“You have this—broom closet,” he decided as he gestured toward her room. Yes, it was small enough that the subtle, feminine scent from her shower reached all the corners. “While I have a big suite with two baths, a bed big enough for three friends and one of those sofas that unfold.”

“You’re the star,” she murmured as she brushed color over the slant of her cheeks.

“It would save the publisher money if we shared the suite.”

She shifted her eyes in the mirror until they met his. She’d have sworn, absolutely sworn, he meant no more than that. That is, if she hadn’t known him. “He can afford it,” she said lightly. “It just thrills the accounting department at tax time.”

Carlo moved his shoulders then sipped from his cup again. He’d known what her answer would be. Of course, he’d enjoy sharing his rooms with her for the obvious reason, but neither did it sit well with him that her accommodations were so far inferior to his.

“You need a touch more blusher on your left cheek,” he said idly, not noticing her surprised look. What he’d noticed was the green silk robe that reflected in the mirror from the back of the door. Just how would she look in that? Carlo wondered. How would she look out of it?

After a narrowed-eyed study, Juliet discovered he’d been right. She picked up her brush again and evened the color. “You’re a very observant man.”

“Hmm?” He was looking at her again, but mentally, he’d changed her neat, high-collared blouse and slim skirt for the provocative little robe.

“Most men wouldn’t notice unbalanced blusher.” She picked up a grease pencil to shadow her eyes.

“I notice everything when it comes to a woman.” There was still a light fog near the top of the mirror from the steam of her shower. Seeing it gave Carlo other, rather pleasant mental images. “What you’re doing now gives you a much different look.”

Relaxed again, she laughed. “That’s the idea.”

“But, no.” He stepped in closer so he could watch over her shoulder. The small, casual intimacy was as natural for him as it was uncomfortable for her. “Without the pots of paint, your face is younger, more vulnerable, but no less attractive than it is with them. Different…” Easily, he picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. “It’s not more, not less, simply different. I like both of your looks.”

It wasn’t easy to keep her hand steady. Juliet set down the eye-shadow and tried the coffee instead. Better to be cynical than be moved, she reminded herself and gave him a cool smile. “You seem right at home in the bathroom with a woman fixing her face.”

He liked the way her hair flowed as he brushed it. “I’ve done it so often.”

Her smile became cooler. “I’m sure.”