Lessons Learned

the street. Juliet and Carlo were unaware of everything. The heat of a Dallas afternoon soaked into the concrete beneath them. It blasted the air until it hummed. They were concerned with a fire of their own.
    Her hands were at his waist, holding on, letting go. A car streaked by, country rock blasting through open windows. She never heard it. Though she’d refused wine at lunch, she tasted it on his tongue and was intoxicated.
    Later, much later, he’d take time to think about what was happening. It wasn’t the same. Part of him already knew and feared because it wasn’t the same. Touching her was different than touching other women. Tasting her—lightly, deeply, teasingly—just tasting her was different than tasting other women. The feelings were new, though he’d have sworn he’d experienced all the feelings that any man was capable of.
    He knew about sensations. He incorporated them in his work and in his life. But they’d never had this depth before. A man who found more and didn’t reach for it was a fool.
    He knew about intimacy. He expected, demanded it in everything he did. But it had never had this strength before.
    New experiences were not to be refused, but explored and exploited. If he felt a small, nagging fear, he could ignore it. For now.
    Later. They clung to each other and told themselves they’d think later. Time was unimportant after all. Now held all the meaning necessary.
    He took his mouth from hers, but his hands held her still. It shocked him to realize they weren’t quite steady. Women had made him ache. Women had made him burn. But no woman had ever made him tremble. “We need a place,” he murmured. “Quiet, private. It’s time to stop pretending this isn’t real.”
    She wanted to nod, to simply put herself completely in his hands. Wasn’t that the first step in losing control over your own life? “No, Carlo.” Her voice wasn’t as strong as she would have liked but she didn’t back away. “We’ve got to stop mixing personal feelings with business. We’ve got just under two weeks to go on the road.”
    “I don’t give a damn if it’s two days or two years. I want to spend it making love with you.”
    She brought herself back enough to remember they were standing on a public street in the middle of afternoon traffic. “Carlo, this isn’t the time to discuss it.”
    “Now is always the time. Juliet—” He cupped her face in his hand. “It’s not me you’re fighting.”
    He didn’t have to finish the thought. She was all too aware that the war was within herself. What she wanted, what was wise. What she needed, what was safe. The tug-of-war threatened to split her apart, and the two halves, put back together, would never equal the whole she understood.
    “Carlo, we have a plane to catch.”
    He said something soft and pungent in Italian. “You’ll talk to me.”
    “No.” She lifted her hands to grip his forearms. “Not about this.”
    “Then we’ll stay right here until you change your mind.”
    They could both be stubborn, and with stubbornness, they could both get nowhere. “We have a schedule.”
    “We have a great deal more than that.”
    “No, we don’t.” His brow lifted. “All right then, we can’t. We have a plane to catch.”
    “We’ll catch your plane, Juliet. But we’ll talk in Houston.”
    “Carlo, don’t push me into a corner.”
    “Who pushes?” he murmured. “Me or you?”
    She didn’t have an easy answer. “What I’ll do is arrange for someone else to come out and finish the tour with you.”
    He only shook his head. “No, you won’t. You’re too ambitious. Leaving a tour in the middle wouldn’t look good for you.”
    She set her teeth. He knew her too well already. “I’ll get sick.”
    This time he smiled. “You’re too proud. Running away isn’t possible for you.”
    “It’s not a matter of running.” But of survival, she thought and quickly changed the phrase. “It’s a matter of priorities.”
    He kissed her again, lightly. “Whose?”
    “Carlo, we have business.”
    “Yes, of different sorts. One has nothing to do with the other.”
    “To me they do. Unlike you, I don’t go to bed with everyone I’m attracted to.”
    Unoffended, he grinned. “You flatter me, cara. ”
    She could have sighed. How like him to make her want to laugh while she was still furious. “Purely unintentional.”
    “I like you when you bare your teeth.”
    “Then you’re going to enjoy the next couple of