by Nikki Logan
Choose your dream destination to say “I Do”!
Applegate Ranch, Montana:
Get your lasso at the ready for rugged rancher Dillon in
RODEO BRIDE by Myrna Mackenzie
Loire Valley, France:
You don’t need a magic wand for a fairy tale in France, with handsome château owner Alex as your host!
CINDERELLA ON HIS DOORSTEP
by Rebecca Winters
Principality of Carvainia, Mediterranean:
Step into Aleks’s turreted castle and you’ll feel like a princess!
HER PRINCE’S SECRET SON
by Linda Goodnight
Manhattan, New York:
Stroll down Fifth Avenue on the arm of self-made millionaire Houston.
RESCUED IN A WEDDING DRESS
by Cara Colter
Naples, Italy:
The majesty of Mount Vesuvius and dangerously dashing Dante will make your senses erupt!
ACCIDENTALLY EXPECTING!
by Lucy Gordon
Sydney, Australia:
Hotshot TV producer Dan is on the lookout for someone to star in his life.…
LIGHTS, CAMERA…KISS THE BOSS
by Nikki Logan
Nikki Logan lives next to a string of protected wetlands in Western Australia, with her long-suffering partner and a menagerie of furred, feathered and scaly mates. She studied film and theater at university, and worked for years in advertising and film distribution before finally settling down in the wildlife industry. Her romance with nature goes way back, and she considers her life charmed, given that she works with wildlife by day and writes fiction by night—the perfect way to combine her two loves. Nikki believes that the passion and risk of falling in love are perfectly mirrored in the danger and beauty of wild places. Every romance she writes contains an element of nature, and if readers catch a waft of rich earth or the spray of wild ocean between the pages she knows her job is done. Visit Nikki at her Web site, www.nikkilogan.com.au.
To Mum, whose passion for anything printed
rubbed off on me from an early age.
Thank you to The Bootcampers—I may have been the first across the line, but I know I won’t be the last. Many thanks also to Melissa(s) James and Smith for your advice and encouragement, to Kim Young for trusting my voice more than I did and to the beautiful Rachel Bailey for…pretty much everything else. You may never know what a pivotal part you played in the realization of my dream.
And to Pete—who’s picked up the slack of a woman working two jobs, and grown accustomed to the back of my head and to eating dinner solo—you are my hero (sorry about all the vacuuming).
NIKKI LOGAN
Lights, Camera…Kiss the Boss
A special bonus from Nikki…
Nikki’s Urban Gardening Tips
“To forget how to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves.”
—Gandhi
I adore images of past civilizations being reclaimed by nature—giant octopus-tentacle roots creeping out over a tumbled building; vines tangling down over what were once proud arches; determined trees emerging through cracked stone to stretch to the heavens. They reinforce the concept of the tenacity and resilience of nature.
Why should we wait for our civilization to die out before letting nature back in? Plants are the lungs of a city; they reduce air pollution, absorb radiant heat, insulate, improve aesthetics, protect and feed wildlife, and give humans somewhere to recreate and recharge the spiritual batteries. Unlike their rural counterparts, urban gardens face challenges such as increased exposure (to wind, sun and frost), radiant heat amplified by tiling, glazing and altitude and, most of all, limited space. But it is possible to integrate built and natural environments, and there are many ways to create a resource-effective, attractive or useful piece of urban nature no matter where you live.
Here are my tips:
Rooftop Gardens are best created on flat open surfaces and best suited to the types of plants that like a lot of sunlight/exposure (unless your rooftop is dwarfed by giant towers all around). You can create sunken mazes through giant planters full of exposure-tolerant species, communal vegetable and herb gardens (veggies love sunlight and neighbors love free veggies!), hydroponic gardens (a true DIY project!), or unique alien-looking forest xenoscapes made from giant succulents and cacti. Better yet, by using plants that are indigenous to your area, you will provide habitat, food sources, shelter and possible nest sites for local wildlife (flora for fauna). Plant thickly and abundantly (as nature does) and the wildlife will love you.
Balconies/Terraces/Courtyards are perfect for smaller, smarter gardens. Planters and pots (on ground or hanging from patios) give you heaps of scope for themed, colorful, eye-catching gardens that can change regularly (nature is definitely not static). Wall gardens will have color and fragrance climbing your walls or tumbling down it. A vertical garden is the new kid on the urban-garden block and simulates the way plants grow in perilous cliff-face situations, seeming to practically live on air. You need a specially created hydroponic wall-mounting system, but once set up they are extremely cost- and water-effective. Imagine your building growing lichen, epiphytes and mosses. Beautiful and natural use of “dead” space.
For those with no outdoor space at all (poor you!) the ancient art of bonsai can create miniature forests in well-lit locations, while an array of indoor plants helps bring the outside in (with some planning and care). Water plants need no maintenance and are hard to kill as long as they live in a water feature near some natural light. Or if you have absolutely no green thumb whatsoever, how about a garden in a vase—displaying plant cuttings with interesting shapes, colors and textures, lichens or seed masses in seasons when flowers aren’t abundant. Get creative with colors, pots and themes and use lots of them to surround yourself with the smells and look of nature.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
‘IS THAT even legal?’
