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Matchmaking by Moonlight
Teresa Hill
‘I now pronounce YOU man and… ex-wife?’ Righteous, pragmatic family court judge Ashe had heard it all. But teacher Lilah’s loopy request for him to perform a ‘divorce ceremony’ for women to heal from their bad breakups took the cake. In fact, divorce was the furthest thing from Ashe’s mind whenever Lilah walked into a room.She was just too sexy, too smart…too much for him to handle! And the more they go head to head, the more Ashe falls under her spell. Could serious, suited-and-booted Ashe begin to loosen up for this free spirit? After all, they do say opposites attract…
“You’re enjoying this!”
Ashe took a step closer. “You like to play with people, shake things up, push people out of their comfort zone, shock them a bit.”
“Well, yes. People come to me because they want to change, and for that, you have to shake things up. As a teacher and therapist—”
“I’m not talking about you as a therapist,” he said, taking one more step forward, until he was absolutely looming over her with his big, powerful body.
“Oh,” she said softly. He was so close she could smell the scent he was wearing, something dark and spicy and very, very sexy. She felt little waves of heat coming off his body. “You mean—”
“As a woman, Lilah,” he said quietly, his already deep voice getting a little deeper.
She gave a little shiver that was part pleasure and part … okay, no. All pleasure. Nothing but.
Dear Reader,
The idea of the perfect bride, perfect wedding, even perfect marriage persists, even though no woman or marriage could ever meet that expectation.
Which is the reason I found the “Mess the Dress” trend so interesting.
Brides, in their wedding gowns, being photographed rolling in the grass or walking through the ocean? It just seems wrong, even shocking at first, but then the images become compelling, fun, adventurous, freeing.
We will not be perfect brides with perfect dresses or perfect marriages.
We’re real women, and we’ve had enough of trying to live up to that standard.
And as always with things that catch and hold my attention, there’s a book idea. In this case, the story of Lilah, a woman who helps women deal emotionally with divorce. She uses her unconventional methods—including “Mess the Dress” sessions—as a way of freeing women from that need to be perfect, to do everything right, to always make the right decisions.
Hope you enjoy it,
Teresa Hill
About the Author
TERESA HILL tells people if they want to be writers, to find a spouse who’s patient, understanding and interested in being a patron of the arts. Lucky for her, she found a man just like that, who’s been with her through all the ups and downs of being a writer. They live in Travelers Rest, South Carolina, in the foothills of the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains, with two beautiful, spoiled dogs and two gigantic, lazy cats.
Matchmaking
by Moonlight
Teresa Hill
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A very lucky writer will find herself surrounded
by kind, supportive, smart people who make her books
better. I count myself very lucky to have at my side
my wonderful editor, Charles Griemsman,
and agent, Helen Breitwieser.
Chapter One
Ashe had been warned. The elderly ladies inside were somewhat eccentric, not always reasonable, but supposedly perfectly sane.
It was the perfectly sane part that had Circuit Court Judge Thomas Ashford—Ashe to his friends—worried. Why would his friend and longtime colleague Wyatt Gray have included perfectly sane in his description, unless Wyatt thought there would be some question about the ladies’ sanity?
Wyatt had all but dared him to refuse to help, and Wyatt knew Ashe had a hard time refusing any kind of dare. So before Ashe had fully realized what he’d agreed to, he’d promised to do some vague favor for the ladies inside, something to do with a ceremony of some sort.
The front door of the three-story weathered stone mansion opened, and his first sight of the three little old ladies did nothing to allay his fears.
He’d seldom, if ever, been subject to such a frank appraisal from a woman in her seventies—at least—let alone three of them, and it was more than a little unnerving. One of them seemed quite taken with his shoulders. The middle one just grinned at him. And the third looked as if she was considering testing the strength of his bicep to see if he worked out regularly, which he did. Not that he could imagine why it mattered to her.
He felt like a specimen of some rare and misunderstood species in a zoo.
What in the world were they planning to do to him?
“Judge Ashford, welcome to my home. I’m Eleanor Barrington Holmes,” the middle one said, extending her hand to him. “I suspect we’ve been introduced before, although you may not remember. I believe you know my godson, Tate Darnley.”
“From the Downtown Redevelopment Committee? Of course. He’s doing an amazing job. Very nice to meet you again, ma’am,” Ashe said, taking her hand. “You do a lot of good work for the community.”
“I do my best, young man. Please allow me to present my dear friends, Kathleen Gray, Wyatt’s late uncle’s widow, and her cousin Gladdy Carlton.”
“Ladies,” Ashe said, shaking each of their hands.
“I’m also Wyatt’s grandmother-in-law,” the one who liked his shoulders said.
“Such a dear boy, and a delightful husband to our dear Jane,” the one who’d looked as if she’d considered pinching him said.
Ashe tried not to look too shocked at that. Wyatt Gray, a delightful husband? That would certainly be a remarkable turnaround for a man who’d been one of the most successful divorce attorneys in the state, a man so cynical about the state of marriage that the idea of him ever entering into it was impossible to believe.
And yet, from everything Ashe had seen and heard, that was exactly what Wyatt had done and he seemed perfectly happy with his choice. Which was even stranger.
“Wyatt said you ladies needed help with a ceremony of some kind?” Ashe asked.
Eleanor smiled up at him. And slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yes, Judge, that’s exactly what we need. Why don’t you step out onto the patio for some tea, and we’ll tell you all about it.”
