Married To The Boss by Lori Foster

small glimpse of collarbone might be enticing.
    Strangely enough, she was right.
    The limo stopped and the driver got out. R.J. straightened back in his seat and watched Dana struggle to regain her composure. She was still breathing a little roughly, still fidgeting when the door opened and the driver offered an arm.
    With a mumbled thank you she got out of the car, then turned to stone as she surveyed his house. R.J. watched her from the corner of his eye as he dispatched the driver. She looked positively stunned, taking in everything around her as if in disbelief. It was fairly dark, but he had installed lighting alongthe path and at key points around the grounds to draw focus to a particular plant or tree. The lights gave off a soft, muted yellow glow.
    Stepping up behind her, R.J. put both hands on her shoulders and whispered near her ear, “What do you think of your new home?”
    â€œOh, it’s beautiful!” But she wasn’t looking at the house, only the gardens.
    â€œSo it’ll do?” he teased.
    She stepped away to touch the feathery leaves of a young Chinese fan palm. R.J. had had several of them planted in staggered groups around the front of the property, to act as both a privacy fence and an ornamental border. There were also southern magnolia and crape myrtle trees, but it was November so they weren’t blooming. He wondered what she’d think of his house in the spring when every tree and bush was fresh and new with budding life, ripe with color.
    Except she wouldn’t be here in the spring. By then, all the problems should be resolved, and he could resume his normal life.
    A life without a wife.
    â€œThere are fruit trees in the back,” he told her, “and several flower gardens. This isn’t the best time of year to view the trees, but tomorrow I’ll show them to you, if you like.”
    She turned to smile at him. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
    Taking her arm, he led her along the cobbled walk toward the front doors, pointing out some of his favorite plants. “I like things to take their own natural shape rather than be pruned into little squares or circles. Everything is bushier and softer that way. This is a Camellia japonica.”
    â€œIt’s beautiful. And so many flowers.”
    â€œThe japonica has a very long season. And of course, those are hostas surrounding it. I prefer the halcyon for the bluish color. I just had them thinned out this fall, so they’re not as full as usual. But it gives the day lilies more room to spread.”
    She stepped away onto another path lined with pansies of every color. “What’s that tree?”
    R.J. put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and followed along, enjoying her enthusiasm, the heavy darkness of the night. Her scent drifted back to him, noticeable even among all the fragrant flowers.
    The evening was pleasant, around seventy degrees, with a bright moon and a multitude of stars. The lighting system gave the yard the look of early dusk, but it left deep shadows in Dana’s bright green eyes. She looked…mysterious. “This one’s a pink dogwood. The flowers are gone, of course, but the leaves turn such a brilliant scarlet in fall, as you can see, so it’s always showy. One of my favorites.”
    She took off again, getting farther and farther from the house. “And that one?”
    With a low, pleased chuckle, R.J. followed. Then he answered all her questions, which were numerous.
    It was almost half an hour later when it dawned on him that Dana had effectively sidetracked him from his plans. Here it was his wedding night, andhis new bride had him ambling around the grounds of his house looking at shrubs and trees and various types of mulch. Hell, they’d even discussed underground watering systems. He felt like an ass, and worse, he felt strangely vulnerable.
    Damn her. He didn’t like feeling out of control.
    â€œEnough, Dana,” he