One Night with a Goddess by Judi McCoy

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Chloe, the Muse of Happiness, did not pass her hundred—year performance review with flying colors. But she's not worried about Zeus' punishment. Spend a year on earth making mortals happy, then retire to Mount Olympus in luxury? No problem. Isabelle Castleberry's wedding planning business is the perfect spot for Chloe's talents, and the year is certain to fly by. That is, until Miss Belle's nosy grandson comes back to town.

Dr. Matthew Castleberry has spent almost two years at Doctors Without Borders and it's definitely left him with some trust issues. His grandmother's new assistant may be a whiz at planning weddings, and very easy on the eyes, but he's not about to let that fool him. There's something about Chloe that he can't quite put his finger on and Matt's determined to figure it out. Now, if he can just keep the rest of his hands off her in the meantime...

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Chapter One

A suburb of northern Chicago

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Judge Haywood Armbruster solemnly intoned. "You may kiss the bride."

Chloe Degodessa watched with a practiced eye as the happy couple stood at the rear of the main chapel. She was there to assist the bride and groom in the orderly arrangement of their receiving line. She'd worked on this sumptuous affair with the bride and her mother for the past ten months. She knew to the second the timing of the line, when the couple should head to the reception, and the exact minute they'd be announced as Mr. and Mrs. George Howard Allen. She'd even memorized the honeymoon itinerary for their trip to Barbados.

The organist played the exit march, and she steered the attendants in place as they came through the wide oak doors, ending with the bride and groom. Flashing what she hoped was a brilliant smile, she took George's hand in her left hand and Francine's in her right and gave them the identical, Mount Olympus inspired, congratulatory message she'd given every person with whom she'd dealt professionally since her arrival on earth.

"I wish you both every happiness."

"Thanks, Chloe. You've been an angel," said Francine, her porcelain cheeks blushing the way only a new bride's could. "How do I look?"

"Radiant. And very, very happy." Chloe rushed to the doors, which had been closed when the couple departed the chapel, and flung them open. Stepping back to allow the guests their first chance to wish Francine and George well, she grinned at Isabelle Castleberry, who'd been observing quietly from a corner ofthe vestibule.

"You feeling all right?" asked Chloe when she reached Miss Belle's side. "Where's your coat? And why aren't you wearing those lamb's wool-lined boots I gave you for Christmas?"

"I feel fine, child," Miss Belle answered, leaning on her polished mahogany cane. "Stop fussing and carry on as if I'm not here. You're doing a wonderful job."

Chloe gave Miss Belle's gnarled fingers a squeeze, then took a final glance at the line's progress and nodded to one of the assistants hired to work weekends. "No more than fifteen minutes, Leah, then escort the bridal party to the limo. And make sure Freddy takes Miss Belle home as soon as the chapel is cleared. I don't want her working alongside the clean-up crew like she used to." After slipping on her full-length mink coat, she headed for a side door. "I'm on my way to the reception."

Bracing for the blustery air, she secured the top button of her lustrous Blackglama, struck out into the cold, and trotted swiftly down the winding path that led to Castleberry Hall about a hundred yards away. A family owned property, the estate's grounds and outbuildings were situated on Lake Shore Drive, directly across from Lake Michigan, where at this moment the wind was more a gale than a breeze.

She guessed the temperature to be ten degrees above zero and the wind chill factor at about five below, practically a warm spell for January. The crippling winter weather had been twice as debilitating, actually freezing her lips together, when she'd taken her maiden walk here after arriving from Mount Olympus. Though Zeus had sent her to an interesting city, he'd fallen miles short in the area of climate control.

She scoped out the macadam drive, free of snow and ice thanks to a diligent ground crew, and noted the meticulously cleared parking lot. Everything was ticking like a Swiss watch, which meant the staff was finally taking her seriously.

Making a final check of the grand ballroom was her next order of business. Striding through the main dining room, she assessed the pink and purple table linens, colorful wedding favors, and multicolored centerpieces, then stopped by the buffet holding a magnificent four-tiered chocolate cake frosted in white and decorated in candy pink lilies, purple marzipan orchids, and pale lavender butter cream roses. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to dissuade the bride from using colors more appropriate for a twelve-year-old girl's bat mitzvah than a tasteful society wedding, but the Castleberry was known for always giving the customer her heart's desire.

Even with the garish hues, the celebration would go off without a hitch. Each table of ten was assigned a personal waiter or waitress who would see to the guests' needs and serve the food family-style. In that way, the rack of lamb, grilled vegetables, rice pilaf, braided herb bread, and sides of minted aioli gravy, champagne mustard, and béarnaise sauce would be parceled out in an orderly manner.

Waving to the bandleader, who was putting the musicians through a rousing warm-up, she continued to the kitchen, drawn by the enticing aromas wafting in the air. The delectable smells assaulted her senses as she entered through the swinging doors and took stock of hundreds of canapés arranged on elegant silver trays that lined the shelves, ready to be passed the moment the guests arrived. In the central area of the kitchen apprentice chefs and assistants worked at plating the salad course, while others toiled over the course to follow.

Chloe stopped at Clark Parrott's side. Clark, owner and head chef of Queer Food for the Straight Dude, was the hall's main caterer. Clients were allowed to use anyone they chose to furnish the edibles for their affair, so she'd often had to deal with other, sometimes temperamental chefs, but the gay and very savvy young man was so easy to work with, his company was the only one Castleberry Hall recommended.

Right now he was putting the finishing touches on his signature dish. "Smells like food fit for the gods," she said, grinning at her personal pun. If only Clark knew how close to the mark her comment had landed.

"Hey, sweetie," said the caterer as he covered the last lamb riblet in a puffy white sleeve. "How was the wedding?"