Arena

Gabe shrugged. "Well, we've had good success with phobias--and fear in general, for that matter."

"See?" Meg's short dark curls brushed Callie's shoulder as she leaned close. "It's not like that other thing at all. In fact, it might even give you an excuse to miss your sister's birthday bash tonight. Unless you think the Mr. Right she's got for you this time really will be Mr. Right."

Callie snorted. Her sister, Lisa, moved in an alien world--upscale, fashion-fixated, and socially saturated. Lisa's Mr. Rights were inevitably lawyers or MBAs, all acquaintances or co-workers of her husband's. Expecting another version of Lisa, the men were always disappointed when they met her short, dull, tongue-tied little sister.

Callie detested the whole scenario. And the possibility of having an excuse for missing the affair was a powerful incentive. "How long will it take?" she asked Gabe.

"Not more than a few hours if you follow instructions. We do ask that you commit to finishing the experiment, however."

"And we won't have to do anything embarrassing or improper?"

He looked amused. "Only if you choose to."

"Come on, Cal," Meg murmured. "You said you'd do this."

"Oh, all right." Callie signed the waiver and handed it over. It's only for a couple of hours, she consoled herself. And who knows--maybe I will gain new and powerful insights. Maybe I'll even learn how to say no to Lisa. There's no denying that my sorry life could use some turning around.

Four years out of college, Callie was still making minimum wage raising rats for biology experiments. She still lived in a rented apartment, still had to endure her mother's lectures about finding a man and getting focused, and still wasn't any closer to doing what she really wanted to do--paint. Unfortunately that was something both her mother and sister considered completely unacceptable. A career in art was too unreliable. Worse, her deadbeat father was an artist--when he wasn't following the horse races or losing his money in Las Vegas--and she didn't want to be like him, did she?

At her mother's insistence, Callie had gone into pre-med. But she was not accepted at med school after graduation--much to her relief--and thus far the only thing her science degree had turned up was the rat-raising job. A job that somehow spilled from part time into full and consumed all her energy, so that little art got done. So Callie stayed where she was, trapped, frustrated, and waiting for a miracle to set her free.

Gabe told them to go on up and indicated an elevator panel in the textured beige wall beside the desk. Meg hesitated, looking uncertain, then leaned over the counter. "Alex Chapman was supposed to meet us--"

"Yes. He's waiting upstairs."

As they entered the elevator Meg nudged Callie's arm. "He's waiting for us! Did you hear?" She fluffed her black curls and groped in her purse for a breath mint. "Do I look okay? What am I gonna say?"

"Hello usually works." Callie tried not to think of the dark well of space beneath her feet, pushed away thoughts of cables snapping and cars plummeting. The last thing she wanted was to have an attack here.

"But what about after hello?" Meg persisted.

"You never had any problems talking to Jack."

"There's a light year of difference between Jack and Alex. Wait'll you see him, Cal. He is so gorgeous."

"So you've said. Many times."

"Have I?" Meg giggled.