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  Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Roxanne St. Claire. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Barefoot Bay remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Roxanne St. Claire, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Table of Contents

  Love Lies Beneath

  Dear Reader,

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Books by Jen Talty

  About the Author

  Love Lies Beneath

  Barefoot Bay

  By

  JEN TALTY

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  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle World, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Love Lies Beneath. This book is entirely the work of Jen Talty, who’s back in Barefoot Bay with some sizzle and suspense on the sand.

  In keeping with the “military theme” of this Barefoot Bay Kindle World launch, Jen’s hero is a Navy SEAL who fell hard for his physical therapist after an injury. She never returned his attention, but a chance encounter at a wedding gives him the opportunity to try again. He’s up against her past and a firsthand knowledge of how difficult military life can be…and a threat that could end any chance at love.

  Roxanne St. Claire

  PS. If you love this island paradise, be sure to pick up one eighteen titles I’ve written set in Barefoot Bay. And now there are seventy-five novellas in the Barefoot Bay Kindle World penned by other authors in the same setting. Come for a short visit or lose yourself on the beautiful beach and fall in love over and over again! All the books are listed at www.roxannestclaire.com.

  Prologue

  IF SHE SAID NO THIS TIME, Lt. Mitchell Harrison would have to throw in the white towel.

  Crashing and burning when it came to women was not in Mitch’s wheelhouse. He wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a ladies’ man, but he’d never had trouble smooth-talking a woman into at least one drink.

  “How’s that feeling?” Ashley Riggs, Physical Therapist, and the sweetest woman he’d ever met, strolled into the exam room with a bag of ice and a towel. “You really pushed yourself these last few sessions.”

  He had no idea where her hair fell since she always wore it in a bun, but based on the size, he suspected her raven hair fell well past her shoulders.

  And he could tell her hair was soft and thick.

  Just like her eyelashes that blinked over her big eyes were the color of warm, wet sand being soaked with the waves gently rolling over the shore.

  “It feels really good,” he said, rubbing his knee, stretching it in and out. “As if I never tore the ACL and had surgery.”

  “I’m impressed by how quickly you’ve healed.” She rolled her chair over to the table where he sat, her tender hands wrapping his knee with the cold ice.

  “I had a good therapist.”

  She smiled, lowering her lids, as if she were embarrassed. He didn’t think so, but it sent a warm shiver across his freezing leg. Something about Ashley was different than most women, besides the fact she’d said no to him every time he’d asked for her number. While he wouldn’t mind finding out what she was like between the sheets, he’d settle for a glass of wine and fine conversation.

  Her knowledge of the world constantly surprised him as he asked probing questions during their sessions, all in an effort to find a way to convince her he was a harmless SEAL looking to buy a nice lady a drink for helping him through a trying time.

  “Well, I had a dedicated patient, which makes all the difference in the world. I can’t do the work for you.”

  “I want to get back to work as soon as possible.” After surgery, when he’d first started physical therapy, he couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. The pain had been worse than when he’d first injured it when his shoot didn’t deploy in time during a low altitude jump.

  “I’ve already signed the paperwork. It will be sent to your XO by Monday.”

  He smiled. They were in a room, alone. Not in the big space where he did his workouts amongst all the other patients trying to push past the pain and get back to where they were before tragedy struck them.

  “You know,” he said, in the suavest of voices he could manage. “If you scribbled your John Hancock, then technically, I’m not your patient.”

  “Lieutenant, I’m still not going to go out with you.” She rested her hands on her hips, her chair swiveling slightly left, then right. The corners of her mouth turned upward into a half-smile.

  There was hope.

  “I bet I’m your last patient today.” He didn’t need to wager, he knew without a doubt that she had no more patients after him. He made sure he was the very last appointment on the books.

  She folded her arms across her chest. He tried not to look at the perfect round swells above her forearms, but it proved impossible. He was after all, a full-blooded American male. “Not only don’t I date my patients, but I make it a rule not to date military men.”

  He raised his hands. “This is a military facility. Who else would be in here but military men and women?”

  “Not the point.”

  “And I’m not asking for a date. Just a drink. Call it a send-off celebration before I’m deployed again.”

  “You’re going to have to pass the physical, twice.” She held up two fingers. “Before anyone gives you the thumbs up for a mission.” Her eyes twinkled like she’d just defeated an opponent in a game of chess.

  “One drink. That’s all I’m asking. When you’re done, you can leave if you want. I won’t ask for a second, promise.”

  She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand, knowing exactly where her thoughts were headed. “Shots don’t count.”

  “Smart man, but still, no.”

  He did his best to frown, hoping she’d take pity on a man feeling dejected. “Are you really going to make me beg?”

