The Will to Love Read online

  Quinn was so close—so pulverizingly male.

  It took everything Kerry had left not to turn and lay her head against his strong, broad shoulder. Somehow, she knew Quinn could handle big loads and responsibility. He was built for it not only physically, but emotionally, too.

  As he stepped away, Kerry keenly felt the loss of his nearness, his care. Opening her eyes, she fell captive to the smoky blueness now banked in his gaze as he studied her in the silence strung between them. For the first time in years Kerry felt another stirring deep within her heart and lower body; it was the stirring of desire for a man. For Quinn Grayson. Even though he was a tough, no-nonsense marine, he had an incredibly surprising and wonderfully tender side, too. It was a beautiful discovery for Kerry.

  Because right now she needed someone exactly like Quinn….

  Dear Reader,

  What makes readers love Silhouette Romance? Fans who have sent mail and participated on our www.eHarlequin.com community bulletin boards say they enjoy the heart-thumping emotion, the noble strength of the heroines, the truly heroic nature of the men—all in a quick yet satisfying read. I couldn’t have said it better!

  This month we have some fantastic series for you. Bestselling author Lindsay McKenna visits use with The Will To Love (SR 1618), the latest in her thrilling cross-line adventure MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: ULTIMATE RESCUE. Jodi O’Donnell treats us with her BRIDGEWATER BACHELORS title, The Rancher’s Promise (SR 1619), about sworn family enemies who fight the dangerous attraction sizzling between them.

  You must pick up For the Taking (SR 1620) by Lilian Darcy. In this A TALE OF THE SEA, the last of the lost royal siblings comes home. And if that isn’t dramatic enough, in Valerie Parv’s Crowns and a Cradle (SR 1621), part of THE CARRAMER LEGACY, a struggling single mom discovers she’s a princess!

  Finishing off the month are Myrna Mackenzie’s The Billionaire’s Bargain (SR 1622)—the second book in the latest WEDDING AUCTION series—about a most tempting purchase. And The Sheriff’s 6-Year-Old Secret (SR 1623) is Donna Clayton’s tearjerker.

  I hope you enjoy this month’s selection. Be sure to drop us a line or visit our Web site to let us know what we’re doing right—and any particular favorite topics you want to revisit. Happy reading!

  Mary-Theresa Hussey

  Senior Editor

  Lindsay McKenna

  THE WILL TO LOVE

  To the innocent and brave men, women and children

  who lost their lives on 9-11-01.

  You will be in our hearts and memory forever.

  Books by Lindsay McKenna

  Silhouette Romance

  ΔΔThe Will To Love #1618

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Captive of Fate #82

  *Heart of the Eagle #338

  *A Measure of Love #377

  *Solitaire #397

  Heart of the Tiger #434

  †A Question of Honor #529

  †No Surrender #535

  †Return of a Hero #541

  Come Gentle the Dawn #568

  †Dawn of Valor #649

  **No Quarter Given #667

  **The Gauntlet #673

  **Under Fire #679

  ††Ride the Tiger #721

  ††One Man’s War #727

  ††Off Limits #733

  ‡Heart of the Wolf #818

  ‡The Rogue #824

  ‡Commando #830

  **Point of Departure #853

  °Shadows and Light #878

  °Dangerous Alliance #884

  °Countdown #890

  ‡‡Morgan’s Wife #986

  ‡‡Morgan’s Son #992

  ‡‡Morgan’s Rescue #998

  ‡‡Morgan’s Marriage #1005

  White Wolf #1135

  ◊Wild Mustang Woman #1166

  ◊Stallion Tamer #1173

  ◊The Cougar #1179

  ΔHeart of the Hunter #1214

  ΔHunter’s Woman #1255

  ΔHunter’s Pride #1274

  §Man of Passion #1334

  §A Man Alone #1357

  §Man with a Mission #1376

  ◊◊Woman of Innocence #1442

  ΔΔThe Heart Beneath #1486

  Silhouette Shadows

  Hangar 13 #27

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Love Me Before Dawn #44

  Silhouette Desire

  Chase the Clouds #75

  Wilderness Passion #134

  Too Near the Fire #165

  Texas Wildcat #184

  Red Tail #208

  ΔThe Untamed Hunter #1262

  ΔΔRide the Thunder #1459

  Silhouette Books

  Silhouette Christmas Stories 1990

  “Always and Forever”

