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

Lissa found it difficult to speak, to think. To react.

She finally said, “I’m a bit overwhelmed.” But flabbergasted was more like it. As a little girl, she’d always envisioned her real parents coming for her, but they usually arrived in a coach like Cinderella’s.

“I can understand your surprise,” he said.

Could he? As a kid, she’d dreamed of this day. Lived for it. But now? She wasn’t sure. Why had he come looking for her? To assuage his guilt? To satisfy his curiosity? Had he thought about her often? Prayed she was loved and cared for?

A childlike hope sprang from nowhere, wishing he’d say that he’d been searching for her for years, that he’d never meant to give her away.

“I’d been meaning to find you,” he said, “ever since moving back to Portland last year. But I hadn’t gotten around to it. I’m an attorney, and I’ve been trying to set up a new office. Now my family is faced with a crisis. And I’m hoping you can help.”

Did he want money? She quickly scanned his length, taking in the expensive, gray three-piece suit, the pale yellow shirt. The classy tie.

He didn’t appear to be poor or struggling.

“What kind of crisis?” she asked.

“My youngest son, your half brother, was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder. And he needs a bone-marrow transplant.”

A myriad of emotions swirled in her heart. Surprise that he’d walked into her life. Curiosity, too. But it seemed as though he’d only come looking for her because he stood to lose something. Someone special to him.

He hadn’t been looking for her.

“Mark is only eight years old.” The man pulled a wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket, withdrew a photograph of a kid in a soccer uniform and handed it to her. “He’s a bright and loving little boy—the greatest kid in the world. Without a transplant, he won’t live to see his tenth birthday.”

She looked into the smiling face of a dark-haired child with a splatter of freckles across his nose and a bright-eyed grin.

Her brother?

Her half brother.

This was all so overwhelming. She needed time to think. To react.

As though wanting some direction, some guidance, she glanced at her mother. The poor thing looked as though she was about to fall apart.

Lissa’s gaze drifted to Sullivan, who stood on the sidelines watching the scene unfold. She supposed it might have been better to meet privately with Mr. Cambry. But in a way, she welcomed the presence of others, appreciated their silent support. An audience made holding back the tears much easier.

“Whether you’re a match or not, I’d still like to establish a relationship with you,” Mr. Cambry…Jared said. For goodness’ sake. What was she supposed to call him?

Torn in a hundred different pieces, Lissa again looked to her mother, as though Donna could save the day, as she’d always done in the past. But this was a decision Lissa would have to make on her own. At least the father-daughter-relationship stuff.

She wouldn’t, of course, refuse to help his son. She glanced at the photo she held in her hand. The boy’s name was Mark. And he was much too young to be facing death.

Jared scanned the small, woodsy office, as though noticing the others for the first time, then focused on Lissa. “I’m sorry for blurting out news I should have revealed in private. But I’ve been so eager to find you…”

Because of the boy, she realized. Not because of her.

“Maybe we could have an early lunch together and discuss this further?” he asked. “We can drive into the nearest town. I noticed several cafés and diners as I passed through.”

“I’m afraid not,” Lissa answered. “I’m much too busy to take a lunch break today. But I’ll have the required testing done in the next day or so. Just let me know where I need to go. And if I’m a match, I’ll donate bone marrow to your son.”

Her brother.

“Thank you,” Jared said. “I can’t ask for more than that. But I really meant what I said about having a relationship with you—regardless of how everything else works out.”

She nodded, but again her voice failed her. For some reason, she didn’t want to make promises—or accept any—that might not pan out.

Her mother finally spoke. “I’ll walk you back to your car, Mr. Cambry.”

“All right.” Jared withdrew a business card from his wallet, wrote down several phone numbers. Then handed it to Lissa. “Please call me. Anytime of the day or night.”

Again she nodded, but when she returned the photo to him, he refused to take it. “Please keep it. I’d like you to have it.”

Lissa stood like a concrete angel in the center of a cemetery until the door shut behind her mother and her father—or rather, the guy who’d provided half her genetic makeup.

And, in spite of a determination to keep her feelings locked inside where Sullivan would never see, the tears slipped down her face. She set the picture of the boy—Mark—on the desktop, then wiped her eyes and nibbled at her lip.

Oh, God. Don’t let me fall apart here, in front of Sullivan. She could only imagine what the consultant was thinking of the surreal event that had just taken place.

Sullivan had been watching the awkward meeting, but only because he couldn’t find a graceful way to leave the room. He’d never been a sucker for tears, but as Lissa’s pain became evident, washing a path down her cheeks, it was tough to remain silent or invisible.

“Hey, if you’d like some time to sort through all of this, I understand. I can go for a walk.” He nodded toward the doggie bed on the floor. “I can even take Barney.”

“That’s all right,” she said, sniffling. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Yeah? If the situation were reversed, Sullivan would need time to regroup.

Did she expect to switch gears and keep going? Apparently so, because she stood over the desk and began to peruse the paperwork he’d already laid before her. But before they could return to the business discussion they’d been having, another wave of tears surfaced.

“I’m sorry.” She sniffled and wiped her face with the back of a hand.

“It’s none of my business,” he said, “but it seems to me as though you don’t want to talk to the guy. I’d think you’d be curious about your roots.”

“I am curious. But what if I reach out to him, and then he disappears from my life when the tests show I’m not a match for his son?” She blew out a ragged sigh. “To tell you the truth, I’m afraid of getting close, then having him turn his back on me after he gets what he wants.”

If anyone understood rejection—the fear of loving someone and having them walk out—it was Sullivan. Without a conscious thought, he slipped an arm around her and gave her a friendly squeeze. He didn’t say anything, though. Hell, he didn’t have any training in this kind of touchy-feely stuff.

But apparently, he’d lucked out. Lissa hadn’t needed any words of wisdom, because she leaned into his embrace, drawing comfort he didn’t usually offer anyone.

They stood there for a while, not talking, not really moving. But something weird began to happen. The friendly hug triggered a powerful awareness of Lissa as a woman.

She fit nicely in his arms. A little too nicely. Sullivan couldn’t help savoring her scent—something that reminded him of a peach orchard in the spring. And he grew pleasantly aware of the softness of her breasts as they pressed against his chest.

Without a conscious effort, his hands slid along the contour of her back, offering comfort, while providing proof of the curves she hid behind loose-fitting clothes.

He had an unwelcome urge to brush a kiss against her hair, to nuzzle her cheek. But he refrained. And even though he meant to keep things between them on a business level, he continued to hold her, unwilling to let go until she’d had her full dose of compassion and pulled away.

Lissa could have remained in Sullivan’s arms all day and into the night.