Building Ties (Military Romantic Suspense) (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 4) (32 page)

“Yes. And you’re Mr. Arnold. It says so on the door.” She hoped her smile looked natural and not as stressed as she felt.

He laughed and approached her, hand out, as she stepped into the room.

They shook briefly. “I thought we’d walk down the hall to one of the conference rooms where no one will interrupt us.”

“Okay.”

He led the way two doors down and held open a glass panel door for her to precede him into the room. Recessed lights gave off a soft glow and washed down the cream colored walls, while a bank of windows at one end allowed in natural light. The table gleamed a dark cherry. The chairs were upholstered in blue-gray fabric.

Arnold pulled out a chair at the end of the table and waited for Tess to sit before taking a seat himself. She studied him briefly. He had olive skin, heavy features, and a large nose with sharp hazel eyes. Dark hair scattered with gray hugged his head in waves.

“I’ve been reading some of the stories you’ve covered for the San Diego paper. The piece you did recently on human trafficking was especially good.”

“Thank you.”

“Your style is very different from your father’s.”

Surprised by the comment, she paused before saying anything. “He’s the daredevil in the family.”

“Not the only one, it would seem. I heard about the car bomb. For all the competition, when one of our own is attacked, it’s big news in the journalism community.”

Was that why she was here?

He settled back in his seat and rested an arm on the table. “I’d like to hear about it.”

Of course he would. He was a newspaper man. “Homeland Security has signed off on the investigation and said the bomb was not terrorist-related. The FBI and local police are still investigating.”

“Who do
you
think is responsible?”

“I was covering several controversial stories at the same time. The human trafficking story for one. There was also a local boy arrested for armed robbery with ties to a gang leader, plus a possible blackmail scheme perpetrated by the CEO of a San Diego construction corporation.”

“So you’re not afraid to cover tough stories.”

Not afraid?
She couldn’t lie. “I’m afraid every day. I’ve had a body guard accompany me everywhere I go for the past ten days.”

“But you’re still pushing?”

“Yes, I’m still pushing.”

“And your editor there, he gives you the time to cultivate the stories you want to do?”

“In between more immediate demands.”

“It’s all about getting the news out before the next paper seizes it.”

“But it’s also about the people experiencing the news and the readers. You can’t report a house fire that killed ten people without talking about the people who died. It was their lives that came to a sudden, premature end. They’re not just names.”

“We can’t give individual attention to every person in every story we cover.”

“I don’t, either. Only the ones where something doesn’t completely add up or there’s an undercurrent of something more going on that hasn’t been uncovered yet.”

“And how do you reach that conclusion?”

“By talking to the people involved face-to-face. You get the watered-down version by talking to them on the phone. And it’s harder for them to lie if you’re looking them in the eye.”

“Is that what you did with Senator Welch?”

“Yes.”

“But you had inside information, didn’t you?”

Was he talking about Brett?

“Actually, no. I researched the Senator because he was coming to California, and only then discovered his persistent attempts to cut funding to the Naval Special Warfare Command. I interviewed a few people to figure out why. That’s when I learned about his stepson being killed. Then I put out feelers to some of the guys his stepson was stationed with and got the full story. After that I put two and two together and came to interview him here. The city of San Diego and the state of California depend on military dollars to keep their economy strong. To try and shut down bases wouldn’t only be detrimental to San Diego’s economy, but to the military itself.”

The interview took a turn away from what she’d done in the past to what she expected her life to be like as a reporter for the Post. Instantaneous coverage.

“How do you think you’ll feel about working with your father?”

Tess frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He’s signed on to work with the Post in our International News Division.”

Stunned to silence, Tess continued to stare at Arnold. Why hadn’t Ian told her? Her heart plummeted. She swallowed, though her mouth had gone dry. “That’s why you extended the job offer?”

Arnold hesitated. “You’ll be a good fit here, Tess. You’re smart, intuitive, and a good reporter.”

Every moment of excitement she’d experienced was wrenched from her in an instant. She couldn’t catch her breath. “So he attached this invitation onto his signing on with you?”

“Just the extension of an interview. Once you’d completed the telephone interview, we decided to go through with it. It was up to us to decide whether you’d be the caliber of journalist who’d fit our paper. And you are, Tess.”

Why would Ian do this? What had he hoped to accomplish? She’d been all too eager to grab at this carrot, because it would finally prove to him she was a serious journalist. And it had been him dangling it in front of her all along.

Somehow she got to her feet.

Arnold stood with a frown.

It took every ounce of control she had to extend her hand to him. “I appreciate the interview, Mr. Arnold.”

“But?”

“I don’t ride my father’s coattails.”

“You don’t have to, Tess.”

She struggled to hold on to her composure and forced herself to smile. “Thank you for saying that.” She swallowed. “But this is a newspaper office. Someone will find out about this, and even if they didn’t—with him coming on board and suddenly his daughter does, too—it would smack of nepotism. I don’t want to have to fight that battle. When I first decided to become a journalist, I lived in my father’s shadow. People expected me to be just like him. But I’m not. I’ve carved out my own style, my own niche. If he’s on this coast and I’m on the other, it’s easier for me to do my job and do it well.” She swallowed, though it hurt to do so.

Arnold laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’d be a real asset to us, Tess. Are you sure?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

“It wasn’t a waste at all, Tess. I’m sorry you won’t be joining us.”

She searched his face, hoping to see sincerity there, and was relieved when she did. “Thank you.” She gathered her things.

