“Then I guess I’ll have to make do with the little boxes that say complete meal inside.”

“Sacrilege, caro, now that your palate is educated.” He touched her fingers across the table. “Juliet, I still want to teach you.”

She felt her pulse skid, and though she concentrated, she couldn’t level it. She tried to smile. “You’ll have to write another cookbook. Next time you tour, you can show me how to make spaghetti.” Ramble, she told herself. When you rambled, you couldn’t think. “If you write one book a year, I should be able to handle it. When you come around this time next year, I could manage the next lesson. By then, maybe I’ll have my own firm and you can hire me. After three bestsellers, you should think about a personal publicist.”

“A personal publicist?” His fingers tightened on hers then released. “Perhaps you’re right.” He reached in his pocket and drew out an envelope. “I have something for you.”

Juliet recognized the airline folder and took it with a frown. “Is there trouble on your return flight? I thought I’d…” She trailed off when she saw her own name on a departing flight for Rome.

“Come with me, Juliet.” He waited until her gaze lifted to his. “Come home with me.”

More time, she thought as she gripped the ticket. He was offering her more time. And more pain. It was time she accepted there’d be pain. She waited until she was certain she could control her voice, and her words. “I can’t, Carlo. We both knew the tour would end.”

“The tour, yes. But not us.” He’d thought he’d feel confident, assured, even cheerful. He hadn’t counted on desperation. “I want you with me, Juliet.”

Very carefully, she set the ticket aside. It hurt, she discovered, to take her hand from it. “It’s impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible. We belong with each other.”

She had to deflect the words, somehow. She had to pretend they didn’t run deep inside her and swell until her heart was ready to burst. “Carlo, we both have obligations, and they’re thousands of miles apart. On Monday, we’ll both be back at work.”

“That isn’t something that must be,” he corrected. “It’s you and I who must be. If you need a few days to tidy your business here in New York, we’ll wait. Next week, the week after, we fly to Rome.”

“Tidy my business?” She rose and found her knees were shaking. “Do you hear what you’re saying?”

He did, and didn’t know what had happened to the words he’d planned. Demands were coming from him where he’d wanted to show her need and emotion. He was stumbling over himself where he’d always been surefooted. Even now, cursing himself, he couldn’t find solid ground.