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female race. And then turn him into a real client who wants to find a date. Two fees, one guy. It’s brilliant.”
    Was there anything in the world sappier than a bride-to-be? Tabitha resisted the urge to make a gagging sound. Ivy might think of love as a happy virus. Tabitha knew that often one quick orgasm was all the emotional antibiotic needed to get it out of a guy’s system. “Thanks, Ivy. You won’t regret this.”
    Chances were good that Drew had simply panicked after losing his company that investor. She didn’t blame him one bit. His boss sounded like a ball-buster. But he wanted to change, wanted to better himself. No different, really, than when someone came to her to spruce up their personality before trying to find their one true match. With his intentions in the right place, Tabitha expected he’d do great at the wedding. Her bigger concern was not dissolving into a puddle of drool when she saw him in his tux.
    * * *
    Milo pranced toward Tabitha across the length of the expansive, twelfth-floor bridal suite. Yes, there was no other word for it but pranced, from the waving frosted lilac tips of his otherwise blond hair down to his shiny purple patent leather dress shoes. To blend in—as if that was remotely possible—with the groomsmen in his role as usher, he sported a deep purple and black paisley tuxedo. With a ruffled shirt in a slightly paler shade. She had no trouble believing that he’d bought the whole outfit years ago, just hoping for an occasion to wear it.
    “I think you’re confused, Tabby,” he said. “You’re supposed to bring a wedding present for the bride and groom, not for their loyal and fabulous friend.”
    “Don’t call me that,” she snapped out of more habit than heat. Not that it did any good. At their first meeting, Aisle Bound’s office manager had decided to shorten her name. Said her eyes gleamed like a tabby cat. No matter how often she sniped—or threatened harm to his favorite green velvet smoking jacket. “And what are you talking about?”
    “There is a hunka hunka hottie outside. Dressed,” he paused and rolled his eyes appreciatively. As if he’d just taken a bite of the out-of-this-world Kahlua cheesecake from Lyons Bakery. After whipping a pale lilac handkerchief out to dab at his brow, Milo continued. “Well, I don’t want to spoil the wow factor, but the way he’s dressed? With that luxurious, thick hair? It’s like you took all my favorite fantasies and rolled them up into six feet, two inches of perfection.”
    Uh oh. Tabitha’s stomach knotted up. It wasn’t making too much of a leap to worry that it might be Drew, since she’d arranged to meet him here. She glanced across to the closed bedroom door. Behind it, Ivy was getting dressed. Tabitha only had as long as it took the bride to pull on thousands of dollars of couture gown to clear this up. And maybe an extra five minutes while Mrs. Rhodes waved her fingers in front of her eyes, trying not to cry. A stronger frisson of worry shivered down her spine. When someone in a ruffled shirt that belonged under a disco ball labeled another outfit as having a wow factor, it could only spell disaster.
    “Milo, you’re always welcome to come in and interview at A Matchless Romance. I’m sure it won’t be hard to find a selection of handsome, interesting men for you.” She patted his lapel and smiled to take the sting out of her next words. “I’m equally sure that Ivy’s wedding is not the place to begin the search.”
    He turned away to pour a glass of champagne from one of four bottles stationed around the room in silver ice buckets. Milo offered it to her before pouring himself one. “Why not? Did you call dibs on him?”
    Good thing she hadn’t taken a sip yet, or there’d be expensive French bubbles all over Milo’s coat. Of course, they’d probably blend in to the hideously busy pattern. Geez, just how transparent was she about her crush on Drew? Did her voice go all breathy when