OF ALL THE CRAZY, ridiculous ideas. Shari made herself stare at the wedding invite in all its grisly embossed-silver-roses glory. This ghastly evening pretending to be picked up in a bar by a man she wasn’t at all certain she wanted anything to do with was B.J.’s fault. As if the woman hadn’t tortured her enough in college, she’d followed Shari into the rest of her life just to screw that up for her, too.

Grumbling, she hauled on a skirt and a red clinging top. After all, she reasoned, no need for Luke to have it easy with her dressed as a little brown mouse hiding in the corner. With luck, he’d actually have to put a bit of effort into this absurd faux pick-up routine.

With that in mind, she outlined her full lips in a nice deep mulberry shade and added an extra layer of mascara.

War paint in place, she was on her way.

By the time she got to the hotel, she was feeling a little ticked. What was she? Some kind of prop to be used so he could act out the part of Luke the Seducer in his own private show?

Shari wasn’t at all the passive type. She lifted her chin. Luke might as well find out that the road out of Total Moronism wasn’t as easy as reading a few chapters in a book.

Women liked to star in their own stories, as Luke Lawson was about to learn.

She walked into the dimly lit Rainbow Room and glanced around. It was fairly busy with an after-work, predinner and theater crowd. All the good tables were taken, but there were a couple of empty tables in the middle and a few vacant stools at the bar.

It would be so easy to take a seat at an empty table and wait for her “date” to pick her up.

She strolled past the tables, made her way to the back and settled herself on a bar stool. The bartender tossed her a grin from where he was pulling a beer. “Be right with you.”

She returned the smile. “Thanks.”

It gave her a moment or two to decide what to drink, but by the time the bartender stood in front of her, she still didn’t know. She wrinkled her nose in indecision. “White wine?”

The bartender shook his head and leaned close. “Not for a lady in red.”

Damn, he was flirting with her. Her plan was already working. Was she good or what?

She twinkled back at him. “What do you suggest?”

He leaned his elbows on the wooden counter, just an inch closer than necessary, and studied her. “I’m thinking exotic but cool. Maybe a little spicy with a touch of salt. And I happen to make the best margarita this side of Mexico City.”

She giggled. He was cute. Probably a couple of years younger than she, but he definitely had attitude and was obviously only too happy to while away a few minutes between customers flirting with the only lone woman in the vicinity. “A margarita sounds perfect. Thanks.”

He turned her drink into a performance complete with swagger and bravado, and she enjoyed every second of it. When the drink arrived, it was perfect. Cool, salt-sweet and tangy. She surfaced from the first shivery sip and nodded her approval.

“What’s your name?” he asked, wiping the dark bar in front of her with a towel, although it looked perfectly clean to her.

“Shari. What’s yours?”

“Les. I don’t remember seeing you here before.”

“I don’t come here that often.” She’d dated an engineer a couple of times and they’d dropped by after a night at the theater, she remembered. But that had been more than a year ago. In fact, since she’d broken up with the perfectly nice but unexciting Peter six months ago, she hadn’t been to very many places like this.

“What brings you here tonight? Meeting someone?” He let her see the light of interest in his eyes.

“Yes, she’s meeting someone,” said a deep and somewhat annoyed voice from behind her.

She turned her head to find Luke wearing a possessive scowl.

“And who might that be?” she asked. According to chapter one, they were supposed to be strangers, after all.

“Me.” He must have forgotten he was supposed to play a stranger. She’d rattled him out of his textbook exercise already and, luckily for him, that made her feel charitable.

“You know this guy?” her new friend Les asked, ready, she was certain, to have Luke thrown out on his arrogant ass.

However, she needed a date for B.J.’s wedding and somehow she didn’t think getting Luke tossed into a back alley was going to improve his role as her devoted love slave.

“Yes,” she said. “I know him.”

Luke glanced to either side of her, but both stools were occupied. “Could we move to a table?” he asked her.

“Sure.”

