He caught the tone, but continued to brush as he met her eyes in the glass. “Take it as you like, cara, but remember, I grew up in a house with five women. Your powders and bottles hold no secrets from me.”

She’d forgotten that, perhaps because she’d chosen to forget anything about him that didn’t connect directly with the book. Yet now it made her wonder. Just what sort of insight did a man get into women when he’d been surrounded by them since childhood? Frowning a bit, she picked up her mascara.

“Were you a close family?”

“We are a close family,” he corrected. “My mother’s a widow who runs a successful dress shop in Rome.” It was typical of him not to mention that he’d bought it for her. “My four sisters all live within thirty kilometers. Perhaps I no longer share the bathroom with them, but little else changes.”

She thought about it. It sounded cozy and easy and rather sweet. Juliet didn’t believe she could relate at all. “Your mother must be proud of you.”

“She’d be prouder if I added to her growing horde of grandchildren.”

She smiled at that. It sounded more familiar. “I know what you mean.”

“You should leave your hair just like this,” he told her as he set down the brush. “You have a family?”

“My parents live in Pennsylvania.”

He struggled with geography a moment. “Ah, then you’ll visit them when we go to Philadelphia.”

“No.” The word was flat as she recapped the tube of mascara. “There won’t be time for that.”

“I see.” And he thought he was beginning to. “You have brothers, sisters?”

“A sister.” Because he was right about her hair, Juliet let it be and slipped out for her jacket. “She married a doctor and produced two children, one of each gender, before she was twenty-five.”

Oh yes, he was beginning to see well enough. Though the words had been easy, the muscles in her shoulders had been tight. “She makes an excellent doctor’s wife?”

“Carrie makes a perfect doctor’s wife.”

“Not all of us are meant for the same things.”

“I wasn’t.” She picked up her briefcase and her purse. “We’d better get going. They said it would take about fifteen minutes to drive to the studio.”

Strange, he thought, how people always believed their tender spots could go undetected. For now, he’d leave her with the illusion that hers had.

Because the directions were good and the traffic was light, Juliet drove the late model Chevy she’d rented with confidence. Carlo obliged by navigating because he enjoyed the poised, skilled way she handled the wheel.

“You haven’t lectured me on today’s schedule,” he pointed out. “Turn right here at this light.”