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yourself.”
    “Sorry about last night.”
    “Don’t worry about it. I’m over it now.” She grinned. “So why are you here? What do you do for Sterling besides guard people like me?”
    “I’m the result of an experiment gone bad,” he laughed.
    Marla started. “What do you mean?”
    “I was part of a sleep deprivation study here and it didn’t work out. Now I just do odd jobs for Sterling.”
    “Sounds fun I guess.”
    “It is,” he countered, and grinned. “So I hear you’re recovering from a coma and there are…complications, shall we say, brought on by your big sleep.”
    “You act as though you hear about people like me all the time.”
    “Around here you do.” He smiled slyly. “I also see you’ve taken a liking to our big guy Steele.”
    Marla growled. “You’re not a very nice man, are you, Johnny Vicious?”
    “Oh I can be very nice when I want to be,” he laughed.
    Marla rose, but Vicious stopped her by reaching across the table to grab her arm. “I didn’t mean to rile you,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you that Steele is a good man. He’s a true gentleman.”
    “Whereas you aren’t?”
    “Guilty.” He jumped from his seat so fast that if Marla had blinked she would have missed the move. “Well, I’m off. Take care of yourself and the big guy, would you Marla? I like to think of Steele as a friend and I can already tell just by looking at you both together that you two need each other. Be good to him.” He walked jauntily away, leaving her dumbfounded in his wake.

Chapter Four
     
    Steele came around to pick her up from the lab at precisely six o’clock. He watched as Deirdre removed the last of the electrodes from Marla’s temples, a strong, silent support that Marla greatly appreciated.
    “We’ll see you tomorrow at the same time,” Mark called out as she rose and went to Steele.
    “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” She waved goodbye to her team members and allowed Steele to lead her out of the room.
    “I hope you like spaghetti,” Steele told her, taking her down the winding corridors of the Sterling compound. “I make it from scratch.”
    Marla was impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had spaghetti that didn’t come straight from a box before.”
    “I like to cook. It gives me time to think,” he said.
    “I’m lucky if I can make toast without burning it,” she chuckled.
    Steele led her through hallway after hallway until Marla was completely disoriented. Finally they came to a door, which Steele opened and allowed her to step through first.
    Steele’s apartment was a working contrast against its owner. Where Steele was large and strong, much of his décor was delicate and homey. Marla walked into the sitting room and looked around. It was done in soft hues of vanilla and neutral beiges. It was a soothing room. Comfortable. And already the delicious smells of his still-cooking food were filling the air.
    Marla noticed right away the several bonsai trees placed here and there about the room. “You practice bonsai?” she asked, surprised.
    “I try. My hands are sometimes too big for it though,” he replied softly.
    The trees, so small and delicate, were lovely and she told him so. “How many do you have?”
    “I just acquired my seventeenth.”
    It spoke volumes about him, that he took such great care of things so much more delicate than he was. “Wow. You’ve got a lot more patience than I do, that’s for certain.”
    “I just like to know that I’m taking care of something that needs me,” he said with a slight blush.
    Marla thought his words and sentiment were beautiful. She took a deep breath of the air to steady her suddenly fraying nerves and smelled the wonderful aroma of the spaghetti. “That smells great.” She sniffed again and smiled.
    “This way.” He took her deeper into the apartment. His kitchen, off the left side of the sitting room, was large for such a small apartment, with enough room for a small breakfast table