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

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.