Triplets Found: The Virgin's Makeover / Take a Chance on Me / And Then There Were Three

Chapter Seven

From the moment she and Sullivan entered the main house for dinner, Lissa acted as though nothing had happened between them. And Sullivan followed her lead.

It hadn’t been an easy pretense, especially when her mother nearly dropped a bowl of mashed potatoes onto the carpet when Lissa walked into the dining room.

Mom stood near the table, the china bowl now clenched safely against her chest. “Oh my goodness, honey. You mentioned getting your hair done and buying a new dress, but you’ve…you’ve…blossomed.”

“I thought that the wine and I could both use a fresh new look.” Lissa offered her mother a smile. It took all she had not to glance at Sullivan and check out his expression.

Was she afraid of what she might see? Or of what she might reveal?

Their lovemaking had touched her on a very personal level, making her complete. Making her feel like a desirable woman.

Had it been a positive experience for him, too?

“I can’t get over it,” her mom said, turning to Sullivan. “Lissa is absolutely beautiful. Don’t you agree?”

So much for avoiding eye contact with the man who’d sent her senses reeling, who’d helped her touch the moon and reach the stars.

Maybe it was her imagination but, for a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of emotion in his eyes. But it quickly disappeared, as if it hadn’t been there at all.

“She looks great,” Sullivan said, sincerity in his gaze and truth in his tone. But not a hint of anything more.

It would have been nice to know what he was thinking or feeling, but he’d rolled back any evidence of his thoughts or emotions, tucking them way out of sight.

Well, what did she expect? She’d told him it would be their secret. And that she only wanted a one-time fling.

Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t allow their lovemaking to interfere with business? And hadn’t she agreed to do the same?

But Lissa hadn’t realized how difficult that would be. She couldn’t seem to get the smile-provoking memory of her first sexual encounter out of her mind.

The physical intimacy made her realize she wanted a man in her life, a lover. Not that the man had to be Sullivan, but that’s who came to mind.

Could another lover replicate Sullivan’s heated caresses and knee-buckling kisses?

She didn’t think so.

And as much as she hated to admit it, her feelings had been affected by their lovemaking. In what way, she couldn’t be sure.

Had Sullivan felt something, too? Something unexplainable?

She might never know, since she’d set the ball in motion by pretending they hadn’t done anything special. But her course was set.

If they ever were to make love again, Sullivan would have to make the next move.

“Have a seat,” her mother said, while placing the bowl of mashed potatoes onto the dining-room table. “I hope you like roast beef, Sullivan.”

“I appreciate home-cooked meals, since I rarely get a chance to enjoy them.” He took the seat across from Lissa. “And for the record, roast beef is one of my favorites.”

Lissa wondered what other meals he liked. In spite of their intimacy, there was a lot she didn’t know about the man. A lot she’d like to find out.

Her mom returned to the table with a platter of meat and a bowl of vegetables. “Lissa, your dad called. He talked Uncle Pete into selling the house and moving to Oregon.”

“Uncle Pete practically raised my father,” Lissa said to Sullivan.

“There’s a convalescent hospital not far from us,” Mom added, while taking her seat and addressed Sullivan. “So we can be close enough to visit. Uncle Pete’s wife died last summer. And since they’d never been blessed with children, he only has us.”

“I think we need to bring him home to live here,” Lissa said. “That way we can look after him.”

“But what about his medical care?” Mom said.

“I’ll be more than happy to help take care of him. And we can hire a nurse, if we need to. But I think Uncle Pete needs to spend the rest of his life with a family who loves him.”

“I’m sure your father will agree,” Mom said. “I’ll talk to him about it after he gets home.”

As Lissa passed the platter of beef to Sullivan, her mom clicked her tongue, slowly shook her head and grinned. “I can’t get over the change in you.”

Making love to Sullivan had been a stellar, lifechanging event. Was the loss of her virginity as obvious as it felt?

Mom scrunched her eyes and cocked her head to the side, her gaze still focused on Lissa. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Lissa picked up the bowl of gravy to hand to Sullivan.

“That red splotch on your face.”

