She thought she understood the names he called the unfortunate Ms. Tribly though they were all in fast, furious Italian. He said something about a knife in the back, balled the clipping up and heaved it in a scrubbed hearth across the room. Juliet noted, as a matter of interest, that his aim was perfect.

“What does she try to do?” he demanded.

“Her job. A bit too enthusiastically.”

“Job? Is it her job to quote all my recipes? And wrong!” Incensed, he whirled around the room. “She has too much oregano in my veal.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t notice,” Juliet murmured. “In any case, you’re entitled to retribution.”

“Retribution.” He relished the word and made a circle of his hands. “I’ll fly to Dallas and squeeze my retribution from her skinny throat.”

“There’s that, of course.” Juliet pressed her lips together to keep the laughter in. How had she ever thought she’d convince herself she could do without him? “Or a legal suit. I’ve given it a lot of thought, however, and feel the best way might be a very firm letter of disapproval.”

“Disapproval?” He spun back to her. “Do you simply disapprove of murder in your country? She overspiced my veal.”

After clearing her throat, Juliet managed to soothe. “I understand, Carlo, but I believe it was an honest mistake all around. If you remember the interview, she was nervous and insecure. It appears to be you just overwhelmed her.”

Muttering something nasty, he stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll write to her myself.”

“That might be just the right touch—if you let legal take a look at it first.”

He scowled, then looked at her carefully from head to foot. She hadn’t changed. He’d known she wouldn’t. Somehow that fact comforted and distressed all at once. “You came to Rome to discuss lawsuits with me?”

She took her life in her hands. “I came to Rome,” she said simply.

He wasn’t sure he could go any closer without having to touch, and touching, take. The hurt hadn’t faded. He wasn’t certain it ever would. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t forget.” Since he wouldn’t come to her, she went to him. “Because I couldn’t forget, Carlo. You asked me to come and I was afraid. You said you loved me and I didn’t believe you.”

He curled his fingers to keep them still. “And now?”

“Now I’m still afraid. The moment I was alone, the moment I knew you’d gone, I had to stop pretending. Even when I had to admit I was in love with you, I thought I could work around it. I thought I had to work around it.”

“Juliet.” He reached for her, but she stepped back quickly.

“I think you’d better wait until I finish. Please,” she added when he only came closer.