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

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.