  Lovers Dark and Dangerous 1994

  “Seeing Is Believing”

  Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar 1999

  Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of the Warrior 2000

  Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of Stone 2001

  Destiny’s Women 2002

  Harlequin Historicals

  Sun Woman #71

  Lord of the Shadowhawk #108

  King of Swords #125

  Brave Heart #171

  LINDSAY MCKENNA

  A homeopathic educator, Lindsay teaches at the Desert Institute of Classical Homeopathy in Phoenix, Arizona. When she isn’t teaching alternative medicine, she is writing books about love. She feels love is the single greatest healer in the world and hopes that her books touch her readers’ hearts.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  January 14: 0545

  It was a bad day getting worse by the moment, Corporal Quinn Grayson decided as he eased out of the dark green Humvee once it stopped against the curb. Above him towered the massive, dark gray concrete headquarters building for U.S. Marine Corps Camp Reed. It was barely dawn, the sky lightening to a pale gold color on the eastern horizon as he took the concrete steps two at a time.

  The only thing good about the day was that he was going to see someone in Logistics whom he truly admired and respected: Morgan Trayhern, who was a living hero to the Marine Corps. Feeling his mood lifting slightly, Quinn wove in and around the crowds of swiftly moving personnel, all dressed similarly to himself in desert-colored utilities. The helmet on his head always felt heavy, and he was glad to take it off as he stepped through the double doors and into the building itself.

  The noise level inside was low, but the faces of the office pogues were filled with stress and anxiety as they hurried like bees in a stirred-up hive. The H.Q. was organized chaos, Quinn decided. And why wouldn’t it be? Two weeks ago the worst earthquake in American history had turned the Los Angeles basin upside down and inside out. Millions of helpless victims desperately needed food, water and medicine. Worse, there were no highways left into the basin; they had all been destroyed by the massive quake.

  The only way in and out now was by helicopter. From the platoon he was assigned to assist in the emergency operations, Quinn saw only the tip of the iceberg as far as rescue efforts to the civilian populace went. Yesterday evening he’d been in the loading area with his platoon, piling food, water and medicine into the choppers, when his sergeant, Sean O’Hara, had ordered him to go see Morgan at 0600.

  Turning now, Quinn headed up the stairs to the second floor, where Logistics, the heart and brains of Operation Sky Lift, was located, and where Morgan had an office. En
route Quinn passed a number of office types descending rapidly, their hands filled with files and, more than likely, orders.

  Pushing the stairwell door open and striding forward, Quinn located Morgan’s office halfway down the passageway, which was also crowded with busy personnel. Tension was high; he could feel it. Shrugging his broad shoulders, as if to rid himself of the accumulated stress he felt in the building, Quinn halted in front of the open door and rapped once with his knuckles. Morgan Trayhern was behind the green metal desk, head down, writing a set of orders for a woman officer in a flight uniform. Quinn saw the black wing insignia sewn into the fabric of her suit and knew instantly that she was probably a helo pilot.

  Morgan lifted his head. His scowl faded. “Quinn! Great, you’re here. Come in.” He raised his hand and beckoned him into the office. “I’ll be just a moment.”

  “Yes, sir,” Quinn said. He took a step inside and stood at attention. The woman pilot, a Marine Corps captain, nodded toward him.

  “Ma’am. Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Corporal. At ease, please,” she said.

  Quinn nodded and relaxed into an at-ease stance behind her, near the wall. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You had coffee yet, Quinn?” Morgan rumbled as he signed the second and third sets of orders before him.

