Travis. An icy hand squeezed my heart. I plopped down on the king-sized bed and picked up the picture of him on my nightstand. Blond hair, brown eyes, terrific smile. Travis Teague beamed at me. I’d missed him today. A lot. Carmen and Sam’s wedding had only reminded me of what I’d lost when Travis had been killed over a year ago. Of what I should have right now. I turned my ring around on my finger.

But as I looked at Travis’s picture, my thoughts drifted 48

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back to Johnny Bulluci and our encounter in the game room. The man could kiss, that was for sure. A couple of sparks flew from my fingertips and landed on the tile floor. If Johnny could work with his hands as well as he did with his lips and tongue, well, he could seduce me anytime. Johnny Bulluci could be my rebound guy, I decided. Someone to have a little fun and a lot of steamy sex with before I started looking for the next Mr. Right. Travis had been my Mr. Right, but he was gone now. I would always miss him, but he wouldn’t want me to be a nun the rest of my life. Travis had been generous to a fault. He would understand me moving on. He’d encourage me to. I put Travis’s picture on the nightstand and carefully positioned it so he was smiling at me.

Yes, it was time to get out and live a little. It was time for Fiona Fine to get back into the dating game.

The next morning, I drove my convertible into the city. I put the top down, stepped on the gas, and let the warm wind whip my blond locks into a tangled mess. The sporty car had been my present to myself for my thirtieth birthday a couple of months ago. I loved the sleek design, the smooth ride, the fire engine red color. The four hundred horses under the hood weren’t too shabby either. Before work, I swung by my apartment, located in the penthouse in Tip-Top Tower, one of the most expensive and exclusive buildings in Bigtime. I opened the door, flicked on the lights, and tossed my keys onto a table. My apartment featured ivory-colored granite floors and walls, fireproof up to three thousand degrees. No thick shag carpet for me. I’d ruined too much of it in my life to risk having it H o t M a m a

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in my home. No chintzy curtains either. Instead, metal screens covered the tall windows like blinds, giving me privacy from prying eyes, without being a fire hazard. I walked into the living room. A long sofa the color of Bing cherries sat against one wall, flanked by four black armchairs. The rest of the furniture was done in various shades of red, black, and white. Sometimes all three. Paintings behind shatterproof and fire-resistant glass added even more color to the pale walls.