Lessons Learned

“I’d forgotten all about it.”
    He kissed her cheek in a move so casual and friendly she didn’t object. “I believe you have. You’ve a kind heart, Juliet. Such things are beauty in themselves.”
    He could soften her so effortlessly. She felt it, fought it and, for the moment, surrendered to it. In an impulsive, uncharacteristic move, she brushed the hair on his forehead. “Let’s go in. You’ve got to wake up Denver.”
     
    Professionally, Juliet should’ve been cranky at the lack of obligations and exposure in Denver. It was going to leave a few very obvious blanks on her overall report. Personally, she was thrilled.
    According to schedule, she was back in her room by eight. By 8:03, she’d stripped out of her suit and had crawled, nakedand happy, into her still-rumpled bed. For exactly an hour she slept deeply, and without any dreams she could remember. By ten-thirty, she’d gone through her list of phone calls and an enormous breakfast. After freshening her makeup, she dressed in her suit then went downstairs to meet Carlo in the lobby.
    It shouldn’t have surprised her that he was huddled in one of the cozy lounging areas with three women. It shouldn’t have irked her. Pretending it did neither, Juliet strolled over. It was then she noticed that all three women were built stupendously. That shouldn’t have surprised her, either.
    “Ah, Juliet.” He smiled, all grace, all charm. She didn’t stop to wonder why she’d like to deck him. “Always prompt. Ladies.” He turned to bow to all three of them. “It’s been a pleasure.”
    “Bye-bye, Carlo.” One of them sent him a look that could have melted lead. “Remember, if you’re ever in Tucson…”
    “How could I forget?” Hooking his arm with Juliet’s, he strolled outside. “Juliet,” he murmured, “where is Tucson?”
    “Don’t you ever quit?” she demanded.
    “Quit what?”
    “Collecting women.”
    He lifted a brow as he pulled open the door on the driver’s side. “Juliet, one collects matchbooks, not women.”
    “It would seem there are some who consider them on the same level.”
    He blocked her way before she could slip inside. “Any who do are too stupid to matter.” He walked around the side of the car and opened his own door before she spoke again.
    “Who were they anyhow?”
    Soberly, Carlo adjusted the brim of the buff-colored fedora he wore. “Female bodybuilders. It seems they’re having a convention.”
    A muffled laugh escaped before she could prevent it. “Figures.”
    “Indeed yes, but such muscular ones.” His expression was still grave as he lowered himself into the car.
    Juliet remained quiet a moment, then gave up and laughed out loud. Damn, she’d never had as much fun on tour with anyone. She might as well accept it. “Tucson’s in Arizona,” she told him with another laugh. “And it’s not on the itinerary.”
    They would have been on time for the autographing if they hadn’t run into the detour. Traffic was clogged, rerouted and bad tempered as roads were blocked off for the film being shot. Juliet spent twenty minutes weaving, negotiating and cursing until she found she’d done no more than make a nice big circle.
    “We’ve been here before,” Carlo said idly and received a glowering look.
    “Oh, really?” Her sweet tone had an undertone of arsenic.
    He merely shifted his legs into a less cramped position. “It’s an interesting city,” he commented. “I think perhaps if you turn right at the next corner, then left two corners beyond, we’ll find ourselves on the right track.”
    Juliet meticulously smoothed her carefully written directions when she’d have preferred to crumple them into a ball. “The book clerk specifically said—”
    “I’m sure she’s a lovely woman, but things seem a bit confused today.” It didn’t particularly bother him. The blast ofa horn made her jolt. Amused, Carlo merely looked over. “As someone from New York City, you should be used to such things.”
    Juliet set her teeth. “I never drive in the city.”
    “I do. Trust me, innamorata. ”
    Not on your life, Juliet thought, but turned right. It took nearly ten minutes in the crawling traffic to manage the next two blocks, but when she turned left she found herself, as Carlo had said, on the right track. She waited, resigned, for him to gloat.
    “Rome moves faster” was all he said.
    How could she anticipate him? she wondered. He didn’t rage when you expected, didn’t gloat