Prologue
KISSED BY A COWBOY

Jenna took Blue’s hand. “Will you walk me out to my truck? I really have to go or Uncle Ron will be calling Nate to round up a search party.”
Jenna led Blue out into the cold night air and down the steps to where her truck was parked. He let her lead, which was a first, and stopped obediently beside her as she went to open the door.
“Thanks for a great—”
The rest of what she had been going to say was devoured by his kiss, which tasted of peaches and hot man—a combination that was rapidly becoming her all-time favorite. Her back was against the truck and his body covered her completely, one of his hands anchored around her hips and the other tangled in her hair.
She fought to free one hand from between them and wrapped it around his neck, holding on to all that lean-muscled power for dear life. God, he was beautiful. It was like petting a jaguar. There was nothing else in her vision than Blue’s face and the feel of his mouth moving over hers. Eventually, even she had to breathe and she broke off the kiss and buried her face in the crook of his neck . . .

Chapter 1

Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest, California
Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center

“Holy shit!”
The sight of a one-hundred-and-thirty-pound Marine flailing around like a chicken—a Marine Blue Morgan was tethered to on the side of a sheer cliff face—was not good. With a yell, the idiot lost his grip, and his booted feet scrabbled for purchase, narrowly missing Blue’s head. The only thing keeping them from plummeting to the bottom of the canyon was the steel pin driven into the rock. It still meant Fielding swung out on his rope like a pendulum, jerking his unfortunate instructor up to meet him.
Blue barely had time to brace himself before he smashed into the other man. His head did a weird flick-flack and then mercifully everything went black.
* * *
“Gunny? You okay?”
Blue opened one eye and saw two versions of Mel, his fellow instructor, dancing against the bright Californian sky. He winced and retreated back into the darkness.
“Gunnery Sergeant Morgan?”
“Yeah.” He managed to croak. “Is Fielding okay?”
“He’s fine. Blubbing like a baby, but nothing broken. You took the hit for him.”
“Tell me about it.” Blue attempted to roll onto his side and broke out into a sweat as nausea engulfed him.
“Take it easy. The corpsman’s coming.” Mel patted Blue’s shoulder. “I got you down. You two were unconscious for a while and swinging back and forth like a brace of pheasant.”
“Funny,” Blue muttered. “It wasn’t Fielding’s fault. He startled some kind of bird.”
“He still panicked, though.”
“Which is why this is called Basic Cliff Assault Training, so he’ll learn not to do it somewhere important.”
A shadow came over his other side and someone touched his shoulder. The smell of antiseptic swept over Blue, making him shudder.
“It’s Ives. Do you know where you are?”
“Still in the Marines?”
Ives chuckled. “Specifically at this moment.”
“Flat on my back with the headache from hell.”
“What’s your name and rank?”
“Gunnery Sergeant Morgan.”
“What day is it?”
“Tuesday.”
“Good. I’m going to check you over and take you back to the hospital, okay?”
Hospital.
Blue had seen quite enough of them to last a lifetime. He only had six months left in the military. He’d hoped to see it out peacefully in his home state. This was his last training course. He’d managed to complete his final deployment in the sandbox, without a scratch, and now this.
Sometimes life sucked.
Ives placed a collar around his neck and Blue was gently lifted onto a board. He assumed the other six guys who had been climbing with their group had already been taken back to base. He was loaded into a vehicle and Ives got in behind him. Two others followed and the doors were shut.
Blue tried to relax, but the pain behind his eyes kept growing.
“Sorry, Gunny.”
That was definitely Fielding, the little shit. Blue didn’t have the ability to reply as his head started to pound and he literally saw stars. He set his jaw, aware that if he puked he was strapped to a board and couldn’t even turn his head. He’d been in far worse situations than this. There was nothing left to do but hang on and hang in there.