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

She smiled. “The atmosphere suits you.”

“It suits you, too.” A smile crinkled his eyes, yet he still didn’t look his age.

When the waiter returned with the processed credit card, Anthony added a tip and signed the receipt. “I suppose I’d better get you home.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” She’d hate to fall asleep in the car. He might think that she found him boring, which wasn’t the case.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “You know what they say about all work and no play.”

Yes, she did. After the reception, she and Sullivan had played all night long. But that would remain her secret. “As soon as we’ve officially launched Virgin Mist, I’ll consider a vacation.”

“Good.” He smiled and released her hand. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. Thank you. I had a wonderful time.” And she had. All in all, the evening had been much nicer than she’d expected. But she was glad it was over.

Nearly forty minutes later, they pulled into Valencia Vineyards and followed the long drive to the house. As Anthony parked, Lissa looked at the darkened cottage.

Apparently, Sullivan had gone to bed. He had to be as tired as she was. Maybe more so. She’d dozed off once or twice last night, in a pleasant afterglow. And each time she’d opened her eyes, she’d found him wide awake, watching her.

Anthony slid from the driver’s seat, then circled the car and opened her door. “I have tickets to the theater next Saturday. And I’d like you to join me.”

He took her hand and helped her from the car. His manners impressed her, flattered her. But that didn’t mean she felt good about going out with him again. Not while Sullivan was still working for the vineyard and living on the property. And even after Sullivan moved on, she suspected his memory would hold her back as well.

“I’m going to be pretty busy with Virgin Mist for the next couple weeks,” she said. “Maybe another time?”

“Of course.”

Again, she glanced at the darkened cottage. If truth be told, she was glad Sullivan had turned out the lights and gone to bed. It made things easier that way.

Who needed to hear an “I told you so,” even if it came from her own conscience?

She’d just leave Barney at the guest house and talk to Sullivan in the morning.

At the front door of the family home, the porch light glowed in a golden welcome.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” Anthony asked.

The question took her aback, and she wasn’t sure what to say. In a way, she wondered how Anthony’s kiss would compare to Sullivan’s. The only other kiss she had to measure it by was the wet and sticky one she’d shared with Milt Preston on this very porch.

“No, I wouldn’t mind.”

With a debonair smile, he took her in his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.

It was a nice kiss, cloaked in the fresh fragrance of his musky aftershave. It was a gentle kiss, soft and sweet. All in all, the kiss was pleasant, but it lacked the heat and passion of Sullivan’s.

“I’ll call you in a few days,” Anthony said.

“All right.”

He smiled, then turned and walked away. As she watched him go, her gaze drifted to the cottage, where the outdoor light suddenly came on. And a dark figure took a seat on the deck.

What had Sullivan been doing? Sitting in the dark?

Well, it wasn’t dark any longer. And she had a feeling the scowl he wore had never left his face.

As Anthony drove away from the vineyard, Lissa headed for the guest house to get Barney. She wasn’t in a hurry, though. Something told her she’d be in for a lecture. Or a sullen pout.

Okay. So the date had been a mistake. The kiss, too. But rather than reveal her regret and disappointment, she forced a smile and continued to walk.

Maybe Anthony Martinelli was too old for her. Maybe he’d been a family friend for so long she’d never be able to think of him as anything else. But a more likely explanation was that she wanted to see fireworks and feel the heat she’d recently grown accustomed to.

How many more men would she have to kiss before finding one who made her heart flutter and her body sing the way Sullivan did?

Sullivan had dozed off in the chair shortly after Lissa left. And he’d awakened only moments ago.

He hadn’t purposely turned the lights off. He just hadn’t gotten up to turn any of them on. Not even after Martinelli’s car pulled up.

And like a voyeur in the dark, Sullivan couldn’t help but watch the couple from his seat on his deck.

Lissa had kissed the guy. And not just a peck between friends.

All right. So it wasn’t the kind of kiss that got a man’s blood pumping, but Martinelli was too suave to press for more on the first date. But that didn’t mean the middle-aged vintner didn’t want more from her. Or that he wouldn’t make a bolder move next time.

