Juliet thought, kissed it. “Arrivederci.”
“Don’t waste time, do you?” Juliet commented the moment they deplaned.
“Every moment lived is a moment to be enjoyed.”
“What a quaint little sentiment.” She shifted her bag and aimed for baggage claim. “You should have it tattooed.”
“Where?”
She didn’t bother to look at his grin. “Where it would be most attractive, naturally.”
They had to wait longer than she liked for their luggage, and by then the relaxing effects of the wine had worn off. There was business to be seen to. Because he enjoyed watching her in action, Carlo let her see to it.
She secured a cab, tipped the skycap and gave the driver the name of the hotel. Scooting in beside Carlo, she caught his grin. “Something funny?”
“You’re so efficient, Juliet.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“I never insult women.” He said it so simply, she was absolutely certain it was true. Unlike Juliet, he was completely relaxed and not particularly sleepy. “If this was Rome, we’d go to a dark little café, drink heavy red wine and listen to American music.”
She closed her window because the air was damp and chilly. “The tour interfering with your night life?”
“So far I find myself enjoying the stimulating company.”
“Tomorrow you’re going to find yourself worked to a frazzle.”
Carlo thought of his background and smiled. At nine, he’d spent the hours between school and supper washing dishes and mopping up kitchens. At fifteen he’d waited tables and spent his free time learning of spices and sauces. In Paris he’d combined long, hard study with work as an assistant chef. Even now, his restaurant and clients had him keeping twelve-hour days. Not all of his background was in the neatly typed bio Juliet had in her briefcase.
“I don’t mind work, as long as it interests me. I think you’re the same.”
“I have to work,” she corrected. “But it’s easier when you enjoy it.”
“You’re more successful when you enjoy it. It shows with you. Ambition, Juliet, without a certain joy, is cold, and when achieved leaves a flat taste.”
“But I am ambitious.”
“Oh, yes.” He turned to look at her, starting off flutters she’d thought herself too wise to experience. “But you’re not cold.”
For a moment, she thought she’d be better off if he were wrong. “Here’s the hotel.” She turned from him, relieved to deal with details. “We need you to wait,” she instructed the driver. “We’ll be going out again as soon as we check in. The hotel has a lovely view of the bay, I’m told.” She walked into the lobby with Carlo as the bellboy dealt with their luggage. “It’s a shame we won’t have time to enjoy it. Franconi and Trent,” she told the desk clerk.
The lobby was quiet and empty. Oh, the lucky people who were sleeping in their beds, she thought and pushed at a strand of hair that had come loose.
“We’ll be checking out first thing tomorrow, and we won’t be able to come back, so be sure you don’t leave anything behind in your room.”
“But of course you’ll check anyway.”
She sent him a sidelong look as she signed the form. “Just part of the service.” She pocketed her key. “The luggage can be taken straight up.” Discreetly, she handed the bellboy a folded bill. “Mr. Franconi and I have an errand.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I like that about you.” To Juliet’s surprise, Carlo linked arms with her as they walked back outside.
“What?”
“Your generosity. Many people would’ve slipped out without tipping the bellboy.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s easier to be generous when it’s not your money.”
“Juliet.” He opened the door to the waiting cab and gestured her in. “You’re intelligent enough. Couldn’t you—how is it—stiff the bellboy then write the tip down on your expense account?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
