Jrason Curtis had been unable to get Paige Taylor out of his mind. He telephoned Ben Wallace's secretary. "Hi. This is Jason Curtis. I need a home telephone umber for Dr. Paige Taylor." "Certainly, Mr. Curtis. Just a moment." She gave him the number.

Honey answered the telephone. "Dr. Taft." "This is Jason Curtis. Is Dr. Taylor there?" "No, she's not. She's on call at the hospital." "Oh. That's too bad."

Honey could hear the disappointment in his voice. "If it's some kind of emergency, I can ..." "No, no."

"I could take a message for her and have her call you." "That will be fine." Jason gave her his telephone number.

"I'll give her the message." "Thank you."

* * *

"Jason Curtis called," Honey said when Paige returned to the apartment. "He sounded cute. Here's his number."

"Burn it."

"Aren't you going to call him back?"

"No. Never."

"You're still hung up on Alfred, aren't you?"

"Of course not."

And that was all Honey could get out of her.

Jason waited two days before he called again.

This time Paige answered the telephone. "Dr. Taylor."

"Hello there!" Jason said. "This is Dr. Curtis."

"Doctor ...?"

"You may not remember me," Jason said lightly. "I was on rounds with you the other day, and I asked you to have dinner with me. You said - "

"I said I was busy. I still am. Goodbye, Mr. Curtis." She slammed the receiver down.

"What was that all about?" Honey asked.

"About nothing."

At six o'clock the following morning, when the residents gathered with Paige for morning rounds, Jason Curtis appeared. He was wearing a white coat.

"I hope I'm not late," he said cheerfully. "I had to get a white coat. I know how upset you get when I don't wear one."

Paige took a deep, angry breath. "Come in here," she said. She led Jason into the deserted doctors' dressing room. "What are you doing here?"

"To tell you the truth, I've been worried about some of the patients we saw the other day," he said earnestly. "I came to see if everyone is all right."

The man was infuriating.

"Why aren't you out building something?"

Jason looked at her and said quietly, "I'm trying to." He pulled out a handful of tickets. "Look, I don't know what your tastes are, so I got tickets for tonight's Giants game, the theater, the opera, and a concert. Take your choice. They're nonrefundable."

The man was exasperating. "Do you always throw your money away like this?"

"Only when I'm in love," Jason said.

"Wait a min - "

He held the tickets out to her. "Take your choice."

Paige reached out and took them all. "Thank you," she said sweetly. "I'll give them to my outpatients. Most of them don't have a chance to go to the theater or opera."

He smiled. "Great! I hope they enjoy it. Will you have dinner with me?"

"No."

"You have to eat, anyway. Won't you change your mind?"

Paige felt a small frisson of guilt about the tickets. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company. I was on call last night, and ..."

"We'll make it an early evening. Scout's honor."

She sighed. "All right, but ..."

"Wonderful! Where shall I pick you up?"

"I'll be through here at seven."

"I'll pick you up here then." He yawned. "Now I'm going home and going back to bed. What an ungodly hour to be up. What makes you do it?"

Paige watched him walk away, and she could not help smiling.

At seven o'clock that evening when Jason arrived at the hospital to pick up Paige, the supervising nurse said, "I think you'll find Dr. Taylor in the on-call room."

"Thanks." Jason walked down the corridor to the on-call room. The door was closed. He knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again, then opened the door and looked inside. Paige was on the cot, in a deep sleep. Jason walked over to where she lay and stood there for a long time, looking down at her. I'm going to marry you, lady, he thought. He tiptoed out of the room and quietly closed the door behind him.

The following morning, Jason was in a meeting when his secretary came in with a small bouquet of flowers. The card read: I'm sorry. RIP. Jason laughed. He telephoned Paige at the hospital. "This is your date calling."

"I really am sorry about last night," Paige said. "I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be. But I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Does RIP stand for Rest in Peace or Rip as in Van Winkle?"

Paige laughed. "Take your choice."

"My choice is dinner tonight. Can we try again?"

She hesitated. I don't want to become involved. You're not still hung up on Alfred, are you?

"Hello. Are you there?"

"Yes." One evening won't do any harm, Paige decided. "Yes. We can have dinner." "Wonderful."

As Paige was getting dressed that evening, Kat said, "It looks like you have a heavy date. Who is it?" "He's a doctor-architect," Paige said. "A what?"

Paige told her the story.

