New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer delivers a reader-favorite tale of Prince Charming on the range!
When Christy Haley joined an archaeological excavation in Arizona, she unexpectedly comes across the most fascinating find of all: an irascible, yet irresistible, ranch owner! The blonde teacher cant help but be drawn to handsome Nate Lang, who makes it clear he isnt looking for love. But Christy will have to dig a little deeper to find the ranchers true desires
The last thing Nate needs is an Eastern greenhorn who doesnt know a cactus from a cornstalk! But Christy has already unearthed his passionand discovered her rugged Westerner is a greenhorn himselfat love!
Miss Greenhorn
Diana Palmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Contents
Back Cover Text
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Copyright
Chapter One
However, she was learning the hard way that ocean sand and desert sand were amazingly different. Shed forgotten to wear a hat yesterday morning, and he had given her hell. In fact, he gave her hell at every possible turn, and had ever since she and the team had registered at his dude ranch. If only Professor Adamson had picked anywhere other than the Lang Ranch for the dig. It was pure bad luck that the Hohokam ruin the professor was interested in was on property owned by Nathanial Lang, who seemed to hate science, modern people, and Christiana with a passion.
Christy had actually daydreamed about meeting a handsome, charming, eligible cowboy out West when shed paid the group rate for joining the private archaeological expedition. And what did she get? She got Nathanial Lang, who was neither handsome nor charming even though he was eligible. Hed barely looked at Christy at the Tucson airport and his slate-gray eyes had grown quickly colder. Men had really
started noticing her just recently. Her new image gave her a confidence she hadnt had, and it had helped her to overcome her former demeanorwhich was shy and awkward and old-fashioned. She had a nice figure anyway, and the new wardrobe really did emphasize it. She was slender and had pale green eyes and long silvery blond hair, a soft mouth and a delicate oval face. She looked very nearly pretty. But Nathanial Lang had stared at her as if she had germs, and hed made sure to keep his distance from her, even while he was being charming and courteous to the rest of the twelve-member group.
It wasnt her fault that she had two left feet, Christy kept reassuring herself. Just because shed tripped over her suitcase at the airport and sent its contents flyingand her bra had landed on top of Nathanial Langs dark head and given him a vague resemblance to a World War I flying acewell, why should he have been so insulted? Lots of people spilled things. Everyone else had found it simply hilarious. Including, unfortunately, Christy herself.
He hadnt spoken directly to her after that. At supper, a delicious affair served on the ranchs sprawling patio facing a range of mountains that became a shade of pale burgundy in the setting sun, shed managed to spill a bowl of tomato soup on the lap of her white skirt and while frantically trying to wipe it up with the tablecloth, shed pulled that off her tablealong with most of her supper. It was good luck that shed been sitting alone. Mr. Langs mother had been caring and sympathetic. Mr. Lang had fried her with his slate-gray eyes.
The first morning they went out to the dig, shed tried to get on a horse and had to be helped into the saddle. The horse, sensing her fear of it, helped her right back off again and reached down to bite her.
Shed screamed and accused it of cannibalism, at which point the increasingly irritable Mr. Lang had put her into his Jeep and promptly driven her to the dig site, where hed deposited her with bridled fury. After a day in the sun, her skin was fried and shed been no trouble to anybody, preferring a bath and bed to supper.
Somehow, shed managed to avoid Mr. Lang this morning. Two other members of the party hated horses, so the three of them had begged a ride with the equipment truck driver. It was almost noon, and so far no Mr. Lang. Christy mentally patted herself on the back. Shed avoided him for several hours now; maybe her luck would hold.
Just as the thought occurred, a Jeep climbed over the distant mountain and threw up a cloud of dust as it barreled toward the dig site. A lean man in a creamy Stetson was driving it, and Christy knew just by the set of his head who it was. With a sigh, she laid down the screen box shed been manipulating for fragments of pottery. It had been too good to last.
He got out of the Jeep and after a few terse words with Professor Adamson, he headed straight for Christy.
At least you had enough sense to bring the sun hat, he muttered with a pointed stare at the floppy straw brimmed hat that shaded her pale skin. Sunstroke is unpleasant.
Im not stupid, she informed him. I teach school
Yes, I know. Grammar school, isnt it? he added, insinuating with that thin smile that she wasnt intelligent enough to teach older students.