike Laura he was not so tired that Wit's End had arrived at the station. His poor Laura had dark circles under her eyes and the Wicked Witch of the West's hair.
 
They sat side-by-side upon his white couch, having returned to his apartment following the break-in to comb through the books. It had been at Laura's insistence that they had kept working and against his better judgment. He had suggested that they grab a few hours sleep and start fresh first thing in the morning.
 
Reaching out, he settled splayed fingers upon the back of Laura's neck, finding the muscles to be whipcord taut. Laura released an involuntary moan and whimper when he dug in, massaging the juncture of neck and shoulders.
 
Encountering no resistance from Laura, he added a second hand to the massage and expanded his ministrations to her shoulders and upper back. With a happy sigh, she slumped against him like a little cat, leaning into his touch.
 
"Why don't you go lie down on the bed," he suggested and then hastened to add, "Of course, I'll take the couch."
 
Unfortunately, his timing was ill met, and he seemed to have miscalculated Laura's sheer obstinacy. Her eyes popped open and she scooted away, putting the length of the couch between them. With a sigh of regret, he let her go.
 
"I can't sleep because we have a case! There's too much to do! I want to be through these books by dawn, so in the morning I can go down to the morgue. Then I need to start interviewing our former clients in order to see if we can find out who is behind this elaborate hoax."
 
"Grace Stanton's name is here beside three large 'investments' that were made within the last month. Why don't I contact her in the morning and see what I can find out?" he suggested, tapping the open ledger on the end table.
 
Laura scowled. "Grace Stanton? The wealthy voluptuous Widow Stanton?" she drawled in a scathing tone. "Oh, I bet you'd enjoy a little romp--"
 
His temper flared, self-control reduced to a fine red line. He cut her off. "Laura, if I had wanted Grace Stanton, then I'd have had Grace Stanton. Your jealousy, while flattering, is misplaced." It was an arrogant conceit on his part, but he felt it was an honest one.
 
The rise in his tone acted like a bell going off, and both fighters hit the floor simultaneously, standing nose-to-nose. "I'm not jealous!" she sputtered in denial. "Certainly not of you!"
 
"No? Well, let's talk about what you are then, eh? You've been going on like this for weeks! Ever since Murphy and Bernice left, you've been a raging workaholic!"
 
"Well, someone's got to keep this agency afloat!"
 
"You're cranky, moody, nearly impossible to work with--"
 
"Since when have you done anything resembling work, buster?" she roared.
 
"See, see, that's exactly what I'm getting at! I've been offering to help with the case load since Murphy left, and you refuse to take me seriously!" he shouted.
 
Laura stared at him for a long hard moment. Unfortunately, she did not reach the conclusion that he had hoped for. "Don't you understand that this isn't a game to me? My investment in this agency--"
 
"Is all consuming," he nodded hard agreement. "Why do you assume that I'd be so cavalier as to treat this as a game?"
 
Either she did not hear him or was not listening. "--is huge. Now that everyone else is gone, it's all on me--"
 
He lost his temper altogether. Short of shouting, there seemed to be no way to get through to Laura. His frustration with her hit a new high. It was weeks of trying to overcome her unfair perception of him--her resistance to giving him even the slightest benefit of the doubt--of believing that maybe, just maybe, he might be capable of changing for the better.
 
"I'm not gone yet!" he shouted and instantly and thoroughly regretted the words the moment they left his lips.
 
Laura's face blanched, and she stared at him in wounded silence, eyes huge and full of tears. "Laura, I'm sorry. Wait!" He reached for her and she reeled backward, withdrawing from his touch.
 
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out!" Laura snarled and spun on her heel, sprinting for the front door.
 
His reflexes were far faster than hers, and this time she did not have the benefit of a massive head start. Before she had traveled a stride, he was on her, grabbing hold of her elbow. The action was rough and violent and the end product of his damnable frustration with words which never seemed to come out right.
 
He yanked Laura around and seized her, wrapping his arms about her torso, tipping her over and off balance. His mouth covered hers, aggressive, dominating and desperate to express the depth of his passion for her.
 
Laura came at him like a lioness, a hand grasping either side of his face, her mouth demanding beneath his own. He tasted salty tears and knew her pain and fear through the communion of the kiss. Conflicted, contrary Laura did not want him to leave any more than he wanted to go, and so she did her damndest to drive him away. Her need of him scared her, which made her angry, and this he understood.
 
Laura launched herself at him, legs coming around his hips, locking behind his back. He staggered, and she rode him to the ground so that he wound up on his back on the carpet, Laura crouching over him like his proverbial lioness, hungry for her kill.
 
His hands slid from her arms to her back, caressing through the fabric of her blouse, and she ripped a row of buttons from the front of his silk shirt in her hurry to open it. Her fingers dug into his muscled pectorals, tangling in chest hair, leaving a row of short angry red scratches.
 
He had her! He knew with the innate understanding of an experienced lover that she was his for the taking. The knowledge filled him with soaring triumph and yet another frustrating quandary.
 
Through an act of will he separated their mouths, reaching for her head in order to gain control of her long enough to get through. "Laura, I'm here! I'm not going anywhere," he repeated over and over, resisting when she fought him, attempting to re-establish the kiss.
 
Eventually, his words penetrated her haze, and she collapsed against him, still clinging, angry sobs and the occasional hiccup emitted against his chest. He held her until she cried herself out, and then they lay together for a long time afterward until he suspected that she had fallen asleep.
 
"I'm so embarrassed," she muttered, her voice muffled against his chest.
 
"Don't be." He hushed her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I understand the strain that you're under, Laura. All I'm asking is that you don't shut me out. Let me help out with some of the case load--"
 
He hurried to speak over her instinctive protest in order to be sure he was heard, because he finally had her attention. "--only until you hire a suitable replacement for Murphy, of course," he concluded. He knew that couching his offer of assistance in temporary terms would be easier for her to accept. This was not the right time to challenge her preconceptions of him, to make it clear that he wanted to take a more active role in the agency on a long term basis.
 
Her consideration lasted longer than he liked, but he held his tongue, and eventually she rewarded his patience with a nod. "You're right, of course. I owe you an apology--"
 
"Now, Laura," he interrupted. "Don't you think we've had enough trauma this evening without reversing the natural course of how apologies flow between us?"
 
She laughed, and her hands gripped his face again; only this time the kiss was soft and sweet, more than enough apology and reward to suit him.

 

To Part 6
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