The Women in Joe Sullivan's Life Read online

  Ethan wondered how Maggie would react to that. Maybe she wouldn’t mind after she got rolling. And then again, maybe she would.

  “Sure thing. Let me go over my schedule and I’ll get back to you. One thing I can tell you now, she’s a hell of a woman.”

  That wasn’t just nepotism talking, Joe thought—he heard a great deal of affection in the man’s voice. “That part I’ve already figured out for myself.”

  Five minutes later, after he had ascertained that nothing irreparable had been broken in the family room, Joe called the number Ethan had given him.

  After four rings, he anticipated an answering machine switching on. None did. The telephone continued to ring. Maybe she didn’t own an answering machine.

  Because he had no other alternative, Joe held on for a little longer. Success, he always believed, came to those who had the patience to wait for it.

  “Hello?”

  Her voice was breathy, as if she had had to run to reach the telephone. It curled through his stomach like soft, wispy smoke.

  Without realizing it, he leaned forward in his chair, his mind conjuring up an image of Maggie McGuire that matched her voice. It wasn’t an image quite in keeping with the businesslike woman he’d met yesterday. He envisioned her with her hair flowing loosely around her shoulders. Bare shoulders, with moistened lips and—

  Joe abruptly pulled himself up. He hadn’t been out with a woman in more than two months, not since the girls had come to live with him. This had to be the equivalent of a diver getting the bends when he rose up too fast from the depths of the ocean.

  “Hello, this is Joe Sullivan. I owe you dinner. And you owe me a few more words.”

  Maggie’s hand tightened around the receiver. Behind her, in the kitchen, a fresh batch of cookies she’d been experimenting with were cooling on the rack, filling the air with a delicious aroma that would have set anyone’s mouth watering. Maggie’s mouth had gone dry. How had he gotten her number? “How about the word no?”

  So much for rushing in and catching her off guard. “That wasn’t the one I had in mind. As I said yesterday while making my ignoble retreat, I’d like to continue the interview.”

  She knew what he had said. And what she had said in response. But she’d had time to think about it. “I told you everything I intend to tell you, Mr. Sullivan.”

  The breathy woman was gone. The businesswoman had taken her place. Joe pushed on. “I know. Now I’d like to find out what you didn’t intend to tell me.”

  She frowned as she turned around and crossed back to the stove. The telephone cord was twenty-five feet long and allowed her to move freely around her kitchen. “You’re really making more out of it than there is.”

  “I’d like to be the judge of that. If you’d let me.”

  Pushy, but polite. It was a combination she would have admired if it weren’t aimed in her direction. “I really don’t—”

  He’d gotten a little practice at this, listening to her and her brother. He jumped in before she could finish. “Do you have any plans for dinner tonight?”

  Inherent honesty had Maggie answering before she thought better of it. “No, but—”

  This was getting to be almost fun. “You do eat something other than cookies, don’t you?” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, summoning her image once more. “You couldn’t have maintained a figure like that on fats and cholesterol.”

  Maggie smiled to herself. “You obviously didn’t read the ingredients listed on the side of the box. My cookies are fat free, cholesterol free, low sodium and low in calories.”

  “A chocolate chip lover’s dream come true.” He recited the ad he’d seen in the Sunday supplement of the newspaper. “Yes, I know. I read the brochures you gave me. Several times. Still, off the record, you have to eat something more nutritious.” Joe warmed to his subject. “I’d like to eat it with you. And talk a little.”

  Maggie eased the cookies from the baking tray with her spatula. Each one was a pale, perfect circle of flavor. She was going to have Adam round up a test group to try these out before she began congratulating herself, but something told her that she was going to successfully advance into the sugar cookie field very shortly. “Perfect.”

  That sounded much too easy. “What did you say?”

  Maggie realized her mistake. “Oh, not you, I meant the cookies. I’m working on a new formula—”

  “Yourself?”

  Pride had her raising her chin, though there was no one to see it. “I take a very active part in everything that happens at the plant.”

  That much she had already told him. “Yes, I know. But about dinner—”

  Maggie had no intentions of having dinner with him and “spilling” anything he might want spilled. “I really don’t think—”

  She was going to turn him down. He acted quickly. “Think of it as a favor to me.”

  Maggie set down the spatula, her attention sufficiently captured. “And why would I want to do you a favor?”

  He was working without a net and he knew it. “Because you’re fair.”

  He knew how to play this, she thought grudgingly. She switched off the oven. “And when did I say I was fair?”

  “You didn’t have to. You stopped to take care of a sick, frightened little girl you didn’t even know. That told me more about you than anything you said. That’s fair.”

  “That’s instinct,” she corrected him mechanically.

  He had a feeling she was referring to more than just passing maternal instincts. He seized her comment, though he maintained a nonchalant tone. “Oh? How so?”

  She threw him a crumb. “I raised my brothers.”

  Yesterday, she had mentioned that she helped raise her brothers. This put a slightly different light on it. Joe grinned. “See, you’re getting more personal already. And it didn’t hurt, did it?”

  He made her laugh despite her feelings about what he was attempting to do. “I really didn’t want to do this interview.”

