Belinda Kennedy eyed the plate heaped with doughnuts. Chocolate-filled, pink-frosted with sprinkles, glazed, garnished, studded with nuts. Ten different kinds were piled on that plate, accompanied by bear claws and eclairs. All right in front of her and within easy reach of both hands.

She hadn’t eaten breakfast yet and she was starving. Doughnuts were her favorite breakfast food. What could it hurt to take one and have it with her coffee? Who would care? For that matter, who would know? The room was empty. She was all alone with her morning meal of choice. The cup of coffee steamed at her elbow, caffeine mellowed with cream and sugar, the way she liked it. She didn’t have to be anywhere for at least an hour, which meant she could linger at the table and enjoy herself. The coffeepot held about three more cups. What could be better?

Belinda’s hand reached out. She could see it, pale, no rings, plain watchband on her wrist, long fingers and rounded, unpainted nails. Reaching for that sugar-laden, fatty bear claw. After she finished it off in four or less bites, she could take the pink-frosted with the sprinkles. She just knew it would go down so nicely with her second cup of coffee.

Her lips parted, anticipating that first bite of flavor, fat and sugar and cinnamon. Her eyes gleamed with the kind of satisfaction that came from knowing heaven was just a swallow or two away.

Closer, closer. Her fingers were almost there—

And just before they could touch the thick, dripping-with-icing bear claw, Belinda swallowed the pool of saliva in her mouth, and instead jerked her hand away. Swung it toward a bowl of fruit. Chose a banana.

Her heart wanted to break. She wanted to scream her frustration aloud.

But she smiled bravely when she heard the disembodied voice of Katarina Vorst, the dietician assigned to her case, yell over the intercom, "Way to go, Belinda!" From behind the wall-length mirror across from where she sat, Belinda could picture the slender and pretty Katarina punching a hand up in the air in victory.

Sure, easy for her to do. Skinny witch.

Offering another shaky smile toward the one-way mirror and the endlessly cheerful Katarina, Belinda peeled the banana and ate it slowly. Small bites, chew thoroughly between those small bites. Sips of coffee, equally-small. Smile, Belinda, smile. Think of all the good this banana is doing your body. Smile, Belinda—

She wanted to pop Katarina a good one, right in the face. She wanted to shove her own face into that plate of pastry and hoover it all up, until nary a crumb was left.

But she ate her banana with dainty precision, chewed each bite the way she had been instructed, and pretended she was eating the bear claw. It was really hard to envision. But she did it.

She finished the banana and poured herself another cup of coffee, this time stingy on the cream and sugar. Selected a hard-boiled egg and peeled it as carefully as she’d peeled her banana. A touch of salt from the little shaker on the table, and she was ready to ‘enjoy’ her second course. Mmm, mmm, good.

She hated eggs. She wanted the pink-frosted sprinkled fatty pastry. She hated eggs.

She was also paying three hundred dollars a month out of pocket for the program Katarina Vorst and others here at the Middleton Institute offered. Thank heavens eighty percent of the total cost was covered by her insurance, otherwise she’d never have been able to afford it. But the program was amazing: intensive weight loss, using sensible means, which meant no surgery and no diet pills. Lots of vitamins, a regimented and controlled fitness program, lots of salad and fruit. Around-the-clock support. This was her last chance; she’d tried everything else. Including all the heavy-duty pills on the market that she knew damned well were dangerous to her body, her health. Including every fad, every silly food combination out on the Internet. She’d done them all.

This was her last chance, she repeated to herself, as she had done every day since beginning this torture. Reminders. Scolding. Pep talks.

Lies, all lies.

Belinda nibbled at the egg. Drank another cup of coffee. And lied through her teeth yet again when Katarina bounced energetically into the room and demanded to know how wonderful she felt, eating that healthy breakfast, instead of the fatty pastry! Didn’t she feel great? Wasn’t she so proud of herself?

"Yes. Proud. Whoo-hoo." The ‘whoo-hoo’ fell short but Belinda did manage one brief, more-or-less sincere eggy smile.

She ignored the little voice in her head that encouraged her to drop what was left of the egg and strangle Katarina. She could hide the body underneath the pile of fat and sugar-infested nirvana sitting on the plate just twelve inches from her nose. No one would ever convict her, especially if she were tried by a jury of her peers—and they all weighed two hundred pounds or more.

Better yet, no one would think to look for Katarina in a plate of pastry. Everyone knew she wouldn’t have been caught dead near something so fattening. Katarina was a dedicated nutritionist and thus beyond the insidious grasp of such unhealthy fare. Plus the woman had the kind of willpower that boggled the mind. Instead of plotting to kill her, Belinda would be better off trying to emulate her.

Katarina dropped into the seat next to Belinda and reached into her pocket for the little notepad she always kept there. Belinda groaned under her breath; here came the portion of her treatment that she hated the most: analyzing her feelings. What did she think when she saw that big dish of temptation? How did she feel when she chose the banana instead of what she really wanted? Did she think she was doing her body good? Did she feel more energized? Empowered?

Belinda felt cheated. That was exactly the right word. She’d been here for a month and she felt cheated every single day. Not empowered. Not all that energized, either. Mostly she felt tired. Sometimes despondent. And always cheated.

But she’d lost thirteen pounds. She supposed that was something to cheer about, a reason to punch her own fist into the air in victory.

So when Katarina asked her how she felt when she took the banana instead of the bear claw, Belinda decided to be truthful, for once. Up until then, she’d told Katarina what she thought the other woman wanted to hear. Mostly lies.

"I felt cheated, Katarina. I felt anger. And I’m still hungry." The admission was made baldly, with no attempt to joke around.

Instead of being shocked, Katarina nodded and retorted, "About time you gave me an honest answer. Now we’re getting somewhere."

"Huh?"

"You’re not supposed to feel great about losing out on the food you really wanted. Not yet, anyhow. You’re supposed to feel resentful. When I first gave up the sugar and fat that I craved, I wanted to rip everyone’s head off."

Belinda’s jaw dropped. She looked Katarina up and down, seeing a tight, slender body with great muscle definition. She stammered, "You were overweight?"

"Overweight? Oh, if only. I was obese. I was a hundred pounds over the max allowance for my height and bone structure and headed for heart trouble and diabetes. The Middleton Institute was my last chance. I came here, had a couple of false starts, and it took two years to shed the weight. When I reached goal, I was offered a job as one of their fitness techs, and I’ve been here ever since. I was promoted to dietician five months ago." Katarina patted Belinda’s shoulder reassuringly. "It will happen. You just have to let yourself believe it." Then she grinned mischievously, "And stop looking at your dietician as if you’d like to strangle her."

"You saw that?" How embarrassing.

"I saw that. You have a very expressive face." Katarina pointed to the one-way mirror and laughed at the flush that crept over Belinda’s cheeks. "You will get there. I promise. In the meantime, thirteen pounds is nothing to sneeze at, and you did very well today."

"Thanks." Belinda meant it. A warm fuzzy, and not coming from some kind of sugar and fat high?

It was a start.