Ava Lange glared at the row of suited clones flanking Daniel Arnot in his high-rise Sydney office. Smugness fattened their expressions; they were all too used to getting their own way.
Four against one. Nice.
‘Can they do this, Dan? Mid-contract?’ Her use of they was no accident. The word demarcated a battlefield, with the network suits on one side and her on the other. Between them stretched a mile of barbed tangles—a very apt representation of Ava’s feelings towards all of them right now. Particularly the man in the centre, whose fringed brown eyes stared steadily back at her.
‘We can, Ava, yes.’
Ah.
Disappointment bit deep as Daniel declared his allegiance. Then anger surged in like a king wave, swamping any anxiety she had about being called in today. She’d assumed she was here to be fired, not promoted.
The former held vastly more appeal.
She stalled her hands before they smacked down on his desk, settling them instead with deceptive care. Blessedly, they were steady. ‘You’re telling me keeping my job as landscape consultant for Urban Nature is now conditional on me getting in front of the camera?’
Clone Number One eagerly spoke up. ‘There is provision in your contract for AusOne to modify the manner in which you—’
Dan looked askance at the man until he fell silent, then he turned and
reclaimed her gaze steadily. ‘Test audiences loved your brief appearance on the behind-the-scenes episode last season,’ Dan said, as though that explained it all. ‘We’d like to give you a fly and see what happens.’
It had been a long time since she’d last swum in the chocolatey depths of his eyes. Ava had to steel herself against the urge. ‘I have no interest in being on television.’
His jaw tightened, and some perverse part of her delighted to know she was troubling him. That she was impacting on him at all. But he wasn’t done yet; those eyes were at their blankest when that mind was working its hardest.
‘Ava, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,’ he said. ‘You should take it.’
She pulled her hands off the polished surface of his desk, leaving a heat-aura in the shape of her slender fingers. It evaporated into nothing, along with her words in the face of Dan’s blind determination to get his way. Her pulse picked up and she straightened.
‘I have no interest in being on television, Dan. I’m saying no.’
Clone Number One piped up again. ‘You can’t say no. You’re contracted.’
Ava’s eyes flicked to him, to see how serious he was about that. He had the intense look of a feral dog scenting blood. Ava imagined just how rabid he’d be in court, and how many prize horses her father would have to sell to help her mount a legal defence. She swallowed the discomfort.
Seasoned leather protested as Dan settled his surfer’s shoulders deeper into his chair. He silently lifted two fingers and all three lawyers rose as one. If she hadn’t been so furious, Ava might have laughed.
She kept her eyes fixed on Dan’s dark brown ones as the clones filed past her to the door. It was only when his posture changed that she knew they were alone. He ran a carefully manicured hand through his hundred-dollar haircut.
Manicures, Dan? Really? The Daniel Arnot she remembered had paid about as little attention to his cuticles as he had to politics. If he couldn’t surf it, he couldn’t see it. As a girl, she’d dreamed he’d turn that singular focus in her direction—just once. Now he had, she wanted to bolt from the room.
He looked at her from beneath an untroubled brow. ‘Ava…’
‘Don’t!’ She shot to her feet, recognising that honey-smooth tone all too well. He’d used it on her half his life when he wanted something. Today was not the day to discover whether or not it still had power over her. She prowled across his office, venting a warning over her shoulder. ‘I know where this is going. You sharpened your negotiation skills on me and my brother growing up, remember?’
‘Ava, if you say no you’ll be breaking your contract with the network and the piranhas waiting outside will pull you to pieces in court. Is that what you want?’
A horribly expensive and public legal case? That was the exact opposite of what she wanted. She just wanted to grow her consultancy business and build herself some kind of financial security. Right now she couldn’t afford to fight, or the bad publicity. Heck, she could barely afford the taxi fare to this meeting! Every cent she earned these days she plunged into her business.
She made a beeline for the ornamental black bamboo in the corner, where it was strangled in its constricting pot. Its roots had nowhere to go.
I can empathise entirely.
She spun around, thick hair swinging. ‘Don’t you know me at all, Dan? What made you think I’d go for this?’
‘Common sense. You don’t have a whole lot of options here, Ava.’
Irritation hissed out of her and she crossed towards him. ‘I enjoy my job the way it is: behind-the-scenes, designing the gardens, planning the themes.’
‘You’ll still get to do all that; you’ll just be doing it on camera. A handful of set-ups per shoot and the rest is unchanged.’ He rubbed his chin and Ava lost her train of thought for a moment, suddenly imagining it was her palm tracing over the stubble growing along the square angles of his jaw.
She shook her head and doubled her focus. ‘Except that I’ll be on set all the time, instead of in my home office working on the designs.’