  “No, sir.” Quinn kept his helmet, which was splotched with desert camouflage colors of yellow, brown and gray, beneath his left elbow and against his hip. He noticed Morgan was dressed in civilian attire—jeans and a red, long-sleeved cotton shirt with the cuffs rolled up to just below his elbows. He looked out of place in the marine-green office.

  Gesturing to his right, Morgan said with a grin, “Grab a cup of java, then. I managed to scrounge up my very own coffeemaker. A rarity, you know. Help yourself, Son.”

  Quinn smiled slightly and moved toward the machine. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Blowing out a breath of air, Morgan put the pen aside and gave the thick set of orders to the helicopter pilot. “There you go, Captain Jackson. Congratulations. You and your copilot are now responsible for Area Six. We’ve transferred the other team to Area Five.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. We’ll do a good job.”

  Morgan smiled up at her. Captain Jackson was in her middle twenties, with short black hair, intense gray eyes and a sincere face that was currently filled with excitement. H.Q. had just gotten a whole new batch of helicopter pilots transferred in yesterday from other Marine Corps bases around the U.S. Having new pilots on board would give the hardworking helo crews stationed at Camp Reed a desperate and much-needed rest from the twelve-hour days they’d been putting in for the last two weeks. Pilots could fly only so long without sufficient rest and recoup time before they began making critical mistakes. Jackson was one of many personnel scheduled to come to Morgan’s office today for orders.

  “Good luck out there, Captain.” Morgan rose. “And be careful, you hear? Things are unstable right now. We’ve already had a helicopter crew murdered by a survivalist group in Area Five.”

  She came to attention. “Yes, sir, we’ll be careful. Thank you, sir.”

  “Dismissed,” Morgan murmured. He stood and watched the woman, who was nearly six feet tall, big boned and athletic, turn on her heel and quickly march out the door. Swiveling his head, Morgan gave Quinn Grayson a warm look. The corporal had just poured a cup of coffee. Moving to the machine, Morgan poured himself one, too.

  “Come with me, Quinn. Now is about the only time today I might get to see Laura. You remember my wife?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” He sipped the coffee tentatively. It was fresh and hot, and he savored it. “She’s here, too?” How could that be? Quinn knew Laura lived in Montana, near the headquarters Morgan kept for Perseus in Philipsburg. Quinn and his fire team had been selected to be part of two different Perseus rescue missions in Iraq, where pilots were that had been shot down in the No Fly Zone earlier in the year. He and his team had been flown back to the secret headquarters in Philipsburg, an out-of-the-way place only a few tourists and trout fishermen found in the summer. It was a perfect hiding spot, Quinn had thought. He’d met Morgan’s lovely blond-haired wife there by accident, when she’d brought over recently baked cookies for all of them. It was a thoughtful gesture that was as surprising as it was unexpectedly generous. Quinn had relished his share of the chocolate-chip cookies, and so had his grateful men. He had found Laura to be beautiful, elegant and sensitive. Quinn thought Morgan was the luckiest man in the world to have a wife like that. Cookies during a briefing. He’d never get that in the Marine Corps. No, he liked working with Morgan and Perseus. But he wondered how Morgan’s wife had wound up in the midst of this disaster.

  “We were at a hotel in south Los Angeles, celebrating New Year, when the quake hit,” Morgan explained as they left the office and headed down the stairs. “Laura was trapped in wreckage.” At the bottom of the stairs, Morgan pushed open the door. Gesturing toward the end of the passageway, he took quick strides toward it. Quinn, who was six foot tall, and shorter than Morgan, had to lengthen his stride to keep up with him.

  “Your wife was trapped?” he asked with a scowl as they moved out the doors and into the brightening day. The sun was going to rise soon and already the darkness of the night had fled.

  “Yeah,” Morgan muttered. “Thank goodness a Marine Corps rescue officer and her dog located Laura.”

  “Is she all right, sir?” They hurried down the stairs toward the hospital a block away. The world around them was already in high gear. The shrieking whine of jets at the nearby airport filled the air, along with the deeper chugging sounds of diesel truck convoys loaded with supplies lumbering across the base. A whole fleet of helicopters were taking off one by one, hotfooting it out of Camp Reed with the first supplies of the day for desperate people across the disaster area.

