Page 28 of Under the Radar
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Mo squealed as Mac accelerated the red Mercedes convertible as they left the Port of Miami. “Is this your car?” She tied the ribbon sash on her new wide-brim hat to keep it from flying off and settled into the luxurious leather seat. “It’s got some punch.”
“Borrowed from a friend.” He glanced over at her and grinned. “You look beautiful today. Relaxed. Content.”
She smiled to herself. “You had a lot to do with the relaxed and content part.” Mac didn’t have any nightmares last night. Blissful exhaustion had claimed his body. She’d woken once because he was peacefully snoring in her ear. It was kind of sweet.
Mac choked. “Oh yeah, I showed you a good time, cupcake. It was a night for the man card record books. I snored for nine hours with the most delicious woman I’ve ever met and woke up in the same position I fell asleep in.”
Mo shrieked with laughter. “Stop. We both needed the rest, and it warms my heart to see you feeling better today.”
He stopped at a red light, leaned over, and gave her a quick kiss. “I’m hoping to do more on this cruise than warm your heart, Reardon.”
She gave his knee a squeeze. “Speaking of that, I finally Googled you. You’ve warmed a lot of women’s hearts, Commander. The list is impressive. I saw a few models, two movie stars, and at least one princess. I’m surprised you had time for a military career.”
He shook his head. “Just biding my time, waiting for you, Mo. I met some of those women doing cruise ads and publicity for the travel industry. Once Lily was born, I focused on my career—tried to figure out how to be a dad.”
She nodded. “Yes, I noticed that the photos stopped several years ago. I guess that makes me special.”
He lifted her hand and kissed a knuckle. “Very special.”
“Oh, my.” The light turned green. “Where are we going first?”
“South Beach for a late brunch. There’s a five-star diner there that serves organic food. Have you ever been to South Beach?”
“Nope. First time for me. You, however, seem to know your way around down here.”
Mac parked a couple blocks from the diner, and they held hands and window-shopped on the quaintest little street that smelled like funnel cakes. There was a store window with an exquisite sampling of expensive shoes. Prada, Louboutin, Gucci, Jimmy Choos—each pair a decadent version of eye candy. She let go of Mac’s hand and stared at the display like a kid outside a candy store. The pedestrians veered around her, but a clumsy man knocked her forward into the window. Hard.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, buddy.” Mac took Mo’s elbow and steered her body behind him.
The man turned around. A baseball cap and sunglasses covered most of his face, and his ragged jacket stunk like a dumpster in Chinatown on Sunday night. “Sorry, miss, real sorry, didn’t see you.” He turned and kept walking.
Mac held her at arm’s length and looked her over. “Are you alright?”
Mo readjusted her purse as the man disappeared around the corner. “I’m fine, and starving. Let’s eat.”
“Afterward, I want to browse that shoe store. They had your favorite brand.”
She glanced at the sandals on his feet and laughed. “I don’t think Jimmy Choos would look right on you, and you’d have a helluva time walking in them.” Lacing her fingers through his, she gave a tug toward the diner.
“They have a men’s line. You should pick out a pair for yourself. I remember you saying that the only heels you brought on the cruise were broken in the scuffle with Chaz’s wife.”
“Nah, I don’t need anything. I was lusting after your reflection in the store window.” Mo gave him a wink.
He held the door to the diner open, wrapped an arm around her waist, and held up two fingers for the hostess. The waitress set their menus and glasses of water in front of them after they slid into a cozy, paisley print booth.
Mac eyed her quizzically. “What do you have against buying a pair of shoes?”
Mo glanced up from her menu. “Nothing really. I usually save up to buy them.”
“Why? You’ve got plenty of resources.” He leaned back as the waitress poured their coffees.
Mo waited until the waitress had moved to another table. “I live on the paychecks I earn and try not to depend on the family money. I’ve lived this way ever since college. It’s normal to me. Most people don’t have a huge stash somewhere.” She squeezed a lemon slice into her water. “I like earning a living and paying for little splurges with the money I saved. I had chores growing up and allowance and merit awards. My dad’s a real stickler about work ethics.”
“I know lots of people who have a closet full of shoes, regardless of their income.”
A bead of cold dread danced down her spine. She had a closet full of shoes too. They were floating in a bathtub back in Baltimore. But she wouldn’t tell him that right now and risk spoiling their day. And he definitely didn’t need her woes piled on top of his own. Mac had enough on his plate dealing with the post-traumatic stress. “It’s not a big deal. I just forgot to pack them.”