The girls were very obviously sisters. And just as obviously related to him. Still, she could be wrong. “I take it they’re all yours.”
The girls stopped, as if frozen on videotape, and looked at him. Joe tried to sound as reassuring as possible. “As of two months ago.”
Maggie raised a brow as she surveyed the girls. That was an odd way to put it. “I think in this case you might be the more interesting interview.”
He laughed, relieved that she wasn’t annoyed. As unorthodox as this was, maybe it still had a prayer of working out.
It wasn’t as if his entire future depended on this article, but the series on the five most prominent businesswomen in Orange County had been his brainchild and he had written all the other installments. Though he was laid back in all other aspects of his life, his work was very important to him. Doing a credible job was just as important to him. And interviewing the heretofore rather elusive Maggie McGuire would be a nice finish to the series.
His laughter seemed to waft all around her. Instantly, Maggie found herself literally enveloped by the warm, rich sound. It wound through her like a hot, seductive first cup of coffee on a brisk, cold morning, making her feel peaceful, and yet, oddly enough, just the slightest bit stirred, as well. Not on edge, just alerted.
As if something was coming.
It was a silly notion and she shook it off. That was what she got for putting in sixteen-hour days. Hallucinations about a man’s laugh.
Joe nodded toward his nieces. Sandy stood beside him, but Christine had once again abandoned her post, intent on exploring an overflowing bookcase. As calmly as possible, Joe made a grab for the edge of Christine’s dress. Catching it, he anchored the girl in place.
Christine squirmed, then, as if resigned to a momentary lull in the game, stood still.
Joe knew it wasn’t for long, but he would take whatever he could get. The danger momentarily at bay, Joe’s attention refocused on Maggie. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor.”
“I’m equally glad you have quick hands.” She nodded toward the niece he had tethered. Joe grinned at her response. Something in his gaze, warm and sensual, washed over her.
She dismissed it. Maggie lowered her eyes to her desk and pressed the speaker phone. If they were going to get on with this, she was going to need a diversion for the girls.
“Ada, would you bring in a tray of cookies, please?” She saw the girls’ eyes light up with anticipation. Maggie smiled. Music might not soothe the savage beasts, but she knew through experience that cookies would. At least temporarily. “As you so astutely noted earlier, I think I might have some customers for us.”
Straightening, Maggie crossed to the trio. She could remember, without too much effort, when her brothers were that age, a rambunctious handful who seemed to fill every available speck of space within the endless succession of rundown trailer homes they’d lived in. Though she hated that confinement and the overwhelming burden she’d had to shoulder in those days, something suspiciously like nostalgia whispered faintly in the back corners of her mind.
For the moment, Joe had them lined up before the sofa, three little dolls whose batteries were about to kick in. Maggie inclined her head as she looked at them. “Hi, I’m Maggie.”
Joe noted with surprise that there wasn’t a hint of cloying condescension in her voice.
The most competitive, Christine responded first. “I’m Christine.” She pointed to herself, then vaguely waved the same finger toward her sisters, far more nonchalantly. “That’s Sandy and Jennifer. Sandy’s older, but I’m better,” she concluded importantly, certain this was the only piece of information that mattered.
Maggie’s eyes shifted toward Sandy. She remembered herself at that age. The same insecurities that had plagued her appeared to be in the little girl’s blue eyes. Maggie felt a wisp of kinship stirring.
“Being the oldest is rough,” she confided to Sandy. “Isn’t it?”
Sandy looked surprised at being singled out while Christine was talking. The latter pouted, her small hands making fists at her waist. Sandy nodded, her straight blond hair bobbing up and down. Her eyes shifted toward her sisters before coming to rest on the tops of her scuffed black shoes.
“Yeah.”
Maggie heard a great deal in that single word. Or maybe, she thought, she was just reading her own past into it.
“And you never really outgrow it,” Maggie murmured under her breath.
She raised her eyes. Sullivan was studying her very carefully. She was going to have to watch that, she thought. The man was a journalist and capable of making an issue out of a passing, unguarded moment.
His scrutiny made her uncomfortable. It was all part of the interview, of course, and expected. But she felt vaguely unsettled by it, though she was fairly certain that she didn’t show it. Over the years, she had gotten quite adept at keeping the outside world away from her inner thoughts. Her inner fears. Fearful people didn’t succeed in this world. Her father had proven that to her over and over again.
She had no intentions of ending up like her father. Or her mother, either. Maggie Fiona McGuire had no intentions of ever letting down anyone who depended on her, the way both her parents had.
Maggie drew a breath as she turned her attention toward Sullivan. “As for my sense of humor, Mr. Sullivan,” she continued smoothly, “I wouldn’t be caught dead without it.”
And from the looks of it, she mused as the girls began to squirm again, she was definitely going to need it for the next half hour or so.
Joe realized that he was staring at her again. He hadn’t meant to. This interview was already as unorthodox as anyone could have been asked to tolerate. He didn’t want to push his luck any further by staring at the woman like some adolescent with a bad case of hormonal flare-up.