  She didn’t have to tell him that. He’d surmised as much. “I know.”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  She was going to say yes, he could feel it. “I’ve had more personal answers from a swab of cotton.”

  The comparison was an honest one. At least he wasn’t attempting to be obsequious. “And how often do you interview cotton?”

  “Once was enough. You won’t regret this. And who knows, I might be able to do you a favor sometime.”

  “Such as?”

  “Give me time, I’ll come up with something.”

  She had no doubts that Joe Sullivan could come up with a lot of things, not that she was going to give him the opportunity to try. She was too busy for anything he had in mind, including the interview. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

  No, she hadn’t. But she would. “Tell you what—I’ll make you a deal you can’t refuse. After I’m finished with the article, you can look it over before I turn it in. Anything you want to strike, consider it struck.” He paused for a moment, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he added, “That includes me if you feel like it.”

  What would it hurt? She’d already held her own with him once. She could certainly do it again. And maybe, she admitted, she was just a little tired of eating alone. “You’re very persuasive.”

  Bingo. He told himself not to feel too confident yet. She hadn’t answered any of his questions. But that, too, would only be a matter of time. “Tell that to my nieces. I can’t seem to persuade them to do anything.”

  She thought of the little girls she’d seen yesterday. Of the oldest and her sad eyes. Empathy whispered through Maggie. “They’re still in shock.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  Well, she reasoned, he was obviously a decent man, and if she had final approval of the article, she really couldn’t ask for anything more.

  Except to be left alone.

  “All right.”

  “Terrific.” He felt positively b
uoyant. “Give me your address and I’ll pick you up.”

  But Maggie had other ideas. “Tell you what—you give me yours and I’ll meet you.”

  His laughter met her suggestion. “Not very trusting, are you.”

  No, she wasn’t. But that was ingrained, thanks to her parents. “Cautious, Mr. Sullivan. The word is cautious.”

  Something else he was going to find out about, he thought, as he told Maggie his address.

  Chapter Four

  Maggie chastised herself as she drove down the long, winding street. What was she doing, agreeing to meet with Sullivan? There were important things that needed her attention.

  But there were always things that needed her attention, Maggie mused, turning a corner. Still, what had possessed her to actually drive here from her home in Newport Beach and take Sullivan up on his invitation for dinner and inquisition was beyond her.

  She slowed down in order to read the street sign. Deerfield. One more block.

  Maybe she was doing it because she knew damn well that Sullivan wasn’t about to give up until he had something. The look in Joe’s eyes was familiar. She saw it in her own eyes whenever she looked in a mirror. It was the look of a person who wasn’t about to give up going after something he wanted.

  For some reason, Joe Sullivan wanted her. Or at least, a story about her. Maggie found Sullivan’s street and guided her car down the long block.

  She’d had Ada pick up a copy of County Magazine for her yesterday. Maggie had wanted to look through it and get a clearer idea of exactly what she was dealing with. The magazine was just what she had been led to believe it was: a middle-of-the-road journal, comfortably housed somewhere between the ones dissecting foreign policy and economics and the ones promising to cite ninety-seven different ways to bake a chicken.

  Maggie smiled as she pulled up in Joe’s driveway. She tended to lean toward the latter type of publication herself. Economics on a grand scale had a way of confusing her. She was only interested in the subject on a very personal level. It concerned her only as far as it affected the people she cared about and the people who worked for her at Magnificent Cookies.

  Maggie pulled up the hand brake, then sat for a minute. Part of her wanted to leave now, before anyone knew she was here. She banked the impulse down, calling herself a coward.

  Well, here went nothing.

  She got out of her car and locked the door before slowly looking around. Sullivan lived in a modest one-story stucco-and-wood-trimmed house with neighbors on either side and a tall California pepper tree in the front. The ends of the branches were idly strumming along the tips of the grass on a lawn that was sorely in need of mowing, although small children weren’t yet in danger of being lost in it.

  Life, Maggie thought, looked as if it was getting away from Joe Sullivan. She could well sympathize with that. Only exercising the utmost control kept her on top of things.

  It was the kind of house, she decided as she walked up the front path to the lightly stained wooden doors, that she might have pictured him living in if she had given it any thought.

  What was still difficult for her to picture was the fact that Sullivan was caring for his nieces. He seemed like the type who might well have a female on each arm, but definitely the kind who were old enough to vote.

  Maybe, she mused, sidestepping an overturned tricycle, that was what had prompted her to agree to a second interview. It wasn’t that she believed he would relentlessly pursue her until he got the rest of his story. She was damn good at being unavailable, and what was he going to do? Swing into her house on a vine like Tarzan?

  No, it was because he was faced with a situation that was so obviously not in his plans, the way she had been when her mother had died, when her father had abdicated his position as head of the house. It had stirred a feeling of empathy within Maggie.

  It gave them something in common.

  Maggie raised her hand, her finger poised over the doorbell. She never had a chance to make contact.

  The door suddenly swung wide open. She had to shift her gaze down in order to see who had opened it for her.

  Instead of Sullivan, Maggie found herself looking down at Christine.