  She laughed, tossing her head back, exposing her sweet, supple neck. All he could think about was kissing the spot right under her earlobe.

  “You don’t strike me as the type of man who begs for anything,” she said.

  “I don’t, but you’re with the exception.”

  “Wow, that’s a really good line. If I wasn’t seeing someone, I’d be falling for it for sure.” Her right eye twitched, and she glanced up and to the left, after blinking a few times, breaking off eye contact.

  Liar.

  He contemplated calling her out on it but thought better of it. It certainly wouldn’t get him his one drink.

  “I hope he knows what a lucky man he is.” Mitch unwrapped the ice from his frozen knee. “If he doesn’t get that, or you just feel like a nice glass of wine and good conversation before heading home, I’ll be at the Food Hut. I’m sure you know where
it is.” He stood, holding out his hand, waiting, while her smile faded, and her gaze darted between his hand and face.

  “It’s been a real honor,” she said, pushing back her chair. “Thank you for your service.”

  He nodded, letting his hand linger until she jerked hers back.

  She was interested in the drink.

  Maybe more.

  “You take good care, Ashley.”

  He waltzed out of the room, not looking back.

  God, he hoped she joined him. But if she didn’t, at least his buddies wouldn’t know he’d crashed and burned.

  ***

  Ashley bit down on her lower lip, cocking her head, watching the sexy Navy SEAL saunter through the exercise room. He wasn’t the first military man to hit on her.

  But he was the only one that made her consider, for a single second, that he might be worth a date.

  Or two.

  No.

  She cleaned up the room and tossed the dirty towels in the bin before making her way to the office to sign out for the night.

  Standing in front of the medical building, the humid Florida air smacked her pores like large raindrops.

  Her eyes focused on the coastal sign filled with green, coral, yellow, and blue wood planks hanging over a restaurant door with the words: Food Hut.

  In her eight years working as a physical therapist on the Jacksonville Naval Base, she never once entered the bar and grill across the street. Not only did a lot of her co-workers meet there after work, but so did half the men and women stationed or living on the base.

  Jingling her car keys, she hesitated at the driver’s side door of her small SUV.

  “What the hell,” she muttered. One drink with a handsome man who could carry on an intelligent conversation wouldn’t hurt. Although she’d keep up the ruse that she was in a relationship.

  She frowned, tossing her keys into her purse as she crossed the street. Meeting him certainly sent the wrong message, and she didn’t want to encourage him. That said, while his team might be stationed out of Jacksonville, the likelihood he’d actually spend that much time in the city was slim to none.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, the bar not totally packed, but full enough. She raised up on tiptoe. Even at five foot nine, she couldn’t see over some of the crowd standing at the front bar. Maybe he was in the back, or at a table.

  Maybe she should just leave.

  No sooner did she turn toward the door than she spied Mitch sitting at the far end of the bar, with a glass of red wine raised in one hand, the other pointing to an empty seat. His grin was one of triumph.

  She let out a puff of air and slowly made her way across the room, not rushing. God forbid, he thought she was eager to have that drink.

  “Hello, Ashley.” He placed his hand on her upper arm, curling his fingers gently as he boldly leaned in and pressed his soft lips to her cheek. “I got you a nice Cab, since I remember you once told me it was your favorite blend.”

  “You already ordered it?” She slid up on the stool, taking the glass he offered.

  “I did.” He clanked his wine against hers with a wink.

  “Here’s to overly confident men,” she mused, remembering how her father told the story about snagging the most popular girl in his high school. Her dad always told her confidence was half the battle to be successful at anything.

  That and being smart.

  Her father was the smartest man she’d ever met.

  “Shall I be completely honest?” he asked, resting his arms on the bar, his biceps flexing, showing off a seal, the animal, on his skin. She found that amusing, considering he was a SEAL.

  “By all means?”

  “Happy hour, two for one and it ended five minutes ago, so I figured I’d get two, save a few bucks.”

  Now she wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or not. “I like a frugal man,” she said, eyeing the room. She grew up an Army brat, living near one base after the other while her A-Team Commander father led missions in undisclosed areas. It had been a tough life on her and her siblings. Her mother never once complained, and her parents had a great relationship.

  But they weren’t the norm.

  Either way, it wasn’t a life Ashley wanted to pursue when it came to having a husband and kids.

  He leaned in, his arm brushing against hers in a nonchalant move. “I was hoping though.”

  “Of all my clients, you’ve been the hardest working and the least grumpy.”

  “I’m sure you see some pretty tough cases.”

