“Honey,” Mom called from downstairs. “You’ve received a package.” And not a moment too soon, I thought as I raced down the steps. Shayne had promised to have the dress and shoes delivered two days ago and a slight panic had begun to gnaw at me. “Great,” I said as I took the large white box. “I was beginning to think she had forgotten me.” I ran back up stairs and tore the lid off. My face turned to dismay. Instead of the liquid silver halter dress, a purple mass of chiffon swelled out of the box. Finding the thin straps, I pulled it out of the box, the endless flow of ruffles as light and ethereal as the air itself. Beggars can’t be choosers, I reminded myself, though I couldn’t imagine why Shayne had switched dresses on me. The silver halter dress had been perfect, perhaps too perfect for Shayne’s liking. Then again, I remembered my heated encounter with Moore, the embrace that had bordered on erotic, the kisses that left me light- headed and the subsequent ride home that remained vague and distant.