A sense of betrayal washed over Sullivan, although he wasn’t sure why. He and Lissa hadn’t made any lifetime promises. So he suspected it was some of the leftover baggage from his divorce that made him want to throw a punch or two at the salt-and-pepper-haired vintner.

There was no other reason for Sullivan’s senseless resentment. So why did he feel an ache in his gut and a hole in his chest?

He watched as Lissa made her way across the lawn and over the bridge. All the while, he sat.

And waited.

“Thanks for looking after Barney,” she told him, as she stepped onto the deck.

“You’re welcome.”

She took Barney from his lap and held the puppy in front of her, like a shield, while the little pup wiggled and squirmed to give her a couple of wet kisses on the chin. “I guess I’d better take him home.”

“Are you coming back?”

“Not tonight. I’ll see you in the morning. I need to get a good night’s sleep.”

Sullivan needed a good night’s sleep, too. But he doubted he’d get one.

And he cursed under his breath for letting her go without a fight.

The next day, neither Lissa nor Sullivan brought up the subject of Anthony Martinelli, the dinner date or the disappointing kiss.

Nor did they mention making love to each other again.

Instead, they focused on work, on marketing, on ads and television commercials.

Still, getting back in Sullivan’s good graces—and in his bed—was never far from Lissa’s mind.

“I’ve asked an artist to meet us tomorrow morning,” he said.

“An artist?”

“To sketch the image of the virgin for the label.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’re not going to back out, are you?”

“No. I guess not. But you said just my face, right?”

He slid her a playful grin, his gaze warming her straight to the core. “That’s what I said. But another female model might not do your body justice.”

Her cheeks warmed. And so did her heart. The tension between them was easing, which was good. She didn’t like the idea of dealing with Sullivan on a strictly business level.

“Then maybe I ought to pose,” she said, wondering if the decision would irritate him. Especially since she suspected the kiss she’d shared with Anthony had annoyed him, even if he never mentioned it. “Are you sure it won’t bother you if I do?”

“No. It won’t bother me a bit if you strip down in front of the artist.”

She found that surprising. And disappointing. The couple of times she’d suspected Sullivan might be feeling a bit jealous had actually pleased her. Not that she wanted him to be a bossy and possessive brute. But maybe, deep in her heart, she hoped their relationship wouldn’t be shallow and based only upon lust. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be realistic about the future of an affair destined to end when his job was done.

“I didn’t know you’d already started scouting an artist,” Lissa said. “Where’d you find him?”

“Her.” Sullivan tossed Lissa a crooked smile. “The artist I want to use is a woman. I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

Or would he feel more comfortable?

Lissa was probably reading way too much into this, but it felt good to think Sullivan might be a wee bit territorial about their relationship, their intimacy.

“All right. I suppose modeling in the nude won’t be so bad after all.” Lissa stood to stretch the muscles that kinked in her neck, then moved to the window to peer outside.

What she needed was some exercise, some fresh air. Being cooped up in the office for days on end was getting to her.

As she walked, a squeak sounded when she stepped on something small and rubbery. Barney had left one of his chew toys in the middle of the floor.

“Hey, Barn, you’d better come get your rubber duckie.” She scanned the office, but didn’t spot the little rascal. Where’d he go? “Barney?”

Sullivan, who sat at the desk, looked up from the ad layout he’d been working on. “I haven’t seen him since this morning. Maybe he curled up and fell asleep.”

They scouted around the office, looking in every nook and cranny. But Barney was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe he slipped outside when your mother brought us sandwiches and iced tea,” Sullivan said.

“I’d better go look for him.” She strode to the door, with Sullivan on her heels.

Twenty minutes later, they still hadn’t found the puppy. They’d checked the pond, where every unruffled duck and swan was present and accounted for.

“I don’t know where else to look.” Lissa tried to keep the worry from her voice, but she’d become very attached to the playful, loving little dog.

“We’ll find him.” Sullivan nodded toward the house. “Maybe he followed your mother home.”

