The band began to play a classic Elvis Presley ballad, and Sylvia turned to me with a hopeful look in her eye. “You wouldn’t want to dance with me by any chance, would you? I love this song.”

“Uh, I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I don’t mind.”

The idea of holding her close, even on a crowded dance floor, was too tempting to resist. “Okay.”

We walked onto the floor and found a spot among the slow-moving couples. She came into my arms as naturally as if we’d been dancing together for years. I could smell her perfume, and inhaled deeply. The scent stirred up memories of her bare skin on mine, and provoked a response in my body that I couldn’t exactly hide. I glanced over her shoulder at the table where the kids were sitting and saw Whitney watching us, transfixed.

“Thanks for this,” Sylvia said, looking up at me. “I know it’s probably not comfortable.”

“Your daughter is looking a little unsettled.”

Sylvia shook her head. “I’m not even turning around to look at her. We are dancing, that’s all.”

“Okay.” But I adjusted my hold on her, putting a little more space between our bodies.

Sylvia laughed. “Are you trying to leave room for the Holy Ghost?”

“I’m trying to be a good person, and you make it hard.”

She nestled in closer, pressing her breasts against my chest. “How hard?” she whispered.

“Oh, Jesus.” I shook my head. “You need to stop. My mind is going to some dangerous places right now.”

“Tell me about it.” Then she went up on tiptoe to whisper in my ear. “And use all the dirty words. You know how I like them.”

I groaned, closing my eyes for a second. “Sylvia. We’re in a room full of people and we’re being watched.”

She giggled and backed off—a little. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Misbehaving is new to me, and I’m a little addicted to it.”

For the rest of the song, I told myself not to worry so much and just enjoy the feel of her in my arms. This was as much of her as I would get tonight, so I might as well savor it. When the song ended, we walked back to our table hand in hand.

“Hey, Syl,” Meg said brightly, picking her purse up from the floor. “Come to the ladies’ room with me.”

“Okay.” Sylvia reached beneath her chair for her purse before turning to me. “Be right back.”

“No problem.” I watched her walk away with her sister and knew in my gut Meg was going to ask her what was going on with us. It still didn’t stop me from staring at Sylvia’s butt and the way that skirt clung and shimmered as she moved.

“So,” Noah said, tipping up his beer. “How long have you been in love with Sylvia?”