Free This Changes Everything by Gretchen Galway

crowd. Teresa was at the far end of the room near the stage, placing another vase of sunflowers on a round table. Immediately, as if she’d been watching the door, which she probably had, she waved him over.
    Sly paused.
    “I’ll take them,” Cleo said. “You can find us a table.”
    “Are you sure? That would be above and beyond the call of duty.”
    “It’s what a jealous girlfriend would do.”
    Their eyes met. He handed her the vase. “Thanks.”
    Because it’s what an admiring boyfriend would do, he watched her walk across the room, her generous hips swaying, her hair shimmering under the chandeliers, then back to her hips…
    Teresa seemed to be staring past Cleo at him, watching him watch Cleo. He couldn’t read her expression, but it wasn’t happy.
    He tore his gaze away and found a table in the middle near the side doors. Picking up an auction booklet as he sat, he returned his attention to Cleo, who was already walking back to him. For a woman who loved men’s pajamas, she certainly looked comfortable in a dress. The soft, clingy fabric draped around her curves like the toga of a Greek goddess.
    “You’re laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” she asked him as she sat down next to him. “I think she got the idea. She told me I was a lucky woman.”
    Forcing a smile, he put an arm around the back of her chair and lowered his mouth to her ear. Her perfume struck him again. “I’m the lucky one.”
    She didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Her hair, loose and glossy around her shoulders, was brushing his cheek.
    I want her .
    He jerked away and reached for a glass of ice water. His palms were sweating.
    “There’s Poppy,” Cleo said.
    Keep your eye on the prize, Minguez . He got to his feet and waved to Poppy, then held out his hand, palm up, to invite her to share their empty table. If he could talk to Poppy all evening, he might stop trying to check out his good friend’s body. Or taste it.
    Thank God, she was coming over. Except instead of taking the seat next to him, she took the one next to Cleo. Her husband, a quiet man whose name he couldn’t remember, sat on the other side.
    Sly stood for a moment. “Great to see you again.” He introduced Cleo, the three of them shook hands, took their seats, and then Poppy got her husband’s attention. He had buried his face in the auction booklet.
    “Bob,” Poppy said. “This is Sylly.”
    “Totally agree,” Bob said, throwing down the booklet. “We could just write a check directly instead of going through all this hassle.”
    “Sylly’s an old nickname.” Sly was able to smile at the misunderstanding, although he didn’t enjoy it as much as he used to. “Short for Sylvester. People also call me Sly.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cleo smiling around her wineglass.
    “Sorry,” Bob said. “This is why I try to let Poppy do all the talking.”
    Poppy kissed him on the cheek. “Bob hates these things. He’s sweet to put up with so many of them.”
    “It’s not the charity. It’s the crowd.” Bob’s gaze darted uneasily around the table. “I’ll shut up now. I don’t know why she doesn’t leave me at home where I can’t cause any trouble.”
    Poppy kissed him again. “You need to get out every once in a while, pumpkin. Besides, the food here should be fantastic.”
    “The food everywhere is fantastic these days,” Bob said. “And I’m not picky.”
    Lips pressed together, Poppy gave Sly and Cleo a discreet eye roll.
    “I’ve never been to one of these,” Cleo said. “At least not as a guest.”
    Poppy held up her glass in a toast. “I was a waitress all through graduate school. Hardest work I’ve ever done.”
    “Oh, I’m sure it was,” Cleo said. “I was lucky enough to just be the pianist.”
    “A pianist,” Poppy said. “How wonderful.”
    Sly put his hand on hers. “Cleo’s very talented.”
    “You know,” Cleo said, withdrawing her hand, “I bet the two of you have a lot to talk about.