As they neared the side of the yard, the gate was open. Sullivan pointed. “There he is. By the garden shed. But it looks as though he’s gotten into something.”

“Imagine that,” Lissa said. Barney had a penchant for mischief. But as she drew closer, she noticed a frothy green coat of saliva on his snout.

She picked him up, holding him at arm’s distance so the goop wouldn’t stain her blouse. “What did you eat?”

Sullivan pulled open the shed door and peered inside. “Bad news. Look.” Sullivan pointed to a chewed up box of rat poison.

“Oh, my God. No.” She hugged the puppy close, no longer worried about her blouse.

“Come on,” Sullivan said. “I’ll take you to the vet.”

An hour later, Sullivan drove Lissa home. Each time he glanced across the seat and saw her tearstained cheeks, he wanted to reach out, to comfort her.

“Barney’s so little,” she said, capturing his gaze. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

“The vet said he’d know more in the morning. I’m sure pumping his stomach will help. It just depends upon how much he ingested before we found him. And how much his body absorbed.”

“I know this may sound crazy to you, but I’ve really come to love that little guy. And I don’t want to lose him.”

Sullivan knew exactly how she felt. When he was a kid, he’d had a dog who’d been his best friend and his constant companion. In fact, Bandit had been there for him when his parents’ marriage hit the rocks, when going home after school would have been otherwise unbearable.

“I’ve grown pretty attached to the pesky little guy, too,” Sullivan said. “Pets have a way of burrowing their way into our hearts.”

Lissa sniffled, then let out a sob. The tears began to flow all over again.

Sullivan may not have been comfortable with emotional stuff, but he knew how it felt to lose a pet. And how it felt to have no one understand that kind of grief.

He remembered the day Bandit had died, the day he’d cried himself sick. The day his dad had said, “That’s enough, son. Go wash your face and dry your eyes.”

Easy to say, and tough to do when the pain kept twisting a kid’s heart and wringing the tears right out of him.

Unsure of what more he could say or do, Sullivan let her cry until they returned to the vineyard. Then, after parking the car, he went around to help her out. He wasn’t trying to mimic Martinelli’s style and manners. It was more than that. Lissa was pretty torn up about her pet, and he wanted to help. To support her. Or whatever. He wasn’t too good at this sort of thing.

As she climbed from the car, he slipped an arm around her, and she leaned into him. He held her while she cried, something he wished his overbearing dad had done. Couldn’t the man have understood that a brokenhearted nine-year-old couldn’t just suck it up when his family had fallen apart and the only one who seemed to give a damn about him was a dead dog?

“I’m sorry for being such a crybaby,” she said. “I don’t usually fall apart like this.”

“Don’t be sorry. I understand.”

Did he? Lissa clung to Sullivan, to his strength, his support. The sexy man could turn her inside out with a smile and send her heart soaring with a kiss. Yet now, he stroked her back in a gentle, understanding way. Funny, how her body knew the difference—appreciated the difference.

His compassion touched her. Even more than his flirty smile, quick wit and easy laugh.

If she ever fell in love with a man, she’d want him to be the kind who would stand by her through life’s ups and downs. A man who would hold her when she cried, as Sullivan was doing now.

“Want to go to the cottage for a while?” he asked. “Maybe have a glass of wine on the deck?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.” She didn’t feel like returning to the office. Not when her heart and mind were at the veterinary clinic with Barney.

As they walked, Sullivan reached for her hand. “I lost my dog when I was just a kid. Cried for three days and refused to go to school.”

She sniffled. “What was his name?”

“Bandit. He was just a mutt I’d found wandering the neighborhood. But he was the best friend I ever had. My only friend, for a while.”

“What happened to him?”

“He used to meet me at the school bus stop every afternoon. And one day, he wasn’t waiting for me at the curb.” Sullivan took a deep breath, as though reliving his own grief. “So I called him. He came flying out of the neighbor’s yard and dashed into the street. Right in front of a mail truck.”

“I’m sorry.” She gently squeezed his hand, while wishing she could do more.

