He drew his eyebrows together, mustering indignation and what he told himself was anger. Didn't she get it? There was a reason he hadn't answered any of her messages. He hadn't wanted her here. He didn't want to see her.

Liar. He'd wanted to see her too much.

Luke forced himself to focus not on her, but on the job he had to do. On this triumphant moment. He smiled, signed his name and told himself Kate was just another reader, that he would treat her as such. When she reached the front of the line, he would sign her book and send her on her way.

That moment came sooner than he would have liked. She stood before him, looking flushed and nervous and hopeful. It was the last that affected him most.

She smiled. "Hello, Luke."

"Kate." He kept his tone impersonal. The store manager slid him a copy of Dead Drop. "How would you like this inscribed?"

Her smile faltered, the baby squirmed in her arms. "To Kate and Richard, whose friendship once meant the world to me."

She had never pulled her punches; had never danced around the truth or issues. It was one of the many things he had admired about her. Now, he found himself angry at her brass. He did as she requested anyway and handed her the book.

"I'd hoped we could talk," she said, dropping the book into her stroller and jiggling her baby, who had begun to protest in earnest now.

"This is hardly the time or place."

"I know. There's a la Madeline at the corner of St. Charles and Carrollton Avenue. Could we meet there, after the signing?" The line stirred behind her, growing impatient. "Please, Luke."

Refuse and send her on her way.

He expelled a quick, frustrated breath instead. "I'll be a while yet. Another hour, maybe more."

"I'll wait for you."

He looked away from her, then back. "I'll try. No promises, though."

She nodded, and he watched her walk away, thinking of the past and promises and a time when he'd thought he couldn't live without her.

In the end, Luke couldn't not meet her. He told himself he was doing it for closure, so he could get her out of his life and system, once and for all. He told himself that after today, Kate Ryan would be a permanent part of his past.

That wasn't the way it felt, however, when he walked into the French bakery-café an hour and a half later. It wasn't the way he felt. No, as he stepped into the restaurant and sought her out with his gaze, he felt twenty again and madly in love with a girl who didn't love him in return.

The feeling rankled, and Luke stiffened his spine and crossed to where she sat, feeding her baby a bottle.

Kate lifted her gaze. "I didn't think you'd show."

He slipped into the booth across from her. "I wasn't going to."

"But you're here." She eased the empty bottle from her baby's mouth, then brought the infant to her shoulder and began patting her back. "Why?"

"Morbid curiosity."

"Funny."

"I'm not laughing."

For a moment she sat frozen, then a ghost of a smile touched her mouth. "You always were brutally honest."

"I'm thirsty," he said, standing. "You want anything?"

"A coffee refill. Thanks."

He went to the counter, got Kate's coffee and a Coke for himself, then returned to the table. She had burped her baby and was carefully transferring the now sleeping infant to the car carrier. That done, she snapped the child's harness into place, then tucked a soft-looking blanket around her.

"She's beautiful," he said, setting the drinks on the table. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Kate's lips lifted. "Her name's Emma."

"Motherhood suits you." Though he said the words easily, he felt like he would choke on them, they were so bitter, so grudging. "Richard must be…pleased." More like, so puffed up with pride he resembled one of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade balloons.

She hesitated. "Of course he is."

"In that chatty Christmas letter you sent, you didn't mention being pregnant." "I wasn't." She paused. "Emma's adopted." The words landed between them, begging an explanation, begging for him to ask what had led her and Richard to adoption. Instead, he looked her dead in the eyes. "What do you want, Kate?"

"To see you. Is that so strange? We were once the best of friends." "Years ago. A lifetime ago. We're not a part of each other's world anymore." "I know. I-" She bit the words off and fussed with her baby a moment, smoothing and retucking the blanket.

Then she met his gaze once more. "I regret that. I miss you, Luke. I miss our friendship."

He felt her words like a kick to his gut. "Stop it, Kate."

"It's true. You don't know. You-" She drew in a deep, shaky breath. "I wanted to see you. I wanted to try to make you understand how it was. What happened."

"I know what happened. I was there, Kate." He flexed his fingers, furious suddenly. So angry he shook. "Or have you forgotten?"

She swallowed hard but didn't look away. "I haven't forgotten anything, Luke. Not one moment."

Her words stung. As did the rush of hope. He hated that she could still affect him this way, after all these years.

"What are you telling me?" he asked, his voice hard, insulting. "Richard's not enough anymore? That you need a good screw with somebody else?" He leaned toward her, shaking with anger. "That you feel like repeating the past?"

She recoiled at his words, her expression wounded. "You know better than that. You know me better than that."

"Do I?"

"I'm sorry, Luke. I'm sorry I hurt you." Her eyes flooded with tears. "I'm sorry I killed our friendship."

"I'm sorry, too." He stood. "But you did. And it's too late to go back."

"Wait! Please!" She caught his hand. "That night…when we were together…it wasn't a ruse. I was devastated. Richard had broken up with me again. I'd vowed it would be for the last time. I'd vowed that I wouldn't take him back, not again, no matter how many flowers he sent. We were through, I believed that. I turned to you because-"

"You used me. To make Richard jealous. To get back at him for the blonde. The many blondes." He shook off her hand. "Well, it worked. I hope you're happy with the life you angled for."

"That's not true! None of it." She lifted her face to his. "Please, Luke, just hear me out."

Emma stirred and released a small, whimpering cry. Luke sank back to the booth and nodded tersely. "Say your piece, but do it quick."

"The next morning, Richard came to see me. The way he always did, tail tucked between his legs. I told him we were through, that I'd had enough. He begged me to forgive him, Luke. Begged me. And he cried. He loved me, he said. He wanted to marry me. He wanted us to be together forever."

"And you crumbled?" Luke snapped his fingers. "Just like that?"

"I loved him, had loved him for years. Marrying him was what I'd dreamed of for so long. How could I not forgive him?"

"How?" The word roared past Luke's lips. "By remembering where you'd spent the night before. By remembering the promises you made to me."

"I didn't make you any promises. I-"

"That's bullshit, Kate. You slept with me. That meant something. To a girl like you, it meant something. We talked about Richard. The past, our future."

"I'm sorry." She clasped her hands together. "If I could take that night back, I would. Don't you know how often I've wished I could? I wasn't thinking clearly-I acted irresponsibly. I hurt you, our friendship. Richard."

Luke made a sound of fury. "Don't tell me how you hurt Richard. Did it ever occur to you that Richard knew where you were that night? That he knew about us? Didn't you ever wonder why he asked you to marry him that morning?"

"What are you saying? That Richard proposed to me to spite you? To beat you?"

"Think about it. Richard was obsessed with winning. He couldn't bear to lose, not ever. But particularly to me."