"He sounds like fun. Are you interested in him?" "Not really."

The evening went by pleasantly. Paige found Jason easy to be with. They talked about everything and nothing, and the time seemed to fly.

"Tell me about you," Jason said. "Where did you grow up?"

"You won't believe me."

"I promise I will."

"All right. The Congo, India, Burma, Nigeria, Kenya ..."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. My father worked for WHO."

"Who? I give up. Is this going to be an Abbott and Costello rerun?"

"The World Health Organization. He was a doctor. I spent my childhood traveling to most of the Third World countries with him."

"That must have been difficult for you."

"It was exciting. The hardest part was that I was never able to stay long enough to make friends." We don't need anyone else, Paige. We'll always have each other... . This is my wife, Karen. She shook off the memory. "I learned a lot of strange languages, and exotic customs."

"For instance?"

"Well, for instance, I ..." She thought for a moment. "In India they believe in life after death, and that the next life depends on how you behaved in this one. If you were bad, you would come back as an animal. I remember that in one village, we had a dog, and I used to wonder who he used to be and what he did that was bad."

Jason said, "He probably barked up the wrong tree."

Paige smiled. "And then there was the gherao."

"The gherao?"

"It's a very powerful form of punishment. A crowd surrounds a man." She stopped.

"And?"

"That's it."

"That's it?"

"They don't say anything or do anything. But he can't move, and he can't get away. He's trapped until he gives in to what they want. It can last for many, many hours. He stays inside the circle, but the crowd keeps changing shifts. I saw a man try to escape the gherao once. They beat him to death."

The memory of it made Paige shudder. The normally friendly people had turned into a screaming, frenzied mob. "Let's get away from here," Alfred had yelled. He had taken her arm and led her to a quiet side street.

"That's terrible," Jason said.

"My father moved us away the next day."

"I wish I could have known your father."

"He was a wonderful doctor. He would have been a big success on Park Avenue, but he wasn't interested in money. His only interest was in helping people." Like Alfred, she thought.

"What happened to him?"

"He was killed in a tribal war."

"I'm sorry."

"He loved doing what he did. In the beginning, the natives fought him. They were very superstitious. In the remote Indian villages, everyone has ajatak, a horoscope done by the village astrologer, and they live by it." She smiled. "I loved having mine done."

"And did they tell you that you were going to marry a handsome young architect?"

Paige looked at him and said firmly, "No." The conversation was getting too personal. "You're an architect, so you'll appreciate this. I grew up in huts made of wattle, with earthen floors and thatched roofs where mice and bats liked to nest. I lived in tukuls with grass roofs and no windows. My dream was to live one day in a comfortable two-story house with a veranda and a green lawn and a white picket fence, and ..." Paige stopped. "Sorry. I didn't mean to go on like this, but you did ask."

"I'm glad I asked," Jason said.

Paige looked at her watch. "I had no idea it was so late."

"Can we do this again?"

I don't want to lead him on, Paige thought. Nothing is going to come of this. She thought of something Kat had said to her. You're clinging to a ghost. Let go. She looked at Jason and said, "Yes."

Early the following morning, a messenger arrived with a package. Paige opened the door for him.

"I have something for Dr. Taylor."

"I'm Dr. Taylor."

The messenger looked at her in surprise. "You're a doctor?"

"Yes," Paige said patiently. "I'm a doctor. Do you mind?"

He shrugged. "No, lady. Not at all. Would you sign here, please?"

The package was surprisingly heavy. Curious, Paige carried it to the living-room table and unwrapped it. It was a miniature model of a beautiful white two-story house with a veranda. In front of the house was a little lawn and garden, surrounded by a white picket fence. He must have stayed up all night, making it. There was a card that read:

Mine [ ]

Ours [ ]

Please check one.

She sat there looking at it for a long time. It was the right house, but it was the wrong man.

What's the matter with me? Paige asked herself. He's bright and attractive and charming. But she knew what the matter was. He was not Alfred.

The telephone rang. It was Jason. "Did you get your house?" he asked.

"It's beautiful!" Paige said. "Thank you so much."

"I'd like to build you the real thing. Did you fill in the box?"

"No."

"I'm a patient man. Are you free for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, but I have to warn you, I'm going to be operating all day, and by this evening I'll be exhausted."

"We'll make it an early evening. By the way, it's going to be at my parents' home."

Paige hesitated a moment. "Oh?"

"I've told them all about you."

