The door of the conference room flew open. There was a flurry of activity and voices in the hall and then who could only be described as none other than the dragon lady herself, Moira Kennedy, made a grand entrance.
Clapping her bejeweled hands together with glee, she flounced into the room and chirped, “Children! Children! Now that’s what we want to see. Young lovers … okay, maybe not so young,” she mocked with a throaty laugh, “but lovers, all up in each other’s business while the fragrance of passion drifts through the air.”
Edward and she quickly drew apart, but he reached for her hand and held on tight. The gesture felt protective. Paige couldn’t recall ever feeling anything like that before.
“Mrs. Kennedy,” he began with a polite nod. “Thank you for coming.”
The flamboyant public relations master made quite the show of dropping an enormous Birkin bag on the conference table as she instructed a hovering secretary to bring her coffee. Black. Stat.
This was no flashy industry troubleshooter with a PR squad. Nope. Moira Kennedy was a shrewd businessperson who Paige noted was taking in every detail of the room, the employees milling about, her, Edward … especially Edward.
Boy, she was good. Her smoke and mirrors approach was entirely understandable; after all, she was a powerful woman operating in a man’s world. Paige liked her on the spot, scary or not.
Turning to face them, Moira put her hands on her hips and looked Edward and her up and down as if they were up for auction. Something inside Paige broke loose, and she grunted a chuckle that she couldn’t deny. The other woman’s knowing smile went a long way to helping her calm down.
“So, you’re the famous Gideon Shaw. America’s sexiest man and melter of hearts all around the world.”
She felt him tense slightly, and then the manners Miriam had instilled in both her boys took over and he extended his free hand.
“Please. Call me Edward. Gideon’s on a lunch break, but I’ll fill him in on what we decide.”
Paige snickered. So did Moira.
After a pleasant enough handshake, the woman’s eyes zeroed in on Paige. “Ah, I see why Mikhail agreed so quickly to my suggestion. My dear,” she said with a lighthearted laugh, “central casting could not have done any better.”
Someone unfamiliar with the mindset and inner workings of the entertainment industry might have bristled at the woman’s blunt comment, but Paige knew a compliment when she heard one and smiled broadly. Putting out her hand, she rolled her head toward Edward and drawled, “Lucky bastard.”
She sensed his confusion when both women threw back and laughed.
The secretary sent to get a coffee stumbled into their midst with a utilitarian looking mug filled with something dark and nervously plunked it onto the table. Paige’s eye roll was reflex.
At Cornell, she had an instructor who liked to ask students, “Would you serve the Queen of England a meal in a paper bag?” His point being that the paper bag wasn’t the problem if that was what she asked for. That did not mean though that the bag should be used, crumpled, ripped, or in any way less than what a person of the Queen’s stature would expect.
The way their guest eyed the crappy dollar store mug was nothing less than what Paige expected. Eek. She was going to have a little chat with Mickey about his agency’s hospitality resources.
Ignoring the coffee delivery along with the person who made it, the woman commanding everyone’s attention kept her focus on Paige like a hawk eyeing its prey. Not even the reassuring grasp of Edward’s hand around hers kept the nerves in her stomach from exploding.
No special effects could adequately depict what enduring a Moira Kennedy ocular screening felt like. She was so thorough, so direct in her assessing gaze that Paige was pretty sure she knew not only what size she wore, but also her actual measurements as well. She could learn a lot from someone like her.
Edward, ever the gentleman, intervened and formally introduced her in a way that left both women with no doubt about Paige’s status.
“Mrs. Kennedy, this is Paige Turner.”
Completely surprising Paige, he kissed her hand before releasing it and added silkily, “She’s my muse goddess.”
Both women’s eyebrows shot upward.
“Plus, she not only knows where the graveyard is, but she also helped bury quite a few, if you catch my drift.”
That last came out dripping with Banning charm wrapped in some wink-wink mockery.
“Ah-ha ha, I love it!” Grabbing each of their hands, the woman gave them a quick squeeze. “Please, call me Moira. Both of you. We’re going to get to know each other really well, after all.”
Abruptly turning away, she kept talking with her back to them as she swiftly erased the scribbling on the whiteboard. “Dimitri calling me in tells me that you’re family. He trusts me to take good care of you two.”
She whirled around and fiddled with an earring, pursed her carefully drawn lips, and faced them straight on.
Paige shifted from foot to foot, her hand sliding into the pocket of her skirt. She needed a mint but didn’t want to appear rude. There was so much unspoken subtext flying through the air she figured a safety net was probably a good idea.
“Dimitri? Do you mean Mickey?” At Moira’s brief nod, Paige asked, “Um, where exactly is he?”
The woman let loose a tremendous belly laugh that echoed off walls. “Puking in his private washroom, I would imagine.”
Edward chuckled as he plucked at a shirt cuff and adjusted his tie. “Have anything to do with some cherry pie?”
“So, he told you that, did he?” Moira drawled. “He owes me one. A big one … so any time he has to ask for my help, he knows that the price of my getting involved begins with him eating an entire slice of cherry pie in front of me. He hates the stuff, you know! Makes him gag every time.”
Paige snorted with laughter. Priceless.
Moira skimmed her hands down the sides of her dress and gave a little butt shimmy. “It’s wise to keep the upper hand. Wouldn’t you agree, Paige?”
Her laughing snort became a mock growl. “Indeed.”
Moira laughed. “He detests cherries of all kinds. Always has and …”
“You know this, how?” Paige interjected. She was more than a little curious because only a fool wouldn’t recognize that the fascinating woman and the colorful agent had a history.
“Oh, my dear!” Moira purred. “Didn’t you know? I dated Dimitri, that crazy Russian, a long time ago.”
Oh. My. God. You could seriously hear a pin drop.
Mickey appeared at that exact moment in the doorway looking like a man suffering from morning sickness.
“Until …” she chortled, “I made the mistake of introducing him to my college roommate and the rest, as it’s said, is history.”
Mickey growled playfully then barked, “Ah jeez, Moira, give it a rest, would you?”
Edward looked at Paige. She turned wide eyes on him. Their expressions mirrored. What the fuck?
Blowing a kiss at M as he closed the door and stalked toward them, Moira gleefully added, “Hence the owing me big time and why I get to torture him with something he hates. Oh, and please note that while in my presence, his conversational cadence is human appropriate and not the exhausting babble he’s made his signature.”
“Don’t know why I put up with you, lady.” The words might be harsh, but Paige heard affection in Mickey’s voice.
“Oh hush up, you fat old fart.”
Mickey marched right up to her and folded the woman in a fierce bear hug. “I am husky, not fat. Well-seasoned, not old. And as for the farting, my wife has trained me well.”
They briefly embraced while Edward and she stood comically slack-jawed and watched the fascinating interplay.