aige was on morning rounds with the Beast, as she secretly referred to Dr. Barker. She had as¬sisted him in three cardiothoracic surgeries, and in spite of her bitter feelings toward him, she could not help but admire his incredible skill. She watched in awe as he opened up a patient, deftly replaced the old heart with a donor heart, and sewed him up. The operation took less than five hours.

Within a few weeks, Paige thought, that patient will be able to return to a normal life. No wonder surgeons think they're gods. They bring the dead back to life.

Time after time, Paige watched a heart stop and turn to an inert piece of flesh. And then the miracle would occur, and a lifeless organ would begin to pulsate again and send blood through a body that had been dying.

One morning, a patient was scheduled for a procedure to insert an intraaortic balloon. Paige was in the operating room assisting Dr. Barker. As they were about to begin, Dr. Barker snapped, "Do it!"

Paige looked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's a simple procedure. Do you think you can han¬dle it?" There was contempt in his voice.

"Yes," Paige said tightly.

"Well, then, get on with it!"

He was infuriating.

Barker watched as Paige expertly inserted a hollow tube into the patient's artery and threaded it up into the heart. It was done flawlessly. Barker stood there, with¬out saying a word.

To hell with him, Paige thought. Nothing I could ever do would please him.

Paige injected a radiopaque dye through the tube. They watched the monitor as the dye flowed into the coronary arteries. Images appeared on a fluoroscopy screen and showed the degree of blockage and its loca¬tion in the artery, while an automatic motion-picture camera recorded the X-rays for a permanent record.

The senior resident looked at Paige and smiled. "Nice job."

"Thank you." Paige turned to Dr. Barker.

"Too damned slow," he growled.

And he walked out.

Paige was grateful for the days that Dr. Barker was away from the hospital, working at his private practice. She said to Kat, "Being away from him for a day is like a week in the country."

"You really hate him, don't you?"

"He's a brilliant doctor, but he's a miserable human being. Have you ever noticed how some people fit their names? If Dr. Barker doesn't stop barking at people, he's going to have a stroke."

"You should see some of the beauties I have to put up with." Kat laughed. "They all think they're God's gift to pussies. Wouldn't it be great if there were no men in the world!"

Paige looked at her, but said nothing.

Paige and Kat went to check on Jimmy Ford. He was still in a coma. There was nothing they could do.

Kat sighed. "Dammit. Why does it happen to the good guys?"

"I wish I knew."

"Do you think he'll make it?"

Paige hesitated. "We've done everything we can. Now it's up to God."

"Funny. I thought we were God."

The following day when Paige was in charge of after¬noon rounds, Kaplan, a senior resident, stopped her in the corridor. "This is your lucky day." He grinned. "You're getting a new medical school student to take around."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the IN."

"IN?"

"Idiot nephew. Dr. Wallace's wife has a nephew who wants to be a doctor. They threw him out of his last two schools. We've all had to put up with him. Today it's your turn."

Paige groaned. "I don't have time for this. I'm up to my..."

"It's not an option. Be a good girl and Dr. Wallace will give you brownie points." Kaplan moved off.

Paige sighed and walked over to where the new resi¬dents were waiting to start the rounds. Where's the IN? She looked at her watch. He was already three minutes late. I'll give him one more minute, Paige decided, and then to hell with him. She saw him then, a tall, lean-looking man, hurrying toward her, down the hall.

He walked up to Paige, out of breath, and said, "Ex¬cuse me. Dr. Wallace asked me to—"

"You're late," Paige said curtly.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was held up at—"

"Never mind. What's your name?"

"Jason. Jason Curtis." He was wearing a sport jacket.

"Where's your white coat?"

"My white coat?"

"Didn't anyone tell you to wear a white coat on rounds?"

He looked flustered. "No. I'm afraid I..."

Paige said irritably, "Go back to the head nurse's office and tell her to give you a white coat. And you don't have a scut book."

"No."

"Idiot nephew" doesn't begin to describe him. "Meet us in Ward One."

"Are you sure? I..."

