“Of course, a lovely piece, isn’t it?” After taking it out of the locked case, he placed it reverently in Carlo’s hand. “The diamonds are all superior grade, naturally, and consist of one point three carat. The amethyst—”

“I’ll have it.”

Thrown off in the middle of his pitch, the clerk blinked. “Yes, sir, an excellent choice.” Trying not to show surprise, he took the credit card Carlo handed him along with the choker and moved farther down the counter.

“Carlo.” Juliet edged closer and lowered her voice. “You didn’t even ask the price.”

He merely patted her hand as he skimmed the other contents in the case. “My sister’s about to make me an uncle again,” he said simply. “The choker suits her. Now emeralds,” he began, “would be your stone.”

She glanced down at a pair of earrings with stones the color of dark, wet summer grass. The momentary longing was purely feminine and easily controlled. Shoes she could justify; emeralds, no. She shook her head and laughed at him. “I’ll just stick with pampering my feet.”

When Carlo had his present nicely boxed and his receipt in hand they wandered back out. “I love to shop,” Juliet confessed. “Sometimes I’ll spend an entire Saturday just roaming. It’s one of the things I like best about New York.”

“Then you’d love Rome.” He’d like to see her there, he discovered. By the fountains, laughing, strolling through the markets and cathedrals, dancing in the clubs that smelled of wine and humanity. He wanted to have her there, with him. Going back alone was going back to nothing. He brought her hand to his lips as he thought of it, holding it there until she paused, uncertain.

“Carlo?” People brushed by them, and as his look became more intense, she swallowed and repeated his name. This wasn’t the mild masculine appreciation she’d seen him send passing women, but something deep and dangerous. When a man looked at a woman this way, the woman was wise to run. But Juliet didn’t know if it were toward him or away.

He shook off the mood, warning himself to tread carefully with her, and himself. “If you came,” he said lightly, “I could introduce you to your hero. Enough of my lasagna and you’d have your shoes at cost.”

Relieved, she tucked her arm through his again. “You tempt me to start saving for the airfare immediately. Oh, Carlo, look at this!” Delighted, she stopped in front of a window and pointed. In the midst of the ornate display was a three-foot Indian elephant done in high-gloss ceramic. Its blanket was a kaleidoscope of gilt and glitter and color. Opulent and regal, its head was lifted, its trunk curled high. Juliet fell in love. “It’s wonderful, so unnecessarily ornate and totally useless.”