Lieutenant Wes James treated her as if he liked her—a lot.
That was nonsense, of course, Callie knew. She wasn’t pretty in any sense. Just a plain Jane. So why had Wes given her that look?
Oh, Callie recognized the look. She’d seen men give it to women thousands of times—but never to her.
Shaking her head, Callie decided her emotions were skewed by the quake and the awful disaster surrounding them. That was it: she was in shock and completely misreading Wes.
Still, as she disembarked from the Humvee and ran toward the action, her heart thumped hard in her chest. And it wasn’t from fear. It was anticipation at working with Lieutenant Wes James.
He liked her.
And she found that amazing. Impossible…
The Heart Beneath
Lindsay McKenna
To my dear readers
who love Morgan and Laura as much as I do.
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 on those levels.
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
Prologue
December 31
1600
“Oh, Morgan, this is such an unexpected and beautiful New Year’s gift!” Laura Trayhern whirled around in the sumptuous suite of the Hoyt Hotel. She smiled at her husband who was grinning proudly. “I never expected this!” she exclaimed as she flew to his arms. They had just arrived at the hotel from Los Angeles International Airport. The lavish suite was a surprise—as was Morgan’s plan for them to spend New Year’s Eve there, just the two of them.
Morgan swept his pretty blond wife into his arms, almost dwarfing her petite form. The childlike expression of joy on her face made his heart sing. As she brushed his neck, cheek and finally his mouth with quick, wet kisses, he picked her up and twirled her around. Then, when his masterful Fred Astaire dance routine had made him dizzy, he placed her feet on the thick, white carpet, and murmured, “Happy New Year, darling. I wanted this to be a surprise for you….”
Smoothing her hands over her ankle-length, blue wool skirt, then straightening her pink blazer, Laura looked around. “The Hoyt…a five-star hotel! It’s so old and beautiful, Morgan. Oh, I’ve always wanted to come here. This is where the Hollywood elite from the thirties and forties came to party and be seen by the press. Why, there’s a gorgeous mahogany bar, trimmed with brass, where actors like Clark Gable came to drink. And so did some of the most famous writers from those eras, too!” She gazed up at her husband, who was dressed casually in accordance with California fashion in a bright-red polo shirt, dark-blue blazer and tan chino pants. “This is a dream come true, Morgan,” she said, wandering about the suite, which was the best the hotel had to offer.
Laura knew the Sun King’s suite, situated at the top of the old hotel, was expensive with its elegant white-and-gold Louis XIV furniture. The place looked like a palace. Gliding her fingertips across the sideboy, she gazed out through the open curtains. The Suite faced toward central Los Angeles, visible in the distance. The lurid brownish cloud of pollution that always hung across the wide basin was clearly visible. But the damask curtains, burgundy embossed with gold flowers, made the scene look like a postcard to Laura.
Fourteen stories below them, she saw the old, stately palm trees in front of the Hoyt moving in the breeze. The trees lined the broad avenue in front of the pink hotel like guardians standing at rigid attention. California was wonderfully warm compared to their icy-cold home in Philipsburg, Montana, where they’d just flown in from. Even at the end of December the temperature often reached eighty degrees here.
She felt Morgan come up beside her and slide his arm around her shoulders, drawing her near.
“Merry post Christmas,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to her mussed gold hair, which always reminded him of Rapunzel’s spun-gold tresses. When Laura lifted her chin and flashed him another excited smile, he felt his heart expand with joy.
“I couldn’t believe it, Morgan! When you handed me that red envelope at the Five Days of Christmas celebration we just held for everyone at Perseus, I had no idea it would contain airline tickets and a voucher for the Hoyt.” She sighed happily and leaned against him, her arm going around his strong body. “What a gift! You know how long I’ve been dying to come here and snoop around this historic mansion, doing some in-depth research.”
Morgan nodded. “I know we’ve been busy. Perseus has taken up a lot more of my time than I envisioned,” he said, referring to the covert team of mercenaries he headed up. Now, as he looked into his wife’s eyes, he found himself drowning in her dancing gaze. Even after all these years, bearing and raising his four children, she managed to retain her childlike enthusiasm and joyful heart. That ability forever astounded him, and over the years had helped heal him from the many massive wounds he’d carried from active service in the Marine Corps during the closing days of the Vietnam War.
When they met, Laura had been working as a research writer and historian, well known for her military articles, and living in Washington, D.C. They had literally run into one another.
Morgan had been at the airport and seen Laura struck down by a car. It was that accident that had brought them together, and changed their lives forever. Over the years, they had had difficult times, but their love for one another had only been strengthened as a result. Even after that terrifying time, when he, Laura, and their oldest son, Jason, had been kidnapped in an act of revenge by drug lords, Laura had emerged with her spirit in tatters, but still intact. It was a miracle, Morgan realized, because his wife had suffered horribly at the hands of their captors. The kidnapping had stolen a piece of her soul, but she battled
