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

Still Lissa had to give her mom and dad credit for trying to be fair. They were great parents. And they were good to her. She had no complaints.

After all, how could they not love their real daughter more?

Besides, Eileen was everything Lissa wasn’t. And their differences went beyond appearance—something Lissa had learned in the fall of first grade.

One day after school, their mother had enrolled them in a dance school and bought them new black patent-leather tap shoes. Mom’s enthusiasm had been contagious, and both girls had been ecstatic and ready for their very first lesson.

Before long, Eileen was dancing her little heart out—Shirley Temple style. All the while, Lissa clomped around like a pack mule in army boots.

Fortunately, Ken and Donna Cartwright had done a good job of pretending to be equally proud of both girls. But the tap instructor hadn’t been quite as tactful.

But who could blame her? Lissa had seen the proof played out loud and clear on the family home videos of the dance recitals.

Yet that didn’t overshadow one important fact. The girls shared a genuine love for each other—and for their parents.

“Have you told Mom and Dad?” Lissa asked.

“Not yet. I will, as soon as they get in from their morning walk.”

From her seat on the deck, Lissa scanned the rolling hillsides of Valencia Vineyards, where sturdy vines nourished premium grapes. She loved the fertile land and the bounty it produced. The vineyard was the one place where she actually belonged, where she could thrive and be herself.

That’s why she started each day with breakfast on the backyard deck, under the protection of the overhang when it rained and out in the sunshine when it didn’t.

She spotted her parents near the new, state-of-the art winery, walking hand-in-hand, their love for each other impossible to ignore.

Maybe that’s what Lissa envied. The sense of truly belonging. Of loving and being loved.

“Look.” Lissa pointed toward her parents. “They’re coming this way.”

“Good. I can’t wait to tell them, especially Mom. You know how she is about babies.” Eileen rolled her eyes and laughed. “Remember how embarrassed we used to get? I’ve never known another woman to get so goofy whenever she spotted a little one at the mall or in the grocery store.”

“I remember,” Lissa said. “And you’re right. Mom will be thrilled to have a grandchild.”

Especially since Eileen’s baby would be a real grandchild.

The old insecurities seemed to settle over Lissa, but she adored her sister. “I’m so happy for you. I know how much you love Dan.”

Eileen reached across the glass tabletop and squeezed Lissa’s hand. “I really hope that you find a special man someday. Someone who appreciates you.”

“Thanks,” Lissa said, although that wasn’t likely. Her shyness made her steer clear of serious relationships.

And at this point, it seemed that life—and love—had passed her by. After all, how many twenty-seven-year-old virgins were still walking the face of the earth? Not many, she would wager.

And since she rarely left the vineyard or winery, Lissa would probably go to her grave never having experienced a night of romance or passion—other than in those books her sister gave to her.

Of course, she didn’t admit that to anyone. Not even Eileen.

Instead, Lissa said, “There aren’t too many special guys who come around here.”

“Well, you need to get out more. You’ve become a workaholic since I got married.”

That was true. Lissa had poured her talents into running the vineyard—from farming to the business end. Deep down, she hoped to prove herself, although she wasn’t sure who she wanted to impress. Her parents? The world? The faceless biological parents who’d given her away? Or maybe just herself.

Either way, she’d dedicated her life to the family vineyard and winery. And she was good at what she did. She had a head for business and had soaked in every bit of knowledge her dad shared with her as a vintner.

A muted little bark sounded from the sliding door, and Lissa spotted her new puppy scratching at the glass, trying to get out.

“Looks like Barney woke up and is raring to go.” Lissa glanced at her watch. “I hate to leave you on the deck alone, but I have to go to work.”

“Don’t you want to be here when I tell Mom and Dad?” Eileen asked.

Lissa gave her sister a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got a business meeting in a few minutes, and I’ve got to look over a few files ahead of time. This is your special moment with Mom and Dad. You can tell me all about it later.”

“Who are you meeting?” Eileen asked.

“A business consultant.”

“A man?” Her sister sat up straight, nearly knocking over her glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Lissa clicked her tongue. “Don’t get your hopes up. His name is Sullivan Grayson. Doesn’t that sound a bit old and stodgy? Besides, Dad met him in some tournament at the country club. And you know most of the guys he plays golf with are retired.”

“And married,” Eileen added. “Okay, so maybe another interesting man will come along for you.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Lissa said, not at all convinced. Then she took her dishes into the house, eager to get back to work, to return to the world where she could shine.

Once inside the kitchen, she put the dishes in the sink, while the rascally pup jumped at her feet, trying to get her attention by whining and yapping. When her hands were free, she picked up the little dog.

Barney nuzzled in her arms, then gave her several wet kisses on the cheek.

“I love you, too, little guy.” Lissa smiled wistfully.

At the rate things were going in her life, the closest thing to a baby she would ever have was this wetnosed bundle of joy.

And the closest thing to romance and lovemaking she’d ever experience was waiting for her in one of the paperback novels on the nightstand in her bedroom.

Thirty minutes later, in the wood-paneled vineyard office where Lissa spent most of her time, she heard a car pull up and assumed Sullivan Grayson had arrived. She quickly organized the files she’d spread across her desk, ready to meet the man her father had hired to help the vineyard over a financial slump.

With the assistance of the topnotch consultant and investor, they hoped to create a marketing strategy to promote the new blend of varietals Lissa had developed and jumpstart the struggling, family-owned vineyard.

A light rap sounded at the door.

“Come on in,” she called.

As a tall, broad-shouldered man entered, the dark walls seemed to close in on them, and Lissa nearly fell out of her swiveled desk chair.

From the open doorway, the morning sun highlighted a dark shade of burnished-copper in his hair and gave him a rugged, mystical aura that stirred her imagination. His face and stance reminded her of a young Scottish laird.

He wore khaki slacks and a green button-down shirt, open at the collar. No tie. Yet, for a moment, she wondered what he would look like in a kilt, with a broadsword in hand.

“Hello.” He flashed a crooked smile. “I’m Sullivan Grayson.”

There had to be a mistake. She’d expected an older gentleman who’d been doing business long enough to achieve the mile-long résumé of successful ventures her father had shown her. Not someone whose lively eyes and flirtatious smile made her feel like a gawky adolescent.

A hodgepodge of words seemed to jam in her throat, but she cleared her voice and uttered a belated, “Hello.”

“You must be Lissa Cartwright,” he said, picking up the conversational ball she’d dropped.

She nodded, then stood and extended an arm across the desk in greeting. “How do you do?”