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

“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?