She reached for her drink, but the bartender stopped her with a hand on hers. “I’ll bring your drink over for you, Shari.” She almost laughed at the deliberate way he used her name in front of Luke. Oh, yeah. She’d made her point. The bartender turned his attention to Luke. “What can I get you?”

“A pint of whatever you have on tap.”

“Coming right up.”

They made their way to an empty table and settled themselves. Although there were waitstaff, the bartender brought their drinks over himself. He placed Shari’s drink in front of her, a large frosty mug of ale in front of Luke and a black plastic bowl of nuts in the middle of the table. “There you go, Shari,” he said with the ghost of a wink.

“Thanks, Les,” she said, enjoying chapter one much more than she’d thought she would.

“Yes, thanks, Les,” her date said.

“No problem, man,” he said.

Luke lifted his beer in her direction, then drank deeply. She followed suit, sipping her own drink.

“I hope I didn’t horn in on anything,” he said when he’d swallowed.

“Pardon? Oh, you mean the bartender. No. Not at all. He was just being friendly to a woman alone.”

He glanced at her, a devilish gleam in his deep green eyes. “Do I need to apologize?”

“No.” She allowed herself a tiny, self-satisfied smirk. “I think I’ve made my point. So, now what do we do?”

“Hell if I know,” he said, slumping back in his armchair. “You’ve completely thrown me off my agenda.”

She nodded, pleased. “That’s good. I think being spontaneous is more fun.”

He leaned closer, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then, can I be completely spontaneous and tell you that you look good enough to eat?” He reached over and ran his index finger up her arm and over her shoulder, coming to rest lightly at the juncture of shoulder and throat.

She shivered at the contact of his finger, cold from the beer mug, on the naked flesh of her shoulder. “Is that in chapter one?” she asked, feeling bereft when he put his arm back at his side.

“Yes.”

“What else is in chapter one?”

He was wearing a navy polo shirt. At least, she thought it was navy; it appeared black in the dim light. It molded to his chest and she saw the muscles of his arms shift the fabric every time he moved. A trio of piano, bass and drums played softly in the background.

He leaned closer and stared right into her eyes. It felt as personal as a kiss. “We talk about you all night,” he said.

O-oh, something about the way he said those words made them feel like a caress. She shifted on her chair and gazed right back at him. His lips were nice, she thought. Full without being punched-in-the-mouth puffy, and firm. Darkness pooled in the cleft in his chin.

“We talk about me. Okay. I can do that. Then what?”

“Then we go home.”

Of course. She wasn’t sure when the kissing part took place in the book. If that didn’t happen until chapter four, she wondered what they’d do for the next three weeks. At the pace of this book, Total Morons would be into their golden years before they saw any action.

“So,” he said, half joking. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m a Capricorn,” she said in a bright, ditzy voice. “I like considerate people and I hate guys who smoke.”

“Come on, help me out here, will you?”

“I couldn’t help myself. Okay, ask me something specific.”

“What do you like most about being a teacher?”

“Bringing poetry alive.” She was surprised she’d even said that. But she was even more surprised that he’d remembered her profession when she’d only mentioned it casually during one of their exchanging-mail chitchat sessions. How odd to admit her passion to a virtual stranger. Still, he’d asked and was gazing at her as though he were truly interested, so she continued.

“Kids don’t get a lot of poetry in their lives. I love it when you suddenly see that a student gets it. They’ll be stuttering along and then it’s as though the rhythms and the beauty of the language catch them unaware. Those are my breakthrough moments. They don’t happen often, but no one leaves my class without a nodding acquaintance with Shakespeare, Wordsworth…” She glanced at him with a wry grin. “Even Whitman. Right now we’re studying John Donne.”

“‘No man is an island.’ Good choice for teenagers.”

“That’s the very poem we discussed in class today.” She chuckled softly and told Luke that when the bell to change classes had rung, Terry, a smart but lazy junior had intoned in a deep baritone, “‘Never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.’”

Class anecdotes were safe and gave the illusion of talking about her while, in fact, she shared little personal information.

They were into their second drink when he said, “You’re single.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, and yet she felt as though he really wanted to know.

