The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance. Carol Marinelli

The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance - Carol Marinelli


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Candy said.

      They went to the blackest, grimmest, yet funniest film. He did watch it intently, yet the only reason he couldn’t concentrate fully wasn’t the What the hell did you bring me here for? vibe.

      It was the I really have to touch you vibe that was coming from him.

      ‘Stop it,’ Candy said as his hand moved up her warm thigh and his mouth went for her neck. ‘Concentrate.’

      Futile words.

      They were like teenagers, and that had been a long time ago for Steele and never for Candy. Those years she’d been keeping Franco at arm’s length, not dropping her popcorn on the floor and necking.

      ‘I’m going to have to come and see this alone.’

      ‘So am I.’ She smiled and got back to kissing him.

      This was heading for morning, Steele knew.

      This was heading to tomorrow evening and tomorrow night and the next morning too.

      He had this vision of her parents arriving on the doorstep as her legs were behind her ears.

      ‘Come back to mine tonight,’ he said between kisses.

      ‘Yes, please,’ she agreed.

      They weren’t ready to be apart any time soon.

       CHAPTER SIX

      ‘HOW ARE YOU, Miss Anderson?’ Steele asked the following Monday morning as he did his rounds.

      ‘Macey.’

      ‘How are you feeling, Macey?’

      ‘A bit better.’

      ‘That’s very nice to hear,’ he said as he examined her.

      ‘How was your weekend?’ Macey asked him.

      ‘It was very nice,’ he said, and she gave a soft smile.

      He and Candy had been with each other for a week now. It had been the most intense week of either of their lives. Every available moment they had was spent together. Perhaps, aware how limited their time was, they were determined to make every moment count and were completely into each other. They were both exhausted but in the nicest of ways—between work and sex and eating, and dancing and drives at night just so Candy could find out what it was like to do it in a car, they were sleep deprived and loving it.

      ‘Is Candy on this morning?’ Macey asked, oh, so casually.

      Steele answered a beat too late. ‘I’m not sure what nurses are working this morning.’

      ‘Well, I hope that she is. I haven’t seen her for a few days.’

      ‘I think she works in Emergency as well,’ Steele said. ‘From memory.’

      ‘Does that mean that I won’t get to see her again?’ Macey fretted, or rather pretended to fret.

      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.’

      ‘Go to bed,’ Steele said, ‘and I mean to sleep. You need it.’

      ‘I think I might.’

      Because


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