"Just do it!" Paige and the others started off, leaving Jason Curtis staring after them.

They were examining their third patient when Jason Curtis came hurrying up. He was wearing a white coat. Paige was saying, "... tumors of the heart can be

primary, which is rare, or secondary, which is much more common."

She turned to Curtis. "Can you name the three types of tumors?"

He stared at her. "I'm afraid I... I can't."

Of course not. "Epicardial. Myocardial. Endocardial."

He looked at Paige and smiled. "That's really inter¬esting."

My God! Paige thought. Dr. Wallace or no Dr. Wal¬lace, I'm going to get rid of him fast.

They moved on to the next patient, and when Paige was through examining him, she took the group into the corridor, out of earshot. "We're dealing here with a thyroid storm, with fever and extreme tachycardia. It came on after surgery." She turned to Jason Curtis. "How would you treat him for that?"

He stood there, thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, "Gently?"

Paige fought for self-control. "You're not his mother, you're his doctor! He needs continuous IV flu¬ids to combat dehydration, along with IV iodine and antithyroid drugs and sedatives for convulsions."

Jason nodded. "That sounds about right."

The rounds got no better. When they were over, Paige called Jason Curtis aside. ' 'Do you mind my being frank with you?"

"No. Not at all," he said agreeably. "I'd appreciate it."

"Look for another profession."

He stood there, frowning. "You don't think I'm cut out for this?"

"Quite honestly, no. You don't enjoy this, do you?"

"Not really."

"Then why did you choose to go into this?"

"To tell you the truth, I was pushed into it."

"Well, you tell Dr. Wallace that he's making a mis¬take. I think you should find something else to do with your life."

"I really appreciate your telling me this," Jason Curtis said earnestly. "I wonder if we could discuss this further. If you aren't doing anything for dinner tonight...?"

"We have nothing further to discuss," Paige said curtly. "You can tell your uncle..."

At that moment Dr. Wallace came into view. "Ja¬son!" he called. "I've been looking all over for you." He turned to Paige. "I see you two have met."

"Yes, we've met," Paige said grimly.

"Good. Jason is the architect in charge of designing the new wing we're building."

Paige stood there, motionless. "He's... what?"

"Yes. Didn't he tell you?"

She felt her face getting red. Didn't anyone tell you to wear a white coat on rounds'? Why did you go into this? To tell you the truth, I was pushed into it. By me.

Paige wanted to crawl into a hole. He had made a complete fool of her. She turned to Jason. "Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

He was watching her, amused. "Well, you really didn't give me a chance."

"She didn't give you a chance to what?" Dr. Wallace asked.

"If you'll excuse me..." Paige said tightly.

"What about dinner tonight?"

"I don't eat. And I'm busy." And Paige was gone.

Jason looked after her, admiringly. "That's quite a woman."

"She is, isn't she? Shall we go to my office and talk about the new designs?"

"Fine." But his thoughts were on Paige.

It was July, time for the ritual that took place every twelve months at hospitals all over the United States, as new residents came in to begin their journey toward becoming real doctors.

The nurses had been looking forward to the new crop of residents, staking out claims on the ones they thought would make good lovers or husbands. On this particular day, as the new residents appeared, nearly every female eye was fixed on Dr. Ken Mallory.

No one knew why Ken Mallory had transferred from an exclusive private hospital in Washington, D.C., to Embarcadero County Hospital in San Francisco. He was a fifth-year resident and a general surgeon. There were rumors that he had had to leave Washington in a hurry because of an affair with a congressman's wife. There was another rumor that a nurse had committed suicide because of him and he had been asked to leave. The only thing the nurses were sure of was that Ken Mallory was, without doubt, the best-looking man they had ever seen. He had a tall, athletic body, wavy blond hair, and a face that would have looked great on a movie screen.

Mallory blended into the hospital routine as though he had been there forever. He was a charmer, and almost from the beginning, the nurses were fighting for his attention. Night after night, the other doctors would watch Mallory disappear into an empty on-call room with a different nurse. His reputation as a stud was becoming legendary around the hospital.

