“I hope you’re right. And I hope he doesn’t disappoint either of us.” The flat even tone of his voice held an accusation.
“You once told me that what was happening between us was separate from what you needed from Ian.”
He straightened from his leaning position on the car. “Right now, you haven’t allowed anything to happen between us, Tess. I can’t be the only one willing to—lower the barriers.” He drew a deep breath. “I can’t continue to guard every word I say for fear of seeing it in print one day either. I have to know I can trust you.”
She focused on him so he’d know she was sincere. “Everything you say to me from this moment on will be off the record, Brett. I turned in the last of my articles for the series yesterday.”
“I didn’t think you had enough information yet.”
“I called Master Chief O’Hara and got the remainder of the information I needed. You’re no longer an official source.”
“So?”
You’re no longer a source for any kind of story.” She raised her hand. “I swear it. Every word you said in that hotel room is locked away for eternity as far as I’m concerned. I never heard a thing.”
Brett nodded once, and though he continued to search her face for several moments, the tension in his shoulders relaxed a little. After a moment of silence, he shed his shirt and shorts to reveal a brief swimsuit that left little to the imagination. Oh, my. Tess nearly swallowed her tongue at the wealth of bare skin and lean muscle. The light brown hair that dusted his chest ran down the center of his taut stomach in a line that begged to be followed. He pulled a wetsuit from a bag in the trunk. He worked the legs of the suit over his calves, the muscles in his back flexing.
Her hand shook and her heart was thundering in her ears as she ran her palm over the curve of his body between his shoulder blade and spine.
He froze for a moment, acknowledging her touch with that alert stillness she’d found so unnerving the other night. He straightened and tugged the wetsuit up over his hips.
Tess caught her breath as she glimpsed how he’d responded to her touch. Since he’d left her standing in the hallway of the hotel, a tight knot had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach. The sensation of it unraveling brought a smile to her lips.
He glanced up. “Now who’s toying with whom, Tess?”
“I don’t look at you as a plaything either,” she said using his own words against the barrier he’d thrown up between them.
He straightened, his gaze meandering down her body as though she was an ice cream cone and he was deciding where to lick first. His hard-edged expression of raw desire barely held in check carried enough heat to fire the libidos of every woman within a hundred-yard radius. Having his unrelenting interest directed at her from point-blank range tightened her nipples and warmed intimate areas south. Her heart beat in her throat, and she felt stifled by the constricting layers of the neoprene wetsuit.
Damn. He was dangerous to her peace of mind, and her heart.
Brett wiggled into the top of his wetsuit, and, gripping the long zipper pull, tugged it up his back. Then he unhooked the pull, dropped it in the trunk, and strapped a knife to his calf.
“Is this suit anything like what you wear when you’re working?” she asked, more to distract them both than because she wanted to know.
The heat banked in his expression cooled.
“No. Most of the time we’re in dry suits. They’re bulkier, gray, and have pockets for gear at the calves and at the top of the arms, and aren’t nearly as fashionable.” He started working at one of the straps holding the boards atop the car and she rushed to help with the other one.
“I took up surfing when I first came out here. It took me forever to be able to pop up on the board. I’m not a novice, but I’m not an expert either.” Why was sharing the slightest thing so hard for her?
“How strong a swimmer are you?” he asked. “Sometimes the undercurrents can be strong here.”
Was that comment double edged? “I’ve noticed. I think I’ll be fine.”
He nodded and slid her bright pink board off the top of the car and handed it to her.
“This week—I’ve missed talking to you, Brett.”
“Good.” He braced the board against the car and rested his elbow on the top. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She studied his expression before stepping closer. “I believe in you. I have since the beginning. You’re no more a murderer than I am.”
His attention focused on her once again, intense, unblinking. His gaze shifted downward to her lips and settled there, yet he didn’t move to kiss her.
Why wasn’t he? She’d given him every reason to. His desire for her had nothing to do with Ian and everything to do with what she could give him. If she was brave enough.
“The other night, when you invited me over to watch the movie, we made a connection, didn’t we?” she asked.
Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. “I thought so.”
She’d told him it was hard for her to step out from behind the professional façade, but she hadn’t delved into the depths of how truly difficult she found it. Before she could lose her nerve entirely, she rose on tiptoe and kissed him.
In an instant, his lips softened beneath hers, parting in response to the pressure. His hand cupped her hip and drew her in against him. The brushing movement she had initiated took on a clinging intensity that made her legs week. When his tongue touched hers, she leaned into him, wanting to be closer. The kiss went on and on, growing hungry, intense, until, breathless, she had to draw back.
He was just as out of breath as she was, and spots of color highlighted his cheekbones.
“Has anyone ever told you your timing sucks, Tess?” he asked, his lips touching her temple, her forehead.
“No. Why?” She leaned back to look up at him. She’d never experienced a more perfect kiss. Hadn’t it been the same for him?
“For one thing, you took your sweet time kissing me.” Brett studied her, laughed, then groaned. “And another—I dare you to kiss me like that when we’re not encased in body-sized condoms.”
