Anne's cheeks flushed at the boldness, especially with a dozen women still bustling around them. She gave him a light jab in the stomach, trying not to smile too much.
Anne turned to the rows of dresses again, her fingers trailing along hangers draped with couture—every piece more stunning than the last. Some were dramatic, with plunging backs and daring slits; others were demure, ethereal, flowing like smoke.
But the sapphire blue gown still called to her.
She reached for it again.
It was a floor-length gown. The bodice was delicate, with off-the-shoulder sleeves that folded elegantly over the arms. Subtle silver embroidery traced the neckline, like stardust scattered along the fabric. The skirt flowed in gentle waves, light as air, with a soft train that added just the right amount of drama.
