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

“There was yet another scrap of charred paper in the file. One that listed the blood type of a child born to Olivia Maddison.”

“And my blood type doesn’t match that one?” Lissa furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. My parents were told my mother’s name was Olivia. And that was before the fire destroyed any of the paperwork.”

“I think Olivia may have given birth to twins who were separated at birth—a boy and a girl. Although it’s rare, you have different blood types. Your brother was adopted by another family. And his name is Adam Bartlite.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But I intend to find out.”

Lissa leaned against the side of the sofa. Her life had certainly taken a strange twist. Once the adopted daughter of Ken and Donna Cartwright, her family had grown to include Jared, his wife and three half siblings. And that wasn’t all. She might have a brother. A twin brother.

“I didn’t mention this before,” Jared said, “because I didn’t think it was relevant. But multiple births run in my family. And Olivia told me she’d had a twin who died as an infant.”

“I’m stunned,” Lissa said. “To say the least.”

“Me, too. But a twin birth is the only possible explanation.”

“And now you need to find Adam,” Lissa said.

“Yes.”

Her real brother. Did he look like her? Did they share any of the same mannerisms? The same likes and dislikes? Had her twin been blessed with a loving home, as she had?

“I’d like to meet Adam,” Lissa said. “When you find him.”

“It may take some time. I just came to this conclusion this morning, after the doctor called to give me the lab results. But I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thanks, Jared. And if you need any help looking for Adam, I’ll do what I can.”

“I appreciate that.”

When the telephone disconnected, she stood in the living room for the longest time, trying to sort through things.

There’d been a lot of changes in her once simple life. Her family was growing by leaps and bounds, assuming Jared was right about her having a twin brother.

And then there was Sullivan. Lissa couldn’t wait to share the news with the man who’d become so much more than a lover. Did she dare dream that they might create a family of their own?

By the time she arrived at the office, Sullivan was busy working on another ad layout. He glanced up from the desk, no doubt wondering what had kept her. After all, she was never late to work.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Good news and bad. First of all, Barney is doing much better. And the vet thinks he’ll make it.”

“That’s obviously the good news. What’s the rest of it?”

She adjusted her hair, then sat on the edge of the desk. “I’m not a match for Mark, Jared’s son.”

“That’s too bad.” Sullivan leaned back in the tufted leather desk chair. “What happens now?”

“Well, Jared has reason to believe I might have a twin brother out there someplace. And he’s trying to find him.”

Before she could go into any further explanation, the office telephone rang.

Now what? She wondered, unable to quell her impatience. Or a sense of dread.

She lifted the receiver and tried to command an upbeat voice. “Valencia Vineyards.”

“Lissa, this is Gretchen Thomas with Through the Grapevine magazine. I’m sorry about not being able to make it to the reception last Saturday night.”

“That’s all right,” Lissa said, glad the woman hadn’t been in attendance. She didn’t think she could have stood by watching the reporter make goo-goo eyes at Sullivan. “Sometimes things don’t work out. I understand.”

“Well, my boss was at the reception and was very impressed with what you’ve created. He believes Virgin Mist is going to be well received by consumers and connoisseurs alike. So he suggested I do a bigger spread on both the wine and the vintner.”

“That’s great,” Lissa said, although her enthusiasm was muted by the fact she couldn’t donate bone marrow to her younger brother. And also by the possibility that she had a twin. Somewhere. For the first time in her life, she found it difficult to focus on business.

“So if you don’t mind,” Gretchen said, “I’d like to make an appointment to come out to the vineyard and interview you.”

“Sure.” Lissa glanced at Sullivan. She wasn’t excited about watching the reporter flirt and fawn over the man she was sleeping with, the man she loved. But the publicity would be good for the vineyard and Virgin Mist. “When did you want to come out here?”

“The sooner the better. If I can get a photographer to accompany me, I’d like to set something up for this afternoon.”

“That’ll be fine,” Lissa said, although she’d rather send Sullivan on an errand that would keep him busy until after the blond bombshell had left the premises. Maybe he could go get Barney at the vet—without her.

If she scheduled it right…

“Should we aim for one o’clock?” Gretchen asked.

The vet was out for lunch between twelve and two. So much for orchestrating Sullivan’s absence. But the article was too important. And Lissa’s jealousy was silly and misplaced. After all, Sullivan hadn’t given the busty blonde much attention when she’d made a play for him at dinner. “Sure, Gretchen, one o’clock will work out fine.”

“I think Roger, my photographer, is free, but I’ll confirm as soon as I know for sure.”

When Lissa hung up the phone, she told Sullivan what Gretchen had said.

“Having the editor of a wine magazine think that highly of Virgin Mist is a real plus. I guess we’d better turn on the charm when Gretchen arrives.”

