Page 29 of Under the Radar
Mac rubbed his chin. “Do you ever touch your trust fund?”
“I rarely use it.”
He poured a teaspoon of agave syrup into his coffee and stirred. “When is the last time you wrote a check from one of your accounts?” Eyeing a basket of goodies the waitress had left, he popped a hunk of date nut bread in his mouth as his gaze drifted to something across the street.
“Fifteen months ago.” If it were anyone else doing the asking, she’d tell them it was none of their business.
“For how much?” His eyes riveted back to her face.
“One point five.” She took a sip of her water.
He cocked his head. “Is one point five a dollar fifty? A hundred fifty thousand? What?”
“One point five million.”
Mac coughed as a crumb slid down the wrong pipe. “Did you buy real estate or something?”
“Sort of. But you’ve got to swear that you’ll never tell anyone. I greased a lot of palms to keep my identity out of it.” Mo rummaged through the basket and found a delectable-looking miniature corn muffin.
He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “It’s our secret then.”
She leaned toward him. “I work at three different schools in the city, and the playgrounds were just deplorable. They had outdated rusty equipment and pine bark mulch under the swing set. The kids were always getting scraped and hurt. I arranged through a third party to completely replace the playgrounds with new digs, including that great rubber material on the bottom that protects their little knees. Mac, it’s so pretty. All year I’ve watched them play and laugh at recess. Best investment I’ve ever made with my trust fund.” Thinking about it now still made her combust with excitement.
Mac raised an eyebrow. “Good for you, and them. What did your financial planner say about the investment?” He narrowed his eyes at something outside.
Mo shrugged. “It was the profit from an entire year, so the finance guy was grumpy for a couple weeks. You know how they’re wired to save money, not spend it? My accountant, however, thought it was the greatest thing since the electric pencil sharpener because she only had to list one deduction.” Mo craned her neck to look around the bromeliad on the windowsill.
“Is there something unusual out there, Mac?”
His attention darted back to her. “Nothing in particular. I’m just keeping an eye on the surroundings. I guess my security reflexes are working overtime. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Sorry.” He reached for her hand and stroked the small green peridot ring on her pinkie. “Shall we try the buffet? It offers almost everything on their menu.”
“Sure. I’m starving. Is that what you usually get?”
“I do. I have no guilt filling up on organic.” He slid out of the booth and offered her a hand. “The sushi palace and rooftop restaurant on the ship only serve organic food now.”
Mo placed a huge Belgian waffle on a plate and topped it with crisp, uncured bacon. “I did see the organic sign in the rooftop restaurant, but sushi isn’t my thing. Something about the texture of raw fish gives me the willies. You like it, huh?”
“I love it.” He lowered his voice. “Sushi is very sensuous food. Good for the senses and the body, especially when eaten with fresh wasabi and ginger.”
Ugh. “That is totally gross. I will not kiss you after you’ve eaten that stuff.” Whoa.Too much information. Her cheeks burned hot as she decorated her waffle with blueberries and fresh peaches, glancing at him. He probably didn’t hear what she said because he’d rested his plate on the hot bar and was reading a text.
Mac quietly interjected. “Don’t worry, Maureen, I’m always prepared with mints, a toothbrush and things.”
Omigosh. He did hear her. She thought back to the night of the wedding. Mac had been surprisingly prepared.
They sat with their overflowing plates. “You know what one of my favorite sensuous foods is?” Mo cut an ample piece of waffle topped with bacon and dunked it in the monkey dish of maple syrup. She placed the whole forkful in her mouth and closed her eyes. Bliss. She chewed slowly, licking her lips and savoring every bead of syrup.
Mac loomed close—only inches from her face. “Keep it up, Reardon. There’s a Hyatt around the corner. I’m feeling frisky today after all that sleep.” His voice had turned to gravel. “I don’t mind spending the day there,” he noted as he unfolded a napkin. “Did you learn erotic eating in finishing school?”
Mo laughed. “Of course not. I was a very obedient student because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.”
“Boarding school?”
“Only for high school. And you?”
“Military academy. Great education. It really focused me. Why didn’t you want to draw attention to yourself?”
“I don’t know. It’s not my thing. I purposely flunked a test my senior year, so I wouldn’t have to be valedictorian and give the speech.” Not her proudest moment, and she didn’t understand it fully herself. Mo sipped at her coffee. “I’m not very comfortable in the spotlight.”
Mac pushed his plate to the side and flagged the waitress for the check. “So, your ideal lifestyle won’t imitate the rich and famous?”
Mo frowned. “Not for a minute. I want to live in the suburbs and raise a family. Spend my Saturdays on a sports field freezing my ass off like all the other happy, stressed-out adults.” Mac had a way of bringing her innermost desires to the surface in no time flat. She loved that quality about him.
“Are you ready to check out that shoe store?”
Mo nodded. “I don’t mind browsing the latest styles, but I’ve got lots of footwear back home. Flip flops are fine for now.”
Liar. Her shoes were soaking in a tub she’d never use again. But Mac didn’t need to know that this second. Tonight. She’d tell him later if he had a stress-free day. But today, the last thing she wanted to do was spend hundreds of dollars on shoes when what she really needed was a new apartment, a damn good lawyer, and maybe even a new life somewhere away from Baltimore.