He let them lead him through several rooms to the patio at the back of the house where they sat down at an ornate black iron patio set. One of the ladies poured him a cup of hot tea, while another set a platter of baked goods in front of him.
“Our dear Amy, Tate’s wife, made fresh ginger cookies this morning,” Eleanor told him.
Ashe had noticed it smelled wonderful in the house and thought he remembered something about Tate Darnley’s wife opening a bakery recently and maybe catering an event Ashe had attended. He took a still-warm cookie from the platter and started to eat. “Excellent.”
“Amy does all the baking for our events,” Eleanor said. “Weddings, receptions, fundraisers, luncheons, even classes.”
So he would at least be well fed if he agreed to whatever the ladies wanted. Judging from the ginger cookies, that was a plus.
“Wyatt tells us you divorce people,” Kathleen said.
One of them needed a divorce? He was always surprised when people their age called it quits on marriage, although it did certainly seem that everyone eventually did. Still it seemed as if people would at some point think they were safe from all that, when he’d learned in his job that people never were.
Just the other day he’d had a couple in his courtroom who were ending a marriage after forty-four years. Forty-four years? How could you endure forty-four years and suddenly decide it wasn’t working? Had it worked for forty-three years and then stopped? Or had it been kind of bad all along, but not bad enough, until that last year? The last week? Last day?
Ashe really didn’t understand.
“I preside over divorces as part of my duties in family court,” he said. “One of you needs a divorce?”
“Oh, no. We’re not married. It’s for a series of classes at the estate—”
“Wyatt said you might be able to help us,” Kathleen said.
“Possibly,” Ashe said, knowing better than to agree without knowing what he was agreeing to first this time. “What exactly do you need, ladies?”
“A ceremony.”
“A divorce ceremony.”
Ashe was confused. “We don’t really have a ceremony.”
“But you could do one, couldn’t you? You’re a judge. You can marry people, can’t you?”
“Well, yes, I’m legally empowered to marry people.” Although that was one duty he had yet to perform.
“Fine, just do that in reverse.”
Ashe was starting to worry about the perfectly sane comments. “It doesn’t exactly work that way, ladies. Why don’t you tell me precisely what you need.”
“A divorce ceremony. Could you make one up?” Kathleen suggested.
“Or we could make one up. I’ve been divorced,” Eleanor said. “I remember everything about my divorce.”
“I’m a widow,” Kathleen said.
“And I’ve never been married,” Gladdy said.
Ashe helped himself to another cookie, chewing slowly, striving for patience, and then asked, “Why do you need a divorce ceremony?”
“For the classes,” Eleanor said, as if that made perfect sense.
Ashe smiled. They were kind of sweet and definitely interesting, but maybe not completely sane. “Ladies, what kind of class requires a divorce ceremony?”
“One for people who are divorced,” Kathleen said.
Of course.
Why had Ashe even needed to ask?
“So, you’re having classes for people who are divorced?”
“Yes,” Eleanor said.
Ashe shook his head. “But, if the people coming are already divorced, why do they need to have a ceremony?”
Kathleen frowned. “It may be better if Lilah explains it. It sounds so much better when she does it.”
Lilah? Ashe hadn’t been warned there was a fourth one. He wondered if the whole concept would sound saner if Lilah explained it. Couldn’t sound any crazier, he decided.
“All right,” he said. “Where is Lilah?”
“She should be along any moment,” Eleanor said.
And that’s when Ashe looked up and saw … well, it looked like a mostly naked woman running across the back lawn.
“Oh, dear,” Kathleen said. “I so hoped they would be done with all that before you arrived.”
“I believe you may be a bit early, Judge,” Eleanor said.
“Although I’ve always appreciated punctuality in a man,” Gladdy said, giving him a not at all shy smile.
Ashe was really worried now. One of them was flirting with him, and one of them was nearly naked. He hoped it wasn’t the nearly naked one who was supposed to make sense.
“Ladies, I’m not sure if Wyatt told you, but I have to stand for election next year to keep my seat on the bench.” Eleanor should understand. She had long been active in local politics, successfully raising money for a number of candidates in addition to her work with various charities. Someone Ashe should know better, he’d been told. Still … “I’m not sure I’m the right man for this job. I’d really like to help you, but someone in my position in the community has to maintain a certain level of propriety—”
“That doesn’t sound like any fun,” Gladdy said with a smile.
“Gladdy, please,” Eleanor said.
She gave a little shrug, not looking at all sorry for her comment. Was she really flirting with him? A man less than half her age? He feared she was.
“I don’t think it will be much fun, either,” Ashe admitted. “But the election comes with the job. So, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ll just—”
“You can’t go yet,” Eleanor said, grabbing him by the arm. “You haven’t even met Lilah.”
Ashe was honestly a little afraid to meet Lilah. What if she was even crazier than the rest of them?
“She’ll be done soon,” Kathleen asked. “And then she can explain everything to you.”
Ashe wanted to ask exactly what Lilah was doing but wasn’t sure he wanted to know. From what he could tell, someone was on the back lawn of the estate, naked or nearly so, with a long, flowing wedding veil. She seemed to be running around, the glossy white veil trailing after her, and another woman was either chasing her or perhaps photographing her?
Yes, maybe that was it. Now he saw a third person, carrying around some lights on a pole. Photographer’s lights?
He hoped so. That was the sanest explanation he could come up with. That what he was seeing was a photo session.