Not that she wasn’t something to look at. Maggie McGuire was a great deal more attractive in person than that eight-by-ten glossy that the research department had sent to him had led him to believe.
There was no way that a flat, two-dimensional photograph could have begun to capture the sheer vitality that seemed to exude from the woman. He’d done his background digging well and knew that she was the sole driving power behind the company, a hands-on president who’d been deservedly honored by her peers. From her auburn hair to her brilliant green eyes, she was pure energy. There was an aura around her, an invisible glow that was just shy of being tangible. It made a man sit up and take notice.
And just possibly, he thought, beg.
Chapter Two
Before Joe could begin his interview, Maggie’s secretary entered the office. She was carrying a large black lacquered tray. The surface was almost completely covered with neat piles of large chocolate chip cookies.
The sight scarcely had time to register before he heard the squeal of anticipation rising up around him. But, to his utter amazement, Sandy, Christine and Jennifer didn’t descend upon the tray’s contents like a ravenous horde when it was set down on the coffee table. They seemed to be actually waiting for permission.
Maybe his little pep talk on the way over had finally set in and done some good, after all.
Sandy’s eyes were as huge as the cookies on the tray. “Are these for us?” The question was directed to Maggie rather than her uncle.
She obviously sensed who was in charge here, Joe thought. He glanced toward Maggie and wondered if she was one of those people who always needed to be in control of things. For his part, he didn’t need to control anything but his own destiny. That, unfortunately, was completely out of control for the moment. But he was working on it, working on turning the girls and him into a true family.
Maggie noted that Ada withdrew from the room with a very dubious expression on her face. Ada was single and had trouble relating to anything under three feet that didn’t have fur on it.
Turning toward the girls, Maggie focused her attention on the three eager sets of hands that were all but twitching at the girls’ sides. “Yes,
these are for you. I hope you enjoy them.”
She might as well have said, “Let the eating begin.” It was as if a gun had gone off, signaling the start of a feeding frenzy. Hands shot out at the mountain of cookies from all directions. The girls were apparently determined to whittle it down to size in record time.
If they were eating, Joe reasoned, they couldn’t cause any damage. To insure the fact that he would have at least a small space of time in which to conduct the interview, he took out the coloring books and crayons that he’d thought to bring with him from his briefcase. He placed them on the sofa next to Sandy and stepped back.
None of the girls noticed the coloring books.
“I think that should keep them busy for a while.” He observed his nieces for a moment longer, just to make sure that he wasn’t living in a fool’s paradise.
The three girls, each having staked out a different portion of the tray, were propped up on their knees, gleefully chewing away and giggling. It was nice to see them this way, he thought. There’d been a while there when he hadn’t been sure if they could shake off the oppressive wraps of sorrow. But they had. Except for Sandy.
Joe looked at Maggie and grinned. “I guess I’m lucky that you make cookies and not computer chips.”
There was something a little bit too stimulating about his grin, Maggie thought. She shifted her eyes toward the girls. “In that case, I would have found computer games for them to play with.”
He had been right. She was clearly a lady who was not overwhelmed by any situation she found herself in. It was an admirable quality. And in her, a rather sexy one.
“An answer for everything.” His eyes swept over her. “Pretty resilient, aren’t you?”
Maggie looked at him sharply and decided that he wasn’t playing up to her. A lot of people did these days. She never trusted flattery. It was usually self-serving and empty. And sometimes dangerous if taken to heart. “It’s an attribute I try to cultivate.”
No doubt. Joe nodded as he picked up a cookie. He bit into it absently, eager to get on with the interview. There was no telling how long this lull with the girls would last.
Flavor seemed to explode in his mouth. He looked at the remainder of the cookie in his hand as if it had just whispered a secret to him.
“Not bad.” He motioned with the cookie.
“Not bad?” Maggie echoed. An amused smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Obviously no one had trained this man in the art of being obsequious. “Aren’t you supposed to flatter me a little more, or is ‘not bad’ considered high praise coming from you?”
Very deliberately, Joe took another bite out of the cookie. His eyes never left hers. Something fluttered in her stomach. She ignored it, telling herself that it was the interview that was making her uneasy.
Joe made himself comfortable on the chair in front of Maggie’s desk. Crossing one leg over his thigh, he thoughtfully studied the remainder of the cookie in his hand.
“Actually, this has to be the ‘chocolatiest’ chocolate chip cookie I have ever had.” He nibbled on it again, letting the crumbs melt on his tongue the way a wine taster might sample a brand-new wine. “And there’s something more?—” He looked at her, silently asking Maggie if he was right.
Maggie smiled, pleased that he’d detected a difference. A lot of people just wolfed the cookies down, never fully realizing why they preferred hers over another brand. Though the sales still added up, aesthetically it wasn’t enough for her. Maggie wanted people to consciously note the difference.
“Yes.”
He eyed the last piece for a moment before setting it aside on the desk. He hadn’t come to eat, but to work. “What is it?”
Did he actually think she was going to blurt it out so that he could write the recipe up for everyone to read? He was either very naive, or thought she was.
