Gage reached for her hand.
“Kate, I saw your face when you were looking at those baby pictures. That’s what you want for yourself, isn’t it? A husband, babies, a family?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she held his gaze, tears slipping free from her eyelashes and trickling down her cheek. Each tear was a sucker punch to his gut, because they confirmed what he’d known all along. Kate wanted things he couldn’t give her. How could a tormented ex-soldier, who’d seen and done things that still gave him nightmares, ever give a woman with a pure heart like Kate’s any kind of stability or happiness?
Dear Reader,
In March of last year, I had the pleasure of having dinner with Senior Editor Patience Smith (now Bloom) at a writers’ conference in Florida. One of the things we talked about was how much fun Patience had had creating Donald and Bonnie Gene Kelley, based on her own parents, for THE COLTONS OF MONTANA continuity. Later in the dinner, the conversation turned to what might be done with a new continuity. Patience was ready to move away from the Coltons for a while and was thinking of creating a new family dynasty.
“Why not use the Kelleys?” I asked, and Patience’s face brightened. Voilà! The Kelleys continuity was born.
I’ve had a terrific time working on this latest miniseries and hope you’ll enjoy Gage and Kate’s story as much as I did. Thank you to Laurie Emerson for lending her name to my story and to Lauren Murray for sharing her cat, Sinatra. Each of these ladies won the opportunity by having the high bid in the Brenda Novak Auction for Diabetes last May for their respective auction item.
Watch for more chances to share your name with a character or have your cat featured in one of my upcoming books!
Best wishes and happy reading,
Beth Cornelison
About the Author
BETH CORNELISON started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.
Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romance suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.
She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 5418, Bossier City, LA, 71171, USA, or visit her website at www.bethcornelison.com.
Special Ops
Bodyguard
Beth Cornelison
MILLS & BOON
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Thanks to Patience Bloom for the opportunity to
contribute to the Kelleys!
To my son, Jeffery—you make me so proud!
Chapter 1
If experience had taught Gage Prescott anything, it was that looks could be deceiving. An isolated and empty road in Afghanistan could be hiding IEDs and well-camouflaged Taliban fighters. Even on a quiet evening, an ambush and the slaughter of your team could happen in blinding seconds.
Likewise, Maple Cove, a sleepy Montana town nestled at the foot of the Absaroka Mountains in the shadow of Mount Cowen, might not be the safe escape his client was looking for. The U.S. Senator from California, Henry “Hank” Kelley, had retreated to his son Cole’s ranch just outside the idyllic-looking small town after riling his enemies and having numerous mistresses come forward alleging affairs. Hank Kelley’s life was in shambles, and the senator feared for it—which was why his son Dylan had hired Gage and another bodyguard to protect his father.
While Bart Holden, Hank’s other bodyguard, had the night shift guarding the senator, Gage had taken the opportunity to do a little reconnaissance.
He parked the ancient pickup truck he’d borrowed from the ranch hands and sent an all encompassing glance around the main street of Maple Cove. He half expected to see a whistling man and his son strolling down the street with fishing poles, à la Mayberry.
A yellow moon rose above the jagged mountains and cast an eerie glow over the red maple trees lining the main street. In the dim evening light, the fall foliage took on a blood-red cast, and images of gore and the cacophony of gunfire and agonized screams prodded his memory. His heart thundering and a fine sheen of sweat rising above his lip, Gage squeezed the steering wheel and shook off the haunting sights and sounds.
This quiet hamlet was a far cry from the barren and dangerous landscape where he’d last worked, but the chill in the October evening air burrowed into Gage’s bones and warned him all might not be as calm and safe as it seemed.
Slamming the truck door behind him, Gage headed down the sidewalk, getting a feel for the town. As he passed a small diner, the aroma of fresh baked bread and savory beef wafted out to the street, and his stomach rumbled. Deciding Ira’s Diner was a good place to start meeting the town’s citizens and scoping out potential hazards for the senator, Gage stepped inside. When the bell over the door announced his arrival, a blond waitress behind the counter looked up from the register’s cash drawer and shot him a smile filled with sunshine.
“Hello there,” the honey haired vision said, her lilting voice as bright as her smile. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right over to get your order.”
Gage arched an eyebrow, intrigued by the beautiful waitress. He wasn’t sure what sort of women he’d expected to find in the small town, but this perky blonde certainly hadn’t been on his radar. He chose a stool at the lunch counter and picked up the sticky menu to peruse the diner’s offerings.
“Howdy, stranger. What brings you to our humble town?” The blonde slid a glass of ice water in front of him and used a rag to wipe the counter.
Gage glanced up from the menu, and his breath caught in his lungs. The waitress’s wheat colored hair was streaked with gold and framed eyes as clear and blue as the Montana sky. For a moment, he could only stare, his body humming with a purely male interest he hadn’t experienced in more months than he could count.
“Sir? Everything all right?”
Her question nudged him from his daze, and he frowned, embarrassed to have been caught gawking. “Yeah, fine. I’ll, uh … have the roast beef and