“You can see a lot in a couple of days. You’ll want to get down to the lake—”

“We’re here on business,” Juliet interrupted. “Only business.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a smile, the bellman pushed his cart into the hall. “1108’s the first stop.”

“That’s mine.” Juliet dug out her wallet again and pulled out bills as the bellman unlocked her door. “Those two bags,” she pointed out then turned to Carlo. “We’ll meet Dave Lockwell in the bar for drinks at 10:00. You can do as you like until then.”

“I have some ideas on that,” he began but Juliet moved past him. After stuffing the bills in the bellman’s hand, she shut the door with a quick click.

Thirty minutes, to Carlo’s thinking, was long enough for anyone to cool down. Juliet’s stiff-backed attitude toward their room situation had caused him more exasperation than annoyance. But then, he expected to be exasperated by women. On one hand, he found her reaction rather sweet and naive. Did she really think the fact that they were lovers would make the desk clerk or a bellman blink twice?

The fact that she did, and probably always would, was just another aspect of her nature that appealed to him. In whatever she did, Juliet Trent would always remain proper. Simmering passion beneath a tidy, clean-lined business suit. Carlo found her irresistible.

He’d known so many kinds of women—the bright young ingenue greedy to her fingertips, the wealthy aristocrat bored both by wealth and tradition, the successful career woman who both looked for and was wary of marriage. He’d known so many—the happy, the secure, the desperate and seeking, the fulfilled and the grasping. Juliet Trent with the cool green eyes and quiet voice left him uncertain as to what pigeonhole she’d fit into. It seemed she had all and none of the feminine qualities he understood. The only thing he was certain of was that he wanted her to fit, somehow, into his life.

The best way, the only way, he knew to accomplish that was to distract her with charm until she was already caught. After that, they’d negotiate the next step.

Carlo lifted the rose he’d had sent up from the hotel florist out of its bud vase, sniffed its petals once, then walked down the hall to Juliet’s room.

She was just drying off from a hot, steamy bath. If she’d heard the knock five minutes before, she’d have growled. As it was, she pulled on her robe and went to answer.

She’d been expecting him. Juliet wasn’t foolish enough to believe a man like Carlo would take a door in the face as final. It had given her satisfaction to close it, just as it gave her satisfaction to open it again. When she was ready.