Diagnosis: Daddy. GINA WILKINS

something tonight. It’s been days since I’ve been out of the house other than to go to class or lab. Want to join me?”

      For some reason, it irked her a little that he just assumed she would be free to join him on such short notice. Even though normally she would have been. And would have accepted the last-minute invitation. “I’m sorry, I can’t tonight. I have a date.”

      There was a distinct pause before he responded. “Yeah? Anyone I know?”

      “Not even anyone I know. Natalie set me up with someone.”

      “Oh. You, um, trust Natalie’s taste in guys?”

      “I guess I’ll find that out tonight.”

      “Yeah. I suppose I need to let you get ready. I hope you have a good time.”

      “I’ll certainly try. Thanks. And congratulations on surviving the exams.”

      “Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

      “Sure. Later.”

      She disconnected the call with a frown. That had been a bit weird. Connor had actually seemed disapproving that she was going out on a blind date. Surely he wasn’t annoyed that she’d been unavailable to have pizza with him. If so, then maybe it was time she stopped being quite so available for Connor. Maybe he was starting to take her a bit too much for granted.

      Resolutely, she turned to the mirror to finish applying fresh makeup. Tonight could be fun, she reminded herself. This guy Natalie had found for her could be very nice, she could have a great time, they might even want to see each other again. She should really be looking forward to this date.

      Unfortunately, she was too keenly aware that she would much rather have been free to go out for pizza with Connor.

      Connor joined four of his classmates for a study session Saturday morning. The five of them had met several times to study together during this first semester of medical school. They seemed to click as a group, and their learning styles meshed well. He liked them all and enjoyed working with them, although sometimes he just needed to study alone. Or with Mia.

      The thought of Mia made him frown. He wondered how her date had gone the night before.

      He was undoubtedly a selfish jerk. He should be pleased that she’d had the chance to go out and have a good time. Like him, Mia tended to be a workaholic. When she wasn’t actually teaching, she was preparing for classes or grading papers or doing something nice for a friend. It was rare that she took advantage of an evening just to indulge herself. And while he suspected that her double date last night had been a favor to Natalie, he should still be hoping that she’d had a great time.

      Instead, he found himself worrying that she’d had too good a time. For all he knew, she could be with that guy right now. Laughing and flirting and…well, whatever. And he was trying to study, wishing she were with him to light his house with her smile, to cheerfully nag him into eating and taking breaks, to reassure him that he could survive this training and that all the effort and sacrifice would pay off someday.

      He really was selfish, he thought again, shaking his head in disapproval. Mia deserved so much more than the distracted friendship that was all he could offer her at the moment. Of course, she had big plans of her own. Grad school was going to take a great deal of her time and energy. Did she really want to start a new romance with this guy Natalie had scrounged up now and risk jeopardizing her own carefully worked-out agenda?

      He winced as he realized that he was merely rationalizing his desire for her to stay as single and unattached as he was.

      “Hey, Connor. Come on, man, get with the program. You’ve been a zombie all afternoon.”

      Connor met Ron Gibson’s quizzical gaze apologetically. “I know. Sorry. I think I might be on study overload.”

      “Who isn’t?” Anne Easton asked with a weary sigh. She pushed her pale blond hair out of her face, which was bare of makeup today, making her look even younger than her twenty-three years. Anne was the youngest of the group; Connor was the eldest.

      “Anyone want a soda?” James Stillman, their host for today, pushed himself out of his chair at the table and moved toward the fridge. Of all of them, the material came the easiest to James. Maybe because at only twenty-six, he had already obtained a doctorate in microbiology before deciding to attend medical school.

      Connor didn’t know why James hadn’t gone the M.D./Ph.D. route, which would have allowed him to pursue the degrees simultaneously, but he supposed James had simply changed his mind about which career he wanted. While Connor liked James, he had a hard time reading him. Brilliant and affable, James revealed little about himself, even to this group who had become his friends.

      “Toss a soda this way,” Ron accepted with one of his quick grins. Twenty-five-year-old Ron had messy brown hair, smiling brown eyes, a contagious grin bracketed by dimples and an irrepressible sense of humor that somehow survived even the most grueling session.

      Haley Wright, the final member of the group, often grew exasperated with Ron, asking if he took anything seriously. To which Ron always replied, “Only having fun, kiddo. I always take that seriously.”

      It was a wonder, really, that Ron had fallen in with this generally more-serious group. And yet somehow he, too, just seemed to fit in naturally.

      “I’d take some more coffee,” Connor said, standing with his empty mug. “I’ll get it.”

      Haley followed him with her own coffee mug, and Anne made herself a second cup of herbal tea. Always the gracious host, James provided everything they needed when they met at his tidy apartment. They’d already devoured the pizzas he’d had delivered at noon. A plate of cookies and a bowl of candy sat in the middle of the paper-strewn, round oak table where they studied, in case anyone needed a sugar jolt.

      Popping the top of his soda can, Ron studied Connor’s face. “So, is there anything in particular bugging you today? You’re not all that worried about the histology exam Monday, are you?”

      “I worry about all the exams,” Connor answered drily. “But no more for this one than the others. I guess I really am just tired.”

      “A few more weeks until Thanksgiving,” Haley said with a wistful sigh. “Four whole days with no classes or exams. I’m keeping a countdown to give myself incentive until then.”

      Twenty-six-year-old Haley had honey hair, amber eyes and a firmly pointed little chin that was evidence of her tenacious personality. She was the cheerleader of the group, the one who kept everyone else encouraged and on track. She was the one who called when she sensed they were down, who prodded when she thought they were slacking off, who seemed most delighted when they did well.

      Anne, on the other hand, was probably the most competitive of them all. Not because she had a desire to show them up or to always be the best, Connor had decided, but because she seemed to have a need to prove something. To herself? To her family? He didn’t know, but he worried about her sometimes. He thought she needed to cut herself a little slack, to allow for mistakes and failures rather than always demanding perfection of herself. She was going to burn out fast if she didn’t relax a little, he feared.

      As for himself—he just wanted to make it through the first semester. And then the seven semesters after that, one milestone at a time, until he finally held that diploma he’d wanted for so long.

      He’d sacrificed a hell of a lot to get to this point, he thought grimly. Thinking again about Mia’s date last night, he found himself wondering incongruously if maybe he’d sacrificed too much.

      “Okay, guys, back to work,” Haley ordered, reaching for a study sheet. “I’ll quiz this time.”

      It was just after four that afternoon when Connor let himself into his house. Just as he closed the door behind him, his telephone rang. He nearly stumbled over himself in his rush to answer it, thinking it might be Mia. He was just casually curious about how her evening had gone, he assured himself even as he snatched up the