She hadn’t been expecting the rose. Though she knew it wasn’t wise to be moved by a single long-stemmed flower with a bud the color of sunshine, she was moved nonetheless. Her plans to have a calm, serious discussion with him faltered.

“You look rested.” Rather than giving her the rose, he took her hand. Before she could decide whether or not to let him in, he was there.

A stand, Juliet reminded herself even as she closed the door behind him. If she didn’t take a stand now, she’d never find her footing. “Since you’re here, we’ll talk. We have an hour.”

“Of course.” As was his habit, he took a survey of her room. Her suitcase sat on a stand, still packed, but with its top thrown open. It wasn’t practical to unpack and repack when you were bouncing around from city to city. Though they were starting their third week on the road, the contents of the case were still neat and organized. He’d have expected no less from her. Her notebook and two pens were already beside the phone. The only things remotely out of place in the tidy, impersonal room were the Italian heels that sat in the middle of the rug where she’d stepped out of them. The inconsistency suited her perfectly.

“I can discuss things better,” she began, “if you weren’t wandering around.”

“Yes?” All cooperation, Carlo sat and waved the rose under his nose. “You want to talk about our schedule here in Chicago?”

“No—yes.” She had at least a dozen things to go over with him. For once she let business take a back seat. “Later.” Deciding to take any advantage, Juliet remained standing. “First, I want to talk about that business down at the desk.”

“Ah.” The sound was distinctly European and as friendly as a smile. She could have murdered him.

“It was totally uncalled for.”

“Was it?” He’d learned that strategy was best plotted with friendly questions or simple agreement. That way, you could swing the final result to your own ends without too much blood being shed.

“Of course it was.” Forgetting her own strategy, Juliet dropped down on the edge of the bed. “Carlo, you had no right discussing our personal business in public.”

“You’re quite right.”

“I—” His calm agreement threw her off. The firm, moderately angry speech she’d prepared in the tub went out the window.

“I must apologize,” he continued before she could balance herself. “It was thoughtless of me.”

“Well, no.” As he’d planned, she came to his defense. “It wasn’t thoughtless, just inappropriate.”