Oh, this wasn’t good. I hadn’t seen Nico “Junior” Trocci in ten years, yet all it had taken was one shared glance across the aisle to set my blood on fire. In a church, of all places, surrounded by enough elderly people to fill a nursing home. Thank god for the setting, because if I was that turned on under those circumstances, who knew what would have happened if I’d run into him in the wild somewhere. But, really, who could blame me? Junior looked good. Like the third deadly sin had sat down in the middle of Mass just to challenge my willpower.