"That's fine," Paige said. Things were moving too quickly. It made her nervous.

When Paige hung up, she thought: I really shouldn't be doing this. By tonight I'm going to be too tired to do anything but go to sleep. She was tempted to telephone Jason back and cancel their date. It's too late to do that now. We'll make it an early evening.

As Paige was getting dressed that night, Kat said, "You look exhausted."

"I am."

"Why are you going out? You should be going to bed. Or is that redundant?"

"No. Not tonight."

"Jason again?"

"Yes. I'm going to meet his parents."

"Ah." Kat shook her head.

"It's not like that at all," Paige said. It's really not.

Jason's mother and father lived in a charming old house in the Pacific Heights district. Jason's father was an aristocratic-looking man in his seventies. Jason's mother was a warm, down-to-earth woman. They made Paige feel instantly at home.

"Jason has told us so much about you," Mrs. Curtis said. "He didn't tell us how beautiful you are."

"Thank you."

They went into the library, filled with miniature models of buildings that Jason and his father had designed.

"I guess that between us, Jason, his great-grandfather, and I have done a lot of the landscape of San Francisco," Jason's father said. "My son is a genius."

"That's what I keep telling Paige," Jason said.

Paige laughed. "I believe it." Her eyes were getting heavy and she was fighting to stay awake.

Jason was watching her, concerned. "Let's go in to dinner," he suggested.

They went into the large dining room. It was oak-paneled, furnished with attractive antiques and portraits on the wall. A maid began serving.

Jason's father said, "That painting over there is Jason's great-grandfather. All the buildings he designed were destroyed in the earthquake of 1906. It's too bad. They were priceless. I'll show you some photographs of them after dinner if you ..."

Paige's head had dropped to the table. She was sound asleep.

"I'm glad I didn't serve soup," Jason's mother said.

* * *

Ken Mallory had a problem. As word of the wager about Kat had spread around the hospital, the bets had quickly increased to ten thousand dollars. Mallory had been so confident of his success that he had bet much more than he could afford to pay off.

If I fail, I'm in a hell of a lot of trouble. But I'm not going to fail. Time for the master to go to work.

Kat was having lunch in the cafeteria with Paige and Honey when Mallory approached the table.

"Mind if I join you doctors?"

Not ladies, not girls. Doctors. The sensitive type, Kat thought cynically. "Not at all. Sit down," Kat said.

Paige and Honey exchanged a look.

"Well, I have to get going," Paige said.

"Me, too. See you later."

Mallory watched Paige and Honey leave.

"Busy morning?" Mallory asked. He made it sound as though he really cared.

"Aren't they all?" Kat gave him a warm, promising smile.

Mallory had planned his strategy carefully. I'm going to let her know I'm interested in her as a person, not just as a woman. They hate the sex-object thing. Discuss medicine with her. I'll take it slow and easy. I have a whole month to get her in the sack.

"Did you hear about the postmortem on Mrs. Turnball?" Mallory began. "The woman had a Coca-Cola bottle in her stomach! Can you imagine how ...?"

Kat leaned forward. "Are you doing anything Saturday night, Ken?"

Mallory was caught completely off guard. "What?"

"I thought you might like to take me out to dinner."

He found himself almost blushing. My God! he thought. Talk about shooting fish in a barrell This is no lesbian. The guys said that because they couldn't get into her pants. Well, I'm going to. She's actually asking for itl He tried to remember with whom he had a date on Saturday. Sally, the little nurse in OR. She can wait.

"Nothing important," Mallory said. "I'd love to take you to dinner."

Kat put her hand over his. "Wonderful," she said softly. "I'll really be looking forward to it."

He grinned. "So will I." You have no idea how much, baby. Ten thousand dollars' worth!

That afternoon, Kat reported back to Paige and Honey.

"His mouth dropped open!" Kat laughed. "You should have seen the look on his face! He looked like the cat that swallowed the canary."

Paige said, "Remember, you're the Kat. He's the canary."

"What are you going to do Saturday night?" Honey asked.

"Any suggestions?"

"I have," Paige answered. "Here's the plan ..."

Saturday evening, Kat and Ken Mallory had dinner at Emilio's, a restaurant on the bay. She had dressed carefully for him, in a white cotton dress, off the shoulder.

"You look sensational," Mallory said. He was careful to strike just the right note. Appreciative, but not pressing. Admiring, but not suggestive. Mallory had determined to be at his most charming, but it was not necessary. It quickly became obvious to him that Kat was intent on charming him.