Oh, Lordy. Her mom had spotted the faint abrasion from the light stubble of Sullivan’s afternoon shadow. Would she guess what they’d done this afternoon? Maybe insist upon having a little talk about sex being special and reserved for marriage?

Lissa’s grip on the bowl froze and she stole a peek at Sullivan, as though doing so would help her concoct a plausible explanation—other than the truth, of course. Her parents were pretty old-fashioned.

“You’re right, Donna.” Sullivan’s brows knit together. “Her face does look red and irritated.”

The big oaf. At first, Lissa thought seriously about kicking him under the table, but refrained.

He knew perfectly well what had caused the light abrasion, but was playing dumb rather than acting guilty and drawing more curiosity. Could Lissa play the game as easily? She’d never been very good at that sort of thing. Maybe because she couldn’t lie to save her soul.

She didn’t feel the least bit guilty for what they’d done, even if it didn’t mean anything to Sullivan. But she wasn’t in the mood for a well-intentioned lecture after her lover went back to the guest house.

Since Lissa couldn’t remember which cheek was red, she lifted her hands and touched them both. “I do feel kind of itchy. Maybe it’s an allergic reaction to the makeup they applied at the salon.”

“That’s possible,” her mom said, craning her neck to get a different look at the red, telltale splotch. “You might want to wash your face and apply some cortisone cream.”

“Good idea,” Lissa said, hoping the subject had died an easy death. “I’ll do that after dinner.”

Mom took a sip from her water goblet, then focused on Sullivan. “How are things coming along? Will you be ready for the reception two weeks from now?”

“We’ve got our work cut out for us, but I think we’ll be ready. Of course, that means rolling up our sleeves and doing some of the physical labor ourselves.” He shot a glance at Lissa. “Are you up to the task? More important, are you able to stay focused?”

Donna laughed. “You must not know my daughter very well. If anything, she’s a workaholic and too focused on the business.”

Are you able to stay focused? Lissa knew exactly what he meant. Could she stay focused on the task at hand, and not on pleasure? She had to. And fortunately, all the preparations for the Virgin Mist unveiling would keep them busy, which would help her keep up pretenses.

Of course, that didn’t mean that each time she looked at him her heart wouldn’t go topsy-turvy—like it was doing right now.

“Focusing will be easy,” she said to Sullivan. “This reception and the unveiling is a high priority in my life. And I won’t have any problem putting everything else on the back burner.” Where it would undoubtedly simmer to the boiling point, if she let it.

“Good.” Sullivan was glad Lissa knew what he meant, and that they were in agreement. He carried a ton of guilt over what he’d allowed to happen. It wasn’t like him to let his libido take over his business sense and his good judgment.

Getting involved with Lissa wasn’t a good idea. It complicated things. And it also distracted him with thoughts and urges best left for a less-complicated woman, best left to a time when he was off duty and prepared to play.

“Speaking of the reception,” Donna said. “Which label did you two settle upon? I really like the artwork on that gold-and-black sample.”

“I didn’t think any of them were good enough,” Sullivan said. “Not really.”

“But won’t you need to display the bottle for the unveiling?” Donna looked at Lissa, then back to him.

“I would have preferred to have the bottle or at least the artwork for the reception, but it’s important that we choose just the right label, Donna. I don’t want to sell Virgin Mist short. We can work around not having the finished product available by displaying the wine in the oak barrels, which only makes it look new and fresh.”

“Well, I suppose you know best.”

About marketing strategy and business? That was true. But Sullivan wasn’t so sure about anything else.

For one thing, he’d always prided himself on being a good lover, a considerate lover, able to pleasure the woman in his arms. But that hadn’t happened with Lissa. It hadn’t been good for her, not as good as she deserved.

If she hadn’t left his bed, he would have ended things by giving her an orgasm to remember. But as it was, Sullivan felt negligent, as though he owed her an earthmoving climax.

In his defense, he could argue that her virginity had surprised him. And so had her hasty departure. But that didn’t absolve him from guilt.

