Cristiano offered his arm out for her to take. He was quite the gentleman. She looped her arm through his, enjoying the display of chivalry.

He helped her down the stone steps. The flowers were in full bloom, surrounding them with bright purples and fuchsia pinks. There was definitely something romantic about Positano; it was utterly charming, with small stores set into the cliffside and dramatic views of the ocean below.

“I would like to take you to a cafe,” Cristiano said. “There will surely be some people there you can interview for your article.”

“Thank you,” Keira said, having quite forgotten that she was there to work rather than swoon. Then she added, “It’s not an Internet cafe is it?”

Cristiano looked a little confused. “No, of course not.”

Keira sighed, relieved. “Just checking.”

As Cristiano led Keira through the winding streets, he greeted many of the locals they passed. Keira got the distinct impression that Cristiano was a very sociable man; he certainly seemed to know everyone in Positano at least!

“How are you so popular?” Keira teased him as they ambled down a stony slope in the direction of a square filled with bright umbrellas and bistro tables.

“I take time to make friends,” he said with a shrug. “I think people are wonderful. I love to know their stories.”

Keira smiled to herself. Stories, personal narratives, that’s why she’d gotten into writing in the first place. It pleased her that they had that in common.

Cristiano led her to the cafe and gestured for her to sit at one of the outside tables shaded by an umbrella.

“I am good friends with the barista here,” he explained. “We can probably get some coffees on the house.”

A waiter came over then, smiling genially at Cristiano. They spoke in Italian briefly, and Keira caught the sound of her name. The waiter peered at her, smiling. Just like Cristiano, he had the same passionate, smoldering look in his eyes. She wondered whether all men in Italy looked at women like that.

The waiter took her hand and kissed it.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Keira. I’m Vanni. Now, don’t you break this man’s heart,” he warned her. “A beautiful American girl like you.”

“Hardly,” Keira said, blushing. But the comment secretly pleased her.

Vanni disappeared inside the cafe and came back a short time later with three coffees on a tray. In the foam he’d created beautiful love heart designs. Then he sat down beside them and crossed one leg over the other, his fashionable brogues on display.

“You are here to interview me, I believe,” he said.

“I am,” Keira replied, hurriedly grabbing her notebook from her purse. How easy it was to forget she was here to work and not flirt. “That would be wonderful. Can you speak to me a bit about your experiences of love in Positano?”

Vanni smiled mischievously. “It is a very romantic place. You see that, yes?”

“I do,” Keira agreed. “Have you had many experiences of love here?”