Lessons Learned

threw her bag down on a chair. Then she thought it best if she followed it. Her legs weren’t steady yet. Juliet let out a long, deep breath. She’d just have to wait until they were.
    So he was gorgeous. And rich…and talented. And outrageously sexy. She’d already known that, hadn’t she? The trouble was, she wasn’t sure how to handle him. Not nearly as sure as she had to be.

Chapter Two
    S he was a woman who thrived on tight scheduling, minute details and small crises. These were the things that kept you alert, sharp and interested. If her job had been simple, there wouldn’t have been much fun to it.
    She was also a woman who liked long, lazy baths in mountains of bubbles and big, big beds. These were the things that kept you sane. Juliet felt she’d earned the second after she’d dealt with the first.
    While Carlo amused himself in his own way, Juliet spent an hour and a half on the phone, then another hour revising and fine-tuning the next day’s itinerary. A print interview had come through and had to be shuffled in. She shuffled. Another paper was sending a reporter and photographer to the book signing. Their names had to be noted and remembered. Juliet noted, circled and committed to memory. The way things wereshaping up, they’d be lucky to manage a two-hour breather the next day. Nothing could’ve pleased her more.
    By the time she’d closed her thick, leather-bound notebook, she was more than ready for the tub. The bed, unfortunately, would have to wait. Ten o’clock, she promised herself. By ten, she’d be in bed, snuggled in, curled up and unconscious.
    She soaked, designating precisely forty-five minutes for her personal time. In the bath, she didn’t plot or plan or estimate. She clicked off the busy, business end of her brain and enjoyed.
    Relaxing—it took the first ten minutes to accomplish that completely. Dreaming—she could pretend the white, standard-size tub was luxurious, large and lush. Black marble perhaps and big enough for two. It was a secret ambition of Juliet’s to own one like it eventually. The symbol, she felt, of ultimate success. She’d have bristled if anyone had called her goal romantic. Practical, she’d insist. When you worked hard, you needed a place to unwind. This was hers.
    Her robe hung on the back of the door—jade green, teasingly brief and silk. Not a luxury as far as she was concerned, but a necessity. When you often had only short snatches to relax, you needed all the help you could get. She considered the robe as much an aid in keeping pace as the bottles of vitamins that lined the counter by the sink. When she traveled, she always took them.
    After she’d relaxed and dreamed a bit, she could appreciate soft, hot water against her skin, silky bubbles hissing, steam rising rich with scent.
    He’d told her not to change her scent.
    Juliet scowled as she felt the muscles in her shoulders tense.Oh no. Deliberately she picked up the tiny cake of hotel soap and rubbed it up and down her arms. Oh no, she wouldn’t let Carlo Franconi intrude on her personal time. That was rule number one.
    He’d purposely tried to unravel her. He’d succeeded. Yes, he had succeeded, Juliet admitted with a stubborn nod. But that was over now. She wouldn’t let it happen again. Her job was to promote his book, not his ego. To promote, she’d go above and beyond the call of duty with her time, her energy and her skill, but not with her emotions.
    Franconi wasn’t flying back to Rome in three weeks with a smug smile on his face unless it was professionally generated. That instant knife-sharp attraction would be dealt with. Priorities, Juliet mused, were the order of the day. He could add all the American conquests to his list he chose—as long as she wasn’t among them.
    In any case, he didn’t seriously interest her. It was simply that basic, primal urge. Certainly there wasn’t any intellect involved. She preferred a different kind of man—steady rather than flashy, sincere rather than charming. That was the kind of man a woman of common sense looked for when the time was right. Juliet judged the time would be right in about three years. By then, she’d have established the structure for her own firm. She’d be financially independent and creatively content. Yes, in three years she’d be ready to think about a serious relationship. That would fit her schedule nicely.
    Settled, she decided, and closed her eyes. It was a nice, comfortable word. But the