“That’s not for public knowledge.” Her eyes sparkled as she told him. She looked, he thought, like a young girl who was privy to an exclusive, precious secret and felt special because of it. “It’s what separates us from the mass-market cookies.”
It was probably just a dash of one thing or another, he mused. Still, the taste lingered on his tongue, much like a sweet kiss. He raised his eyes to her lips before continuing. “Did you pay someone to develop it for you?”
For just the briefest of moments, when he had looked up at her, she’d felt a warm flash over her. The next instant, she blinked and it was gone.
Maggie shook her head. “No, I developed it.” The surprised look on his face pleased her unexpectedly. “One rainy day when I ran out of sugar,” she added, then stopped. There was no sense in giving him too many details. They might trip her up. He didn’t need to know that she had gotten her brothers involved in baking cookies as a way of keeping them all together when they had been very young. There’d been no television set for them to watch, no money to spend on movies. So she had baked, and spun stories as she did so, filling their heads and their stomachs at the same time.
He twirled what was left of the cookie between his thumb and forefinger. Joe raised his eyes to hers. “And there’s no chance?—”
Her eyes laughed at him. “Not even remotely.”
“Didn’t think so.”
But there was no harm in asking. He wondered if a lab could analyze a sample and if it would be worth the trouble. There were a lot of cookie companies out there. And enough stomachs to go around.
Suddenly realizing that it was awfully quiet, Joe glanced over his shoulder. The girls were still circled around the tray, systematically working their way down. All except for Jennifer, who was nibbling away at the perimeter. She had a cookie in each hand and what appeared to be the remainder of one stuffed in her mouth. Weighing in at a little more than thirty-eight pounds, his youngest niece was less of a little girl than a methodical eating machine. She took after his brother, he thought with a pang. Alec used to eat as if he could never get his fill and had remained thin all his life.
He banished the jagged memory and concentrated on what he had to do. Sitting back, Joe looked at Maggie again. “Well, thanks to those cookies and their secret ingredient, I think we’ll be able to manage this in peace and quiet. Are you ready to begin the interview?”
It was meant as a rhetorical question. He hadn’t expected anything but a nod from her.
Maggie pressed her lips together as she watched the girls. “May I ask you a question first?”
He wondered what was on her mind. “I guess that’s only fair, seeing as how I invaded your territory.”
Standing near him, she leaned a hip against her desk and nodded toward the girls. “Do you usually bring them along with you on interviews?”
He knew he owed her an explanation, especially since she was being so nice about it.
“No, this is a first, unfortunately. Like I said, I really couldn’t get a sitter. And their nanny decided that today was a good day to quit.” He glanced toward the girls and remembered how Sandy had cried. It had been difficult containing his anger against the sharp-tongued woman. “I guess it was good for all of us.” Maggie was looking at him curiously. “They’re my nieces.” He decided not to go any further with the explanation than that.
Rummaging through his briefcase, he took out a pad. His tape recorder was nestled next to it. He left it there. Instinctively, he sensed that she wasn’t the type who liked having a machine take down her every word.
“Then they’re not your children?” The way he had phrased things earlier had made her think that perhaps he and the girls’ mother were divorced and he had been awarded custody.
He raised his eyes to hers. “They are now. My brother and sister-in-law were killed two months ago in a car accident.”
“Oh.” For a moment, the very air had left her lungs. It always did when she thought of death. Anyone’s death. It reminded her of the morning she had found her mother. Too many pills had mingled with Fiona McGuire’s usual consumption of whiskey. Maggie had known in that instant t
hat she was staring at someone whom death had claimed. She had ushered the boys off to school and then called the police. Her father didn’t come home for two days. “I’m very sorry.”
She was, he thought. He had no idea why, but she was. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “So am I. This is all so new to me, sometimes I’m afraid I’m really messing things up for them.”
The girls looked none the worse for wear. “Children are pretty resilient.” Memories nudged one another, slipping through her mind, bold and vivid and unannounced. “You’ll find that when necessary, children can raise themselves.”
There was a faraway note in her voice that made him think she was speaking from experience. It was time to turn the interview away from him and toward her.
“Did you?”
The quietly probing question caught her off guard. She had let too much slip. Curving her lips into a wide smile, she shook her head. “I’m just quoting from a child psychology course I once took.”
Clearing her throat, she straightened and retreated behind her desk. She felt better having some distance between them.
Poised, ready, Maggie smiled at Joe and took her seat. “Now then, I believe that you’d like to ask me some questions.”
Joe had the distinct feeling he’d just entered a press meeting rather than a one-on-one interview.
A lot of questions, he thought, taking out his pen. And some of them would be off the record.
Forty-five minutes later, Joe Sullivan felt as if he had just been led through a very subtly orchestrated bout of shadow boxing.
Maggie McGuire had told him everything he wanted to know about the company she had begun in her kitchen a little more than five years ago. In the same easy, gregarious manner, she had evaded every single question he’d asked her about herself except for the most impersonal of details. He’d learned that she graduated from the University of California at Irvine with a business degree, having put herself through school at night. He also learned that she strongly believed in nepotism and utilized it when hiring people for her company.
The Women in Joe Sullivan's Life Page 2