“Yes. I’m single.”

Luke reached forward and played with the fingers of her left hand. “Still pining over Randy?”

She was impressed he remembered the guy’s name. “No. Of course not. I’m between men, that’s all.”

“How long’s it been?”

“Six months.” She didn’t know why she should feel defensive. She hadn’t met anyone she cared for enough to get serious within half a year. So what? “How about you?”

He shook his head. “Tonight’s only about you.”

“I was with someone for a year or so, but it wasn’t going anywhere. I’m getting to a stage in my life where I’d rather be alone than with someone who bores me.”

“I’ll try not to bore you in our four weeks together,” he said softly.

“I’d appreciate that,” she said, thinking that bored was not how she felt about the way he was toying with her fingers. The man must have memorized a diagram in chapter one.

The expression in those mossy green eyes went way past chapter four. His gaze communicated wanting, promised intimacy. Every womanly atom in her body was answering his unspoken question, Yes, yes, yes! She forced herself to swallow. Down, girl.

She stared again at his lips, wetted her own with her tongue and then said an incredibly stupid thing before she could stop herself. “When do we kiss?”

He grinned at her, his teeth gleaming white in the darkness. “Let’s leave that for a surprise.”

He’d taste like beer and hot male. Were his lips as firm as they looked? Would he have a clue what to do with them? At least let him be a good kisser.

“You know,” she said, in what she hoped was a reasonable teacher’s tone, “I think we should give the kissing a try quite soon. Just in case.”

“In case what?”

She shrugged. “We might really have to work at it. Don’t forget, we only have a month.” She watched a line of condensation form near the top of his beer mug. “Maybe I should go get a copy of that book.”

The moisture on his mug wavered as his arm jerked, jarring the glass mug. “No,” he all but shouted. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Then you’ll know…”

A quiver of amusement shook her. “Know all your secrets?”

“Yeah. And you’ll know all my moves before I make them. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“I thought you said this book was for couples? Isn’t there a section for women?”

He stuck out his lower lip like a pouting child and puffed out a breath that lifted the lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. He brushed it back irritably.

“Yes. There’s a section for women. And maybe we’ll get to that. But for now, could we please do this my way?”

She shifted irritably in her seat, wishing she wasn’t so wildly attracted to this man. And if she had to tutor him in seducing a woman, she’d at least like to do it on her own terms and with her own agenda, not according to some self-proclaimed sex expert’s idea of how to go about it. “He’s got some nerve, this Lance person.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Imagine a man writing a book for couples. How does he know how women think? What they want? What…”

“Turns them on?” His voice taunted her.

“Exactly.”

He shrugged. “Maybe he’s asked them.”

Thinking about her conversation with Therese, she snorted. “Not if he’s a flesh-and-blood man.” She scanned the crowd, smiled a little at a couple slow dancing on the small square of parquet dance floor. “This place is getting busy.”

“What did you mean?”

She glanced at him in surprise. “More people are arriving than are leaving. Not so unusual for a Friday night.”

He jerked his head in quick denial. “Not that. The thing you said before, about men not asking women what they want.”

He appeared a bit huffy at her assertion, and she hid her smile behind her drink, sipping from the cool, salt-rimmed glass, thinking the bartender had known what she wanted.

“I’m saying they don’t ask women what they want. Men make assumptions. A guy who calls himself Lance Flagstaff is a perfect example.”

“A man can’t help his own name.” He was reddening, she could see it even in the dim light of the bar. He must have a really grim love life if he’d invested this heavily in the theories of some dumb book. And speaking of dumb…

“Lance Flagstaff has to be a pseudonym. Any writer who’d choose it must be in love with his own lance.”

“Maybe it’s a woman.”

“What?” she asked on a surprised giggle.

“If it’s a fake name, it could be a woman writing that book. Or a couple.”

She thought for a second. “As a kind of joke, you mean?”

“Why not?”

She recalled seeing Mr. Flagstaff’s byline in a national women’s mag she sometimes purchased with her groceries. He gave the male perspective on dating and sex. He also answered questions from readers.

