Triplets Found: The Virgin's Makeover / Take a Chance on Me / And Then There Were Three. Judy Duarte
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dinner.”
“Mrs. Cartwright has probably assigned place settings.” At least Sullivan hoped so. It would make things easier for him if Gretchen latched on to someone else for the remainder of the evening. Otherwise, he’d have to make sure he rejected her affections with grace and charm. If he failed to do that, things could get really hairy.
A woman scorned was one thing. But a female reporter scorned was something entirely different.
He tried to remain cordial and keep things on an impersonal level, but Gretchen wasn’t making things easy.
“I have no qualms about moving a couple of name tags,” she said, with a cherry-red smile.
“That sounds appealing, but it’s my job to rub elbows with some of the vintners this evening.” Sullivan scanned the mingling crowd, looking for Lissa. He could use a little help slipping away from Gretchen.
Several times during the past half hour, he’d searched the room and caught Lissa’s eye, only to have his gaze ricochet off an unreadable expression.
Was she mad about something? Did she think he’d dropped the ball because he’d been lusting after the busty reporter who’d tried to attach herself to his hip?
Lissa needed to understand this thing with Gretchen wasn’t going anywhere, that as attractive—and obviously willing—as Gretchen was, Sullivan wouldn’t let things take a sexual and unprofessional turn.
“Excuse me,” Ken Cartwright said, addressing his guests. “May I have your attention?”
Ah, a way out. Thank goodness.
People gradually grew silent and turned toward their host, allowing Ken to continue his speech. “My daughter Lissa has worked with me for years, learning everything I know about wine. And I think she’s surpassed anything I’ve ever done.”
The guests smiled and looked at Lissa, then at her father.
“My daughter has created a new blend called Virgin Mist,” Ken said, pride evident in every word. “And we’d like you to try a glass before we officially unveil it later this month.”
As the catering staff carried in silver platters laden with glasses, offering Virgin Mist to each guest, Sullivan couldn’t help but study Lissa. She worried her bottom lip, undoubtedly waiting for the reaction of her peers, waiting for their response.
Sullivan should be at her side. It was his job to support her.
As glasses raised, a few murmurs rippled through the room. Anticipation grew steadily.
Taking the chance to untangle himself from the determined blonde, he said, “It’s been great talking to you, but it looks as though I’m back on the clock. Will you please excuse me?”
The woman gave him a sad-eyed pout, which he quickly dismissed. Leaving Gretchen, he made his way toward Lissa, but before he could reach her side, an older man eased close to her. It was the guy he’d seen her talking to earlier, although both seemed friendlier now.
The man was expensively dressed and the picture of refined charm. Handsome.
And he was also old enough to be her dad.
He whispered something that lit up her eyes. Complimenting her wine, Sullivan realized, as the other guests burst into nods and smiles.
Lissa appeared to be pleased with the attention. But Sullivan spotted masculine interest in the man’s gaze, in his stance.
Ever since his ex had dumped him for a rich guy who was old enough for Medicare—or so Sullivan thought—those May-December things stuck in his craw.
What attracted a young woman to an old duck like that?
He’d always suspected Kristin had gone for Atwater’s bucks. Not that Sullivan hadn’t had money when they’d first married. He’d had a ton of it—all tied up in a trust fund, which his father had refused to release until after Sullivan had earned his first million.
And Kristin, apparently, had gotten tired of waiting.
Yet Lissa didn’t seem to be the kind of woman who was attracted to a hefty bank account.
Maybe it was the father-thing, her being adopted and all. But even that psychological stretch didn’t help Sullivan understand. Or make it any easier to accept.
The older gentleman intimated something to Lissa, and she laughed. Sullivan supposed the friendly exchange shouldn’t bother him. The guy was probably one of the vintners in this region. A successful man, no doubt.
But as the evening unfolded, he learned a little more about the man who’d set his sights on Lissa.
Martinelli’s second wife had died in a skiing accident last year, while vacationing with friends in Canada. The woman had also been fifteen years younger than Martinelli.
Why didn’t the guy go after women his own age?
Not that Sullivan had staked any kind of claim on Lissa. Nor did he intend to. But there were plenty of guys in their thirties who would appreciate her, who were better suited.
Sullivan decided Anthony Martinelli was too old, too charming, too…too wrong for Lissa.
Much later, after the last guest had said goodbye at the door and Ken and Donna had disappeared upstairs, Lissa joined Sullivan near the fireplace. “So? What do you think?”
He thought that Gramps was making a play for her, but he knew that wasn’t what she meant. “Everything went exceptionally well. Word will spread about Virgin Mist. And when we have the official unveiling later this month, Valencia Vineyards should become a force to be reckoned with in the wine industry.”
A slow smile lit up her face, warming the emerald flecks in her eyes to a brilliant gleam. “Anthony said the same thing.”
So, Sullivan had been right. The old guy had charmed her.
Normally, Sullivan didn’t involve himself in his clients’ personal affairs, but he couldn’t help commenting this time. “Martinelli was making the moves on you all evening. And you’re young enough to be his daughter.”
She bristled.
Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. But it was too late to backpedal now.
“Anthony was the epitome of grace and charm this evening,” she said. “But on the other hand, that buxom reporter kept thrusting her chest at you and making a scene.”
“I admit, Gretchen was pretty brazen. But I didn’t take her up on her offer.”
“She offered you sex?”
“Not with words.” Sullivan crossed his arms, unsure of how or why they’d gotten into this conversation. But for some reason, he couldn’t back off, couldn’t keep that old baggage from surfacing. “But, in case you didn’t notice, ol’ Dapper Dad had the same idea. He just had more class and style.”
Lissa blew out a heavy sigh. “You’re crazy.”
Maybe he was. But like a bulldog with his jaws locked on a meaty bone, Sullivan couldn’t seem to let it go, let it drop. “Are you interested in him?”
Her brow furrowed, as though his question offended her. But she seemed to recover. “I might be interested. Anthony is a nice man.”
“And he’s old enough to be your father.”
“So what?” She crossed her arms. A spark of anger brought a fire to her eyes. “Lots of women like older men.”
“That’s because they’re either after money or a father figure.”
“I’m not after anything.”
Sullivan realized he should have kept his opinions to himself and wished he’d never brought up the subject. “I’m sorry. This really is none of my business. And the conversation is way out of line.”
“You’re