“It’s my favorite, I think,” Jenna said, offhand. She smoothed her palm over the layers of ruched silk gathered just under the bodice, at the swell of her breast where it met the upper part of her ribcage. “I’ve never been partial to red, but this one...well, the fit is perfect.” She glanced sidelong at Leander, her smile warming almost imperceptibly. “For some strange reason, I just love it.”
“May I get you something to drink?” Morgan asked her, deferential.
“Champagne?” Jenna replied, still smiling. “That seems rather appropriate, don’t you think?” Morgan nodded, her lips mashed together, and drifted away toward a waiter.
“You two seem to be forging quite the friendship,” Leander said, watching her go. There was something amiss here, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She and Morga
