My date wouldn’t like it.”

McKenna turned to face Taylor, hands on her hips. “What? Why not?”

Taylor shifted from one foot to the other. “My date isn’t a… date. We’re really just friends, and so we’re just going as… friends.”

“I don’t get it. Who are you going with?”

Taylor had wondered when this question might arise. “Troy.”

“Troy Sheenan?”

Was there any other Troy in Marietta?

Taylor nodded. “Yes.” She avoided McKenna’s gaze, not wanting to see laughter or mockery in her eyes, because of course Troy wasn’t the right man for Taylor. Troy was… well… Marietta’s Most Eligible Bachelor. And probably San Francisco’s Most Eligible Bachelor, too. “Jane set us up—”

“I knew Jane had said you were going.”

“I didn’t think it was a good idea to go with Troy, but anyway…we are.”

“You and Troy.”

“Yes.” Taylor’s heart thudded, trying not to think about Troy or the kiss, because the kiss had been so good and hot and sweet and sexy all at the same time. “But we’re not a couple,” she added hurriedly.

“Maybe you should be a couple. He’s lovely,” McKenna said firmly. “And you are, too.”

“But there’s no… chemistry,” Taylor said, remembering Troy’s words. “And he has to have chemistry. You know.”

“How do you know there was no chemistry?”

Taylor blushed. “He kissed me.”

McKenna’s eyes widened. “And…?”

“I thought it was really good.”

“Not surprised. He was voted best kisser his senior year of high school. And of course, I never kissed him, but Sheenans are good lovers, so, you know.”

Taylor glanced around to be sure the sales clerk wasn’t listening. “Apparently I’m not a good kisser, though. Troy said… you know.”

“Troy told you that you weren’t a good kisser?”

“No. He just said… we could be friends.”

“Of course you can be friends. You don’t want a lover who doesn’t care about you.”

“He’s not my lover. He’s not even attracted to me.”

“And he said this?”

“No. But it was implied.”

McKenna gave her a strange look. “Not sure your logic is all that sound, which is fine. No one ever said a woman has to be logical all the time. But the one thing that is clear, is that we need to find you the perfect gown for the ball. Yes?”

In the dressing room, armed with another stack of gowns, all handpicked by McKenna, Taylor tried on one after the other. They were all beautiful dresses, all far more sophisticated than Taylor would have selected for herself. A stunning ruby red ball gown with full skirts and a plunging décolleté; a long, form fitting red sequin gown with small padded shoulders that left her entire back bare; a sweet gown in blush with avant garde roses stitched at the bodice and fluttery folds of fabric falling to her feet.

So many beautiful gowns and yet none of them felt right.