She soaked, designating precisely forty-five minutes for her personal time. In the bath, she didn’t plot or plan or estimate. She clicked off the busy, business end of her brain and enjoyed.

Relaxing—it took the first ten minutes to accomplish that completely. Dreaming—she could pretend the white, standard-size tub was luxurious, large and lush. Black marble perhaps and big enough for two. It was a secret ambition of Juliet’s to own one like it eventually. The symbol, she felt, of ultimate success. She’d have bristled if anyone had called her goal romantic. Practical, she’d insist. When you worked hard, you needed a place to unwind. This was hers.

Her robe hung on the back of the door—jade green, teasingly brief and silk. Not a luxury as far as she was concerned, but a necessity. When you often had only short snatches to relax, you needed all the help you could get. She considered the robe as much an aid in keeping pace as the bottles of vitamins that lined the counter by the sink. When she traveled, she always took them.

After she’d relaxed and dreamed a bit, she could appreciate soft, hot water against her skin, silky bubbles hissing, steam rising rich with scent.

He’d told her not to change her scent.

Juliet scowled as she felt the muscles in her shoulders tense. Oh no. Deliberately she picked up the tiny cake of hotel soap and rubbed it up and down her arms. Oh no, she wouldn’t let Carlo Franconi intrude on her personal time. That was rule number one.

He’d purposely tried to unravel her. He’d succeeded. Yes, he had succeeded, Juliet admitted with a stubborn nod. But that was over now. She wouldn’t let it happen again. Her job was to promote his book, not his ego. To promote, she’d go above and beyond the call of duty with her time, her energy and her skill, but not with her emotions.

Franconi wasn’t flying back to Rome in three weeks with a smug smile on his face unless it was professionally generated. That instant knife-sharp attraction would be dealt with. Priorities, Juliet mused, were the order of the day. He could add all the American conquests to his list he chose—as long as she wasn’t among them.