Over a drink, Kat said, "Everyone talks about what a wonderful doctor you are, Ken."

"Well," Mallory said modestly, "I've had fine training, and I care a lpt about my patients. They're very important to me." His voice was filled with sincerity.

Kat put her hand over his. "I'm sure they are. Where are you from? I want to know all about you. The real you."

Jesus! Mallory thought. That's the line I use. He could not get over how easy this was going to be. He was an expert on the subject of women. His radar knew all the signals they put out. They could say yes with a look, a smile, a tone of voice. Kat's signals were jamming his radar.

She was leaning close to him, and her voice was husky. "I want to know everything."

He talked about himself during dinner, and every time he tried to change the subject and bring it around to Kat, she said, "No, no. I want to hear more. You've had such a fascinating life!"

She's crazy about me, Mallory decided. He wished now that he had taken more bets. I might even win tonight, he thought. And he was sure of it when Kat said, as they were having coffee, "Would you like to come up to my apartment for a nightcap?"

Bingo! Mallory stroked her arm and said softly, "I'd love to." The guys were all crazy, Mallory decided.

She's the horniest broad I've ever met. He had a feeling that he was about to be raped.

Thirty minutes later, they were walking into Kat's apartment.

"Nice," Mallory said, looking around. "Very nice. Do you live here alone?"

"No. Dr. Taylor and Dr. Taft live with me."

"Oh." She could hear the note of regret in his voice.

Kat gave him a beguiling smile. "But they won't be home until much later."

Mallory grinned. "Good."

"Would you like a drink?"

"Love one." He watched as Kat walked over to the little bar and mixed two drinks. She's got great buns, Mallory thought. And she's damned good-looking, and I'm getting ten thousand dollars to lay her. He laughed aloud.

Kat turned. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking how lucky I am to be here alone with you."

"I'm the lucky one," Kat said warmly. She handed him his drink.

Mallory raised his glass and started to say, "Here's to ..."

Kat beat him to it. "Here's to us!" she said.

He nodded. "I'll drink to that."

He started to say, "How about a little music?" and as he opened his mouth, Kat said, "Would you like some music?"

"You're a mind reader."

Kat put on an old Cole Porter standard. She surreptitiously glanced at her watch, then turned to Mallory. "Do you like to dance?"

Mallory moved closer to her. "It depends on whom I'm dancing with. I'd love to dance with you."

Kat moved into his arms, and they began to dance to the slow and dreamy music. He felt Kat's body pressing hard against his, and he could feel himself getting aroused. He held her tighter, and Kat smiled up at him.

Now is the time to go in for the kill.

"You're lovely, you know," Mallory said huskily. "I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you."

Kat looked into his eyes. "I've felt the same way about you, Ken." His lips moved toward hers, and he gave her a warm, passionate kiss.

"Let's go into the bedroom," Mallory said. There was a sudden urgency in him.

"Oh, yes!"

He took her by the arm and she started leading him toward her bedroom. And at that moment, the front door opened and Paige and Honey walked in.

"Hi there!" Paige called. She looked at Ken Mallory in surprise. "Oh, Dr. Mallory! I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, I ... I ..."

"We went out to dinner," Kat said.

Mallory was filled with a dark rage. He fought to control it. He turned to Kat. "I should go. It's late and I have a big day tomorrow."

"Oh. I'm sorry you're leaving," Kat said. There was a world of promise in her eyes.

Mallory said, "What about tomorrow night?"

"I'd love to ..."

"Great!"

"... but I can't."

"Oh. Well, what about Friday?"

Kat frowned. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid Friday isn't good, either."

Mallory was getting desperate. "Saturday?"

Kat smiled. "Saturday would be lovely."

He nodded, relieved. "Good. Saturday it is, then."

He turned to Paige and Honey. "Good night."

"Good night."

Kat walked Mallory to the door. "Sweet dreams," ahe said softly. "I'm going to dream about you."

Mallory squeezed her hand. "I believe in making dreams come true. We'll make up for this Saturday night."

"I can't wait."

That night, Kat lay in her bed thinking about Mallory. She hated him. But to her surprise, she had enjoyed the evening. She was sure that Mallory had enjoyed it too, in spite of the fact that he was playing a game. If only this were real, Kat thought, and not a game. She had no idea how dangerous a game it was.