That’s what Lissa was afraid of.

Sullivan would turn on the charm. And since his work at Valencia Vineyards was coming to an end, Gretchen would lure him into her eager arms.

Sullivan tried hard to keep his mind on his work. He needed to tell Lissa that their affair was over. That it was best they end things before he left—which, by the way, would be next week. Hell, maybe sooner than that. Some of the loose ends could be handled over the telephone.

But he thought he owed her more than an It’s-been-nice-knowing-you. He wasn’t sure just what he owed her, though. More than the Dear John he’d come home to find—that was for sure.

He supposed having an adult conversation over a glass of wine on the deck was better than a discussion over a scarred-oak desk in a stuffy office, so he decided to wait until the workday was over.

Of course, Lissa had been the one to suggest the temporary affair in the first place. And she was interested in Martinelli. It was possible that she wouldn’t give a rat’s hind end if they each went their own way in the next couple of days.

And maybe their lovemaking yesterday hadn’t affected her in the same way it had him. She could have been so caught up in emotion over her concern for Barney, that she hadn’t felt the same intimacy that he’d felt. The same gut-wrenching fear of getting in too deep.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, when he peered out the window for the fifth or sixth time since the clock had struck one.

“No.” He was just edgy. Unsettled. And waiting for the cavalry to arrive.

Where the hell was the Through the Grapevine magazine reporter? She’d take the focus off what had happened between Lissa and him. Although Sullivan still wasn’t exactly sure what had happened between them.

“Are you looking for Gretchen?” Lissa asked.

Maybe he was. But the tone of Lissa’s voice indicated female concern. Jealousy?

“She’s late,” is all he said. “And you have to pick up Barney.”

“Did you want to go with me?” she asked.

“I have some work to do later this afternoon. And I have to schedule my next client.”

Her face dropped, and her brow furrowed. Disappointment?

Since when had he not been able to read a woman’s expressions and at least have a good idea what she was thinking and feeling?

At a quarter past one, a white van with a grape logo on the side pulled up, and Gretchen Thomas climbed out. Tight-fitting jeans clung to the curves of her hips, complementing her long legs. And a formfitting pink T-shirt displayed her other assets to their fullest.

Damn. That woman was proud of her figure. Too proud, if you asked him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate looking at her.

He shot a glance at Lissa, saw her lean against the desk with her arms crossed and fix a solemn look on her face.

Anger? Hurt? Or was she merely disinterested?

Hell, he didn’t know for sure. Working with Lissa after yesterday’s killer bout of intimacy-in-the-buff left him uneasy.

Hey, maybe she thought he was acting strangely. And that’s what he’d read in her expression.

“I’ll get the door,” Sullivan said. Then he invited Gretchen inside, along with her sidekick, a pudgy male photographer who seemed to be enamored with the sexy reporter. Good luck, pal. She’s way out of your starry-eyed league.

“It’s nice to see you again, Sullivan.” Gretchen extended an arm in greeting, giving his hand a warm, lingering squeeze.

“Same here.” He still preferred not to mix business with pleasure, but he had a feeling Gretchen wouldn’t let that stop her.

“Hello, there.” Gretchen slid Lissa a smile, as though finally noting the vintner she’d come to interview. Noting the makeover, too, he suspected. But she didn’t acknowledge the change in Lissa.

“This is my photographer,” Gretchen said, nodding to the short, stocky man. “Roger Donaldson.”

While the men shook hands, Gretchen withdrew a small tape recorder, a pen and a pad of paper from a black canvas tote bag.

Lissa took a seat at the desk, and the reporter sat across from her.

“All right. Let’s get started.” Gretchen placed the tape recorder on the table and jabbed at the record button. “Tell me, Lissa, what made you want to become a vintner?”

“I’ve always admired my father. As a small child, I tagged along after him every chance I got. He taught me a love for the land and the vineyard. And naturally, I followed in his footsteps.”

Gretchen quickly got down to business, asking questions, scribbling answers. Sullivan had to give her credit. She seemed to know her stuff. And he suspected the magazine spread would be well-written, with the wine and vineyard presented in a positive light.

“How about a tour?” Gretchen asked.

Lissa glanced at her wristwatch. “Sure. As long as we can get it done within the next half hour. I’ve got an appointment at two.”

“I’m sure it won’t matter if you’re late,” Sullivan said. “As long as you get Barney picked up before the vet closes, it should be all right.”

Lissa nodded, then led Gretchen and Roger outside. Sullivan followed several steps behind.

Nearly two hours and two rolls of film later, Gretchen seemed pleased with what they’d accomplished. Sullivan had tried to keep a low profile, and surprisingly enough, the reporter had performed like a professional—until she closed her notepad and stuck it in the canvas bag she carried.

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