He grinned at the teasing light in her eyes. ‘I’m attracted to you and it’s my birthday. Eating together is a good thing to do with someone you like. Do you know the Italian saying “I have not eaten beans with you”? It indicates that if you haven’t eaten together you can’t know each other. I want to know you.’ He topped up their wine glasses.

Rather than reply to that she returned to his earlier comment and looked out into the night. ‘We can see a few stars.’

‘But without the lights we’d see a million. Some evenings I sit up here and watch them come out. There’s little light pollution and Italian stars are quite a sight.’

She helped herself to another cannelloni, offering him one too before putting down the plate. ‘They’re not Italian stars. We see exactly the same stars wherever we are in the world.’

‘You’re spoiling my lyrical comments,’ he complained, liking her quick intelligence and sly smile. ‘And people only see exactly the same stars if on the same latitude. Otherwise, the celestial horizon changes.’

They continued teasing and joking as they gradually cleared their plates. Piero wondered how long it was since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman so much.

Dinner was over and Piero had disappeared downstairs to make coffee. That was clearly a job for one so Zia had returned to the sofa to listen to the pulse of cicadas in the night, her mind full of Piero and the way his dark eyes had glowed as he’d listened to her. She’d caught him watching her mouth as if wondering what it would be like to kiss it and had watched his in return. He was such a presence, with his lithe body and quick, sure movements. She felt like one of the terrace moths being drawn inexorably to his flame.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ping of an incoming text. In case it was Ursula checking she was OK, she slipped the phone from her bag. But it was Brendon. Accuse me of double standards if you must but if you sleep with other men you’re making it impossible for us to get back together. xx

She glared at the message. What didn’t Brendon get about ‘we’re over’? Her shoulders rose and fell on a sigh.

‘Problem?’ asked Piero as he reappeared with a gleaming white porcelain coffee pot and gold-rimmed cups. Placing the tray on the table brought him close enough for her to catch his woodsy scent. She wondered whether it was from the shower or his workshop.

‘Not really.’ She thrust the phone away, watching him pour her coffee before helping herself to sugar and milk.

He poured his own coffee then paused with his hand beside a switch beneath a plastic cover. ‘Shall I put out the lights to show you the Italian stars?’