Forgive & Forget (Love in the Fleet) Read online

  Praise for Heather Ashby’s Love in the Fleet Series

  FORGIVE & FORGET

  “Bold and steamy with a suspense taken from today’s headlines and a love that breaks all rules.”

  – Cathy Maxwell,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of The Devil’s Heart

  “Heather Ashby writes authentic Navy stories with heart and a good dose of humor.”

  – Geri Krotow,

  Author of Navy Orders, Whidbey Island Series #2 and

  U.S. Naval Academy Graduate

  “Heather Ashby writes characters that are anything but standard issue. This exciting high seas adventure showcases a world of honor, duty, and selfless service. But most of all, it’s a lovely example of how love conquers all.”

  –Terri Osburn,

  Author of Meant to Be in the Anchor Island Series

  “A thrilling novel…takes the reader into adventure on the high seas that involves suspense, danger, and intrigue, as well as forbidden love. This is a feel good read that rings true in every regard. It is especially exciting to know this is the first in a series. I’ll be eager to read the rest!”

  – Susan Brandenburg,

  St. Augustine Record

  “A fantastic debut! Heather Ashby kept me entertained all the way through with engaging characters and a story that had me right there living it.”

  – Kim Law,

  Author of RITA-nominated, Sugar Springs

  “Heather Ashby’s characters are appealing and realistic, her depiction of life aboard an aircraft carrier is fascinating, and the suspense and romance crackles throughout. Forgive & Forget is a compelling, compulsively readable love story that’s as hard to put down as it is to forget.”

  – Colette Auclair,

  Author of Thrown (December 2013)

  “Although her novel’s characters are at sea, Ashby isn’t. She has a sure grasp of romance and adventure in a war zone…An up-to-the-minute-tale for today’s military and civilian adventure reader and a complete treat for readers of romance.”

  – Jeane Westin,

  Military Veteran and

  Author of The Spymaster’s Daughter and Love and Glory

  Books in the Love in the Fleet Series

  by Heather Ashby

  FORGIVE & FORGET

  FORGET ME NOT

  (coming December 2013)

  Praise for Heather Ashby’s Love in the Fleet Series

  Books in the Love in the Fleet Series

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  About Heather Ashby

  Henery Press Romance & Mystery Books

  FORGIVE & FORGET

  A Love in the Fleet Story

  First Edition

  Kindle edition | July 2013

  Henery Press

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2013 by Heather Ashby

  Cover art by Doug Thompson

  Author photograph by Straley Photography

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-938383-47-2

  Printed in the United States of America

  For

  The women of the United States Navy

  and

  For Pete, my anchor

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  In thanksgiving for my Army son’s safe return from both Afghanistan and Iraq, I donate half of my royalties to organizations that benefit wounded warriors and their families. Go to HeatherAshby.com for more information on how the sale of this book benefits our troops.

  I write for men and women who have ever been associated with the Navy, and for readers who would like to vicariously join the Navy and see the world for the duration of this book. I try to strike a balance between military and civilian worlds so that all my readers can enjoy the story. Apologies for smoothing over some military terms for civilian readers and for altering billets and shipboard life where necessary. I take responsibility for all mistakes.

  Special thanks to the people who made this novel possible: Lieutenant Junior Grade Louise Jordan McClean, USN 1942-1945 - Thanks, Mother, for sharing your love of the Navy and your love of books with me. And thanks for taking the watch. I’m grateful to Bates McClean and Eva Hansen Lamb—my great-grandmother who published her first book in 1894. Thanks for the writer gene, Father and Oma.

  Thank you Anne Lamott, Pat Conroy, Natalie Goldberg, Kaye Gibbons, Anne Morrow Lindberg, and Harper Lee for inspiring me to write. Thank you Suzanne Brockmann, Catherine Mann, Lindsay McKenna, and Merline Lovelace for the inspiration to write military romance. Hugs to my Golden Heart Firebird Sisters, my fellow RomVets, First Coast Romance Writers, and all the Hens in the Hen House for your advice, encouragement, and support.

  Thanks to Ellen for your friendship through the years and for challenging me to write a romance novel. Special thanks to Cathy, Jeane, Geri, Susan, Kim, Terri, and Colette for your awesome quotes and to my beta readers who read this book at every stage of its life: Diane, Michael, Mary, Donna, Morgan, Laura, Margo, Nancy, Gary, Linda, Gina, Colleen, and Lisa. I’m eternally grateful to the Navy personnel who shared their sea stories and helped authenticate the book. You know who you are. Thanks to PBS “Carrier” for helping me wrap my brain around going to sea on an aircraft carrier and hugs to Sandy, Melissa, Andrea, Loni, and “Trixie”—the best shipmates a girl could ever have.

