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

“And that’s how it ended?”

“No. I called her back the next day. Her mother took the message, but Olivia didn’t return that call. Or the next one.”

“So you just let her go?”

“Not exactly. I figured the baby would be due in the spring, so I called again. But their phone had been disconnected, and there was no forwarding number.”

“So how do we go about finding her now?” Danni asked. It seemed that her sense of betrayal had been overcome by her concern for Mark.

“I’ve got my work cut out for me, but with my investigative skills and enough money to hire the best PI in Oregon, I’ll find Olivia and the child.”

Jared just hoped he would find them in time.

Dinner around the Cartwright table was a pleasant experience, and Sullivan was glad he’d taken his clients up on the offer to join them.

They dined on grilled filet mignon, tossed salad with an incredible—and undoubtedly homemade—vinaigrette dressing, twice-baked potatoes and a crusty loaf of bread that had filled the house with a warm, yeasty aroma.

Donna Cartwright might be closing in on sixty—or maybe even past it—but she was an attractive woman, with shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair like Eileen’s.

And she was a darn good cook. If Sullivan hadn’t already complimented her several times, he’d do so again.

“Tell me,” Donna said, resting her elbows on the linen-draped table and eyeing Sullivan with a warm smile. “Where are you from?”

“Originally, I’m from Charleston. But I’ve been living in Portland for the past five years.”

“Oh, really?” She appeared interested. Almost too interested, it seemed. “Does your family still live in Charleston?”

“Yes, they do.” His mom and dad kept separate residences in the same prestigious part of town. And in spite of their efforts to avoid each other at all costs, they wouldn’t ever move. They had too much invested in the land, the community—the banks.

“That’s nice,” Donna said. “Why did you choose to move to Oregon?”

Uh-oh. Was she making small talk? Or fishing for information about his marital status and eligibility, like some mothers of single daughters did? After all, she still had one more to marry off.

He ought to give Donna the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t help staying on his toes, ready to make a mad dash for cover. “I moved to Portland for business reasons.” His business—and nobody else’s.

If Sullivan had to see his ex-wife on Gregory Atwater’s arm at one more society function, he might have done something to embarrass himself. It had been tough enough living down the fiasco that sent his parents’ marriage spiraling into court, so as soon as his divorce had become final, he’d gotten the hell out of Charleston. And five years later, here he was. He’d moved practically from one corner of the United States to another.

Could he have gotten any farther away from his ex or his war-torn childhood?

“Portland is a nice city,” Donna said.

Sullivan nodded. “I like it.”

Her blue eyes sparkled in a doting mama way, and any red-blooded single man could see her cogs and wheels turning, could sense her maternal game plan. So he braced himself for another round of the bachelor two-step, a defensive move he’d quickly mastered.

He took a sip of wine and savored the taste of the Valencia merlot that was every bit as good as Ken and Lissa had told him it was.

“Are you married?” Donna asked.

Ah, he’d been right. The tenacious woman had finally gone for the jugular. Fortunately, he’d become adept at maintaining his privacy and his happy go lucky bachelor status. “No, I’m not married.”

“It must be lonely for you.”

Lissa, who’d just lifted her wineglass for a sip, choked momentarily, then pressed a white linen napkin to her mouth before saying, “Excuse me.”

Sullivan stole a glance her way and realized she wasn’t at all comfortable with her mother’s shift to yenta mode. He sympathized with the young woman who probably was as happy to be unattached as he was. If she weren’t, he suspected she’d dress differently.

“I enjoy the freedom to come and go as I choose,” he told the mother.

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Donna said, although Sullivan had a feeling she thought it was wonderful that he was a bachelor. And that she’d quickly put aside the fact he liked being single.

The older woman tucked a wavy strand of shoulder-length hair behind her ear and continued to hone in on her target. “Surely a man like you must be seeing someone special.”

Sullivan had been down this road many times before. “I date several ladies, Mrs. Cartwright. And each of them is pretty special.”

“You’ll have to forgive my wife for prying into your life,” Ken said, with a chuckle. “She thinks everyone needs to be as happily married as we are.”

Yeah, well Sullivan’s experience told him that many women liked to play matchmaker, whether they were happily married or not.

For some reason, the female of the species seemed to harbor a happily-ever-after fantasy, but he didn’t hold on to that illusion any longer. Katherine and Clarence Grayson might have been proper and genteel when they socialized with Charleston’s wealthy families. But behind the walls of the family estate, they hadn’t behaved any differently than a warring couple in the seedier part of town. The broken dishes and figurines merely cost more money to replace.

“I’m afraid growing up in the midst of marital misery has made me gun-shy,” Sullivan said.

Donna seemed to take his statement into consideration and didn’t immediately speak.

Sullivan slid a glance at Lissa, who sat up straight—much like a rocket ready to blast off. She probably needed a break as badly as he did.

He shifted in his seat toward Ken, intending to send the conversation in a safer direction, and caught the vintner’s eyes. “This merlot is excellent. I think we’ll need to work the marketing strategy around it, too.”

“I thought you’d like it.” The older man leaned back in his chair. “But you haven’t tasted anything until you try Lissa’s new blend.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” This time, when Sullivan glanced at Lissa, she didn’t seem to be quite as tense. Maybe more like a firecracker than a rocket.

He didn’t usually sympathize with single women whose mothers were dead set on seeing them in white lace and a veil, but shy and unassuming Lissa tugged at a sympathetic vein in his heart.

Besides, from what he’d learned while researching his new clients, Lissa loved the vineyard and had a real head for business. The people he’d spoken to referred to her as a career woman, with nothing on her mind but the success of the family vineyard.

And that assessment had been validated by what he’d observed earlier today. He figured she meant to make Valencia Vineyards her life.

Apparently, her mother hadn’t wanted to accept that decision.

“Can I get anyone seconds?” Donna asked.

“Not me.” Sullivan leaned away from the table. “I haven’t eaten this well in ages.”

Again, he looked at Lissa, who seemed to be studying her plate. Unless she’d gotten a full heaping of seconds when he wasn’t looking, she hadn’t eaten much at all. He had a feeling the mother-hen inquisition had annoyed her, too.

And why shouldn’t it bother her? She had a business relationship with Sullivan to think about. And they had a lot of work ahead of them. Romantic thoughts would only get in the way, distract them from their focus.