When they entered the guest house, Sullivan closed the door. Then took her in his arms and gave her a warm, gentle kiss.

How could he do that? Give her a heated, bodyarousing kiss one minute, then one that was comforting and heartwarming the next?

“My folks never understood the depth of my grief,” he told her. “They bought me a puppy, a golden lab with champion bloodlines. For some reason, they thought they’d replaced Bandit with a better dog. But they hadn’t.”

She wrapped her arms around him, trying to absorb a little boy’s pain, trying to share her own.

He brushed a kiss across her brow, then gazed into her eyes. They stood that way for a while, caught up in a powerful bond. Something passed between them, something warm and mesmerizing. Something Lissa wanted to hold close to her heart forever.

Was it love?

It had to be.

Without words, without needing any, Sullivan led her into the bedroom, where they undressed, slowly and deliberately. Their joining was gentle, soothing and stirring. And when he entered her, she arched to meet him, taking all he had to offer and giving all she could in return.

The loving rhythm built to a powerful peak, bursting into a star-shattering climax that rocked her heart and soul.

Lissa wanted to say the words, to tell Sullivan what she truly believed—that she’d fallen in love with him.

But she held her tongue and closed her eyes, relishing the moment, the warmth and intimacy. Savoring the aura of promise that surrounded them.

Their relationship had taken an unexpected turn this afternoon. At least it had on Lissa’s part.

Did Sullivan feel it, too?

She hoped so. Because the realization that she’d fallen in love with him both touched and frightened her.

What if he didn’t feel the same thing for her?

Letting him go after his job at Valencia Vineyards had ended would tear her up.

Especially if he walked away from her without a backward glance.

Chapter Ten

Long after Lissa left the bed in the guest house and went home, Sullivan lay still, staring at the ceiling.

He always held something back while making love. And he’d never let go like that before. Not even with his ex-wife.

That didn’t mean sex with Kristin hadn’t been good. It had, at least in the early stage of their marriage. But somewhere along the way things had changed. He’d opened his heart and closed his eyes, blinding himself to reality.

Until he came home that stormy day in November and found Kristin gone.

She’d left a note that was supposed to make him understand why things hadn’t worked for her. For them. But her words only brought on a rush of pain, anger and resentment.

Instead of providing answers, her rambling explanation had merely provoked more questions: Why hadn’t she wanted to face him? Why hadn’t she mentioned her unhappiness sooner?

Even now, Sullivan still wasn’t sure exactly when their marriage had gone to hell.

But he knew the affair he and Lissa had embarked upon had just taken a downhill slide.

While making love with Lissa, he’d opened up his heart—this time, just a crack—and closed his eyes. And that’s when it happened, when he got that sinking feeling in his chest. The forewarning of disaster.

He wasn’t sure how Lissa felt about their little “fling,” as she called it. But on his part, there’d been more than lust going on. How much more, he couldn’t be sure. But it was enough to scare the liver out of him.

That kind of intimate release led people to ask for promises others couldn’t keep, commitments that would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment.

Been there. Done that. And Sullivan wouldn’t make the same mistake, wouldn’t set himself up for emotional suicide again.

Who was he to think that the career of a traveling consultant would be conducive to a stable relationship? And what about Lissa?

She was on a light-hearted quest for self-discovery. Why else would she dangle Martinelli on a string while sleeping with Sullivan?

The telephone on the nightstand rang, and he answered.

“Hello,” Donna said, her voice as sweet and gracious as ever. “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. We’re having spaghetti tonight.”

Sullivan didn’t feel like eating. Not at the family table. The Cartwrights were slowly sucking him in. Making him comfortable. Too comfortable.

He couldn’t let that happen. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have dinner alone tonight. I’ve got another client, one I’ll be working with when I finish here at Valencia Vineyards. And we need to have a telephone conference. It’ll take quite a while.”

If there was anything to the Pinocchio tale, Sullivan’s nose would have sprouted a couple of feet by now. Not that he didn’t have a client to talk to. But the conversation would take all of three minutes.