  Quinn drew abreast of Morgan as he walked swiftly toward the hospital.

  “Laura suffered a broken ankle. She had surgery here. Then, shortly after the surgery, she developed a blood clot. They had to string up her leg with a pulley, and she was tied down like a roping calf.” Morgan grinned wryly. “My wife is not one to lie in bed all day and do nothing. We had to wait until some blood-thinning drugs were flown in from Seattle for her.” He rubbed his hands together. “Today, she gets out of her contraption and into a wheelchair. The doctor says the clot is dissolved and her ankle is stable enough for her to be a little more active.”

  “Almost two weeks in a bed would drive me nuts,” Quinn muttered. It would. He was restless by nature, and loved the outdoors and the strenuous activity demanded of marines.

  “Yes, well…” Morgan chuckled “…if it hadn’t been for a tiny baby the team rescued from beneath the rubble, Laura would never have survived bed rest. She’s been taking care of Baby Jane Fielding for the nurses. And the hospital staff bring up other infants so Laura can hold them and bottle-feed them. They’ve been keeping her busy.”

  Quinn smiled knowingly. There was no doubt about Laura’s maternal side. He liked that about women in general, although in his world, he saw mostly women marines, with tough, demanding jobs. Still, he saw that nurturing side in many of them, too. It was something he enjoyed about women, in or out of the service.

  They hurried into the chaotic, busy hospital and up an elevator. Quinn was glad to escape the bustle once they arrived at the private room where Laura Trayhern sat in her wheelchair, an infant wrapped in a pink blanket in her arms.

  “Hello, Quinn.” Laura greeted him warmly as he approached. “You look well.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, nodding to her and smiling. The infant was suckling strongly on a bottle of milk. “I’m glad to hear from Mr. Trayhern that you’re doing okay.”

  “I’m fine.” Laura lifted her face toward Morgan as he bent and gave her a kiss on the brow. Then he gently stroked the baby’s dark, soft hair.

  Quinn saw the man’s face change remarkably. For a moment, he glimpsed the
love burning in Morgan’s eyes for his wife of many years. And when Morgan ran his fingertips caressingly across the baby’s hair, Quinn saw tenderness replace his normally stoic expression. But as Morgan’s fingers lifted away, Quinn saw the same hard mask fall back into place. Despite that, there was no doubt in his mind that Morgan loved his wife and the orphaned baby.

  “Come over here, Son. Let’s sit down and go over this new plan that you’re going to initiate for the basin.”

  Moving to the two metal chairs near the venetian-blind-covered window, Quinn excused himself from Laura. Morgan handed him one of two red folders and sat down. Opening his copy, Quinn saw a set of signed orders with his name at the top. The other members of his fire team were named, as well.

  Scowling, Morgan studied the folder opened in his lap. “We’re initiating a basin-wide plan B today, and you’re a part of that effort—you and your fire team. It’s a trial balloon. A work in progress, so to speak. We don’t know if it will work or not, so you’re an experiment of sorts. We can’t afford to put a full squad of ten men into each area. Camp Reed doesn’t have the personnel to pull that off. But by splitting up a squad into two fire teams of five people each, plus their leader, we have a chance to do something rather than nothing.” He looked squarely at Quinn. “So you’re it. You’re our test case. You’re to play it by ear and see where the energy flows in this changing situation. You’re the only fire team we’re putting in there for now. If it works, we’ll insert others later.”

  “Five marines in each given area?” Quinn asked.

  “That’s right. We’ve divided the basin into twelve quadrants. These are huge blocks of real estate. We’re talking ten to twenty square miles, depending upon the location, the population of the area and so on.” Scratching his head, Morgan gave Quinn a rueful look. “Believe me, Logistics has been wrestling with this nightmare. The basin has no law enforcement. Without backup, the police in some areas can’t do what they’ve been trained to do. There are no highways to drive on to get to a problem area. They’re pretty much limited to handling problems within walking distance of their base of operation.”