With any luck she could come back to the hotel after the show, catch another hour’s sleep and then have breakfast in her room while she made her morning calls. The autographing wasn’t until noon, and their flight out wasn’t until early the next morning.

That was something to hold on to, Juliet told herself as she looked for the right shade of stockings. For the first time in a week, they had an evening free with no one to entertain, no one to be entertained by. A nice, quiet meal somewhere close by and a full night’s sleep. With that at the end of the tunnel, she could get through the morning.

With a grimace, she gulped down her daily dose of brewer’s yeast.

It wasn’t until she was fully dressed that she woke up enough to remember she hadn’t dealt with her make-up. With a shrug Juliet slipped out of her little green jacket and headed for the bathroom. She stared at the front door with a combination of suspicion and bad temper when she heard the knock. Peeking through the peephole, she focused on Carlo. He grinned at her, then crossed his eyes. She only swore a little as she pulled open the door.

“You’re early,” she began, then caught the stirring aroma of coffee. Looking down, she saw that he carried a tray with a small pot, cups and spoons. “Coffee,” she murmured, almost like a prayer.

“Yes.” He nodded as he stepped into the room. “I thought you’d be ready, though room service isn’t.” He walked over to a table, saw that her room could fit into one section of his suite and set down the tray. “So, we deliver.”

“Bless you.” It was so sincere he grinned again as she crossed the room. “How did you manage it? Room service doesn’t open for half an hour.”

“There’s a small kitchen in my suite. A bit primitive, but adequate to brew coffee.”

She took the first sip, black and hot, and she closed her eyes. “It’s wonderful. Really wonderful.”

“Of course. I fixed it.”

She opened her eyes again. No, she decided, she wouldn’t spoil gratitude with sarcasm. After all, they’d very nearly gotten along for three days running. With the help of her shower, the yeast and the coffee, she was feeling almost human again.

“Relax,” she suggested. “I’ll finish getting ready.” Expecting him to sit, Juliet took her cup and went into the bathroom to deal with her face and hair. She was dotting on foundation when Carlo leaned on the doorjamb.

“Mi amore, doesn’t this arrangement strike you as impractical?”

She tried not to feel self-conscious as she smoothed on the thin, translucent base. “Which arrangement is that?”