LITMIR.BIZ

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professor gave us. I tried to take the practice test yesterday, but I didn’t get very far with it.”

      “Let me look at the test and your notes and I’ll see if I can help you understand it better.” She gave a self-deprecating little smile that almost took him back to noticing-how-attractive-she-was territory. “Of course, it’s been a few years since I’ve been tested on this stuff, so I might have to refresh myself a bit.”

      Norman leaped onto Mike’s knees and head-butted his chin. Mike patted him absently.

      “Just set him down if he’s bugging you,” Catherine advised. “He takes a hint fairly well—for a short time, anyway.”

      “He’s fine.” Mike opened his notebook. “Here’s the sample test….”

      “Okay, see if you can answer this one.” Catherine said almost an hour later. “Regulation of glycolysis takes place by the a, allosteric inhibition of phosphofructokinase by excess ATP, or b, conversion of dihydroxyacetone phosphate to glyceraldehyde phosphate?”

      Mike blinked a couple of times, then frowned in concentration. “That would be…the first one, I think. A.”

      She smiled at him. “Yes. You’re right.”

      He made a production of wiping his brow, his self-satisfied smile so endearing that she had to swallow before asking the next question. “Complete this sentence. When yeast cells metabolize glucose anaerobically, the end product is—?”

      “Pyruvic acid.” He must have seen from her expression that he’d given the wrong answer. He corrected it immediately. “Ethyl alcohol.”

      She smiled again. “Correct. You’re doing very well, Mike. You should have no problem passing this test. Would you like to practice the essay questions? I can busy myself with something else while you work on them and then give my opinion of your answers when you’ve finished. Of course, you know that essay questions are often graded subjectively, so your professor might judge your responses differently than I would.”

      “Hey, I’d really appreciate that, if you’ve got the time. The essay questions really worry me. It’s been almost ten years since I’ve had to write essays, and to be honest, I wasn’t very good at it back then.”

      “No problem. I have a couple of journal articles I need to read. I can do that while you write. I’ll let you know when your allotted time is up.”

      He nodded and drained the last of his second glass of lemonade, then bent industriously over his notebook.

      Catherine studied him for a moment, then stood and moved to the sofa. She picked up one of the journals sitting on the coffee table. Norman padded across the floor to jump into her lap, kneading her thigh while she turned to the article she had marked earlier.

      Rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades that always made him arch in bliss, she tried to keep her eyes on the page. It wasn’t easy. Mike just looked so darned good sitting at her table, his blond-streaked hair all tousled, a frown of concentration on his pretty face. She sighed.

      He glanced around. “Everything okay?”

      “Fine,” she assured him a bit too heartily. “Norman’s just being a little too enthusiastic with the claws.”

      He smiled, then looked back down at his notebook. She turned her own attention firmly to the page in front of her.

      She knew she would never be able to concentrate on the complex article with Mike sitting so close by, so she entertained herself by imagining how her cousin Lori, the biggest flirt she knew, would behave with a handsome man in her apartment. Lori would certainly not be sitting on the far side of the room pretending to read a scientific journal, that was for certain!

      Because she didn’t know how to be any other way, Catherine was completely honest with her appraisal of Mike’s essay answers. She figured she would be wasting both their time if she didn’t make a genuine effort to help him. She tempered her criticism with praise for the things he had done well, but she made no effort to pander to his ego when she pointed out the areas that would very likely lose him points with his professor.

      “This is worded too vaguely,” she said, underlining one weak paragraph. “And here you’ve gotten off topic, which would get points marked off by most professors, since they don’t like wasting grading time. And this statement is simply incorrect. In eukaryotes, the enzymes involved in the Krebs cycle and electron transport are located in the mitochondria, not the cell membranes as you’ve written here. This is a very basic biology class, but that’s something you should be expected to know already.”

      Mike winced. Something about his expression made her suspect that he wasn’t accustomed to being corrected so bluntly, and she wondered for a moment if she should have made an effort to be more tactful. But then she reminded herself that he surely wanted her to be honest, or he wouldn’t have wasted a beautiful Saturday afternoon studying in her apartment. He certainly hadn’t come just to spend time with her and Norman.

      “Thanks,” he said without much enthusiasm. “I’ll work on those things.”

      “I’m sure you’ll do very well on the test,” she said, in case he was becoming discouraged.

      “I hope you’re right. It’s been harder going back to school than I expected,” he admitted. “To be honest, I flunked out the first time I tried college almost ten years ago, but I told myself it was because I partied too much and studied too little while I was there. I thought maybe if I actually put a little effort into it this time, I’d be more successful with it.”

      “I’m sure you will. It must be difficult learning how to study again after such a long absence.”

      “Again?” he repeated with a short laugh. “I never learned how to study. Didn’t have to in school. My mother and sisters gave me so much ‘help’ with my homework that I managed to graduate with a minimally adequate grade point average. I got a baseball scholarship to college, but I lost that when the grades fell. It wasn’t as if I was ever going to make it to the pros, anyway. I was a decent player, but not exactly star quality.”

      Catherine wasn’t sure what to say in response to his candidness. “What made you decide to go back now?” she asked, then wondered if that had been too personal a question.

      His shrug was more sheepish than offended. “I attended my ten-year high school reunion this summer,” he muttered, as if that were explanation enough.

      Apparently he had compared himself to some of his classmates and hadn’t been pleased with what he had seen. She gave him a wry smile. “Perhaps you should have done what I did. I skipped my ten-year reunion altogether.”

      “Oh? When was that?” he asked with a casualness that was probably intended to disguise the fact that he was basically asking her age.

      “Two years ago. I just turned thirty last Saturday.”

      “Then I’ll wish you a belated happy birthday.”

      “Thank you.”

      He leaned back in his chair, slinging one arm over the back. “So why didn’t you go to your reunion? I would think you’d be proud to let everyone know you’d turned out so well.”

      Uncomfortable with the new direction the conversation had taken, and suspecting Mike had deliberately directed it away from himself, she shrugged a little before saying, “I don’t have that many fond memories of high school. I wasn’t eager to relive my time there.”

      She suppressed a wince as she finished speaking. Had she sounded bitter? No one enjoyed spending time with a complainer. “I’m sure I would have had a good time if I’d gone,” she amended quickly, “but I was at a science convention in London that weekend, anyway.”

      “Yeah, well, I thought I’d have a great time at my reunion,” Mike murmured, looking down at the pencil he was twisting slowly in his left hand. “I mean, I had a fantastic time in high school. Played sports,

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