The Man From Oklahoma. Darlene Graham

      

      “Get off my land.”

      The voice—deep and powerful—came from above them. Jamie squinted up the rocky cliff on the other side of the road. The man staring down at her didn’t look anything like the sleek, power-suited young oil-and-gas executive in the old news clippings. The man up on that cliff looked…rough…wild…and very angry.

      Jamie shaded her eyes with a shaky hand. “Hello, Mr. Biddle, I’m—”

      “I have my detectives, Ms. Evans. I know all about you.”

      “Of course you do.” How much did he know?

      “Isn’t the story of my wife’s disappearance too old for you media types?”

      Jamie’s uneasiness intensified. He wasn’t reacting like a man in shock, a man who’d just been given terrible news. But surely the authorities had contacted him. Suddenly Jamie, who could spew out snappy lines for the camera without preparation, was having trouble finding words.

      “Mr. Biddle, a source informed me an hour ago that…that your wife’s…her remains were found this morning. I’m…I’m sorry.”

      For one moment Nathan Biddle sat so still atop his horse that he looked like a statue. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Then he turned the horse and headed back the way he’d come.

      Jamie, despite her gift for glibness, could only stare at him soundlessly.

      Dear Reader,

      Trust your instincts. We’ve all heard that expression, but for Jamie Evans and Nathan Biddle it’s an especially tall order. They have every reason to mistrust each other. Early in my research, I became enthralled with this idea of trust. I had traveled to the heart of the Osage Hills and heard tales of ancient betrayals that haunted me for days.

      Shortly after that trip, I was delighted when Oklahoma’s gracious First Lady, Cathy Keating, invited me to join her for lunch at the governor’s mansion. Mrs. Keating, herself a published author, loves books—those by Oklahomans in particular. She had obtained a copy of my Superromance novel, The Pull of the Moon, set in Tulsa, and she wanted to visit about the writing life. We talked about the great synergy of culture and history that makes Oklahoma unique—real cowboys, proud Indians, wild outlaws, wealthy oil barons. When I told Cathy that I was working on a story set on a ranch in the Osage Hills near the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve, her eyes lit up.

      For the next hour we bubbled with conversation about the deep forested canyons, the endless lakes and lush rolling hills of northeastern Oklahoma. Cathy fired up my imagination with lore about the historic town of Pawhuska and the Osage tribe, who became the wealthiest people per capita in the United States during the early oil boom days.

      It is against this backdrop that Jamie Evans and Nathan Biddle not only learn to trust their instincts and believe in each other…they learn what it means to fall deeply in love.

      I always enjoy hearing from my readers. Visit my Web site at http://www.superauthors.com or write to me at P.O. Box 720224, Norman, OK 73070.

      Darlene Graham

      The Man from Oklahoma

      Darlene Graham

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To my beloved brothers, Ron and Rick.

      You two have known me since the days of the dugout in the pasture and “The Claw.”

      Amazingly, you still believe in me.

      CONTENTS

       PROLOGUE

       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

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      PROLOGUE

      AT ELEVEN-THIRTY on an ordinary Wednesday morning, right smack in the middle of his workweek, Susie Biddle called her husband Nathan’s office, and after making sure he wasn’t on the speakerphone or some such thing, informed him in a teasing voice that she was wearing “that little black thing,” and would he, perhaps, be interested in running home for lunch?

      Nathan, after picking up the chair he’d tipped over, beat a path past his secretary’s desk and told her in a false-sounding too-loud voice that his wife had taken ill suddenly, and that he had to rush home immediately to tend to her. Cancel this afternoon’s meeting.

      On his way out—sans coat, tie or briefcase—a couple of the secretaries in the outer office cast knowing smiles at each other, as if they suspected his real mission. Had Susie discussed their infertility troubles with these women? The thought might have bothered him under other circumstances, but, Nathan asked himself, considering the current state of their marriage, did he care? No, he most certainly did not.

      Susie opened the door of their fine old Tulsa home before he even got the key in the lock. Sure enough, there she stood, with a come-hither look on her face and one hand planted saucily on her hip, wearing only that little black thing.

      Man.

      Nathan Biddle hadn’t seen the little black thing—or a willing wife—in quite a long time.

      “Well?” was all she said.

      With one big hand at her tiny waist and the other grasping the back of her slender neck, Nathan pulled Susie against his body while he danced her backward, toward privacy, all the while giving her a lusty kiss.

      “You crazy woman,” he growled when they got to the door of the master suite. Then he kissed her again. Fiercely. Joyously. For at last the clouds of discontent that had enveloped her these past months seemed to have parted.

      “Not crazy,” Susie said, laughing as his hungry mouth made its way down her slender neck. “Just fertile.”

      But Nathan—who