At the time, after the last wave of his release and as his head cleared, Sullivan had worried that Lissa might make more out of their lovemaking than she should have. Especially with it being her first time and all. And to be honest, he really hadn’t looked forward to having the standard, after-the-loving chitchat with her—since it was tough letting a woman down easily.

But then she’d climbed out of bed and practically dashed out of the guest house, leaving him unbalanced.

He’d let her go and gone along with her let’s-keep-things-casual, no-big-deal attitude.

It was over and done. End of story.

Yet something told him it wasn’t over yet.

And for some reason, he wasn’t quite sure whether he wanted it to be or not.

The act of indifference, as far as Lissa knew, had worked. Her mom hadn’t picked up on the possibility that her oldest daughter had more than a business interest in the handsome consultant. And with each day that passed, Lissa grew more certain that her feelings for Sullivan were becoming personal and complicated.

Her dad arrived home, tired from his trip to San Diego and emotionally drained, but relieved to have his uncle’s affairs in order and to have Uncle Pete in Oregon and settled in a private facility only twenty minutes away. If the hip healed sufficiently, God willing, and the doctors released him, they could bring the sweet elderly man home to live with them.

Dad had been pleased to know Sullivan and Lissa had carried on without him. And he’d been proud of their efforts to make the vineyard and winery look festive and inviting.

The landscapers worked double shifts all week. And yesterday, Lissa had gone to town and purchased a case of white twinkling lights to put around the trees that grew in the yard and up near the road. There’d been a ton of work to do, and both Lissa and Sullivan had jumped in to share it.

And now, as Lissa and her dad got ready for the first guests to arrive at the Virgin Mist reception, they surveyed the handiwork from inside the tasting room of the new winery.

They’d contracted the same caterer they’d used in the past. But this time, rather than choosing a wine to complement the meal, the woman had prepared appetizers and a menu that would enhance the taste of the wine they planned to launch.

“What do you think?” Lissa asked her dad.

He slipped one arm around her waist, gave her a gentle squeeze and kissed her cheek. “I think you’re absolutely the most beautiful woman in the state. And I can’t get over the change in you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Still, she flushed at his compliment. The poor man had nearly lost his false teeth when he’d returned home to find Lissa in one of the short skirts and formfitting tops Jared had purchased. He’d also noticed that she’d let her hair down, something she’d refused to do in the past.

“I guess I should have taken you on a shopping spree years ago,” he said, with a smile that seemed wistful and a little sad.

“Ah, Daddy. The makeover was long overdue. And if you’ll remember, I always dreaded shopping trips in the past. Something just clicked inside of me.”

She didn’t want him to think she’d cast him aside. Jared might have fathered her, but Ken Cartwright would always be her daddy—he’d earned that special place in her heart.

The heavy-set teddy bear of a man had given her pony rides on his back until his knees had grown sore and red. And he’d stayed by her bedside whenever she’d been sick, unable to sleep until he’d known she was feeling better and was on the mend.

In fact, doting father that he was, he’d shared every single germ either of the girls brought home. He’d caught a mild but itchy case of chicken pox from Lissa, two bouts of strep throat from Eileen and every childhood illness that cropped up. And he’d never complained.

“I still feel as though I should have taken an interest in your shopping and stuff,” Dad said, “like Mr. Cambry did. Your mom wanted me to, many times, and I should have put forth the effort.”

“You didn’t fail me in any way, shape or form, Daddy. The makeover had nothing to do with a man taking me into a dress shop.” Her new look had more to do with the business consultant waiting at home, but she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. “It was just a matter of timing. I was ready to blossom.”

“I want you to know something, honey. I love you—in the bud stage or fully bloomed.”

He placed another kiss on her cheek, and she gave him a hug. “I know, Daddy. And I love you, too.”

“You and Sullivan have done a great job with the unveiling. I just wish we could have displayed the bottled wine.”

“We narrowed it down to three different labels, all of which were pretty good. But Sullivan wasn’t happy with any of them. He says we need something better, something more intriguing.”

“That’s why we brought the man in, honey. He understands marketing better than we do.”