“That’s too bad,” Donna said. “But I understand. I’ll have Lissa bring you a plate of food.”

“Don’t do that,” Sullivan said a little too quickly. A little too panicky. “I’m not really hungry this evening.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive.”

He had to pull back. To cut his losses and get out while he could.

After all, Lissa was interested in Martinelli. And with Sullivan’s luck, he’d open his heart to the beautiful, green-eyed Lady Godiva and she’d walk away.

Just like his ex.

And if there was one thing he’d learned through his parents’ crappy marriage and the painful reinforcement he’d received from his own marital breakup, it was to keep a sexual relationship light. Unencumbered.

Sullivan had to keep his eyes wide open, if he planned to keep his heart in one piece.

Early the next morning, before Lissa left for the office, the phone rang.

“Honey,” her mom called from the kitchen. “Can you get that? I’m wearing rubber gloves. And I’m up to my elbows in oven cleaner, grit and grime.”

“Sure.” Lissa answered in the hall.

“Miss Cartwright?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.

“Yes.”

“This is Doctor Margolis at Hidden Valley Veterinary Clinic.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. “How is Barney doing? Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s much better this morning, although not completely out of the woods. Of course, he doesn’t like the charcoal we’ve been giving him to absorb the poison. But he seems to be on the road to recovery.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She blew out the breath she’d been holding. “When can he come home?”

“I’d like to keep him just a bit longer. Why don’t you pick him up after lunch?”

“Thanks, Doctor. We’ll be there around two o’clock.”

We’ll be there?

It was a natural assumption, wasn’t it? Sullivan would probably want to go with her. After all, he’d been worried about Barney, too.

Did she dare hope that they’d taken a step toward being a real couple? It sure felt that way yesterday afternoon when he’d supported her through Barney’s ordeal. And when he’d made tender, mind-spinning love to her.

Of course, when he hadn’t joined them for dinner last night, her old insecurities had flared, suggesting he might be pulling away from her. But she quickly dismissed them. After all, Sullivan had a conference call to make, another client he needed to speak to. And Lissa understood that.

Still, as she’d stared at his empty seat, felt the loss of his heart-tingling smile, she’d realized how difficult it would be to let him go, once his job at Valencia Vineyards was finished. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t come back.

Lissa and Sullivan had found something special, something worth holding on to.

Hadn’t they?

“Who was it?” her mother called from the kitchen.

“It was the vet. Barney is doing better.”

Before Lissa reached the front door, the phone rang again.

At this rate, she’d be late to meet Sullivan at the office. She sighed heavily, then grabbed the receiver from the lamp table near the sofa. “Hello.”

“Lissa? It’s Jared.”

The call took her aback, but only for a moment. She’d talked to the man after the reception, when he’d called to ask how everything went. But she didn’t think he’d called to chat today. “Hi, Jared.”

Did he have the results of her blood test? Would she be able to donate bone marrow to Mark?

“I have some bad news,” he said.

“I’m not a match?” She couldn’t imagine any news that would be worse than that, other than a setback in Mark’s condition. She said a quick prayer, hoping that wasn’t the case.

“No.” His voice sounded rough and ragged. “You’re not a match.”

“I’m really sorry.” The words seemed so hollow, so insignificant. But not because they weren’t sincere. She knew what this meant to Mark, to Jared, to everyone who loved the little boy. They’d have to search for an unrelated match. And that narrowed their chances of finding a bone-marrow donor in time.

“And there’s something else,” Jared said. “The paper work we found at the Children’s Connection indicated Olivia’s child had a different blood type than the lab reported for you.”

Her heart went out to the poor man. The records he’d found had been painstakingly pieced together. But that left all kinds of room for error. “Maybe you were mistaken, Jared. I might not be your daughter after all.”

“Actually,” he said, “the preliminary tests indicate you are my daughter, but that’s where things get confusing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Originally, I came to the vineyard looking for Adam Bartlite. His name was listed on one of the scraps of paper we’d found in the salvaged file. Your address was on a different piece. I put those two bits of information together when I shouldn’t have.”