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she mentioned him? ’Cause that needed to stop. Her arrangement with him was all business. Period.
    “No. Well, for the purposes of this conversation, yes. If you’re rhapsodizing about the man I suspect, he’s temporarily under my custody.” Tabitha knew it sounded like Drew was under arrest. But until the ceremony was over, and blip-free at that, he needed to be. Just in case her instincts were wrong, and he really was as awkward as he feared. She didn’t want Ivy to regret inviting him.
    A long-suffering sigh paired with another eye roll. Milo folded his hankie into something origami-like and tucked it back into his breast pocket. “Fine. He’s asking for you, anyway. Plus, he doesn’t give off the vibe of playing on my team.”
    No kidding. Sexual longing oozed off him with the potency of expensive cologne every time she caught his eyes dipping down to her cleavage. The man liked women. Well, appreciated them. Lusted after them. And she had to admit she’d responded to that heat surging off him in waves. Any woman would.
    No, Milo wouldn’t set off Drew’s radar. Tabitha indulged in a sip of champagne. In her book, the ever present champagne was one of the best things about a wedding. Right after the excuse it gave her to shop for fancy and impractical footwear. She slid her feet back into the painfully gorgeous peep toe stilettos with thin black ankle straps.
    “Don’t pout. You’ve got next week off, right? While Aisle Bound is closed? Which means you’ve got time to come over and tell me every last little fantasy you’ve got about your perfect man.” When Milo’s brown eyes lit with a naughty twinkle, she held up a hand. “ Not the sexy ones,” she hurried to add. “That’s a level of investigation you’ll have to conduct on your own.”
    “I always do,” he said with a leer.
    Tabitha shooed him toward the door. “Go on back and hang with the men. I need you to make sure everyone’s dressed, boutonnièred and ready for pictures in ten minutes. Bow ties straight. And that Sam’s cowlick isn’t sticking up.”
    “I’m your man.” He snickered as he headed to the door. “Never thought I’d say that to a girl.” Before he made it past the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Michigan Avenue, a knock sounded on the door.
    Tabitha inched open the door to the bedroom. Saw that Ivy was still wearing only a bustier and petticoat. Daphne and Mira held the acres of white dress between them. Ivy’s mom was stroking her daughter’s veil with an over bright glimmer in her eyes. Good. That meant she had time to deal with the surprise in the hallway. The door closed with barely a snick.
    She took a deep breath and smoothed the poufy, mid-calf skirt of her forest green dress. Ready for anything, she nodded to Milo. “Let him in.”
    Sure enough, Drew ambled past Milo into the room, a somewhat confused smile on his face. Not that she did more than glance at his face. Not with everything else going on with his outfit to distract her. With a final, exaggerated lick of his lips, Milo left.
    “The guy who let me in sure seemed surprised to see me. Did I come to the wrong place?” Drew stuffed his hands in his pockets and craned his neck forward, looking from the wet bar to the ecru brocade sofa and matching chairs around to the impressive copy of a French provincial antique desk.
    Where to begin? “Uh, no.” She did a head-to-toe once over of him, for the second time. Hoped that perhaps it would change with a second look. Or maybe a third. Drew’s sport coat was a sedate blue. But it had a giant patch on the breast pocket she couldn’t quite make out. A very bright red, white and blue striped tie.
    The white pants, though, were what slayed her. Tabitha didn’t give a crap about the whole rule about only wearing white between Memorial Day and Labor Day. But this was a black tie, evening wedding. How could he think the white pants—let alone the white suede oxfords—at all appropriate?