“Then you have to say nothing. You promised to share a late supper and champagne.” Taking her hand, he led her across the room to the table already set by the wide uncurtained window. A magnum of champagne was chilling in a silver bucket, white tapers were waiting to be lit. Carlo lifted a cover to show delicately broiled lobster tails. It was, Juliet thought, the most beautiful spot in the world.

“How did you manage to have all this here, waiting?”

“I told room service to have it here at ten.” He pulled out her chair. “I, too, can keep a schedule, my love.” When he’d seated her, Carlo lit the candles, then dimmed the lights so that the silver glinted. At another touch, music flowed out toward her.

Juliet ran her fingertip down the slim white column of a candle then looked at him when he joined her. He drew the cork on the champagne. As it frothed to the lip, he filled two glasses.

He’d make their last night special, she thought. It was so like him. Sweet, generous, romantic. When they parted ways, they’d each have something memorable to take with them. No regrets, Juliet thought again and smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

“To happiness, Juliet. Yours and mine.”

She touched her glass to his, watching him as she sipped. “You know, some women might suspect a seduction when they’re dined with champagne and candlelight.”

“Yes. Do you?”

She laughed and sipped again. “I’m counting on it.”

God, she excited him, just watching her laugh, hearing her speak. He wondered if such a thing would mellow and settle after years of being together. How would it feel, he wondered, to wake comfortably every morning beside the woman you loved?

Sometimes, he thought, you would come together at dawn with mutual need and sleepy passion. Other times you would simply lie together, secure in the night’s warmth. He’d always considered marriage sacred, almost mysterious. Now he thought it would be an adventure—one he intended to share with no one but Juliet.

“This is wonderful.” Juliet let the buttery lobster dissolve on her tongue. “I’ve been completely spoiled.”

Carlo filled her glass again. “Spoiled. How?”

“This champagne’s a far cry from the little Reisling I splurge on from time to time. And the food.” She took another bite of lobster and closed her eyes. “In three weeks my entire attitude toward food has changed. I’m going to end up fat and penniless supporting my habit.”

“So, you’ve learned to relax and enjoy. Is it so bad?”

“If I continue to relax and enjoy I’m going to have to learn how to cook.”

“I said I’d teach you.”

“I managed the linguini,” she reminded him as she drew out the last bite.

“One lesson only. It takes many years to learn properly.”