first-time lover—if she were inclined to act out the silly fantasy.
For Pete’s sake. What if he wasn’t the least bit interested in being her one-time lover? And if he were, her attempts to please him would be clumsy at best. Either way, she’d be embarrassed. Humiliated.
Mortified.
Fortunately, she was too shy to even suggest it.
Sullivan closed his eyes and appeared to be savoring the taste of the wine.
She held her breath, waiting for him to comment.
When his gaze locked on hers, his expression grew serious. “Lissa, this is incredible. I’m no expert, by any means, but I know what I like.”
She blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Really?”
“It’s great.” His eyes verified his sincerity. “With the fresh, unique taste we’ll need a name, something that will reflect the newness, as well as the appeal.”
“I agree.” Both she and her dad hoped that the wine would increase sales—with the right marketing strategy. “Any ideas?”
He thought for a while, then broke into a lazy grin. “There’s one word we need to use in the name.”
“What’s that?” She took a sip from her glass.
“Virgin.”
Virgin? Lissa choked, sputtered and coughed.
“Are you okay?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. I guess it just went down the wrong pipe.”
The explanation seemed to appease him, although she really hadn’t swallowed wrong. His comment had surprised her. Heck, the way Sullivan said virgin made it seem as though he thought virginity held some kind of merit, some value.
If that were the case, maybe her inexperience wouldn’t scare him away.
The idea of losing her innocence to Sullivan made her imagination soar. Of course, he’d probably be shocked if she suggested it—assuming she had the nerve to broach the subject. After all, she’d never been suggestive or forward—sexually speaking.
Besides, Sullivan had his share of beautiful women. What would make him settle for a nobody like her?
She could, of course, dream. Couldn’t she?
Lissa had become good at fantasizing. Which certainly helped, because the thought of going to her deathbed as a virgin was downright depressing, if she dwelled upon it.
“Virgin Mist,” he said. “Now, that’s a name that would appeal to the masses. It promises something new and fresh. What do you think?”
Before she could tell him it worked for her, the big, oval-topped door opened, and her father walked into the tasting room.
“How’d you like the tour?” he asked Sullivan.
“It was great. Enlightening. And the tour director really knows her stuff.” Sullivan shot Lissa a smile that nearly wobbled her knees.
“Well, she ought to. Lissa loves the vineyard.” Ken slid an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “In fact, she’s the daughter who takes after me.”
Sullivan chuckled, and Lissa smiled.
It was nice when her father said things like that, when he seemed to forget that she was adopted.
But they both knew there was another man out there—somewhere. A faceless man who could actually lay claim to her genetic makeup.
In his Portland law office, Jared studied a legal brief, yet his mind wasn’t on his work.
He was still reeling over the fact that the clock was ticking. That he still didn’t know anything about Olivia Maddison or her child. That the PI he’d hired had been due to check in ten minutes ago.
Just as he glanced at his gold wristwatch, a beep sounded over the intercom system.
“Mr. Cambry?” his secretary asked.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Hastings with Investigative Specialties is here to see you.”
“Send him in.” Jared was eager to know what the investigator had learned, whether he’d found Olivia yet.
Moments later, Sam Hastings entered. He was a big man with a full head of blond hair and prominent brows that shaded pensive eyes.
Jared stood and reached across the table to shake hands. “Any news?”
“Yeah. I’m afraid so.” Sam blew out a sigh. “Olivia is dead.”
Dead? Jared slowly dropped to his seat. “What happened?”
“Car accident. Twenty-seven years ago.”
“And the baby?” Jared asked, heart pounding. Had the child died, too?
“It was made a ward of the state and put up for adoption.”
“Now what?” Jared asked.
“Well, let me tell you what I’ve learned, what we’ve got to work with.” Sam took the seat in front of the desk, as though the revelation might take a while. “Olivia and her mother were involved in a traffic accident. Mrs. Maddison was killed instantly, and Olivia was critically injured. Paramedics took her to Portland General Hospital, where she remained in a coma until she died a few weeks later.”
“So, what do the hospital records show?” Jared asked.
“That’s the problem.” Sam took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “A few months after Olivia’s death, a severe storm caused a power surge throughout the county. The hospital’s backup generator kicked on a few seconds later, and the patients were okay. But because the computers are old and the hospital birth clinic lacked funding until the new owners, the Logans, came on board, the computer files were either lost or are nearly impossible to retrieve.”
“But surely there are paper files, not just the computer entries,” Jared said, hoping his efforts to find his firstborn hadn’t struck out completely.
“I’m afraid not. When the power surged, it caused a circuit breaker in the clinic to spark. Some of the sparks landed on a cutesy wall hanging they used as a nursery decoration. A fire started, eliminating a number of paper files regarding adoptions, foster care situations, fertility information and other things.”
Jared could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, could feel his palms growing moist, his stomach knotting. “Are you telling me that we can’t find out what happened to the baby?”
“The child survived the accident, was born prematurely and put up for adoption through the Children’s Connection. What we’ve got are bits and pieces of information.”
“Like what?” Jared asked, his hopes