Long fingers waved her concern away. ‘We’ll get you a mobile office.’
The speed with which he offered a six-figure sweetener took her aback. His cashed-up world was a million miles from her carefully budgeted one, but even so it was suspiciously generous. She sank onto one hip and tipped her head to study him.
‘What’s in this for you?’ His jaw set and she knew she was onto something. ‘You know I’d never go for something which puts me right in the public eye. So what is it, Dan? Why the pressure?’
‘Ava…’ There it was again—that tone. ‘Be reasonable.’
Heat roared through her body. ‘You’re asking me to give up my home, my business and my life to give you what you want. I think I have a right to know what you’re getting out of it. Money? Promotion? A corner office?’
That one hit home. A tic flared in his left eye, but he didn’t bite. ‘One season, Ava. Thirteen shows. Then your contract expires and you can negotiate freely.’
She snorted. The last time she’d been free had been six months ago, right before she’d signed on with AusOne. Back then, the promise of a year’s fixed income and the chance to quadruple her portfolio had been like a siren’s song. And it had been going to plan for the most part.
But this…After everything her family had done for him. What had happened to him?
Fury and a healthy dose of Lange mulishness made her rash. ‘This is hardly a negotiation. I wonder what my father would have to say about you press-ganging me into this.’
Like a disturbed tiger snake he shot out of his chair and advanced around the desk, stopping a mere breath away from her. Ava met his stare and filtered air in and out through her lips rather than risk inhaling his intoxicating scent.
Nine years had changed nothing.
‘He’d say Thank you, Dan, for making sure Ava’s livelihood is secure—that she has food in the fridge and a future in the industry she loves.’ Brown eyes turned nearly black as he glared down at her. ‘Not to mention for the extraordinary boost the publicity will give your business.’
He radiated furious warmth, and Ava had to force herself not to bask in it. Not to look at him and think about how well the extra nine years suited him. ‘I don’t value the publicity and I don’t consider hosting a gardening show will do diddly to help my career—my serious career—in landscape design. Quite the opposite, in fact.’
Colour streaked along those sensational cheekbones. ‘This would be the same gardening show that has bankrolled your fledgling consultancy, yes? A show you obviously have little respect for.’
Guilt intensified her heat. She’d used his television programme to kick-start her business and they both knew it. Being a hypocrite didn’t sit well with her. She’d always prided herself on her honesty, too. Curse him!
‘You might as well put me in a bikini and drape me over an expensive car,’ she said. Heat flared in his eyes before they dulled to blank, behind-the-desk Dan. ‘How many people do you suppose will want to commission me to design their corporate landscaping projects if I’m a poster-girl for television? You’re bargaining with my professional self-respect.’
Conscious of her shaking voice, she bought some calm-down time by filling a glass with cool water from an ornate pitcher and taking a long, slow sip. Then she crossed the thick wool carpet and emptied the remainder onto the parched bamboo. The hint of a smile on his face when she glanced at him sent her roaring straight back up the Richter scale to furious.
‘What?’ she snapped.
‘You love your plants. It’s part of who you are.’ Sincerity glittered in his eyes. ‘Why not let that enthusiasm and expertise show for everyone to see? No more getting irritated when a presenter mispronounces the Latin or dumps a plant into unprepared soil. You virtually write the scripts anyway—why not simply be the one to deliver them?’
She narrowed her eyes, thinking furiously. She was trapped by her contract; the lawyers knew it an
d Dan knew it. They were just waiting for her to catch on. There was no way in the world she would be able to match one of Australia’s biggest television networks legally, and neither could she afford to resign. In fact, the pay rise Dan was offering meant she could wash her hands of AusOne at the end of her contract and still be on track with her business plan.
Just six months.
‘Ava, they have you over a barrel. You really don’t have a choice here.’
Her head snapped up. No way was she going to cave just because she couldn’t afford a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyer. The days of her just giving in to Daniel Arnot were well and truly over.
‘I get to be hands-on,’ she said. ‘No swanning in for two shots and then leaving assistants to do all the work…’
‘Fine. But not at the expense of your designing,’ he countered.
‘Naturally. And Shannon and Mick stay with me.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘You’ll put it in writing?’ she parried.
His lips thinned at that one.
‘Come on, Dan, you’re not short of a lawyer or three to whip something up for you.’
He exhaled, and shoved his hands deep into his designer pockets. ‘I’m disappointed you think you had to ask, Ava. I swear I’ve tried to make this a good deal for you. It’s happening; you might as well just…’ He waved frustrated hands.
‘Lie back and think of England?’
A phone rang in an office somewhere. His mouth set dangerously. ‘Thirteen episodes, Ava. That’s it.’
And then she saw it: the tiniest glimmer of the younger man she remembered. Deep in those brown eyes was some fear that she’d take her skills and walk out. This mattered to him. That was her undoing. Instantly she was sixteen again, and every protective urge she’d spent years exorcising came bubbling to the surface. It galled her that she was still biologically opposed to hurting him.