Playing the Playboy's Sweetheart

Steele knew when he was being played and he didn’t mind a bit; he liked it that Macey was starting to notice things that were going on around her. ‘I think Candy might be on duty later in the week.’

‘Oh, that’s good to know.’ Macey smiled.

He had, on admission and again last week, interviewed Macey extensively and she had revealed nothing more but Steele pushed on. He knew where they were heading.

‘I saw your picture in the corridor,’ he said. ‘They’re putting up pictures of the history of the hospital as a part of the renovations. Emergency is getting a makeover at the moment and so too is the entrance corridor.’

Macey said nothing at first. She didn’t want to hear about the changes to the hospital she had loved. It had been such a huge part of her life. ‘I don’t like hearing about renovations,’ she said finally. ‘I like remembering it as it was.’

‘Things change,’ Steele said. ‘Not all things, though. Anyway, I saw you in one of the photographs. It looked as if you were getting a medal or a badge in the gardens...’

Macey’s eyes filled with tears as she remembered those days.

‘Can you talk to me?’

She shook her head.

‘I want to see if I can help.’

‘Well, you can’t.’

‘Okay.’ He knew not to push her. Macey was starting to come out of her emotional collapse a little. The medicines were starting to help and she was engaging with the nursing staff and the occupational therapist.

He knew there was more, though, and that night he told Candy as he cooked them a stir-fry.

‘Macey’s holding out on me.’

‘Maybe not,’ Candy said.

‘Oh, I’m pretty certain that she is.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just know.’ He smiled. ‘Can you pass me the oyster sauce?’

She jumped down and went to the cupboard and got it for him.

‘I hate this kitchen,’ Steele said. ‘It’s really badly thought out.’

‘I hate kitchens, full stop,’ she said. ‘You like cooking?’

‘Not really,’ he said, ‘but I like eating.’

‘Did you...?’ Candy stopped. She’d been about to ask if he’d done the cooking when he’d been married. It was, she guessed, a no-go area, so she swiftly changed what she had been about to say. ‘So why did you buy it if you hate it so much?

‘It’s just a serviced apartment.’ Steele answered her question while knowing what she’d been about to say. He was used to avoiding such subjects with women he dated but Candy, or rather his feelings for her, was unlike any he had known and he was starting to come to grips with answering the tricky questions for her. For now, though, he was glad she had changed what she’d been about to say. ‘All my stuff is in storage. Which is why I have to work out things like the coffee machine.’

‘Oh! I thought you just need glasses. Well, I guess that accounts for the terrible pictures on the walls.’

‘I was about to say all my stuff is in storage apart from the pictures,’ he said, and then grinned at her pained expression. ‘Joke.’

‘Thank goodness.’

She opened the bottle as he stirred in the beef. The smell was incredibly strong, and she headed to the sink for a drink and took a few breaths, not wanting to show how the smell had affected her.

Tiny spots were dancing in her eyes and she was sure that if she said anything then Steele would simply tell her, as her parents had, to cut down on the extra shifts that she was working.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘Fine,’ she said as she ran a glass under the tap. ‘I’m just thirsty.’

‘You’re wrecked,’ Steele said. He turned off the wok and came over and turned her to face him. ‘You need an early night.’

She smiled up at him. ‘Our early nights are possibly the reason that I’m so tired.’

‘I’m serious,’ he said. He looked at her pale features and felt a touch guilty that she had been burning the candle at both ends. ‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ he suggested. ‘To sleep—a decent sleep.’

‘It’s seven o’clock.’