The Mccaffertys: Matt. Lisa Jackson

Especially,” he added in a teasing undertone, “when there’s information you want.”

      Maggie frowned at him, then turned to the phone technician. “We’ll want an outlet over there,” she said, pointing, “for our fax machine, and another one here by the table. And one in each bedroom under the window, if you can manage it. I think that would be the logical place, don’t you?”

      “Okay.” The man popped a stick of gum into his mouth. “So where should I start?”

      “In the other bedroom.” Maggie indicated Terry’s room. “I’ll be dressed in a minute, and then you can work anywhere you like.”

      She hurried back into her own room, put on jeans, a white cotton shirt and moccasins, and dabbed on a bit of makeup.

      Before she was finished she heard more arrivals in the sitting room, followed by the whir of equipment and the high-pitched voices of children.

      Maggie pulled her hair back into a ponytail, pinned it on top of her head and went out to find Rose Murdoch, in khaki shorts and flowered apron, running a vacuum cleaner around the sitting room, followed by Moira, who plied a feather duster on every exposed surface.

      Robin was there as well, squatting next to the phone technician. She had apparently been given the task of helping him, because she held a screwdriver and a couple of drill bits, and looked rigid and solemn with responsibility.

      Terry had given up his work to move aside heavy pieces of furniture for Rose to run her vacuum underneath.

      Normally her brother hated being interrupted when he was writing, but today he seemed calm in the midst of the uproar.

      After they moved the couch back in place, Rose ran a hand over her forehead and gave Terry a shy, grateful smile. He beamed down at her so warmly that Maggie was a little startled.

      “Terry, do you want to work in my room?” Maggie called over the roar of the vacuum. “It’s a lot quieter in here.”

      “That’s okay.” Terry gave his sister an unabashed, cheerful grin. “I’ve just made a deal with Rose. If I help her with the vacuuming, she’ll make breakfast for me down in the bar.”

      “It seems the Embree and Evans clans are making a lot of deals these days,” a deep voice commented from the hallway.

      Doug entered, looking more handsome than ever in his jeans and shirt.

      Maggie glanced around, unnerved by the way he seemed to fill the room. “My goodness,” she said with an awkward laugh. “There are seven people in here now, and one cat.”

      “Are there really?” Doug grinned at her. “Then let’s remove a couple of these bodies, shall we?”

      “You and me?” Maggie asked as he paused close by her side. His eyes were richly green in the morning sun, and so bright they were hard to look at.

      “I was hoping you could give me a minute. I’ve run into a nasty snag in that program you installed,” Doug told her. “It won’t bring up any data entries prior to 1998. I need your help to unlock the thing.”

      “Already? What a slave driver,” she said lightly, though she was excited and a little uneasy to have him so near.

      “Hey, I’m already keeping my part of the bargain, right?” He indicated the technician with his small assistant.

      “Doug, I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

      “Just as well. Nora sent a plate of her famous biscuits and some homemade jam. I’m hoping you’ll have breakfast with me.”

      “But I…” Maggie glanced around in distracted fashion.

      Rose and Terry had moved into the other bedroom with their cleaning equipment. Moira was with them, still dusting.

      Maggie heard a steady hum of conversation over the noise of the appliance, accompanied by occasional bursts of laughter.

      Terry, it appeared, was getting along very well with the local populace.

      “Robin, I need that yellow screwdriver,” the technician said, frowning at a hole he’d drilled in one of the baseboards.

      Solemnly, Robin handed over the proper tool, then gave Maggie and her uncle a proud smile.

      “It looks like everything’s under control up here,” Doug said, taking Maggie’s arm. “By lunchtime you’ll be able to establish a Pentagon office in this suite if you want to. For now, come downstairs and have some breakfast with me.”

      “And help you with your computer problem,” Maggie said dryly.

      “Well, since you’re going to be nearby anyhow…” He gave her a boyish grin.

      She didn’t resist further, mostly because it was so pleasant to feel his hand on her arm. A treacherous part of her wanted to nestle closer, and see if his long body was as hard and muscular as it looked.

      Horrified at herself, Maggie suppressed the dangerous thought.

      As they neared the lobby with the cat at their heels, a delicious aroma of fresh coffee and hot baking drifted up the stairs.

      “Oh my,” she said. “Doesn’t that smell wonderful? By the time I leave here, I’m going to weigh two hundred pounds.”

      A phone rang behind the reception desk. Doug vanished into his office and returned a few moments later, tucking a folded piece of paper into his shirt pocket.

      “And when will that be, Maggie?” he asked quietly, lifting the little gate so she could walk behind the reception desk.

      “Beg your pardon?” She perched on one of the stools and looked hungrily at the carafe of hot coffee, the platter of fluffy biscuits.

      Doug poured her a cup of coffee and offered the biscuits, along with napkins and utensils.

      “How long will you be staying, Maggie? And what,” he asked with a sudden steely edge to his voice, “exactly are you doing here?”

      Maggie tensed, but forced herself to sip coffee and butter one of the biscuits with a casual air. “Well, the fact is, at the moment I’m working on a little research project of my own,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

      He settled onto the stool next to her and helped himself to a biscuit.

      “Because Ralph Wall’s been telling everybody within a fifty-mile radius that you’re working for a movie producer who’s planning to buy up all the real estate and shower the place with money. I was hoping you might want to tell me what’s really going on.”