Lessons Learned

it.
    The autographing wasn’t a smashing success. Six books by Juliet’s count. That had been bad enough, but then there’d been The Incident.
    Looking at the all but empty store, Juliet had considered hitting the streets with a sign on her back, then the homey little woman had come along bearing all three of Carlo’s books. Good for the ego, Juliet thought. That was before the woman had said something that caused Carlo’s eyes to chill and his voice to freeze. All Juliet heard was the name LaBare.
    “I beg your pardon, Madame?” Carlo said in a tone Juliet had never heard from him. It could’ve sliced through steel.
    “I said I keep all your books on a shelf in my kitchen, right next to André LaBare’s. I love to cook.”
    “LaBare?” Carlo put his hand over his stack of books as a protective parent might over a threatened child. “You would dare put my work next to that—that peasant’s?”
    Thinking fast, Juliet stepped up and broke into the conversation. If ever she’d seen a man ready to murder, it was Carlo. “Oh, I see you have all of Mr. Franconi’s books. You must love to cook.”
    “Well, yes I—”
    “Wait until you try some of his new recipes. I had the pastacon pesto myself. It’s wonderful.” Juliet started to take the woman’s books from under Carlo’s hand and met with resistance and a stubborn look. She gave him one of her own and jerked the books away. “Your family’s going to be just thrilled when you serve it,” Juliet went on, keeping her voice pleasant as she led the woman out of the line of fire. “And the fettuccine…”
    “LaBare is a swine.” Carlo’s voice was very clear and reached the stairs. The woman glanced back nervously.
    “Men.” Juliet made her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Such egos.”
    “Yes.” Gathering up her books, the woman hurried down the stairs and out of the store. Juliet waited until she was out of earshot before she pounced on Carlo.
    “How could you?”
    “How could I?” He rose, and though he skimmed just under six feet, he looked enormous. “She would dare speak that name to me? She would dare associate the work of an artist with the work of a jackass? LaBare—”
    “At the moment, I don’t give a damn who or what this LaBare is.” Juliet put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back onto the love seat. “What I do care about is you scaring off the few customers we have. Now behave yourself.”
    He sat where he was only because he admired the way she’d ordered him to. Fascinating woman, Carlo decided, finding it wiser to think of her than LaBare. It was wiser to think of flood and famine than of LaBare.
    The afternoon had dragged on and on, except for the young boy, Carlo thought and touched the paper in hispocket. He’d call Summer in Philadelphia about young Steven Hardesty.
    But other than Steven and the woman who upped his blood pressure by speaking of LaBare, Carlo had found himself perilously close to boredom. Something he considered worse than illness.
    He needed some activity, a challenge—even a small one. He glanced over at Juliet as she spoke with a clerk. That was no small challenge. The one thing he’d yet to be in Juliet’s company was bored. She kept him interested. Sexually? Yes, that went without saying. Intellectually. That was a plus, a big one.
    He understood women. It wasn’t a matter of pride, but to Carlo’s thinking, a matter of circumstance. He enjoyed women. As lovers, of course, but he also enjoyed them as companions, as friends, as associates. It was a rare thing when a man could find a woman to be all of those things. That’s what he wanted from Juliet. He hadn’t resolved it yet, only felt it. Convincing her to be his friend would be as challenging, and as rewarding, as it would be to convince her to be his lover.
    No, he realized as he studied her profile. With this woman, a lover would come easier than a friend. He had two weeks left to accomplish both. With a smile, he decided to start the campaign in earnest.
    Half an hour later, they were walking the three blocks to the parking garage Juliet had found.
    “This time I drive,” he told Juliet as they stepped inside the echoing gray building. When she started to object, he held out his hand for the keys. “Come, my love, I’ve just survived two hours of boredom. Why should you have all the fun?”
    “Since you put it that way.” She dropped the keys in his hand, relieved that whatever had set him off before was