Lessons Learned

meeting you.”
    Carlo smiled at her, but his mind was on Juliet. “Yes?”
    “Mr. Van Ness is the food editor for the Tribune. ” Juliet spread her napkin over her lap as she gave Carlo information she’d related less than fifteen minutes before. She sent him the friendliest of smiles and hoped he felt the barbs in it. “Ms. Tribly is filling in for him.”
    “Of course.” Carlo smoothed over the gap of attention. “Charmingly, I’m sure.”
    As a woman she wasn’t immune to that top-cream voice. As a reporter, she was well aware of the importance of her assignment. “It’s all pretty confused.” Ms. Tribly wiped damp hands on her napkin. “Mr. Van Ness is having a baby. That is, what I mean is, his wife went into labor just a couple of hours ago.”
    “So, we should drink to them.” Carlo signaled a waiter. “Margaritas?” He phrased the question as a statement, earned a cool nod from Juliet and a grateful smile from the reporter.
    Determined to pull off her first really big assignment, Ms. Tribly balanced a pad discreetly on her lap. “Have you been enjoying your tour through America, Mr. Franconi?”
    “I always enjoy America.” Lightly he ran a finger over the back of Juliet’s hand before she could move it out of reach. “Especially in the company of a beautiful woman.” She started to slide her hand away then felt it pinned under his. For a man who could whip up the most delicate of soufflés, his hands were as strong as a boxer’s.
    Wills sparked, clashed and fumed. Carlo’s voice remained mild, soft and romantic. “I must tell you, Ms. Tribly, Juliet is an extraordinary woman. I couldn’t manage without her.”
    “Mr. Franconi’s very kind.” Though Juliet’s voice was as mild and quiet as his, the nudge she gave him under the table wasn’t. “I handle the details; Mr. Franconi’s the artist.”
    “We make an admirable team, wouldn’t you say, Ms. Tribly?”
    “Yes.” Not quite sure how to handle that particular line, she veered off to safer ground. “Mr. Franconi, besides writing cookbooks, you own and run a successful restaurant in Romeand occasionally travel to prepare a special dish. A few months ago, you flew to a yacht in the Aegean to cook minestrone for Dimitri Azares, the shipping magnate.”
    “His birthday,” Carlo recalled. “His daughter arranged a surprise.” Again, his gaze skimmed over the woman whose hand he held. “Juliet will tell you, I’m fond of surprises.”
    “Yes, well.” Ms. Tribly reached for her water glass again. “Your schedule’s so full and exciting. I wonder if you still enjoy the basics as far as cooking.”
    “Most people think of cooking as anything from a chore to a hobby. But as I’ve told Juliet—” His fingers twined possessively with hers “—food is a basic need. Like making love, it should appeal to all the senses. It should excite, arouse, satisfy.” He slipped his thumb around to skim over her palm. “You remember, Juliet?”
    She’d tried to forget, had told herself she could. Now with that light, insistent brush of thumb, he was bringing it all back. “Mr. Franconi is a strong believer in the sensuality of food. His unusual flair for bringing this out has made him one of the top chefs in the world.”
    “Grazie, mi amore,” he murmured and brought her stiff hand to his lips.
    She pressed her shoe down on the soft leather of his loafers and hoped she ground bones. “I think you, and your readers, will find that Mr. Franconi’s book, The Italian Way, is a really stunning example of his technique, his style and his opinions, written in such a way that the average person following one of his recipes step-by-step can create something very special.”
    When their drinks were served, Juliet gave another tug onher hand thinking she might catch him off guard. She should have known better.
    “To the new baby.” He smiled over at Juliet. “It’s always a pleasure to drink to life in all its stages.”
    Ms. Tribly sipped lightly at her margarita in a glass the size of a small birdbath. “Mr. Franconi, have you actually cooked and tasted every recipe that’s in your book?”
    “Of course.” Carlo enjoyed the quick tang of his drink. There was a time for the sweet, and a time for the tart. His laugh came low and smooth as he looked at Juliet. “When something’s mine, there’s nothing I don’t learn about it. A meal, Ms. Tribly, is like a love affair.”
    She broke the tip of her pencil and hurriedly