“Grazie, mi amore,” he murmured and brought her stiff hand to his lips.

She pressed her shoe down on the soft leather of his loafers and hoped she ground bones. “I think you, and your readers, will find that Mr. Franconi’s book, The Italian Way, is a really stunning example of his technique, his style and his opinions, written in such a way that the average person following one of his recipes step-by-step can create something very special.”

When their drinks were served, Juliet gave another tug on her hand thinking she might catch him off guard. She should have known better.

“To the new baby.” He smiled over at Juliet. “It’s always a pleasure to drink to life in all its stages.”

Ms. Tribly sipped lightly at her margarita in a glass the size of a small birdbath. “Mr. Franconi, have you actually cooked and tasted every recipe that’s in your book?”

“Of course.” Carlo enjoyed the quick tang of his drink. There was a time for the sweet, and a time for the tart. His laugh came low and smooth as he looked at Juliet. “When something’s mine, there’s nothing I don’t learn about it. A meal, Ms. Tribly, is like a love affair.”

She broke the tip of her pencil and hurriedly dug out another. “A love affair?”

“Yes. It begins slowly, almost experimentally. Just a taste, to whet the appetite, to stir the anticipation. Then the flavor changes, perhaps something light, something cool to keep the senses stirred, but not overwhelmed. Then there’s the spice, the meat, the variety. The senses are aroused; the mind is focused on the pleasure. It should be lingered over. But finally, there’s dessert, the time of indulgence.” When he smiled at Juliet, there was no mistaking his meaning. “It should be enjoyed slowly, savored, until the palate is satisfied and the body sated.”

Ms. Tribly swallowed. “I’m going to buy a copy of your book for myself.”

With a laugh, Carlo picked up his menu. “Suddenly, I have a huge appetite.”

Juliet ordered a small fruit salad and picked at it for thirty minutes.

“I’ve really got to get back.” After polishing off her meal and an apricot tart, Ms. Tribly gathered up her pad. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed this, Mr. Franconi. I’m never going to sit down to pot roast with the same attitude again.”

Amused, Carlo rose. “It was a pleasure.”

“I’ll be glad to send a clipping of the article to your office, Ms. Trent.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Juliet offered her hand, surprised when the reporter held it an extra moment.

“You’re a lucky woman. Enjoy the rest of your tour, Mr. Franconi.”

“Arrivederci.” He was still smiling when he sat down to finish his coffee.

“You put on a hell of a show, Franconi.”