CHAPTER 22
Clara glanced over her shoulder toward the car. The hot pink of Tess’s surfboard stood out, and she could see a sliver of it propped against the rental car A couple of joggers, a man and a woman, ran by. Two women walked down the path toward her, acknowledged her with a nod, and paused at the stairs to talk about the view.
Something wasn’t quite right between Brett and Tess. Had they had a fight? Was that part of what was troubling him?
She drew a breath. If only he didn’t hold so much inside. He’d learned to close himself off because of his job, and now it was sliding into his private life. And Tess did the same thing. How could two such self-contained people reach each other?
He was worried about her relationship with Russell Connelly. Well, she was worried about his with Tess. But he’d think she was invading his privacy if she asked questions.
Just as she’d reacted when he’d done the same.
Brett appeared on the path. He was laughing. Tess’s cheeks were flushed and she was smiling. Had they settled whatever it was that had sent up the barriers between them?
Maybe this would distract him from digging into her relationship with Russell. She didn’t need Brett picking at something so new and fragile. The relationship had just begun to bud. They hadn’t slept together, not yet. Though she knew she wanted that to happen, she was enjoying being wooed. Their lunch date had ended with a tour of the Gaslamp Quarter and she’d taken tons of pictures. But holding hands, window-shopping, talking and flirting had meant more to her. Because she’d felt closer to Russell.
She didn’t know where they were going emotionally. But she definitely didn’t need an overprotective son interfering.
She took some shots of Brett carrying his eight-foot board with the trident symbol on the front. His blond hair gleamed in the early afternoon light, his jaw darkened by a s
hadow of beard. He looked so much like Joe, a fist clenched around her heart. He grinned at her and she took another quick shot.
When Brett and Tess were close enough, she said, “You don’t mind my taking some photos of you, too, do you, Tess?”
Tess propped her board against the railing at the top of the stairs to tie her hair back with a rubber band. “No, not at all.”
She was so beautiful, with her slender long-limbed frame and auburn hair, Clara couldn’t resist snapping a quick picture of her right then, using the hot pink board behind her as a backdrop.
She and Brett made a striking couple, but just because their looks complimented one another didn’t mean their personalities would mesh. She drew a deep breath. As protective as she felt toward her kids, she had to step back and hope they each made the right decisions about their relationships.
“I’ll save a copy of the best pictures for your parents,” Clara promised. “Do you still say ‘hang ten dudes?’”
Tess laughed. “And ‘toes on the nose’.”
“Have fun,” Clara called as they ascended the steps.
She clicked some pictures of the two as they picked their way across the rock-strewn beach below and headed into the surf.
***
Brett monitored Tess’s progress as they paddled out past the break. They straddled their boards and studied the waves.
The kiss they’d shared, and the effort she’d put forth to get him to respond, made him hopeful. He’d have to keep nudging her to open up and reach for what she wanted. But–Jesus, I want her to kiss me again. Right now.
He had to get his mind on something else or he’d reach for her. And right now he wanted her reaching for him, instead of holding him at a distance. “Do you jog?” Brett asked, looking for other things they might have in common she hadn’t mentioned.
“Not unless it’s to the head of the line at Starbucks in the morning.
He laughed.
“I’m actually pretty lazy,” she said. “I used to ride horseback every weekend when I was in New York. And I love this, though I don’t get to come out as often as I’d like.” She glanced behind her on the lookout for the perfect wave.
“This will be my first time surfing since coming home,” Brett said.
“I promise not to show you up in front of your mother,” Tess said falling chest-forward on the board. She paddled hard and was well in front of the break before the swell hit him, raising him up long enough to see her pop up on her board in perfect form. His board fell into the trench before the next wave of the set passed him, blocking his view of her. Then the water took him up again and he saw her wipe out.
Brett looked back to see the swell of the next set rising behind him. He stretched atop the board and dug deep to get out in front of it, and then let the excitement and joy of just riding the waves take over.
After thirty minutes passed with neither of them finding a strong ride, they settled on their boards for a breather.
“I hope your mom isn’t disappointed in us,” Tess said. “She’s probably not getting the best shots.”
“A gag reel maybe.” Brett agreed with a laugh. “Mom’s used to being alone and entertaining herself. Thus this adventure in photography.” He nodded toward the cliffs. “She can find beauty in the darnedest things. I saw some of her pictures recently. I was amazed. I didn’t know she had such a talent.”
“Really?”
“She’s been putting her pictures up on websites and selling them.”
“Has she ever thought of working for a newspaper?” Tess asked.
Brett’s brows rose. Would she like something like that? “I don’t know if she’d be interested or not.”
“With you and your sister both here, it would offer her even more reason to relocate.”
Zoe would love it, but what would it mean to him? His mom would be closer for when he wasn’t deployed, and though she’d flown out every time he came home, she’d be here waiting for him. He’d actually have a family unit here, like the other guys.
And what about Tess? Could she become part of that? A slow smile worked across his face. “I could get used to having family here. That’s pretty much all you think about between missions and patrols.”
Shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, he glanced seaward. The earlier storm at sea was pushing higher waves their direction, and more surfers were paddling out past the break.
A gigantic swell rose in the distance. He leaned forward onto the board and dug deep. “We need to paddle, Tess. A big one’s coming.”
The wave rose beneath him just as he leapt up on his board. The board’s fins caught the water, and arms extended, legs bent, he bobbled, then found his balance. The wave curled up behind him, and he hit the lip, then pivoted his board forward, working for and finding the barrel of the wave and using it to extend his ride. The displaced air pushed before the water seemed to hold him suspended on the waxed plank until the wave tumbled forward, crashing into white foam that shoved him forward a few more yards. He thrust his fists into the air in a victory sign and gave a yell.
A sudden flash on the cliffs above caught his attention. Was that light reflecting off his mother’s camera lens? He hoped she’d taken plenty of pictures, because that was probably the best ride he’d ever had. A sudden shove from another wave had him bobbling. Something struck his side spinning him around and he fell headfirst into the water. He surfaced choking and spitting salt water. His hip felt strangely numb.
What the fuck?
A sudden rush of water from another wave struck his board, sending it swooping toward shore and dragging him under.
He pressed his hand against his side as he fought his way to the surface. His board drifted close and he latched onto it. The surface of the board exploded near his face, sending up wood and foam particles. “Jesus Christ!” He thrust the board away. Someone was shooting at them. He dove beneath the water, jerked the Velcro strap loose from his ankle, and set the surfboard free.
He kicked forward without surfacing, bobbed up twenty feet to the right, and looked back toward where he’d left Tess. She was paddling forward as another wave rose. “No!” The crash of the surf swallowed his yell. Another shot zipped past his head like an angry bee and hit the water. The fucker was fixated on him and hadn’t targeted her or any of the other surfers—yet. He dove and came up farther down shore. What could he do? How could he protect Tess? The other surfers? No one had noticed anything.
Could he make it across the unprotected strip at the base of the cliffs and get up there? His heart beat in his ears like a bass drum. Jesus, Mom’s up there.
Fear rocketed through him, offsetting the rush of adrenaline. Brett dove and swam hard toward shore.
***
Clara heard a strange noise just down the path from where she stood. She looked back toward the road that ran parallel with the beach. Was that a car door slamming? She turned her lens toward the water and looked through to find Tess, arms outstretched, riding a wave with a grace that made the whole experience seem easy. Another pop sounded. She jerked and lowered the camera.
That wasn’t a slam. She’d been around gunfire all her life, and she knew the difference. She swung around trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from. Two people near the street were running down the road away from the cliffs. She shifted her focus from the water and surfers below to the path she’d traveled earlier. A man lay prone on the ground, a rifle pointed downward toward the beach. Dear God! Her heart thundered in her ears and tremor shook her body. She focused the camera lens on the man, dark hair, dusky skin, a black baseball cap, and pushed the camera button again and again. She swung the camera toward the water.
A surfboard bobbed and jerked as the water shoved it toward the beach.
A white surfboard with a SEAL trident on it.
Clara’s heart skipped a beat and she leaned forward over the overhang as far as she dared to search for Brett through the lens. He was nowhere in sight. Just the board. Fear
numbed her hands and feet and made it difficult to breathe. Her hands shook so she had trouble gripping the cell phone she jerked from the camera bag at her feet. She speed dialed 911.
A busy signal? My God, a busy signal?
Another pop sounded and Clara brought the camera to her face again, looking out to sea, looking for Tess and Brett. Tess straddled her board and was looking toward the beach. She was an easy target.
Three surfers paddled toward one of the other surfers who was signaling. Had he been shot? Dear God that man was going to kill them all.
What should she do? She hit the button on her phone again to redial the number.
A busy signal. This can’t be happening.
Her breathing came in gasping breaths. “Dear God, help me,” she said aloud and broke into a run toward the man with the rifle.
The ground seemed to roll beneath her feet, and she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Her fingers gripped the camera so hard it hurt.
She was almost upon him when he turned to look over his shoulder. With a cry of panicked fear, she swung the camera down in a backhanded motion as hard as she could, hitting him on the side of the head. The telephoto lens broke away. Her fingers numb, she lost her grip on the camera and it tumbled across the hard-packed dirt. He jerked around and tried to bring the rifle into position. She staggered and fell on top of him, kneeing him in the stomach. The rifle went off. He shoved the gun into the side of her head, the steel barrel striking her just above the ear and knocking her aside.
Stunned and deafened from the shot, a high-pitched ringing dulled the crash of the waves, and made the sound of her breathing loud in her ears. She rolled onto her side and tried to rise, but her limbs were slow to work.
He staggered to his feet and pointed the barrel of the rifle at her. With his teeth clenched in a grimace and his cold, dark eyes focused on her with hatred, Clara’s limbs turned to liquid. He aimed at her chest. He screamed an insult at her she couldn’t understand.
Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 22
