Miss Greenhorn Read Online Free PDF Page A

like there? Desert?” she asked.
    â€œNo!” he denied, shaking his head. “It’s way back in a canyon with plenty of trees and good water and mountains behind. It’s a beautiful spot.”
    â€œImagine that.” She sighed, staring at him. “You know, before I came out here, I thought the desert was just a lot of sand stretching to the horizon. But it’s not like that at all. It’s full of creosote and cholla, ocotillo and prickly pear cactus, and cottonwood and mesquite. And the birds! The red-winged blackbird is so beautiful.”
    â€œNot to mention the cactus wren, the roadrunner, and the owls,” he agreed, smiling back at her. “Yes, there’s life out there. Other kinds, too. Lizards and snakes, coyotes, wolves, deer, game birds—”
    â€œHow long have your people lived in Arizona?” she interrupted.
    He shrugged. “I don’t really know. An ancestor of mine was living in Tombstone around the time of the O.K. Corral, but I don’t know when he actually came here. All I know is that he was a Southerner. He came here after the Civil War.”
    â€œSomeone told me that the city of Tucson once flew the Confederate flag just briefly.”
    â€œAnd it’s true. A lot of Southerners settled here in the old days. There’s plenty of history here in this part of the state.”
    â€œI grew up reading Zane Grey,” she recalled wistfully. “I never dreamed I’d actually get to see any of the places he wrote about. But the most exciting part of this trip has been looking at the Hohokam ruins.”
    He nodded. “They fascinate me, too. In 300 B.C., the Hohokam farmed here using a 150-mile system of canals. They were an inspiring people.”
    â€œYes, I’m learning that.”
    He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to work. Are you through?”
    â€œYes, thank you. How can you take off whenever you like?” she asked hesitantly as they got up.
    He grinned. “I’m vice president of the mining company. My uncle owns it.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI’m rich,” he said, and a mocking smile touched his lean, dark face. “Haven’t you noticed? Most women do.”
    She flushed and turned away, flustered by the point-blank bluntness. In her haste to move, she backed into the chair he’d pulled out for her, tripped, and went face down across it, plowing into a table full of tourists and their children.
    Milk shakes and hamburgers went everywhere. So did the contents of Christy’s purse. She sprawled on the floor, feeling unbearably foolish and embarrassed.
    â€œThat was my fault,” Nate said quietly as he helped her up and proceeded to patch up the incident with a charm and diplomacy that Christy was just beginning to realize was an innate part of his personality. Flinty he might be, but he was a gentleman, and he had a knack for putting people at ease. The tourists were more concerned about Christy than the mess she’d made, and even the restaurant people were understanding and kind.
    All that sweetness only made Christy feel worse. She was in tears by the time Nate helped her into the Jeep.
    â€œNow, now,” he said gently, mopping up her tears. “I shouldn’t have cut at you like that. It was my fault, not yours.”
    â€œIt was mine,” she wailed. “I’m so clumsy…!”
    He finished clearing away the tears and tilted her face up to his searching gaze while he surveyed the damage. “Red nose, red eyes, red cheeks,” he murmured dryly. His eyes fell to her mouth and lingered there until she felt her toes curling in her shoes. “Red mouth, too,” he said, his voice deepening. The hand holding her chin contracted a little. “Red and soft and very, very tempting, little Christy,” he said, half under his breath. He lifted his eyes to catch the look in hers, and his gaze held hers until she was