SHARI HAD NEVER BEEN so angry in her life. The worst thing emotionally she’d ever dealt with before this was when B.J. stole her boyfriend and she went around baring her misery for all to see. Next to Luke’s betrayal, the B.J. caper was a minor felony.

In variations of pain, losing Randy was a hangnail compared to this feeling that her heart had shattered into jagged shards, each one scraping and slicing at her tender innards.

Groaning at her own hyperbole, she decided she was in a lot of pain.

Even though her health improved, her energy level hadn’t pick up. At least she’d grown up enough to not broadcast her pain to all and sundry. They probably put her heavy red eyes and lack of energy down to her recent bout with the flu. Only Therese knew the truth.

She dragged herself home Friday and, just remembering how she and Luke had spent every Friday since the day the book fell out of the envelope, had her alternately blushing with embarrassment and fuming with outrage.

She ought to go out, but she didn’t want to go out. She could manage to fake it through the day, but socializing with adults would be too painful.

Therese had invited her to go along with her and her new “friend” Brad to a movie, but Shari couldn’t imagine anything more depressing than being caught in the middle of that blossoming romance. It was the only bright spot in her miserable existence. Brad had embraced her suggestion that he only try to be friends with Therese. Now Therese was complaining that she couldn’t seem to seduce him.

Shari thought it was great that they were getting to know each other again before jumping into bed, and if she weren’t so miserable she’d be secretly smiling at how eager Therese was to get back to intimacy with that Olympic-gold-medal tongue.

But then she’d recall her own recent experience with superb sex and cringed with humiliation.

No. She was better off alone. She might as well get used to it, she thought dismally. She should probably think about getting a cat so she’d have something warm to cuddle up to now that she’d sworn off men.

She got home and checked her answering machine. No messages.

Fine. It was a good thing Luke hadn’t left a message. He’d understood that her goodbye was final. Still, the fact that he’d done no groveling at all, and hadn’t once left a message or tried to contact her in two days only proved she was right and he hadn’t loved her at all.

She hoped his book was keeping him warm at nights. Or perhaps he already had a new woman on his hook. Teaching him to be a better lover. Ha!

She tossed her bag onto the couch with all her strength and opened the freezer. All those neat little single-girl packets of frozen home-cooked food depressed her somehow. She wasn’t hungry anyway.

She thought about watching a movie on Netflix. But what was the point? She’d choose a chick flick that ended up at happily-ever-after and she’d spend a sleepless night rewriting the ending in her head, killing off the movie star hero.

Perhaps she’d watch a war movie…where a lot of men died in the end. She’d grab dinner out somewhere. Sitting alone on a Friday was not healthy.

She grabbed her bag and headed for the door. She’d already opened it and was in the hallway when she noticed Luke standing there.

Damn her rotten timing. If she’d waited, he’d have knocked and she could have squinted at him through the peephole then ignored him.

Why did it have to hurt so much to see him? And why did she want to throw herself into his arms at the same time she wanted to knee him hard in the groin?

“Hi,” he said.

“I’m on my way out.” She pulled herself up to her full five feet seven inches and glared down her nose at him.

“I brought you some mail.”

He held out a sheaf of papers, and she took them automatically, too busy trying not to notice how painful it was to look at him to spare any attention for the mail. He looked tired and his eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t been sleeping well. Good. Neither had she.

When her fingers encountered papers, she glanced down, not sure what she was looking at.

Puzzlement pulled her brows together. “What is this?”

“It’s Prisons of the Mind. I changed the ending.”

They’d argued heatedly one night over Luke’s insistence that Jenkins and the psychiatrist couldn’t end up together. It wouldn’t be realistic, he’d said, and she remembered feeling it was somehow vital to make him understand that love was the one thing that could cure Jenkins. She’d been able to see that, and she figured that psychiatrist was smart enough to see it, too. But Luke wouldn’t have it.

“Why did you change it?”

Luke glanced up and down the corridor and asked if they could discuss it inside.

She wasn’t nearly done being angry with him yet. “No. Here is fine. I’m going out, remember?”

He exhaled a breath noisily. “Because you were right. Love can sometimes fix a truly screwed-up guy. Take me, for instance.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “There’s been a lot of…response to my appearance on the ‘Ginger’ show.”

Just being reminded of that horrible, humiliating program had her shoulders tensing. “Lots of women calling and emailing you for private lessons?”

His eyes narrowed. “Sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass.”

“Then why do you insist on bothering me?”

“Because,” he said in the tone of one goaded past reason, “I love you.”

They glared at each other for a moment. She was tempted to sweep past him on the way to her exciting evening alone at a restaurant, but was more curious about the book contract. What on earth was Luke up to?

After a moment’s silence he continued. “As I was saying, there was a lot of response. The how-to book’s sold out everywhere and going back for another printing.”

She almost congratulated him, but then remembered how mad she was and how he didn’t deserve her praise, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Meanwhile, my agent called, and I’ve got an offer for Prisons. But I knew I couldn’t send it until I’d changed the ending.”

He reached out and took her hand. “I’m not my dad, Shari. You made me realize that. When I fell in love with you it was different from anything I’ve ever experienced with anyone else.” He laughed shortly. “You know what I’ve missed most this week?”

She shook her head, but she was pretty sure it was that section of chapter eleven they’d decided to try a second time because the first time had been so much fun.

“I missed not being welcome to come make you tea and rub your feet when you were sick.”

She grimaced. “You didn’t miss much. I felt hideous and looked worse.”

“I know.” When she glared at him, he only laughed. “I mean, I didn’t care that your nose was red and your eyes were watery. I only wanted to look after you. I’ve never felt like that before. I imagine you pregnant with our child, and I get goose bumps. I imagine you old, with gray hair and wrinkles, and I see this vibrant older woman I’ll be proud to spend my life with.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly and hoped he’d assume it was still the cold making her tear up.

“I went for a beer with my dad the other night and we had a long talk. One we should have had a while ago, I guess. You know what I think? I don’t think he’s ever really loved a woman. Maybe he doesn’t have it in him. He loves all his ex-wives and kids in an easy sort of way, but I don’t think he’s got sticking power.”

“And you do?”

“You can bet your life on it.”

In fact, that was what he was asking her to do. This was her place-your-money-and-make-your-bet moment. Was he a good gamble?

She cocked her head and studied him, the usually lazy green eyes so sharp and serious. And so anxious for her answer. She suddenly realized it didn’t matter all that much what her head said about it, her heart had already placed everything she had on Luke Lawson to win.

“Come on inside,” she said, stepping back and opening her apartment door.

“Are you planning what I hope you’re planning?”

“I’m going to let you make me some tea and rub my feet while I read your book,” she told him.

She didn’t get more than a step before strong male arms hauled her back. She turned to him and he kissed her, deeply and hungrily but with an aching tenderness.

“Tell me the words,” he said. “I need to hear them.”

Tipping her head back so she could look deep into his eyes, she said, “I love you.”

“You know, you taught me to love.”

Her smile was warm and open and promised him everything he’d ever wanted and hadn’t known he was missing. “I’m a great teacher.”