"What'd you figure out?"

"The department head was afraid of us. Keep in mind we were exhausted and tipsy."

"Did you come up with a reason for why he was afraid of you?"

"Our minds. He knew the truth."

"What truth?"

"Women have vastly superior minds." She laughed as she added, "Fear and insecurity were at the root of the prejudice. I remember, at the time the revelation was stunning to us. It wasn't true, but we were too drunk to know or care. I realize now

of course that it was all nonsense, we aren't any less or any more capable than male doctors, but being able to laugh and feel

smug helped us get through the really tough times."

"Was your residency as difficult?"

"No, it was completely different. We were all treated equally horrible twenty hours a day, seven days a week. It didn't matter

that I was a woman. All I needed to know was how to run. It was grueling," she admitted. "I learned how to catch fifteen

minutes of sleep standing up. I was fortunate to train under a gifted surgeon. He was obnoxious," she said, "but he and I got

along. I pretty much lived in scrubs, and fashion wasn't part of the curriculum."

"My doctor's a female."

"No kidding."

"Yes. She took my appendix out."

"I'm not your doctor. If that were the case, I'd put you on a low-sodium, low-fat diet."

"Did I mention I don't like my doctor and that I never follow her advice? As for clothes, it doesn't matter what you wear, Michelle. Men are still going to stare at you. I just hope the Carson brothers aren't gawking out the window at you while I'm trying my best to terrorize them."

"You're going to use terror tactics? Cool."

"I thought you'd approve."

"What do you mean, looking out the window at me? Can't I go inside with you?"

"Sorry. You don't get to watch the brothers sweat."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to hear what I'm going to say. You never know. You might have to testify against me in court one day."

"Exactly what are you planning to do?"

He grabbed the sugar bowl from the lazy Susan on the counter and sat down across from her. "Wait and see," he said. Then he reached for the box of cereal and poured a huge helping of cornflakes. "I like Frosted Flakes better," he remarked as he started dumping sugar on top.

She got nauseated watching him. "I've got a five-pound bag of sugar in the pantry. Why don't you get it down, grab a spoon, and dig in."

"Sweetheart, sarcasm first thing in the morning isn't appreciated. Want some coffee?"

"I made that for you," she said. "I usually drink a Diet Coke for breakfast."

He laughed. "And you're criticizing my eating habits?"

She got a cold can out of the refrigerator, popped the lid, and took a long swallow. "Did I hear the doorbell this morning?"

"I had some papers messengered to me from New Orleans. It's kind of amazing the driver found your house. My directions

were iffy."

"You have offices in New Orleans?"

"I've got friends there," he said. "After I talked to Daryl, I called some people in Boston. Since I'm not familiar with Louisiana

law or workman's comp, I had to use some of my connections."

"It seems to me that if an employee were injured while on the job, then he's entitled to workman's compensation."

"There are exceptions."

"Like what?"

"If the employee did anything to cause the accident, like come to work drunk, he could be denied workman's comp."

"Or if he used a machine he knew was broken?"

"That's the argument the Carsons will use."

"But you're prepared for that."

"Yes."

"Why are you moving so quickly?"

"Because I don't want to leave Daryl hanging. I'm not going to be here long, and I want to try to get his problem fixed before

I go back home. I promised him."

She lowered her head and watched her cornflakes get soggy. She had known all along that Theo was going to leave. Of course, she did. And that was the reason she was trying not to become attached. There was only one little wrinkle in her plan. As loath

as she was to admit it, she wanted to grab hold of him and never let go.

The big jerk. This was all his fault. If he hadn't kissed her, she wouldn't be feeling miserable now.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You've got that look on your face… like you want to kick someone."

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

She pushed the uneaten cereal out of her way, leaned back in her chair, and folded her arms. "Nonspecific viruses." There was

a thread of belligerence in her voice.

"That's the last thing in the world I would have guessed you were thinking about. Viruses. Go figure."

^Nonspecific viruses," she corrected.

"My mistake. So tell me. What exactly were you thinking about nonspecific viruses?"

"They're insidious… and destructive, the way they attack the body. One minute you're feeling just fine and dandy, and the next, your throat is scratchy and sore and your body begins to ache everywhere. Then your glands get so swollen you have trouble swallowing. When you think you couldn't possibly feel any worse, you start coughing, and before you know it, you've got all sorts of secondary complications."

He stared at her for several seconds and then asked, "And you were thinking about this because…?"

You're leaving, you big jerk. She lifted her shoulders. "I'm a physician. I think about such things."

"Are you feeling okay?'?

"Yes, but who knows how I'll feel in five minutes. It's cruel… these viruses. They strike just like that." She snapped her fingers and nodded.

"But if they aren't the deadly kind of virus, then eventually they run their course and go away. Right?"

"Oh, yes, they go away, all right," she snapped.

Theo said what he was thinking. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I feel a virus coming on."

"You just said you were feeling fine," he pointed out.

"I don't want to talk about this any longer. Sick people depress me."

"Michelle?"

"Yes?"

"You're a doctor. I'm going out on a limb here, but don't you treat sick people all day long?"

She suddenly realized how childishly she was behaving and tried to come up with an excuse for her moment of madness.

"I'm not a morning person."

"Don't you do most of your surgeries early in the morning?"

"Yes, I do, but the patients are already under. They don't care what kind of a mood I'm in. Did you sleep well?" she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"Yes. What about you?"

"Yes. It was nice not having the phone jar me awake. Have you heard from your friend Noah, yet?"

"No."

"He'll need to stop by here to get the key to the clinic so he can look around. We'll have to wait for him."

"Noah won't need a key."

"How will he get in?"

"He'll break and enter, but don't worry. He won't really break anything. He prides himself on being quick and quiet."

"Are you supposed to meet him at a set time and place?"

"No," he said. "But I'm not worried. Noah will find me. What's on your schedule today?"

"Since you don't want me to start cleaning up the clinic until Noah's gone through the place, I've got a free day. I do need to

get hold of Dr. Robinson and find out about his difficult patients," she said. "And the only other thing I have to do is drag you

to football practice at three. You did promise Mr. Freeland that you'd stop by, and since I'm the team physician-and I use the

term loosely-I have to be there."

"They need a doctor during practice?" he asked, grinning.

"Oh, yes," she said. "The boys do a lot of damage to one another banging heads and other body parts. It doesn't seem to matter that they wear helmets and pads. I had a dislocated shoulder last week and a badly sprained knee two days ago. The boys are really awful, but don't tell anyone I said so. Speaking of Mr. Freeland," she continued, "he wrote down a number on that paper he handed you. Did you look at it, and were you duly impressed?"