  Thank you, Molli Nickell at Get Published Now for all your guidance and cheerleading and to Michael Straley for capturing my passion for the Navy in your camera. Special thanks to Doug Thompson for breathing life into Hallie, Philip, and their world on Forgive & Forget’s awesome cover. And to Nikki Lamont for breathing life into me and keeping me focused on writing my books the way they needed to be written. I could not have done this without Maria Connor at My Author Concierge for handling my technology needs and talking me down from the ledge by saying, “I’ll take care of it.” Extra special thanks to my awesome critique partners: Suzanne Galbo, Kelly Martin, and Catherine Rull - who is the best line editor in the world! I really appreciated those holiday and weekend edits, from Australia yet, so I could mee
t my deadlines, Cat.

  I am so blessed to have the best editor ever, Kendel Flaum, who makes me stretch and grow as a writer—even when I don’t want to—and who believes in my stories and in me. Extra hugs to my dearest friend, Jane Blanchard, for loving my books and for loving me all these years. And to Pete, my First—and only—Mate, who takes care of everything so I can write. Thanks for being the anchor, honey, so I can be the sails. Finally, I am grateful to God for bringing my son home safe and whole from war, allowing me to write the books of my heart to send out to the Fleet in thanksgiving. I am so blessed to have you as my agent, making all the right things happen in my literary journey—and in my life. Full speed ahead!

  Chapter 1

  Her mother had always boasted, “I have something better than a son—a daughter with balls.” Hallie smiled and stretched in the confines of her bunk as she remembered that classic line. Well, maybe her mom hadn’t used those exact words when Hallie was a little girl, but she’d grown up understanding that being ballsy was a good thing. Sometimes it was the only way for a girl to get what she wanted out of life.

  Especially Chutzpah Barbie. This model came with both blue and white dress uniforms, complete with patent leather pumps, chic hats, and white gloves. For her everyday work uniform she sported a navy blue-and-gray camouflage outfit, bloused over steel-toed combat boots, and a pair of stainless steel dog tags to adorn her neck.

  McCabe, Hallie L. 023-71-7048/USN/B-NEG/PROT. Blood transfusions and a Protestant chaplain were additional and hopefully never required.

  Other accessories included navy blue coveralls, an orange life vest, and her very own battleship gray Kevlar combat helmet. A green canvas seabag in which to stow the extra outfits and accessories was also provided compliments of Uncle Sam.

  And the set of balls? Standard equipment on Chutzpah Barbie.

  Fortunately, everyone but the duty section was gone for the weekend, so Hallie slept in after her mid-watch. Having perfected the Navy shower, she used her two minutes of hot water wisely. She appreciated the shower while the ship was still on shore power, knowing hot water might become a precious commodity once they deployed.

  Donning capris, a tank top, sandals, and sunglasses, Hallie walked to the quarterdeck, requested permission to go ashore, and snapped a crisp salute to the Stars and Stripes. As she strolled down the gangway of the USS Robert C. Blanchard, Petty Officer Hallie McCabe knew every pair of male eyes topside was watching her disembark. One lone wolf whistle confirmed it. She considered sending up a one-fingered salute, but reminded herself she was a professional.

  Although she was excited about shipboard duty, she loved to escape to her cousin, Rebecca’s. Rebecca and her husband lived in Jacksonville Beach, and Hallie liked spending nights there after her classes at the University. She also appreciated homecooked meals, a real bed, and showering for as long as she pleased.

  The upcoming picnic at Rebecca’s apartment complex promised to be outstanding. The Towers were hosting a luau complete with a whole pig that had been roasting since dawn. After greeting Rebecca and her husband, Hallie grabbed a glass of red wine and sauntered down to the beach. Standing in the surf, digging her toes deep into the sand, Hallie let the waves wash over her ankles.

  Miles away from industrial Naval Station Mayport and the noisy hustle and bustle of life on a Navy ship, Hallie sipped her wine and looked with longing at a cluster of sailboats. She inhaled the salty air and exhaled deeply. Utter and total relaxation. Her world seemed balanced when she stood at the edge of the land, staring at the horizon. Shipmates warned her once they deployed she’d see so much ocean, sky, and horizon she’d want to puke. But Hallie disagreed. She had clawed through too much red tape to get this billet on an aircraft carrier and she could not wait to deploy.

  Nobody took the wind out of Hallie McCabe’s sails.

  Come to think of it, she missed sailing. Hadn’t done it since her mom got sick.

  “You a sailor?”