  Not standing on ceremony, Christine grabbed her visitor by the wrist and began to tug her into the living room. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “More like lying in wait,” Maggie commented as she let herself be tugged.

  Jennifer materialized out of nowhere, bouncing over to Maggie’s other side. “We weren’t lying down when we were waiting. We were standing up.” She laughed at Maggie’s words.

  “My mistake.” Maggie’s mouth curved into a smile. Amused, she forgot to ask where Joe was. “It’s an expression.”

  The living room lay directly before her. While not quite a mess, it wasn’t that far from it. It was obvious that this was a place where children converged and played.

  Jennifer tugged on Maggie’s arm to get her attention. “What’s a ‘spression?”

  “Expression,” Christine corrected her, the way she’d heard her uncle do. “That’s what’s on your face, like the dumb one on yours.”

  She pointed an accusing finger at her sister’s face, her own eyes slanting toward Maggie to see if the latter was being entertained by her cleverness. The mildly reproving look Maggie gave her answered Christine’s question without words.

  Maggie felt almost sorry for Joe. She placed a hand on Christine’s shoulder and held her gaze.

  “Christine, Jennifer’s expression isn’t dumb, it’s just curious.” Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw that the other little girl was now grinning from ear to ear, happy to be championed. “What would you do if Jennifer had said your expression was ‘dumb’?”

  That was easy enough to answer. Christine raised a very stubborn little chin. “I’d hit her.”

  Jennifer took a step back and Maggie knew that Christine’s solution had probably been employed previously.

  “Very honestly put.” Maggie took a breath. This sort of behavior had to be nipped in the bud. That this was none of her concern vaguely filtered through her mind, but mediating this sort of a situation was as much a part of her as breathing. “So should Jennifer hit you?”

  Indignation contorted the small face. “No, I’m bigger.”

  Now, there was reasoning for you. Maggie wondered how many nations subscribed to that theory. She ushered the girl over to the side and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Christine, my love, being bigger doesn’t make you right. Neither does being nastier.”

  It didn’t make any sense to Christine’s young mind. Her mother had told her not to fight and Uncle Joe was always saying the same thing. But no one ever gave any reasons.

  “Why not?”

  Yup, definitely lawyer material, Maggie thought. “Because there’s always someone bigger and nastier than you out there.” She tried to keep a straight face. “You wouldn’t want them ordering you around just because you were littler and sweeter, would you?”

  Christine opened her mouth, but it was Jennifer who answered. “Christine is never sweet.”

  Christine swung around, wrenching out of Maggie’s grasp. She looked as if she was ready to feed her fist to her sister. “I am so sweet!”

  That was pushing it, Maggie thought, but the girl could be, given work. The main thing was that she had to stop being such a bully. Very gently, Maggie took hold of her again, bringing Christine’s attention back to the heart of the discussion. “See, you don’t like being thought of that way, do you?”

  Christine let out a huge sigh and shook her head adamantly.

  So far, so good. Maggie crossed her arms before her, resting her case. “So, how about trying to be nice to Jennifer?”

  The connection remained unclear to Christine. “What for?”

  Yes, Joe certainly did have his hands full. Maggie didn’t envy him. This just reinforced her feelings about never getting caught up in this sort of way of life again. She’d had her fill of r
efereeing.

  “For the sheer pleasure of it,” Maggie coaxed. “She’ll be nice back.”

  Christine still didn’t see the real advantage in this kind of behavior. “She already is.” Maggie looked at her expectantly. Christine stuck out her lower lip petulantly. “Oh, all right, I guess so.”

  Victory was victory, no matter how small or how it was arrived at. With a laugh, Maggie hugged Christine to her. Jennifer was quick to wiggle in under her arm as well, eager to snare a share of the hug.

  A warm feeling filtered through Maggie. She absorbed it without consciously acknowledging it. “There, it’s a start.”

  “I’m still nannyless. Any chance of you taking on the job?”

  Maggie looked up sharply, releasing the two girls. Joe was leaning against the doorway leading out of the living room, observing her. He’d obviously been doing so for some time.

  Embarrassed at being caught like this, she shook her head. A little of the poise Maggie had spent so much time cultivating returned. “Sorry, no way.”

  Joe entered the room. Sandy was behind him, shadowing his steps. Maggie wondered if the girl was doing it out of affection or need.

  Or maybe it was just a way to protect herself and stay out of Christine’s way.

  Joe raised a brow as he crossed to her. Though she knew it was ridiculous, Maggie suddenly felt the room become a great deal smaller. “You say that with a lot of conviction.”

  Her smile was just the slightest bit mechanical. “I mean that with a lot of conviction.” She glanced around at the girls and thought of the past. “I’ve served my time.”

  He nodded, remembering their conversation. She made it sound a little like a prison sentence. Was that how she felt? “With your brothers.”

  She inclined her head. She hadn’t meant to mention that again. “With my brothers.”

  Any opening that he gave her, he was obviously going to have to push her through, he thought. For all her apparent friendliness, Maggie McGuire was the most closemouthed woman he’d ever encountered. He hadn’t quite made up his mind if he considered that a positive attribute or not. He knew it was a definite detriment as far as his article went.