Triplets Found: The Virgin's Makeover / Take a Chance on Me / And Then There Were Three. Judy Duarte
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playing halfback for the Dragons, eight-year-old Mark had collapsed on the field. Jared had missed the game, since he’d been away on a business trip. But Danielle was there. And she’d rushed Mark to Portland General Hospital, where it was determined the boy had a rare blood disorder.
Without a bone-marrow transplant, their youngest son wouldn’t live past the age of ten.
Jared and Danielle had been devastated by the diagnosis but had immediately had the entire family tested as potential donors. Unfortunately, it turned out no one was a match.
“What do we do now?” she asked. “Besides pray that a suitable donor is found in time.”
Jared knew there was one last family member out there—somewhere. Someone who might prove to be a match. But finding him or her might be as difficult as finding an unrelated donor in the bone-marrow registry—possible, but against the odds.
“Sit down, Danni,” Jared told his wife. “I have something to tell you.”
She took a tissue from the wad she’d recently begun to carry in her pocket, wiped her eyes, then sat on the tufted leather seat near the lamp. She didn’t say anything. She merely twisted the tissue in her hands and waited for Jared to speak.
“When I was seventeen, I had a one-night stand with a teenaged girl that resulted in pregnancy.”
Her brow furrowed, and she looked at him aghast, as though she’d been slapped. “How could you have kept that from me?”
“The girl just disappeared,” he said, wishing he’d said something to Danni sooner. They didn’t keep secrets from each other. Except for this one, he supposed. But he hadn’t known how to tell her, so he’d kept putting it off. “Her name was Olivia. And I’m not sure where she is, or whether she kept the baby or not. But that means we have one more possibility of finding a related match.”
His pretty dark-haired wife looked shocked, disappointed and more than a little bit angry. And he couldn’t blame her for feeling that way.
“You got a girl pregnant?” she asked. “And you don’t even know what she did with the baby?”
“That’s the size of it. At this point.”
Years ago, Olivia had told him babies were a blessing. Jared hadn’t realized she’d been right. Not until Danni had given birth to Chad. And even though he’d been caught up in the miracle of his son’s birth, he’d been reminded of his firstborn—a child he’d suggested Olivia abort.
His conscience did a real number on him.
And each time he’d held Danni’s hand during the birth of his next two children, thoughts of a faceless newborn came back to haunt him.
Why hadn’t he looked for Olivia sooner? He’d intended to.
As the senior attorney in his own corporate law firm with successful offices in several states, Jared had recently moved his family back to Portland, where he’d been born, in order to establish an Oregon-based office.
He’d actually planned to look up Olivia and ask about the baby. And although he didn’t usually wade into psychological waters, maybe that was the underlying reason he’d wanted to open the Oregon office himself, rather than send one of his partners. But Jared hadn’t gotten a chance to look for her yet.
“When Olivia told me she was pregnant, I offered her money for an abortion, but she refused it. She told me she wanted to keep the baby.” Jared rested a hip against the polished, hardwood desk. “When I got settled in the dorms in Phoenix, I called her a couple of times. She was thinking about giving the child up for adoption, which would have been a better idea for her.”
“So what did she decide to do?” Danielle asked.
“I’m not sure. I called her again to ask how she was doing and offer her some money.” Jared raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “I wasn’t working, but I had a small savings account I could drain. Anyway, I pressed her to give the baby up for adoption, which I thought was the best solution. But she flipped out, saying she didn’t need my help, then hung up on me.”
“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