It should have pleased her that she had several men dancing attendance on her. She was barely able to keep the names and faces separate as she watched Carlo laugh with a six-foot brunette in two minuscule ribbons of cloth.

The music was loud, the air heavy and warm. Giving into necessity, Juliet had dug a pair of pleated shorts and a crop top out of her bag and changed. It occurred to her that it was the first time since the start of the tour that she’d been able to sit out in the sun, soak up rays and not have a pad and pencil in her hand.

Though the blonde beside her with the gleaming biceps was in danger of becoming both a bore and a nuisance, she willed herself to enjoy the moment.

It was the first time Carlo had seen her in anything other than her very proper suits. He’d already concluded, by the way she walked, that her legs were longer than one might think from her height. He hadn’t been wrong. They seemed to start at her waist and continued down, smooth, slim and New York pale. The statuesque brunette beside him might not have existed for all the attention he paid her.

It wasn’t like him to focus on a woman yards away when there was one right beside him. Carlo knew it, but not what to do about it. The woman beside him smelled of heat and musk—heavy and seductive. It made him think that Juliet’s scent was lighter, but held just as much punch.

She had no trouble relaxing with other men. Carlo tipped back a beer as he watched her fold those long legs under her and laugh with the two men sitting on either side of her. She didn’t stiffen when the young, muscle-bound hunk on her left put his hand on her shoulder and leaned closer.

It wasn’t like him to be jealous. As emotional as he was, Carlo had never experienced that particular sensation. He’d also felt that a woman had just as much right to flirt and experiment as he did. He found that particular rule didn’t apply to Juliet. If she let that slick-skinned, weight-lifting buffone put his hand on her again…

He didn’t have time to finish the thought. Juliet laughed again, set aside her plate and rose. Carlo couldn’t hear whatever she’d said to the man beside her, but she strolled into the sprawling ranch house. Moments later, the burnished, bare-chested man rose and followed her.

“Maledetto!”

“What?” The brunette stopped in the middle of what she’d thought was an intimate conversation.

Carlo barely spared her a glance. “Scusi.” Muttering, he strode off in the direction Juliet had taken. There was murder in his eye.