Lissa agreed. So far she’d been impressed by Sullivan’s business savvy and innovative ideas. “He suggested, for tonight, that we display the oak barrels in a way that portrays the wine as fresh off the vine and something to be treasured.”

As the door opened, Sullivan sauntered into the winery wearing a tuxedo and looking like the heartthrob who starred in one of her more recent dreams.

With those red highlights in his brown hair, Sullivan still reminded her of a Scottish laird who’d traveled through time. And when he slid her an appreciative smile, dropping the business-like expression he’d hidden behind these past two weeks, her heart threatened to burst from her chest.

“You look great tonight, Lissa.”

“Thank you.” She refrained from telling him he looked like a broadsword-yielding warrior on a windswept moor. And that she’d love to swing onto the back of his steed and ride off to his castle in the highlands.

Having sex was supposed to make those fantasies disappear, not make them more vivid, more intense. More complex.

Ken greeted Sullivan, then looked at his wristwatch before excusing himself. “I’ll be back shortly. I have to see what’s taking my wife so long. The guests will be arriving soon.”

After he’d gone, Sullivan’s eyes lingered on Lissa’s hair, her face, her gown. “That’s a pretty dress. I like the color. And the fit.”

“Thank you.” She wore an outfit Jared had purchased, a sea-green gown with a slit up the side for easy movement. Jared had said the men wouldn’t be able to take their eyes off her, and she’d hoped he was right.

“I’m glad you didn’t put your hair up again,” Sullivan said, his gaze warming her from the inside out. “I like it loose.”

She’d used pearl-and-silver clips to pull the sides of her hair back, but the remainder flowed down her back. And when Sullivan looked at her—his eyes filled with sexual awareness—she felt special, self-assured.

Before Sullivan had arrived at Valencia Vineyards, Lissa had felt confident about her knowledge, about her work as a vintner, about the blend she’d created. But thanks to Sullivan, she felt good about herself as a woman—one who’d touched the heavens.

She’d intended to steer clear of the handsome man this evening, to make him think that she didn’t want to be at his side, that she didn’t want more than she’d asked for. But after seeing the way he looked at her, she wasn’t so sure that was the right approach.

Maybe, after the reception ended and the last guest went home, Sullivan would be able to put business aside—one more time.

Because Lissa wanted another chance to touch the moon and stars, even if she couldn’t call them her own.

As the evening progressed, Sullivan found it difficult to remain aloof and unaffected by Lissa’s smile or the sparkle in her eyes as she made her way through clusters of people who’d come to Valencia Vineyard to celebrate the launch of Virgin Mist.

But it was pretty damn hard to keep his mind off the lady when she’d knocked the socks off every man at the reception. More than a few moved in on her, even some of the guys who’d brought wives or dates. Their words remained polite and cordial, but Sullivan could see the interest in their eyes.

They, too, were mesmerized by the metamorphosis.

Had they noticed the change in her personality, too? She appeared more confident. More daring.

She even carried herself differently than before, reminding him of the playful socialites he chose to date in an effort to keep his relationships light. Or at least, that’s the excuse he gave himself for dogging her all night long, trying to keep the wolves at bay.

When Anthony Martinelli approached her by the display of oak barrels, Sullivan was hard-pressed to remain at a distance, so he moved closer, joining them.

“You’ve done a wonderful job with the reception,” he heard the older man tell Lissa. “And an even better job of creating a full-bodied wine sure to be a hit. Virgin Mist is delicate and rich, elegant and forward, fruity and complex.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes brightened, setting off a display of emerald fireworks.

Martinelli nodded at Sullivan, acknowledging his presence, then resumed his conversation with Lissa. “Have you come up with a label?”

“We’re designing it now.” She flashed Sullivan a smile, including him in the conversation.

“I suggest you consider a sketch, using your profile as a model.” Anthony reached for a strand of her hair. “Wearing it like this, of course.”

As much as Sullivan hated to admit it, hated to see the old buzzard fondle Lissa’s hair and caress her with his eyes, the guy had a hell of an idea.

Sullivan could see the label now—an image of Lissa, with her Lady Godiva hair sparking a man’s imagination, his thirst. A virgin walking in the mist.

