Page 22 of Under the Radar
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Mac brought their dessert and coffee to the table and joined her at the veranda door. He slipped an arm around her waist. “You’re quite taken with the view out there.”
Mo leaned into him. “The panorama is magnificent. Thank you for the dinner. I finally feel like I’m on vacation.” She rested a hand on his arm. “I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you have this fancy suite while the rest of the crew is interred below deck?”
He laced his fingers in hers. “They’re not interred. Below deck is a great place. They have very nice accommodations, including their own kitchens, sports bar, exercise rooms and more. I’ve stayed in the crew’s quarters many times over the past three weeks. But on this particular sailing, I knew I’d be taking some time off and requested this end suite.”
Mo raised her eyebrows. “This suite? Is it your favorite or something?”
Huh. He took a deep breath. She really hadn’t scoured the socials or Google to find out more about him. From a security vantage point, her naiveté alarmed him. But as a man, that aspect of her charmed him to no end. They’d never discussed their backgrounds. He’d been too busy enjoying the rare parcels of time they spent together.
He cleared his throat. “This is my family’s suite. It isn’t used by anyone but the owner’s family.”
Mo gave him a blank stare. “You’re kidding, right? Your family doesn’t really own this ship.”
“My family is the majority stockholder in the conglomerate that owns and manages this cruise line worldwide. That’s why, when my father needed my help, I went to work. It was an emergency. I would’ve far preferred staying in bed with you and requesting a late check-out.”
“Oh. I had no idea.” She bit her lower lip. “So, you work on these ships for a living?”
“No. I recently retired from the military and coordinate the Sanctuary rescue organization. My unit has the summer off. The past few weeks, I’ve been testing the security on this fleet of ships here in the Atlantic—as a favor to my father.”
Mo slipped from his grasp, strolled to the table and poured two coffees. “Do you take anything in yours?”
“Two sugars, no milk, please.” He’d expected a reaction from Mo, but not this quiet. But he’d wait.
She handed him his coffee and took a pensive sip from her cup. “I knew you were military, but I had no idea about the cruise ships.”
And that meant what, exactly?Mac set the hot mug on an end table and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Are you disappointed?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m just stunned.”
He sat down on the arm of the couch. “Why?”
“You don’t act like you’re well-endowed financially.”
Interesting. The women he’d dated in the past would’ve known and executed a plan to corner him.“My family is well off. But I’d rather have you thinking of me as well-endowed in other ways.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her. “And for the record, your family isn’t hurting for anything, either. Both of our families have worked damn hard for thirty years to build tremendous businesses.”
Her eyebrows raised, and she stiffened. “What do you know about my family?”
Mac sauntered to the desk drawer and pulled out a file folder. “I looked you up after you whooped my ass at pool.” He leaned back against the desk. “Please don’t take this personally, but I’m very cautious about who I invite into my life. Let’s just say I’ve made mistakes before and have let people in who only want my friendship for a payoff.” He offered her the folder.
The color drained from her face as she took the file from him. “You could’ve asked me almost anything, and I’d have told you, you know.” Mo paced as she flipped through the pages. Then she dropped the folder on the table and rubbed the back of her neck. “There aren’t any financials in there. Where are they?”
Mac held up his hands. “I didn’t pull financials on you. It’s a well-known fact that you’re heir-apparent to the Reardon fortune. I wanted to know about the woman—not the spreadsheet.”
He sauntered toward her and quietly asked, “Don’t you investigate the men you date? Feel a certain responsibility to protect your family?”
Her steely gaze pinned him as she took a step backward. “But you’ve got my school records, my work history, details about my previous relationship with Jason Hadley, my MVA records, and tabloid pictures of my most embarrassing moments.” Mo grabbed the folder and leafed through the pages again. “Oh, my goodness.” She sank into a chair, piercing him with brimming eyes. “You know that I’m adopted?”
Judging by her reaction, that fact struck a nerve. Mac handed her another folder. “Quid pro quo. Here’s a work-up on me. It contains the same kind of information that I have on you, and then some. You ought to know who your friends are.” Mac returned her cool, measured stare with one of his own.
If she couldn’t handle this invasion of her privacy, she’d never be able to deal with his real life. Spouses and girlfriends in his line of work endured far more scrutiny than the minor facts his private investigator pulled up for a few hundred dollars. Just wait until the feds hauled her in for a routine lie detector test if he got involved with her long-term.
With every fiber of his body, he wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to read his dossier. This could not be the end of Mo Reardon in his life. He’d just found her again. Not that he had so much to offer, considering the state of his mental health at the moment.
A minute later, Mo opened the folder and took a sip of coffee.
Mac released his balled fists and stretched his fingers. This was worse than playing craps at a high-stakes table. Or maybe it felt more intense because Mo was important and an obvious innocent in the game of who’s who in the financial world. He’d taken her completely off guard.