  She nodded, remembering a few. Her job wasn’t just to help them heal their physical wounds, but the emotional wounds as well. “Truthfully, I don’t normally take injuries like yours. I specialize in major trauma. I usually spend months with my patients which is another reason I don’t ever date them, but my boss asked me to take yours.”

  “I asked specifically for you. I did what I could to make sure that happened.”

  She arched a brow. A slight flutter of her pulse hit her throat, wondering why he’d do that, because it sounded creepy stalkerish. “Why? How would you know me?”

  “You worked with a buddy of mine last year. He said he would have put a gun to his head in a heartbeat if it hadn’t been for you. He had nothing but great things to say and considering how bad his wounds were, I figured if you could do wonders with him, I’d be a cakewalk.”

  She pursed her lips. “You pulled strings to get me?”

  He shook his head. “No. I asked if it was possible. My sister works in the billing office for the hospital, and I believe she asked you. I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

  “Who is your sister?”

  “Maddy Lichner.”

  “Ah, yes, now I remember.” Ashley blew out a puff of air, relieved. Maddy had come to her before her brother’s surgery, wanting to know if Ashley would do her a personal favor. Since she’d had a break in her schedule, she said yes. She didn’t know Maddy, other than to say hello in passing, since their jobs never really crossed paths, but it had been nice to do an easier case for a change of pace.

  “She told me it was no problem. I hope I didn’t make one?”

  “Not at all,” Ashley said, sipping her wine, smelling the chicken and cheese quesadilla that had just been served to the person sitting to her left. The aroma made her stomach growl. But she’d wait to make dinner at home. Her nice, peaceful home on Doctor’s Lake, just south of the base. Nothing better than eating a nice meal, with her favorite wine, staring at the water. It didn’t t matter that she’d be alone.

  Alone sometimes was good.

  A line she kept telling herself so she’d believe it. Truth be told, she’d started to get lonely and wouldn’t mind male companionship, but when all you do is spend your time on the base, it’s hard to meet civilian men.

  “I’m glad I got to work with you.”

  “You’re good at what you do.” He swiveled his stool, putting his back to the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. “We need more people like you. Makes healing a lot easier. I’ve seen men with life-changing injuries who honestly believe their physical therapist makes all the difference in the world. No offense to others in your profession, but some of them aren’t very people-oriented.”

  She let out a dry laugh. “Sometimes it’s a thankless job. I’ve been called names that would make even a drunken sailor blush. But at the end of the day, my job is to help my patients adjust to whatever changes in life they have to deal with.” She pointed to his knee. “As you saw on the discharge papers, I cleared you for the physical, but did you read my side note?”

  He nodded, his royal-blue eyes catching her gaze and locking it in as if she were a target and he the missile. “I wouldn’t have brought it up, but since you did, I’m wondering why you believe the knee has been compromised.”

  “It’s weaker than your other leg, which is your non-dominant leg. I’ve seen great progress, but I worry that under certain circumstances—in the field, in combat— t mig
ht hinder your performance.”

  He swiveled, grabbing his wine, and raising it in the air. “I look forward to proving you wrong.”

  “I hope you do.” Once again, they made a toast. The rich, red wine flowed smoothly down her throat, coating her stomach with a warm burn. This was no happy hour special. While she wasn’t a wine snob, she knew when she was drinking a cheap blend over one closer to a hundred dollars a bottle.

  This was of the latter variety.

  So, he lied about happy hour specials, making him once again, confident.

  Or arrogant.

  Either way, she enjoyed the easy conversation he provided. If he weren’t a SEAL, or a patient, she might have a second drink.

  “Tell me about your boyfriend,” he said as he waved the bartender over.

  “I’d rather not discuss my personal life.” Not to mention she hadn’t thought the lie through, and she wasn’t good on her feet like that.

  “I get that. Do you want another drink? Something to eat?”

  “I’m good.”

  The girl behind the counter tossed a towel over her shoulder. “What can I do for you, Mitch?” she asked in a southern drawl, smiling, batting her baby blues. Maybe she was looking for a bigger tip.

  “The usual app, and I’ll get one more glass of wine.”

  “As long as you’re not driving. Of course, you could hang out with me all night, and I’ll take you home.”

  He laughed, though Ashley thought…or maybe hoped…it was forced.

  “I’ve gotta work in the morning, otherwise, you never know.”

  Ashley waited until the young woman had moved onto another customer. “Do women fall at your feet like that all the time?”

  “No,” he said. “And you’re proof of that.”

  “I have a boyfriend.” She swallowed, trying not to cough on the lie.

  “And if you didn’t?”

  Christ, why did he have to ask that question. Heat rose to her cheeks. “It doesn’t change the fact you’re military.”