He grinned as he carried them over to the table. ‘We should drink it at room temperature but I chilled some in case you prefer that.’

‘White wine? Room temperature?’ She lifted a dubious brow.

He dropped his voice as he set the chilled bottles in a cooler. ‘Truthfully, I prefer it chilled but if you tell Emiliano I’ll deny it.’ He took up the Sangiovese and opened it. He took four glasses from the cupboard and poured small measures into two. ‘We should taste the Orvieto first as it’s the lighter wine but it will go better with dinner so let’s begin with the Sangiovese.’

‘But Sangiovese’s red,’ she commented, accepting a glass.

‘Frequently, yes, but it’s possible to produce a white wine from red grapes. It’s the skins that colour wine so we remove them at the beginning of the winemaking.’ Gently he stayed her hand as she went to raise the glass. He often put on tastings to impart product knowledge when visiting call centres that handled Tenuta Domenicali wines. ‘We take a little bread first to cleanse the palate. And then a sip of water. Now, we take a moment to appreciate the wine’s colour … though the terrace lights aren’t good for that,’ he conceded ruefully.

‘But naturally the colour would prove exactly right if we could see it,’ she answered with exaggerated enthusiasm.

‘Naturally.’ He enjoyed her entering into the spirit. ‘Swirl the wine to release the vapours … now we put our noses over the rim and breathe. Enjoy the bouquet.’ He suited his actions to his words. ‘Is it pleasant?’

‘Mmmm,’ she said, closing her eyes. For a moment he lost his train of thought as the sensual sound hit him low in his belly.

He realised she’d opened her eyes again and collected his thoughts back up. ‘And now we take half a mouthful. We let it slide from the front of the tongue to the back. Then side to side.’

‘Aren’t we supposed to try and suck in air at the same time?’ She tilted her head enquiringly.

He agreed. ‘You’ll see the experts do it. But I don’t want you to choke.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘A likely outcome.’

After nibbling more bread, this time with cheese, and sipping water, they repeated the ritual with the Orvieto Classico. ‘Mmm-mmm,’ was Zia’s verdict this time. ‘Now that’s a wonderful wine.’ The terrace lights were glowing more brightly as the sky turned black and moths had begun to dance as if celebrating her presence.