Paige, Kat, and Honey were discussing him.

"Can you believe all those nurses throwing them¬selves at him?" Kat laughed. "They're actually fighting to be the flavor of the week!"

"You have to admit, he is attractive," Honey pointed out.

Kat shook her head. "No. I don't."

One morning, half a dozen residents were in the doc¬tors' dressing room when Mallory walked in.

"We were just talking about you," one of them said. "You must be exhausted."

Mallory grinned. "It was not a bad night." He had spent the night with two nurses.

Grundy, one of the residents, said, "You're making the rest of us look like eunuchs, Ken. Isn't there anyone in this hospital you can't lay?"

Mallory laughed. "I doubt it."

Grundy was thoughtful for a moment. "I'll bet I can name someone."

"Really? Who's that?"

"One of the senior residents here. Her name is Kat Hunter."

Mallory nodded. "The black doll. I've seen her. She's very attractive. What makes you think I can't take her to bed?"

"Because we've all struck out. I don't think she likes men."

"Or maybe she just hasn't met the right one," Mal¬lory suggested.

Grundy shook his head. "No. You wouldn't have a chance."

It was a challenge. "I'll bet you're wrong."

One of the other residents spoke up. "You mean you're willing to bet on it?"

Mallory smiled. "Sure. Why not?"

"All right." The group began to crowd around Mal¬lory. "I'll bet you five hundred dollars you can't lay her."

"You're on."

"I'll bet you three hundred."

Another one spoke up. "Let me in on it. I'll bet you six hundred."

In the end, five thousand dollars was bet.

"What's the time limit?" Mallory asked.

Grundy thought for a moment. "Let's say thirty days. Is that fair?"

"More than fair. I won't need that much time."

Grundy said, "But you have to prove it. She has to admit that she went to bed with you."

"No problem." Mallory looked around the group and grinned. "Suckers!"

Fifteen minutes later, Grundy was in the cafeteria where Kat, Paige, and Honey were having breakfast. He walked over to their table. "Can I join you ladies— you doctors—for a moment?"

Paige looked up. "Sure."

Grundy sat down. He looked at Kat and said apologet¬ically, "I hate to tell you this, but I'm really mad, and I think it's only fair that you should know..."

Kat was looking at him, puzzled. "Know what?"

Grundy sighed. "That new senior resident who came in—Ken Mallory?"

"Yes. What about him?"

Grundy said, "Well, I... God, this is embarrassing. He bet some of the doctors five thousand dollars that he could get you into bed in the next thirty days."

Kat's face was grim. "He did, did he?"

Grundy said piously, "I don't blame you for being angry. It made me sick when I heard about it. Well, I just wanted to warn you. He'll be asking you out, and I thought it was only right that you should know why he was doing it."

"Thanks," Kat said. "I appreciate your telling me."

"It was the least I could do."

They watched Grundy leave.

In the corridor outside the cafeteria, the other resi¬dents were waiting for him.

"How did it go?" they asked.

Grundy laughed. "Perfect. She's as mad as hell. The son of a bitch is dead meat!"

At the table, Honey was saying, "I think that's just terrible."

Kat nodded. "Someone should give him a dickotomy. They'll be ice skating in hell before I go out with that bastard."

Paige sat there thinking. After a moment, she said,

"You know something, Kat? It might be interesting if you did go out with him."

Kat looked at her in surprise. "What?"

There was a glint in Paige's eye. "Why not? If he wants to play games, let's help him—only he'll play our game."

Kat leaned forward. "Go on."

"He has thirty days, right? When he asks you out, you'll be warm and loving and affectionate. I mean, you'll be absolutely crazy about the man. You'll drive him out of his mind. The only thing you won't do, bless your heart, is to go to bed with him. We'll teach him a five-thousand-dollar lesson."

Kat thought of her stepfather. It was a way of getting revenge. "I like it," Kat said.

"You mean you're going to do it?" Honey said.

"I am."

And Kat had no idea that with those words, she had signed her death warrant.