Lessons Learned

sofa, be comfortable.”
    As she did, Juliet realized why the Romans traditionally slept after a meal. She could’ve curled up in a happy little ball and been unconscious in moments. But the champagne was lively, insistent.
    “Here.” He brought over one plate with a small slice. “We’ll share.”
    “One bite,” she told him, prepared to stand firm. Then she tasted. Creamy, smooth, not quite sweet, more nutty. Exquisite. With a sigh of surrender, Juliet took another. “Carlo, you’re a magician.”
    “Artist,” he corrected.
    “Whatever you want.” Using all the willpower she had left, Juliet exchanged the cake for champagne. “I really can’t eat another bite.”
    “Yes, I remember. You don’t believe in overindulgence.” But he filled her glass again.
    “Maybe not.” She sipped, enjoying that rich, luxurious aura only champagne could give. “But now I’ve gotten a different perspective on indulgence.” Slipping out of her shoes, she laughed over the rim of her glass. “I’m converted.”
    “You’re lovely.” The lights were low, the music soft, the scents lingering and rich. He thought of resisting. The fear that had been in her eyes demanded he think of it. But just now, she was relaxed, smiling. The desire he’d felt tug the moment he’d seen her had never completely gone away.
    Senses were aroused, heightened, by a meal. That was something he understood perfectly. He also understood that a man and a woman should never ignore whatever pleasure they could give to each other.
    So he didn’t resist, but took her face in his hands. There he could watch her eyes, feel her skin, nearly taste her. This time he saw desire, not fear but wariness. Perhaps she was ready for lesson two.
    She could have refused. The need to do so went through her mind. But his hands were so strong, so gentle on her skin. She’d never been touched like that before. She knew how he’d kiss her and the sense of anticipation mixed with nerves. She knew, and wanted.
    Wasn’t she a woman who knew her own mind? She took herhands to his wrists, but didn’t push away. Her fingers curled around and held as she touched her mouth to his. For a moment they stayed just so, allowing themselves to savor that first taste, that first sensation. Then slowly, mutually, they asked for more.
    She seemed so small when he held her that a man could forget how strong and competent she was. He found himself wanting to treasure. Desire might burn, but when she was so pliant, so vulnerable, he found himself compelled to show only gentleness.
    Had any man ever shown her such care? Juliet’s head began to swim as his hands moved into her hair. Was there another man so patient? His heart was pounding against hers. She could feel it, like something wild and desperate. But his mouth was so soft, his hands so gentle. As though they’d been lovers for years, she thought dimly. And had all the time left in the world to continue to love.
    No hurry, no rush, no frenzy. Just pleasure. Her heart opened reluctantly, but it opened. He began to pour through. When the phone shrilled, he swore and she sighed. They’d both been prepared to take all the chances.
    “Only a moment,” he murmured.
    Still dreaming, she touched his cheek. “All right.”
    As he went to answer, she leaned back, determined not to think.
    “Cara!” The enthusiasm in his voice, and the endearment had her opening her eyes again. With a warm laugh, Carlo went into a stream of Italian. Juliet had no choice but to think.
    Affection. Yes, it was in his voice. She didn’t have to understand the words. She looked around to see him smiling as hespoke to the woman on the other end. Resigned, Juliet picked up her champagne. It wasn’t easy for her to admit she’d been a fool. Or for her to admit she’d been hurt.
    She knew who he was. What he was. She knew how many women he’d seduced. Perhaps she was a woman who knew her own mind, and perhaps she wanted him. But she would never be eased into a long line of others. Setting down the champagne, she rose.
    “ Sì, sì. I love you.”
    Juliet turned away at the phrase I love you. How well it slid off his tongue, in any language. How little it meant, in any language.
    “Interruptions. I’m sorry.”
    Juliet turned back and gave him her uncompromising look. “Don’t be. The dinner was marvelous, Carlo, thank you. You should be ready to check out by eight.”
    “A moment,” he murmured. Crossing over, he took her by the arms.