“True enough.” Leisurely, Carlo stepped out into the rain. “But it was illuminating. I’ve already paid the driver, Juliet,” he continued when she started to dig into her purse. “The baggage is checked. We board from gate five.” Taking her arm, and his big leather case, he led her into the terminal.

“You didn’t have to take care of all that.” She’d have pulled her arm away if she’d had the energy. Or so she told herself. “The reason I’m here is to—”

“Promote my book,” he finished easily. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve been known to do the same when I traveled with your predecessor.”

The very fact that it did, made her feel foolish as well. “I appreciate it, Carlo. It’s not that I mind you lending a hand, it’s that I’m not used to it. You’d be surprised how many authors are either helpless or careless on the road.”

“You’d be surprised how many chefs are temperamental and rude.”

She thought of the basil and grinned. “No!”

“Oh, yes.” And though he’d read her thoughts perfectly, his tone remained grave. “Always flying off the handle, swearing, throwing things. It leads to a bad reputation for all of us. Here, they’re boarding. If only they have a decent Bordeaux.”

Juliet stifled a yawn as she followed him through. “I’ll need my boarding pass, Carlo.”

“I have it.” He flashed them both for the flight attendant and nudged Juliet ahead. “Do you want the window or the aisle?”

“I need my pass to see which I’ve got.”

“We have 2A and B. Take your pick.”

Someone pushed past her and bumped her solidly. It brought a sinking sensation of déjà vu. “Carlo, I’m in coach, so—”

“No, your tickets are changed. Take the window.”

Before she could object, he’d maneuvered her over and slipped in beside her. “What do you mean my ticket’s been changed? Carlo, I have to get in the back before I cause a scene.”

“Your seat’s here.” After handing Juliet her boarding pass he stretched out his legs. “Dio, what a relief.”

Frowning, Juliet studied her stub—2A. “I don’t know how they could’ve made a mistake like this. I’d better see to it right away.”

“There’s no mistake. You should fasten your belt,” he advised, then did so himself. “I changed your tickets for the remaining flights on the tour.”

Juliet reached to undo the clasp he’d just secured. “You—but you can’t.”

“I told you, don’t say can’t to Franconi.” Satisfied with her belt, he dealt with his own. “You work as hard as I do—why should you travel in tourist?”

“Because I’m paid to work. Carlo, let me out so I can fix this before we take off.”