Page 3 of Exposed

Still, the elevator was buzzing, along with Eric’s interest and sitting down to grab a sandwich with her couldn’t hurt anything, right? He held the doors for her and waved her inside. “C’mon. You’ve got me intrigued.”

They rode down to the first floor then walked out into the bright sunshine of a mid-summer San Francisco. The Giants were playing the Red Socks later today. Perfect weather for it. Maybe he’d try to get tickets, depending on how this conversation went.

A few doors down from theFrisco Timesoffices was the café she’d mentioned. Eric held the door for her then followed Beth inside. The place was nearly full as noon approached. They got in line to order, then moved down the way to pay and pickup their food. She’d made only small talk since she’d gotten on the elevator and his interest was growing by the second.

Finally, they grabbed their orders and found a quiet table for two near the back of the place.

“So, what’s this proposition you want to discuss with me?” he asked after taking a bite of his turkey sandwich.

She poured dressing on her salad and mixed it in as she answered. “It’s the story I was telling you about at the office. I have been investigating Hartstrings, Inc. for months. Ever heard of it?”

Her dark eyes sparkled with energy, and he forced himself to look away. Wouldn’t do him any good to get too dazzled by her. He shook his head. “Nope.”

“They run these couples’ retreats on a private island about twenty miles off the Florida coast. Sort of counseling on the beach kind of thing.” Beth gave a dismissive wave. Her apparent disregard for the so-called romance of the retreats made him grin. Not that there was anything wrong with romance—it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t do relationships. They involved too many messy emotions and too much trust. Neither of which Eric dabbled in. He’d learned his lessons too well from his own parents’ dysfunctional marriage.

“Anyway,” Beth said, refocusing his attention on their conversation again. “A friend of mine decided to check one of these retreats out. She happens to have an amazing track record for falling for every scam in the book, so as soon as she told me she was going, I got suspicious. I did some initial digging, and it all looks legit on the surface, but weird things kept popping up. The guy in charge, the head of Hartstring, Inc.? His name is Robert Hart—and he’s a ghost. It’s like he didn’t exist more than five years ago. I think he invented his persona, and why would he do that unless he had something to hide?”

“Sometimes people want a fresh start,” Eric offered, playing devil’s advocate.

“And sometimes people are scam artists,” Beth argued back “and the only thing they want is a fresh pool of victims.”

“Is anyone complaining about the retreats?”

“No, and that’s weird, too. People rave about it…but they always say the exact same things, like they’re working off a shared script. Like they’ve been coached.”

Eric still wasn’t convinced—the evidence all sounded pretty thin. “How about your friend? Does she sound coached?”

Beth frowned. “No, she sounds like her normal self. But her boyfriend…hegoes with the party line every time it comes up. And that’s another strange thing. Her boyfriend? He’s a venture capitalist—a big name in his field, has boatloads of money, but he’s not a celebrity. You wouldn’t recognize his name if you heard it. And yet, his tickets to the retreat were comped. Those tickets are crazy expensive, and he can certainly afford to pay full price. So why give him those tickets for free?”

Eric shrugged. “Maybe they just hoped he’d recommend the place to all his rich friends.”

Beth snorted, poking viciously at her salad as if it had offended her. “Hart is a media darling with celebrity endorsements up the wahzoo. He doesn’t need some random VC out there plugging for him. No, I’m certain there’s something more going on. There’s a story there. I know it. A career-making story, if I can get down there and break it wide open.”

Huh. At first, Eric hadn’t seen much similarity between Heath and his sister, but there it was, right there. Ambition. Heath could be a real go-getter when he wanted to be, and it seemed his sister was the same. Still, he didn’t know exactly how he could help her out with that. “What do you need me for?”

She gave him a smile, and he knew she was going to ask for a big favor. “I need a new partner.”

The hair on the back of Eric’s neck prickled with foreboding. This wasn’t going to be good. He chuckled, trying to blow it off. “I’m a terrible writer.”

“I don’t need you to write anything,” she said, swallowing another bite of her salad. “I need you to pose as my boyfriend.”

“What?” The insides of his turkey sandwich plopped down onto his plate from him squeezing the bread so hard. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Beth.”

“Why not?” She finished her salad and wiped her mouth on her napkin. “You’re a SEAL, so I know that you’re smart, capable, and discreet. You’re on medical leave, so it’s not like there’s anywhere else you need to be. And you’re friends with my brother, so I’m sure I can trust you.”

“You barely know me,” he said, putting the remains of his food down and wiping his hands, his appetite plummeting. His gut had warned him this was a bad idea. He should’ve listened. “And the fact I’m buddies with Heath should be the number one reason why I say no. Acting like your boyfriend mean we’d have to get closer, and Heath would kill me if I did that. He’s like family to me.”

Beth gave him a pointed stare. “My brother never has to know. We put on a show for the outside world and keep our hands to ourselves privately. Think of it like one of your SEAL missions. Undercover intrigue, only with beaches and bathing suits.”

The thought of Beth in a tiny bikini and nothing else damned near made him swallow his tongue. He took a long swig of his iced tea and watched her over the rim of his glass. She had the same expression Heath got sometimes before a mission, unwavering determination. Damn. Eric was in trouble here.

Reading the panic he was sure was written all over his face, Beth sighed. “Look, I realize this is coming out of the blue for you, but I’m desperate here. If I lose this story, it could damage my career. Well…maybe not damage, but I’ve been banking on it to give me a boost. There’s a promotion opportunity coming up, and I need this to put me ahead of the pack.”

“You could do another story instead?” he suggested, but she just shook her head.

“There’s not enough time to dive into something new. I’ve been focused on this for weeks. And Eric, it’s not just about me. I’m chasing this story because I believe it in. I believe that people are being exploited, and I need your help to make it stop. There could be innocent lives at risk. Aren’t SEALs sworn to serve and protect?”

“That’s the cops,” he grumbled, but damn. She’d pushed his major button and didn’t even know it. Protectiveness was woven into every fiber of his being, thanks to his no-good, con-artist father and the crap he’d put Eric’s mother through growing up. Taking her up on her offer was insanity, but if he didn’t agree would someone else? Perhaps someone not as capable of keeping her safe if she reallydiduncover something dangerous?

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