Lessons Learned

patience. “There’s a limit, Juliet.”
    “Don’t worry about a thing,” she said breezily. “The publisher’ll pick up the tab. Make it fast; we’ve got just enough time to buy your shoes.”
    She signed the last receipt five minutes after the PA system announced closing. “You’re set.” Before he could do so himself, she bundled up his packages. “Now, if we can just get a cab to the hotel, we’re in business.”
    “I wear your American shoes in protest.”
    “I don’t blame you,” she said sincerely. “Emergency measures, caro. ”
    Foolishly, he was moved by the endearment. She’d never lowered her guard enough to use one before. Because of it, Carlo decided to be generous and forgive her for cracking the whip. “My mother would admire you.”
    “Oh?” Distracted, Juliet stood at the curb and held out her hand for a cab. “Why?”
    “She’s the only one who’s ever poked and prodded me through a store and picked out my clothes. She hasn’t done so in twenty years.”
    “All publicists are mothers,” she told him and switched to her other arm. “We have to be.”
    He leaned closer and caught her earlobe between his teeth. “I prefer you as a lover.”
    A cab screeched to a halt at the curb. Juliet wondered if it was that which had stolen her breath. Steadying, she bundled Carlo and the packages inside. “For the next few days, I’ll be both.”
    It was nearly ten before they checked into the Cocharan House. Carlo managed to say nothing about the separate rooms, but he made up his mind on the spot that she’d spend no time in her own. They had three days and most of that time would be eaten up with business. Not a moment that was left would be wasted.
    He said nothing as they got into the elevator ahead of the bellman. As they rode up, he hummed to himself as Juliet chatted idly. At the door of his suite, he took her arm.
    “Put all the bags in here, please,” he instructed the bellman. “Ms. Trent and I have some business to see to immediately. We’ll sort them out.” Before she could say a word, he took outseveral bills and tipped the bellman himself. She remained silent only until they were alone again.
    “Carlo, just what do you think you’re doing? I told you before—”
    “That you wanted a room of your own. You still have it,” he pointed out. “Two doors down. But you’re staying here, with me. Now, we’ll order a bottle of wine and relax.” He took the packages she still carried out of her hands and tossed them on a long, low sofa. “Would you prefer something light?”
    “I’d prefer not to be hustled around.”
    “So would I.” With a grin, he glanced over at his new clothes. “Emergency measures.”
    Hopeless, she thought. He was hopeless. “Carlo, if you’d just try to understand—”
    The knock on the door stopped her. She only muttered a little as he went to answer.
    “Summer!” She heard the delight in his voice and turned to see him wrapped close with a stunning brunette.
    “Carlo, I thought you’d be here an hour ago.”
    The voice was exotic, hints of France, a slight touch of British discipline. As she stepped away from Carlo, Juliet saw elegance, flash and style all at once. She saw Carlo take the exquisite face in his hands, as he had so often with hers, and kiss the woman long and hard.
    “Ah, my little puff pastry, you’re as beautiful as ever.”
    “And you, Franconi, are as full of…” Summer broke off as she spotted the woman standing in the center of the room. She smiled, and though it was friendly enough, she didn’t attempt to hide the survey. “Hello. You must be Carlo’s publicist.”
    “Juliet Trent.” Odd, Carlo felt as nervous as a boy introducing his first heartthrob to his mother. “This is Summer Cocharan, the finest pastry chef on either side of the Atlantic.”
    Summer held out a hand as she crossed into the room. “He’s flattering me because he hopes I’ll fix him an éclair.”
    “A dozen of them,” Carlo corrected. “Beautiful, isn’t she, Summer?”
    While Juliet struggled for the proper thing to say, Summer smiled again. She’d heard something in Carlo’s voice she’d never expected to. “Yes, she is. Horrid to work with, isn’t he, Juliet?”
    Juliet felt the laugh come easily. “Yes, he is.”
    “But never dull.” Angling her head, she gave Carlo a quick, intimate look. Yes, there was something here other than business. About time, too. “By the way, Carlo, I should thank you for