“Excuse me,” she said, her voice throaty and sexy as hell. “Can I help you?”
“Yes.” He managed to rapidly collect his wayward thoughts. “Sorry. I’m Jake Anderson. I’m here to see Micheline.” Damned if he could bring himself to call her his mother.
She blinked and extended her hand. “Oh. Welcome. I’m Fiona Smith.” She used her fake name rather than real since AAG had tech experts. “I was asked to show you around until Micheline’s schedule clears enough so she can see you.”
Figured. He suppressed a flash of resentment. Micheline couldn’t even bother to make sure her afternoon was open enough to see her own son.
For a moment, he seriously considered turning around, getting back into his truck and heading home.
But then Fiona took his arm and leaned close, bringing a tantalizing feminine scent with her. “Please,” she whispered, distress shining in her eyes. “I’m new here. Showing you around is the first task I’ve ever been given. I don’t want to fail at it.”
What could he do but go with her? Still, she might be attractive, but what kind of person could she be if she belonged to his mother’s cult?
She led him down a long hall into a large room dominated by a huge stone fireplace. A fire blazed cheerfully, despite the relative warmth of the Arizona day. People were seated on various couches or at tables, some reading, a few talking, and he even saw one or two playing a board game or doing a puzzle. Almost, he thought, as if he stood in the lobby of some fancy hotel.
He eyed them as he passed, trying for casual but wondering if he’d be able to see something on their faces or in their eyes that might reveal what had made them ripe for Micheline’s indoctrination. When Jake had been younger, she’d talked about someday starting her own church. In fact, she’d managed to create her own group of followers.
He wanted no part of it.
Fiona continued on, her hips swaying as she led him to a door on the far side of the huge room. Just as they reached it, an overly made-up young blonde woman rushed over.
“Hello there,” she murmured, looking him up and down, her predatory manner reminding him so much of the way his mother used to act that he nearly took a step back. “I’m Leigh Dennings, a welcome coordinator here at the AAG. And the reigning Miss Mustang Valley,” she chirped.
Not sure how to respond to that, he settled on “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly at him before turning her attention to Fiona. “If you need anything, anything at all, just ask someone at the reception desk to call me and I’ll be right there.”
Fiona nodded. “Will do.” She checked her watch. “Do you have any idea what time Micheline will be available?”
Good question. Eyeing Fiona, Jake waited to hear her answer.
Leigh shrugged. “I know she’s booked solid all afternoon. I’m sure she’ll be out here as soon as she can.”
“You know what?” Jake decided he’d had enough. “Take me to her. Right now.”
“I... I don’t think she’d appreciate me doing that,” Leigh stammered, eyeing him as if he’d suddenly sprouted a pair of horns and a tail. Fiona, on the other hand, looked at him with what he’d swear was approval. In fact, she appeared to be struggling not to laugh.
“I don’t care,” he told Leigh. “Not only is she
the one who called and asked to see me, but it’s been years. If today is not a good day, then I’ll be heading home and you can tell her if she really wants to see me, she’s welcome to make the drive to my place.” Which he knew she’d never do in a million years. Micheline preferred to remain in her place of power.
Still staring, Leigh finally nodded. “Give me five minutes,” she said and then rushed off.
Both he and Fiona watched her go.
“I take it your relationship with your mom is strained,” Fiona drawled. She sounded completely different than the nervous, uncertain acolyte she’d resembled a few minutes ago. Was it because Leigh was gone?
“Strained doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he replied, flashing her a sideways grin.
Her dark eyes widened, and then she grinned right back at him. “I like you.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Here comes Micheline. Give ’em hell, cowboy.”
Stunned, he barely managed to collect himself in time to turn and watch as his mother barreled toward him, her high heels clicking on the wood floor.
“My boy,” Micheline boomed, causing more than a few heads to turn. She held out her arms, clearly expecting him to rush into them.
Since he didn’t want to cause a scene, though he stayed in place, he allowed her to hug him, hoping the grimace on his face looked more like a smile than it felt.
“Let me look at you.” Pulling back, Micheline made a show of pretending to take in every detail of his appearance. “Wow, son. Forty sure looks good on you.” The slight edge in her voice told him how little she liked the idea of having a child so old.