Blindingly white limestone houses and narrow alleyways bedecked with geraniums and citrus plants wound in true Italian style around squares and tiny palm-sheltered courtyards, and by the time Vittorio had parked the Range Rover and they’d wandered on foot deeper into the town and made their way to the cathedral Cherry was smitten.The cathedral was as magnificent as she had expected, but when they left its confines and Vittorio casually took her hand as she stumbled over some ancient cobbles all she could think about was his fingers holding hers. And he didn’t seem inclined to let go. She felt dwarfed by his solid maleness as they walked, but it was an intoxicating feeling, and just for a while—she told herself—she’d enjoy the sensation. It didn’t mean anything, she was fully aware of that, so no harm done.They found a small trattoria—an informal restaurant serving simple meat and pasta dishes—and ate sitting outside under a large umbrella, sipping glasses of spumante wine.
