"I can guess," he said harshly. "You have an incredibly expressive face, Brynn. Your eyes change colors with your moods. They're blue when you're calm, and purple when you're worried or worked up about something. You also lift your chin like you're fighting some subconscious battle."

I was a little flustered by his close study of me. "You can see all that?"

"I'm an artist. I always see the details. They make up the picture. So, if I had to guess what you're thinking now…"

As his voice drifted away, I studied his face with the same detail in which he'd studied mine. His eyes darkened with emotion, his brows drew together when he was puzzled, and his lips tightened whenever he had something distasteful to say—like now.

"You think your mother has a personal connection to me," Kade continued. "So, just say it."

"Why don't you say it?" I countered.

"You're wondering if I might have been adopted, if your mother is my mother."

I drew in a quick breath, his words spelling out exactly what I'd been wondering. "I didn't want to say that out loud."

"I'm not adopted," he said firmly. "My mother was in labor for eighteen hours with me. My father videotaped the delivery. I've unfortunately seen just about every moment of my birth in far greater detail than I ever wanted to see it."

Relief ran through me. I didn't know what I thought about Kade, but I definitely did not want him to be my brother. "Well, that's good."

"It is good," he said, meeting my gaze. "We're not related. I have no doubt about that. But there is some connection."

"You need to press your mother for more answers, Kade."

"I'll call her tomorrow. I don't think she knows more than she told me, but maybe she does." Kade paused as a man walked up to our table.

"Brynn Landry?" he said. "I'm Jeremy Warren."

I didn't know what I'd expected—probably more of a big bodyguard type guy. But Jeremy Warren was a thin, wiry man, in his forties, wearing jeans, a gray pullover sweatshirt, and a baseball cap.

"It's nice to meet you," I said as he sat down with us. "This is Kade Beckham. He's living in the downstairs unit at my mother's house."

"Good. Sounds like you might have some helpful information, Mr. Beckham."

"Don't get your hopes up," Kade said. "I don't know much."

"I put together what little information I have," I said, sliding a piece of paper in front of Jeremy. "I did a timeline of what I know of my mother's life before she allegedly died in a hurricane in New Orleans twenty years ago, and then a very short recap of what I know about her life now. Inspector Greenman with the SFPD has my mother's phone with her contacts in it. He probably has more information than I do."