He shifted a bit, but didn’t sit up. If it hadn’t been too much trouble, he could’ve counted off the number of times he’d been grounded for one reason or another. One, he recalled, had been a flamenco dancer in Madrid who’d distracted him into missing the last flight out. Better not to mention it. Still, when such things happened, Carlo reflected, it was best to relax and enjoy the moment. He knew Juliet better.

“You’re worried about the TV in the morning.”

“Of course I am.” As she paced, she went over every possibility. Rent a car and drive—no, even in clear weather it was simply too far. They could charter a plane and hope the fog cleared by dawn. She took another glance outside. They were sixty-five floors up, but they might as well have been sixty-five feet under. No, she decided, no television spot was worth the risk. They’d have to cancel. That was that.

She dropped down on a chair and stuck her stockinged feet up by Carlo’s. “I’m sorry, Carlo, there’s no way around it. We’ll have to scrub Boston.”

“Scrub Boston?” Lazily he folded his arms behind his head. “Juliet, Franconi scrubs nothing. Cook, yes, scrub, no.”

It took her a moment to realize he was serious. “I mean cancel.”

“You didn’t say cancel.”

She heaved out a long breath. “I’m saying it now.” She wiggled her toes, finding them a bit stiff after a ten-hour day. “There’s no way we can make the television spot, and that’s the biggest thing we have going in Boston. There’re a couple of print interviews and an autographing. We didn’t expect much to move there, and we were depending on the TV spot for that. Without it…” She shrugged and resigned herself. “It’s a wash.”

Letting his eyes half close, Carlo decided the sofa was an excellent place to spend an hour or so. “I don’t wash.”

She shot him a level look. “You’re not going to have to do anything but lie on your—back,” she decided after a moment, “for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

He grinned. Moving faster than he looked capable of, he sat up, grabbed her by the arms and pulled her down with him. “Good, you lie with me. Two backs, madonna, are better than one.”

“Carlo.” She couldn’t avoid the first kiss. Or perhaps she didn’t put her best effort into it, but she knew it was essential to avoid the second. “Wait a minute.”

“Only twenty-four hours,” he reminded her as he moved to her ear. “No time to waste.”

“I’ve got to— Stop that,” she ordered when her thoughts started to cloud. “There’re arrangements to be made.”

“What arrangements?”