Arnold walked her to the elevator and shook her hand one last time. “I’ll be watching for your byline, Tess. Wherever you are, you’re going to do well.”

She smiled again, though she’d never felt less like doing so. “I’m getting married in a ten days. He was going to transfer to this coast if I took the job.”

“It sounds like he believes in you.”

Though Brett had tried to hide his concern and keep everything positive, it would have impacted his career. Still he had intended to do it. “Yes, he does. Good-bye, Mr. Arnold.”

In the elevator, she searched the number for a cab company on her phone and called it. For five long minutes she had to stand in the lobby and wait for the car to arrive. As soon as it cruised to a stop, she rushed out of the building and hurried to get in.

She gave the driver the name of her hotel and curled into the corner of the back seat. Tears streamed down her face. Ian had belittled her by tying this job offer to his own. He’d robbed her of the joy of getting it through her own merit. He’d relegated her to the shadows.
Again.
How could he think so little of her? She wanted to wail and beat on something to release the emotional maelstrom spiraling inside her. Instead she lost all control and sobbed her heart out.

She searched her bag for something to wipe her face and was grateful when the driver handed her a wad of Kleenex through the slot between the seats. By the time the car pulled beneath the hotel canopy, she had regained some control. She thanked the driver for his help and gave him a tip for remaining silent while she’d had her meltdown.

His, “I’m real sorry, lady,” nearly sent her back over the edge. She murmured her thanks and exited the car.

She darted into the restroom in the lobby. In the mirror there she stared at the aftermath of her crying jag. Her nose was red, her cheeks stained with mascara. She bathed her face with cold water and rubbed it away, then took a deep breath to steady herself. She called the front desk from her phone and had them ring the room. After the tenth ring she hung up. Brett was probably still at the park running. At least she wouldn’t have to face him until she’d pulled herself together.

She left the restroom and got into the elevator. In the room, she changed into jeans and a sweater and put a cold compress on her face. Half an hour later, the swelling had gone down around her eyes, but the hurt still lay like a hard burning knot beneath her breastbone. She had no choice but to move on.

Thank God Arnold had told her about Ian’s contract with them. It would have been a disaster if she’d accepted the job and ended up in the awkward professional situation she’d described during their meeting.

The editor’s last words to her had clarified something. Brett did believe in her, support her. He’d been willing to sacrifice his own happiness for hers. He’d have left his family, his team behind.
And she’d been willing to let him.
Jesus! She was more like her father than she’d ever dreamed.

Realizing how she might have hurt him was worse than what Ian had done. Tears streamed down her face again. She was a fool. His willingness to put her needs ahead of his own proved how much he loved her. And she’d done nothing to prove hers to him.

What she had with Brett was more important than a career or anything else. It was time she started appreciating it.

*

Brett mopped his
face with the hand towel he’d borrowed from the hotel. Dressed in net jogging pants and a T-shirt, he paced back and forth beside his car in the Jefferson Memorial parking lot to cool down from the five-mile run. He’d gotten a late start after being caught up in wandering the memorials in the park. He’d spent some time at the Vietnam Memorial, reading the names on the wall, and studying the statues of men on patrol, covered in rain ponchos, at the Korean War Memorial.

By the time he’d completed the circuit and the run, he’d resigned himself to the move. He’d also acknowledged the resentment he’d felt about playing second fiddle to a job. Admitted it and set it aside. Tess had done it for nearly ten months, was signing on for a lifetime of it. Or at least the next twenty-five years. He didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Marriage was about compromise. He knew and understood that. But had he really ever had to compromise about anything with her? His being a SEAL, his enlistment in the Navy was set in stone. She had to live with that. He’d learn to live with this.

They’d go for a drive tomorrow and check out the landscape between D.C. and Little Creek, Virginia. It was a two-hour drive but if they split that they’d each just have an hour. They’d take their time to explore the area and get back in time to fly out at ten tomorrow night.

His phone rang and surprised to see Tess’s number hit the button. “Hey.”

“Are you almost through running your SEAL ass off?”

He laughed. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“My meeting ended early and I wanted to eat lunch with you.”

He couldn’t tell a damn thing from her voice. “How did it go?”

“It went fine. We’ll talk about it when you get here.”

Did that mean she wanted to celebrate? Was there an issue? “I’m on my way.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

He shut off the cell phone and slid in behind the wheel. All the way to the hotel he wondered how he needed to play it. Would she need comfort? Would she want to celebrate? She’d sounded calm on the phone, so did that mean it was a done deal? If she’d said yes, he was prepared. If she’d told them no he’d be—relieved. But he couldn’t let her see that.
Ah, damn it!
He’d just have to wait and play it by ear.

At the hotel, he slung the towel over his shoulder, handed the valet the car keys, and half-jogged through the lobby to the elevator. He used his keycard to open the door instead of knocking.

Tess stood at the window looking out at the D.C. horizon. She turned to look over her shoulder at him. “How were the cherry trees?”

“A few blossoms, but for the most part just buds.”

“We’ll have to come back next year to see them in full bloom. I hear D.C.’s at its prettiest then.”

The importance of what she said stunned him. He’d been prepared for the worst. He crossed the distance between them in an instant. Was that a hint of redness around her eyes? “Tess?”

She moved to lean against him. “It was enough they wanted me. That I was good enough to work for them.”

There was an air of fragility about her he’d never felt before. Something else had happened. But he’d have to wait for her to share it with him when she was ready.