It took all he could to keep from pulling her aside to let her know Martinelli’s comment had set his imagination soaring, and that he had the perfect idea for the label.

“If you want the name of a renowned artist who specializes in sketching the human face, I’d be happy to give you a referral.” Martinelli cast an appreciative smile at Lissa. “The only thing drawing more attention from the wine this evening is the elegant vintner who created it.”

Sullivan wanted to clobber the guy for being so damn poetic and gallant. Lissa wasn’t going to fall for that mush, was she?

Not that she didn’t look hot. And not that her image wouldn’t make a killer label for a dynamite wine. But Martinelli was too old to be making a play for her.

Hell, the vintner’s interest in her had been obvious before, but now he was moving in for the kill.

Sullivan wanted to grab the guy by the lapel of his expensive tuxedo jacket and tell him to back off.

But Lissa wasn’t Sullivan’s woman. And Martinelli wasn’t doing anything wrong. Not really.

It just didn’t feel right to think of them together.

Maybe Sullivan still bore a trace of the old jealousy he’d been left with after his ex had left him for an older lover.

That was the only reason Sullivan didn’t like the idea of Martinelli making a play for Lissa.

That and the idea Lissa might fall for the guy.

Two hours later, after the last guest had left and the catering staff had the bulk of the clean-up complete, Ken approached Lissa and Sullivan, where they stood beside a stack of oak barrels. “You both did an incredible job. The reception was a huge success.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Lissa turned to Sullivan and smiled. “I have to give our consultant a lot of credit for that. I didn’t realize he would roll up his sleeves and get to work the way he did.”

Normally, Sullivan left the physical labor to others. But working side-by-side with Lissa had been tough, and he’d needed to exert some pent-up sexual energy. Besides, he also wanted Virgin Mist to get the kickoff it deserved. “Lissa put in more than her share of sweat, too.”

“Well, I appreciate everything you did.” Ken took Donna by the hand. “Hon, are you ready to turn in for the night?”

“Yes, I am. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted.” Donna turned to Lissa. “Did you want to walk up to the house with us?”

“If you don’t mind,” Sullivan said, “I’d like to talk to her about a few things.”

“Certainly,” Ken said, leading his wife to the door. “Good night.”

When they were alone, Sullivan leaned against a barrel. “Martinelli had a good idea. You should be the model on the label.”

“I don’t know about that.” Lissa scrunched her pretty face. “I don’t want my image displayed on wine bottles.”

“I’m not talking about a photograph, just a goldembossed sketch. You’d be walking naked in the mist, your hair covering most of you.”

She shot him an incredulous glance. “If you think I’d model in the nude, you’re nuts.”

He wasn’t crazy at all. But she had a point. He didn’t like the idea of her posing naked. The very thought of her removing her clothes in front of someone else reminded him of the sensual striptease she’d done for him. And for some reason, he’d like to think of that as his own private show.

“The artist can put your face and hair on another woman’s body,” he said, unwilling to let her veto the idea.

“In that case, I’ll consider it.” She flashed him a playful smile. “I suppose we’ll need to thank Anthony for the idea.”

Sullivan didn’t want to thank the guy for anything. “He only mentioned your face. I had the idea of incorporating the mist. And the naked body.”

“I’ll have to thank him tomorrow evening.”

“Why tomorrow?”

“He asked me to go to dinner.”

Dinner? A knot formed in Sullivan’s gut. “And you accepted?”

She crossed her arms and lifted her brows. “Is that a problem?”

Uh-oh. Time to backpedal. He had no claim on Lissa. And he didn’t care who she dated. It was just that the guy bothered him. That’s all. “No. It’s not a problem. You can certainly date whoever you want.”

She eyed him carefully, as though she didn’t buy his explanation or his fancy footwork. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course not.” If she wanted to date anyone else but Martinelli, it wouldn’t have bothered him. At least he didn’t think it would.

She studied him for a moment, as though she could see something he couldn’t. “You really don’t like Anthony, do you?”

“No.” But not because the guy had done anything wrong. He was just too old.

And too interested in Lissa.