  Hallie turned to find a tall man standing nearby. Nice. She would have called him handsome, were he not wearing BCGs—government issue glasses, nicknamed “Birth Control Glasses,” because they made anyone wearing them so ugly no one would want to have sex with him, or her. Between the glasses and his haircut, he was definitely military. Had to be an officer if he lived at The Towers, but at least he wasn’t a pilot with those glasses. Pilots wore aviator shades with cocky attitudes to match. Hallie didn’t do pilots. Plain and simple.

  “I can find my way around a boat.”

  He tucked his shoes under his arm and offered his hand. “Philip Johnston.” He nodded toward the apartment building. “Do you live at The Towers? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

  Something told her to keep her military status quiet. Couldn’t she just be herself today? “I’m Hallie McCabe. I live with my cousin and her husband in three-oh-four. I’m a student at the University of North Florida. How about you?”

  “Apartment four-oh-five. Right upstairs. Hey, let me know if you ever want to go out. Sailing, that is. I’ve got a sweet little fourteen-foot day sailer for the summer. Joined a boat club with a friend.”

  “Are you serious? Yes. Yes. And Yes.”

  A corner of his mouth tipped up in a slow smile. “Well, tomorrow’s Sunday and I happen to have an opening for a first mate. My buddy canceled at the last minute and I hear the weather’s going to be awesome.”

  Before thinking, Hallie blurted out, “I’d love to. I haven’t been sailing in years.” A little voice in her head scolded her that she didn’t know a thing about this man. But another voice whispered that ax murderers didn’t usually carry a pair of Topsider boat shoes in their right hand and a Corona with lime in their left. Ax murderers probably skipped the lime. “You’re not an ax murderer or anything, are you?” She flashed him a sweet smile, then sipped her wine.

  Philip’s face blossomed to a grin. “Not quite. I’m an engineer. Been too busy lately to murder anyone. I’m in the Navy. On the Blanchard.”

  Hallie choked on her wine, coughed, and sputtered. She raised a hand to indicate she was okay. And in the time it took her to clear her throat, she amended her policy about not dating anyone from her command. And double oops. He said engineer, which meant officer. Fraternization between officers and enlisted was forbidden, and although she’d dabbled in that territory before, she’d never dabbled with an officer from her own command. Hallie lived by the mantra: Never get your honey where you get your money.

  She’d never had a problem with that mantra. Until today.

  “The Navy. How interesting.” She tried to ignore the ribbon of guilt curling in her gut. Hallie did not consider herself a rule breaker. She was more of a rule rationalizer. It wasn’t like they were in the same chain of command or anything. She didn’t work for the guy. The Blanchard was the largest class of ship in the Navy, with a crew that would swell to five thousand once they deployed. If she hadn’t bumped into him on board yet, chances were she never would. Plus he was an engineer. Those guys practically lived down in the hole. What was wrong with enjoying a day out on his sailboat and then quietly disappearing?

  “Not always. Right now I’m the Auxiliaries Officer.”

  Hallie’s stomach sank. The AUXO was Trixie’s new boss. Hallie’s bunkmate, Trixie, was rude and crude, so Hallie rarely listened to her drivel, but perhaps she should have listened closer when Trixie had trashed her new boss: “On a geek scale from one to ten, he’s a twenty-five.”

  But Trixie was wrong. This was no geek. This hottie with the broad shoulders, dark curly hair, and deep brown eyes with lashes any woman would kill for, could pass for a Greek god. Well, if he would just lose the glasses—they smacked of Geek god.

  What did Trixie say his nickname was? Bill Gates?

  “So what exactly do you do?”

  “I’m kind of an air conditioning specialist
and a glorified plumber.”

  No way did Bill Gates have Philip’s sexy smile—and she doubted he had sexy toes either. What was wrong with her? Lusting after a man’s toes? Officer toes that fit into expensive, custom-made boots that walked the same decks as her heavy government-issues.

  “…And trust me, there’s plenty of sewage on an aircraft carrier.” He huffed out a half laugh like he couldn’t believe he’d just said that.

  Great. Hallie had been lusting after his toes and he’d been waxing and waning about sewage. “Well, I guess the only way is up.”

  His eyes crinkled with laughter. “Not if you’re the sewage.”

  Hallie thought he was adorable. Unaffected and refreshing. He reminded her of Clark Kent and she felt flooded with warmth, imagining Philip throwing his glasses off and turning into Superman.

  While they ate dinner and discussed sailing and Hallie’s journalism classes, Philip kicked himself with both feet. He cursed himself for leaving his sunglasses on the sailboat, which—with his regular glasses being repaired—left him trying to pick up a major babe in his BCGs. No wonder his nickname was Bill Gates. And not because of the money either.

  He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d sounded after meeting the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, with innocent blue eyes that searched his while he talked about sewage. “Way to go, dumb ass,” was what his best buddy, Sky, would’ve said. “Just keep talking about sewage. That’ll win her over.”