“I’m pretty sure he’s a guy. That’s not a pen name a woman or a couple would choose.”

“Want another drink?” He gestured to her nearly empty glass.

Did she? She wasn’t sure. In fact, she wasn’t sure how she felt about this whole thing. Knowing he was following a book she hadn’t read left her feeling off-kilter. “What else is on tonight’s agenda?”

“What agenda?” His eyes were focused on her lower lip.

She waved her hands around to indicate the bar. “Do we stay here? Go somewhere else? Go home? What else does it say in chapter one?”

His gaze never wavered. “Kissing is optional.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what it says in chapter one. Kissing is optional.”

“Oh.” She gulped, wondering how she felt about her options. And about this very strange date.

But she had to remember she had her own agenda, which was the only reason she’d agreed to this crazy plan in the first place.

“Do you want another?” she asked, stalling for time, trying to decide what she did want.

“Another what?” She’d never known a man who could stay so focused on her, despite the noise of their surroundings, the comings and goings, the women strutting by them. He wasn’t glancing around every five minutes to see if there was someone he knew or someone he’d like to get to know. He made her feel that she was the most interesting woman in the room. And, whether or not he’d picked up the tip in some ridiculous book, she found it flattering. And unusual.

“Drink.”

“No. Let’s get out of here.”

She nodded. “I kind of overdid my workout today. I think I need an early night.”

When they hit the parking lot, the quiet struck her. Her ears still seemed to pulse with the sultry jazz and the talk and laughter of the Friday-night crowd.

“Don’t overdo the workouts or you’ll hurt yourself,” Luke said.

“I’m not in bad shape. I’m just toning a bit for the wedding,” she told him, feeling suddenly shy as she faced him and ridiculously intimate with just the two of them alone in an asphalt parking lot. What could be more romantic?

A stray breeze lifted her hair and blew a few strands across her face. He lifted them off her cheek and tucked them behind her ear, making the gesture both friendly and more. “I’d like to see you again,” he said, and stepped closer.

“You would?” She felt breathless. Option One was about half a step away and she found herself anticipating the feel of his mouth on hers.

“Will you?”

Maybe he needed a book for the really heavy stuff, but at light flirtation and conversation, Luke was terrific. She did want to spend more time with him. She felt the pull between them and wondered how his kisses were, prepared to be generous in her evaluation. “Yes,” she said, and her lips parted and her eyes drifted to half-mast.

“Good.” He sounded matter-of-fact. “I’ll call you.”

“Call me.” She heard her own words soft and sleepy and seeming to come from far away. What had happened to the kiss that hovered between them like the smell of rain just before it pours?

Then it hit her that he’d been asking her about going out again. He must be reciting lines from the book, since they had a standing Friday night date. And she’d been mistaken. Imagining he meant… Damn, that book must be good.

“Where’s your car?”

Refusing to act like a stuttering fool for one more second, she pulled her thoughts together, snapped her eyelids open and her lips shut. “This way.”

He waited at her side while she pushed the button on her key fob to unlock her car door, then he surprised her by opening it for her. As she went to slide in, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, so she turned to him.

“I’ll call you,” he said again, then kissed her cheek.

The gesture didn’t suit him somehow, and seemed almost deliberate. “Is that in the book?” she asked tartly.

“Yep.”

She nodded, thinking it was going to be a long and tedious four weeks, then turned to slide behind the wheel, wondering if she’d stop on the way home for a video so her Friday evening wasn’t a complete waste.

Before she’d finished the thought, she felt him whirl her body ’round and slap his lips on hers, hot and demanding. Her pulse jumped and her heart started to race. His mouth soothed and demanded, offered and possessed, so she felt dizzy with conflicting sensations. She sighed softly and leaned into him. As she’d guessed, he tasted like cold beer, but there were hints of hot male there, too. Instinctively she responded, until he pulled away, leaving her aroused and unsatisfied.

“Was that—” she began breathlessly.

“My own interpretation.”

She smiled. He was obviously a quick study. “Better.”