“No, I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“Fantastico!” Grabbing her face with both hands he kissed her hard. “I’ll find out the name of this movie and go to its premiere.”
The little knot of tension and guilt vanished. “Don’t take it so hard, Carlo.”
He felt as though he’d just been paroled. “Juliet, did you think I’d be upset? Dio, for a week it’s been nothing but go here, rush there.”
She spotted the TV tower and turned left. “You’ve been wonderful,” she told him. The best time to admit it, she decided, was when they only had two minutes to spare. “Not everyone I’ve toured with has been as considerate.”
She surprised him. He preferred it when a woman could do so. He twined a lock of the hair he’d brushed around his finger. “So, you’ve forgiven me for the basil?”
She smiled and had to stop herself from reaching up to touch the heart on her lapel. “I’d forgotten all about it.”
He kissed her cheek in a move so casual and friendly she didn’t object. “I believe you have. You’ve a kind heart, Juliet. Such things are beauty in themselves.”
He could soften her so effortlessly. She felt it, fought it and, for the moment, surrendered to it. In an impulsive, uncharacteristic move, she brushed the hair on his forehead. “Let’s go in. You’ve got to wake up Denver.”
Professionally, Juliet should’ve been cranky at the lack of obligations and exposure in Denver. It was going to leave a few very obvious blanks on her overall report. Personally, she was thrilled.
According to schedule, she was back in her room by eight. By 8:03, she’d stripped out of her suit and had crawled, naked and happy, into her still-rumpled bed. For exactly an hour she slept deeply, and without any dreams she could remember. By ten-thirty, she’d gone through her list of phone calls and an enormous breakfast. After freshening her makeup, she dressed in her suit then went downstairs to meet Carlo in the lobby.
It shouldn’t have surprised her that he was huddled in one of the cozy lounging areas with three women. It shouldn’t have irked her. Pretending it did neither, Juliet strolled over. It was then she noticed that all three women were built stupendously. That shouldn’t have surprised her, either.
“Ah, Juliet.” He smiled, all grace, all charm. She didn’t stop to wonder why she’d like to deck him. “Always prompt. Ladies.” He turned to bow to all three of them. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Bye-bye, Carlo.” One of them sent him a look that could have melted lead. “Remember, if you’re ever in Tucson…”
“How could I forget?” Hooking his arm with Juliet’s, he strolled outside. “Juliet,” he murmured, “where is Tucson?”
“Don’t you ever quit?” she demanded.
“Quit what?”
“Collecting women.”
He lifted a brow as he pulled open the door on the driver’s side. “Juliet, one collects matchbooks, not women.”
“It would seem there are some who consider them on the same level.”
He blocked her way before she could slip inside. “Any who do are too stupid to matter.” He walked around the side of the car and opened his own door before she spoke again.
“Who were they anyhow?”
Soberly, Carlo adjusted the brim of the buff-colored fedora he wore. “Female bodybuilders. It seems they’re having a convention.”
A muffled laugh escaped before she could prevent it. “Figures.”
“Indeed yes, but such muscular ones.” His expression was still grave as he lowered himself into the car.
Juliet remained quiet a moment, then gave up and laughed out loud. Damn, she’d never had as much fun on tour with anyone. She might as well accept it. “Tucson’s in Arizona,” she told him with another laugh. “And it’s not on the itinerary.”
They would have been on time for the autographing if they hadn’t run into the detour. Traffic was clogged, rerouted and bad tempered as roads were blocked off for the film being shot. Juliet spent twenty minutes weaving, negotiating and cursing until she found she’d done no more than make a nice big circle.
“We’ve been here before,” Carlo said idly and received a glowering look.
“Oh, really?” Her sweet tone had an undertone of arsenic.
He merely shifted his legs into a less cramped position. “It’s an interesting city,” he commented. “I think perhaps if you turn right at the next corner, then left two corners beyond, we’ll find ourselves on the right track.”
Juliet meticulously smoothed her carefully written directions when she’d have preferred to crumple them into a ball. “The book clerk specifically said—”
“I’m sure she’s a lovely woman, but things seem a bit confused today.” It didn’t particularly bother him. The blast of a horn made her jolt. Amused, Carlo merely looked over. “As someone from New York City, you should be used to such things.”
Juliet set her teeth. “I never drive in the city.”
“I do. Trust me, innamorata.”
Not on your life, Juliet thought, but turned right. It took nearly ten minutes in the crawling traffic to manage the next two blocks, but when she turned left she found herself, as Carlo had said, on the right track. She waited, resigned, for him to gloat.
“Rome moves faster” was all he said.
How could she anticipate him? she wondered. He didn’t rage when you expected, didn’t gloat when it was natural. With a sigh, she gave up. “Anything moves faster.” She found herself in the right block, but parking space was at a premium. Weighing the ins and outs, Juliet swung over beside a car at the curb. “Look, Carlo, I’m going to have to drop you off. We’re already running behind. I’ll find a place to park and be back as soon as I can.”
“You’re the boss,” he said, still cheerful after forty-five minutes of teeth-grinding traffic.
“If I’m not there in an hour, send up a flare.”
“My money’s on you.”
Still cautious, she waited until she saw him swing into the bookstore before she fought her way into traffic again.
Twenty frustrating minutes later, Juliet walked into the dignified little bookstore herself. It was, she noted with a sinking stomach, too quiet and too empty. A clerk with a thin-striped tie and shined shoes greeted her.
“Good morning. May I help you?”
“I’m Juliet Trent, Mr. Franconi’s publicist.”
“Ah yes, right this way.” He glided across the carpet to a set of wide steps. “Mr. Franconi’s on the second level. It’s unfortunate that the traffic and confusion have discouraged people from coming out. Of course, we rarely do these things.” He gave her a smile and brushed a piece of lint from the sleeve of his dark blue jacket. “The last time was…let me see, in the fall. J. Jonathan Cooper was on tour. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He wrote Metaphysical Force and You.”
Juliet bit back a sigh. When you hit dry ground, you just had to wait for the tide.
She spotted Carlo in a lovely little alcove on a curvy love seat. Beside him was a woman of about forty with a neat suit and pretty legs. Such things didn’t warrant even a raised brow. But to Juliet’s surprise, Carlo wasn’t busy charming her. Instead, he was listening intently to a young boy who sat across from him.
Конец