Lessons Learned

while her mind leaped ahead to possibilities. “Look, you write cookbooks so the average person can cook one of your dishes.”
    “Cook them, yes.” He examined his nails. “Not like Franconi.”
    She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Tread softly on the ego, Juliet reminded herself. At least until you get your way. “Of course not, Carlo. No one expects that. But we could turn this inconvenience into a real event. Using your cookbook on the air, and some personal coaching from you via phone, O’Hara can prepare the linguini. He’s not a chef or a gourmet, but an average person. Therefore, he’ll be giving the audience the average person’s reactions. He’ll make the average person’s mistakes that you can correct. If we pull it off, the sales of your cookbook are going to soar. You know you can do it.” She smiled winningly. “Why you even said you could teach me to cook, and I’m helpless in the kitchen. Certainly you can talk O’Hara through one dish.”
    “Of course I can.” Folding his arms again, he stared up at the ceiling. Her logic was infallible, her idea creative. To be truthful, he liked it—almost as much as he liked the idea of not having to fly to Boston. Still, it hardly seemed fair to give without getting. “I’ll do it—on one condition.”
    “Which is?”
    “Tomorrow morning, I talk this O’Hara through linguini. Tonight…” And he smiled at her. “We have a dress rehearsal. I talk you through it.”
    Juliet stopped tapping the end of her pencil on the pad. “You want me to cook linguini?”
    “With my guidance, cara mia, you could cook anything.”
    Juliet thought it over and decided it didn’t matter. The suite didn’t have a kitchen this time, so he’d be counting on using the hotel’s. That may or may not work. If it did, once she’d botched it, they could order room service. The bottom line was saving what she could of Boston. “I’d love to. Now, I’ve got to make those calls.”
    Carlo closed his eyes and opted for a nap. If he was going to teach two amateurs the secrets of linguini within twelve hours, he’d need his strength. “Wake me when you’ve finished,” he told her. “We have to inspect the kitchen of the hotel.”
    It took her the best part of two hours, and when she hung up for the last time, Juliet’s neck was stiff and her fingers numb. But she had what she wanted. Hal told her she was a genius and O’Hara said it sounded like fun. Arrangements were already in the works.
    This time Juliet grinned at the stubborn fog swirling outside the window. Neither rain nor storm nor dark of night, she thought, pleased with herself. Nothing was going to stop Juliet Trent.
    Then she looked over at Carlo. Something tilted inside her that had both her confidence and self-satisfaction wavering. Emotion, she reflected. It was something she hadn’t written into the itinerary.
    Well, maybe there was one catastrophe that wasn’t in thebooks. Maybe it was one she couldn’t work her way through with a creative idea and hustle. She simply had to take her feelings for Carlo one step at a time.
    Four more days, she mused, and the ride would be over. The music would stop and it would be time to get off the carousel.
    It wasn’t any use trying to see beyond that yet; it was all blank pages. She had to hold on to the belief that life was built one day at a time. Carlo would go, then she would pick up the pieces and begin her life again from that point.
    She wasn’t fool enough to tell herself she wouldn’t cry. Tears would be shed over him, but they’d be shed quietly and privately. Schedule in a day for mourning, she thought then tossed her pad away.
    It wasn’t healthy to think of it now. There were only four days left. For a moment, she looked down at her empty hands and wondered if she’d have taken the steps she’d taken if she’d known where they would lead her. Then she looked over at him and simply watched him sleep.
    Even with his eyes closed and that irrepressible inner life he had on hold, he could draw her. It wasn’t simply a matter of his looks, she realized. She wasn’t a woman who’d turn her life sideways for simple physical attraction. It was a matter of style. Smiling, she rose and walked closer to him as he slept. No matter how practical she was, how much common sense she possessed, she couldn’t have resisted his style.
    There’d be no regrets, she reaffirmed. Not now, nor in five days’ time when an ocean and priorities