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

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.

As soon as he could get her alone, he’d have to let her know that this stuff happened to him all the time, and that she shouldn’t be the least bit embarrassed, not on his account.

“Decaffeinated coffee anyone?” Donna asked, obviously in her element as a gracious hostess.

“I’ll have a cup,” Ken said.

The attractive older woman tossed Sullivan a pleasant smile. “How about you?”

“No thank you.” Sullivan was ready for the evening to end, especially since he wasn’t about to lay himself open for any more questions. And he didn’t particularly like seeing Lissa look as if she were sitting in a dental chair, waiting for a root canal.

The dark-haired young woman gathered her nearly full plate and silverware, along with those of her father and Sullivan, then went into the kitchen, followed by her mother.

Minutes later, when they returned with coffee and slices of cheesecake with a raspberry sauce, Donna wore a solemn expression.

Had she been chastised by her daughter? Probably so, because Lissa looked a bit more comfortable than when she’d been seated at the table.

No telling what—if anything—had gone on in the kitchen, but Sullivan had a feeling Lissa had asked her mother to back off. He hoped the older woman’s curiosity had been sated. For everyone’s sake.

Actually, Donna Cartwright was a nice lady. Just determined to marry off her last daughter, he supposed.

But Sullivan wasn’t in the market for a wife. Not now. Not ever. And the sooner the Cartwrights understood that, the better.

Lissa couldn’t wait for the horrible evening to end. What must Sullivan think of her—or her mother?

She knew her mom didn’t mean any harm, but if Lissa ever decided to go on a manhunt, she didn’t want her mother to pave the way.

At least after their little chat in the kitchen, Mom had gotten the message that Lissa wasn’t looking for a husband.

Of course, if she’d been more like Eileen, Sullivan Grayson would have made a great catch. But she wasn’t anything like Eileen. And besides, he’d made himself clear. He was happy being a bachelor.

“The cheesecake was delicious,” Sullivan said. “In fact, the entire meal was out of this world. I’m going to put on weight while I work here.”

Donna beamed like a Girl Scout with a new merit badge. “Well, I’m glad you decided to join us.”

Relieved to see the stressful dinner conversation winding down, Lissa pushed her seat away from the table. “If you don’t mind, I’ll slip into the kitchen and wash the dishes.”

Sullivan stood and reached for his desert plate and fork. “Let me help you.”

Lissa nearly dropped the cup and saucer she’d picked up, but for the life of her, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t object. Of course, knowing her mother, she wouldn’t have to.

“How thoughtful,” Donna told Sullivan, even though it was her habit to shoo off any guest who volunteered to help in the kitchen. “Ken and I will just go on to bed.”

At seven-thirty?

Ken glanced at his watch, furrowed his brow, then cocked his head. “It’s pretty early for bed, don’t you think?”

Lissa didn’t take time to listen to her mother’s explanation. Instead, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Sullivan followed her.

She wanted to tell him that she needed some time alone, to regroup after her mother’s lame attempt to find her a husband. But she kept her mouth shut for a while, until she could figure out what to say.

“I noticed how uncomfortable you were in there,” he said.

Lissa stood at the sink, her hand frozen on the faucet, warm water flowing from the spigot.

“But don’t let it get to you,” he said. “I’m used to that kind of thing.”

What kind of thing was that? Mothers who tried to find husbands for their spinster daughters?

For goodness’ sake. Even if Lissa had been willing to accept her mother’s help, the least her mom could do was find a man who actually wanted to settle down.

She turned around to face him, catching a whiff of his taunting highland scent and falling into his hazel gaze. Her heart skipped a beat, and she tried desperately to hide her feelings, her insecurities, all of those things that had worked against her since meeting Sullivan.

“Just so you know,” she said, “I have no plans to get married. Ever.”

Okay, so she lied. Sort of. She had dreams, of course, enhanced by the stack of romances on her nightstand. But no plans. She knew better than to believe a frog could turn into a princess.

“I had a feeling you felt the same way I do,” Sullivan said. “Don’t you hate it when people try to screw up our contentment?”

She nodded, even though she wasn’t all that contented. But at least she didn’t have to deal with embarrassment.

Sullivan slid her a crooked smile that made her knees go weak. What an interesting mouth he had.

A mouth that undoubtedly knew how to kiss a woman.

Milt Preston had kissed her once, after their date to the Christmas formal. Lissa had actually been looking forward to it, since Eileen had told her about making out with Jason Crowley in the back seat of his Mustang.

But her first kiss hadn’t been anything like her sister’s romantic experience. In fact, it had been just plain awful.

Instead of taking it slow and easy, Milt had opened his mouth and zeroed in on her, slapping a wet tongue across her lips, trying to poke and prod his way inside her mouth. She’d pushed him away, but the kiss had left her feeling dirty, sticky and wet.

Disgusted and disappointed, she’d left him standing on the porch and escaped inside the house, where she dashed upstairs to brush her teeth and rid herself of his taste.

Her efforts hadn’t worked, so she’d tried a shower. But not even hot, sudsy water could wash away the yucky memory.

As Sullivan squeezed a squirt of dish soap into the sink, his presence closed in on her. The side of his arm brushed against her shoulder, leaving a warm tingle after he moved away. “Would you like to wash or dry?”