Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) by Teresa Reasor Page A

man. He knew what he needed to do. But his disappointment in his son’s behavior lay between them as unavoidable as the pall of sickness.
     
    ***
     
    Tess studied Brett’s expression as they left the restaurant and strolled down to the beach. His features remained closed, unreadable. It was frustrating as hell.
    Brett paused at one of the coupled lounge units owned by the hotel and raised the umbrella. He motioned for her to take a seat.
    “Where did you grow up?” he asked.
    “For a while, all over the country. But when I was ten, my parents divorced and my mom and I settled in New York.” She sat down, swung her legs up on the lounge, and relaxed against the back of her chair. “Who’s interviewing who, Brett?”
    “I’m about to place my Naval career in your hands. I want to know something about you.”
    Her pulse leapt and her eyes focused on his face.
    He folded his tall, muscular frame onto the lounge and stared out across the ocean. Though he appeared relaxed, a muscle pulsed in his jaw. “Is your mother still living?”
    “Yes, she’s an interior designer in New York. She remarried when I was twelve. He’s a very nice, very rich banker. His name is Milton Chase.”
    “My mom’s visiting me and my sister. She arrived yesterday.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “When my dad was killed in Desert Storm, she held the family together. She’s a tough lady. My sisters are, too. I can always count on them to have my back.” His gaze swung to her face. “Who has yours?”
    Tess remained silent a moment. Her mother and stepfather would certainly stand up for her, but would her father?
    No. The story always came first. Before birthdays, Christmas, or any medical catastrophe. Some day he’d die in a distant country, searching for something neither she nor her mother had ever been able to give him.
    “If you need someone who’ll dig for the truth and damn the consequences, you can trust my father to follow through. But you can’t depend on him to care too deeply for anyone. Not even those of us who have a genetic tie to him.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    She deflected the feelings his sincerity triggered with a shrug. “I’m used to it.”  Liar. She swung her legs off the lounge and, leaning forward, rested her hand on his arm. “Why don’t we just cut right to the heart of it?”
    The muscles in his forearm grew taut beneath her touch. The warmth of his skin seeped into her fingers. His pale blue gaze, lighter gray-blue around the pupil and darker around the rim of the iris, delved into hers. And when his lips parted, her gaze dropped to them. The structure of his jaw was undoubtedly masculine, his lips not too thick or thin. What would they feel like— Whoa —Hadn’t he just said he was being investigated for murder? She had no business even sitting close to him, let alone touching him.
    She withdrew her hand and clasped her fingers together in her lap. She cleared her throat, though it did nothing to cut the regret settling like a knot at its base. “Whatever you tell me today will have to stay off the record until I have other sources willing to verify it. How difficult is that going to be?”
    “Damn near im—” He paused and color crept into his cheeks. “Damn difficult.”
    “You started to say impossible.”
    “Yeah. There may be people in Iraq with information about what happened.”
    “You don’t know?”
    Brett shook his head. “I don’t remember what happened that night or the week before.”
    “What are they saying you did?”
    “Derrick and I had a protection detail. We delivered a kid home in the heart of a certain city. His father was an Iraqi big wig. Some kind of liaison with the military. The kid disappeared after we dropped him off. NCIS is trying to say we’re responsible for his disappearance. They’re sniffing around like we hurt the kid. Derrick’s history would give them an out, an easy way to placate the Iraqi and the State Department. The guys covering