The Man From Oklahoma. Darlene Graham
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Not his things. I will take care of our grandfather.”
The pilot cranked up the rotors and as Jamie ran backward to get clear of the blades’ blast, she stumbled. Biddle was right beside her and she felt his strong hand grip her arm. He practically lifted her off her feet as he circled a muscular arm around her waist and hauled her back. Not only did his touch feel powerful, it felt…stunning.
He lowered her to her feet and she turned away from his face, pretending to cough at the dust, afraid that her expression would betray how profoundly that moment of contact had affected her. As she turned to watch the chopper lift off, she saw Dave in the back window, with his camera against his face. Naturally, he had filmed the entire embarrassing encounter.
She started to say something smart to ease the tension, but when she turned, she saw Nathan Biddle’s broad back and long legs striding away from her. He crossed through the smoky churned-up air and pulled the motorcycle backward out of its parking place. He started rolling it toward the narrow road that led down off the plateau.
“I thought you said it didn’t have any gas,” she said breathlessly as she trotted up beside him.
“It doesn’t. Robert runs around on fumes half the time.” He kept on rolling the machine at a good clip until they were out onto the road. “Don’t worry. The stallion won’t run out of gas.”
Jamie was completely confused. “Aren’t we gonna take the horse with us?” she asked.
“We’ll come back for him.” He mounted the motorcycle. “The cycle’s noise would’ve spooked the stallion,” he explained as he fired up the engine. “And he’ll be testy enough, with both of us riding him out of here and smoke everywhere. Get on.” He reached for her hand.
Jamie, suddenly wishing she’d worn a pantsuit that morning, gave him her hand and let him guide her onto the seat behind him. She fit her thighs around his hips, futilely tugging down on her slim short skirt. She gave up as he lurched away, realizing she had bigger things to worry about than modesty. Though he seemed awfully sure of himself, she was not sure she should trust this man with her life.
They roared down the road, veering off onto a path that careened steeply down to a deep creek. When they got to the bank, he said, “Okay,” and put out his hand for hers again, assisting her off the bike.
Jamie was totally confused now, but her confusion turned to utter shock when he dismounted and shoved the bike into the creek.
“What the…!” she cried as the water gurgled over the submerged vehicle. Was she in the hands of a crazy man?
“When the fire gets here, these dry cedars and blackjacks will go up like kindling, and so will that old cabin.” He grabbed her hand yet again and pulled her back up the path behind him. “That bike is a priceless antique, the progenitor of the modern Harley,” he explained as they climbed. “Robert would never forgive me if I didn’t save it.”
“Save it!” she exclaimed. “You just ran it into the creek!”
“Better than letting it burn to a crisp. He can restore water damage.” He stopped climbing and looked down at her. “What do you suggest? Loading it onto the horse?” He raised his eyes to the veil of smoke scuttling over the treetops. “The wind’s shifting. Come on.” He jerked her along behind him. “We’re not out of the woods yet. And as much as I hate reporters, I still don’t want to see you get charbroiled.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BY THE TIME they got back up on the plateau, Nathan didn’t need to point out the changed and dangerous direction of the wind. The forty-mile-an-hour gusts plastered Jamie’s hair over her face and made the smoke swirl thickly through the trees, up over the low roof of the tiny cabin.
Nathan looked toward the peach-colored sky, toward the roar and rush and snap of the monster fire. “The cedar trees at the edge of the tall grass have caught,” he said as he pulled Jamie into the cabin, “and cedars explode.” Inside he started grabbing things—a blanket, water bottles, flashlight, a box of snack cakes—from the mélange around them. He moved with amazing speed, as if he had radar, homing in on exactly what he wanted.
“Can I help?” Jamie asked as he snatched a small backpack off the floor.
“Look for his cell phone,” Nathan ordered as he stuffed the items into the bag.
The debris around her seemed to multiply as Jamie tossed aside clothes and papers, searching frantically. She cursed Robert for being such a slob. “I don’t see it!”
“Never mind.” He stepped into the kitchen area, yanked two dish towels off a rod and wet them under the faucet. “Tie this over your face.” He handed her one and put the other on himself. She placed the towel, which smelled of rancid cooking grease, over her nose and mouth. He reached around behind her head and tied it roughly. Then he grabbed her hand again and tugged her out the door.
The smoke outside was thick enough now to make Jamie’s eyes smart. Nathan dragged her toward the stallion, tethered to a low tree limb near the cabin. The horse, sensing danger, was prancing backward, whinnying and straining against the lead. Nathan kept repeating, “Whoa, boy,” as he approached, then he soothed the animal with expert hands. When the stallion stood quietly, he hooked the backpack over the saddle horn and mounted, fluidly, still murmuring calm intonations.
“Okay.” He looked down at Jamie. “Up you go.” He extended a strong broad hand.
She stared at the hand, then into the dark eyes squinting at her above the towel.
“Up I go?” she echoed, and swallowed.
He gave her a questioning frown, then leaned an elbow forward on his muscled thigh, bringing his eyes directly into line with hers. “Your pilot is never going to make it back here in time, Ms. Evans. I know that this animal is scary, but he happens to be our escape vehicle.” His uncannily accurate guess rattled her even more. The place where she stood at this moment was as close as Jamie had ever been to a horse. Her lifelong fear of the huge beasts stemmed from a frightening childhood incident at a rodeo. He eased his boot out of the stirrup.
“Now put your foot in there, grab here—” he twisted to demonstrate with a palm braced on the saddle pommel “—and give me your other hand.” He spread his palm downward again. Whoa, boy,” he murmured as the animal danced away from Jamie.
Jamie’s throat, already dry, stuck closed with fright, while unconsciously she stepped away from the horse, not toward it. As she fought to breathe, she sucked the towel tight against her open mouth. Though Nathan seemed to understand her fear, his reaction was less than sympathetic. “Look,” he said in a low, almost threatening, voice. “I’ve got control of him now, but don’t make me get down and lift you up here. I can’t guarantee what this stallion will do then. He’s not a saddle horse. He’s a stud. So do as I say. Now.”
Jamie blinked against the smoke and stepped forward. As soon as she did, the horse made a terrifying jerk and let out a frenzied whinny. Nathan used the reins and his voice to subdue the animal again. “Just step forward slowly,” he urged Jamie.
She did so on wobbly legs.
“Now put your foot in the stirrup. Slowly.”
The huge horse kept edging away. And it didn’t help that Jamie’s skirt was bunched practically to her waist. She struggled with all her might and tried not to think about the view Nathan Biddle might be getting—black bikinis beneath nude panty hose. As soon as she managed to get her foot in the stirrup, Nathan leaned down. With a hand hooked under her armpit, he hauled her up behind him. Somehow Jamie found herself straddling the saddle skirt. She wrapped her arms around him, clutching his waist.
“Keep your legs around his belly,” Nathan told her. “Don’t squeeze him back in the flanks. Kick him there, and he’ll buck us off for sure.”
That’s reassuring, Jamie thought as she nervously scooted her feet