The Man From Oklahoma. Darlene Graham

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.”