Charleston, S.C.: Three-and-a-half months later

"Claire, if you handle a man with as much finesse as you're using on that swizzle stick, it's no wonder you sleep alone."

Tucked in a corner of her bustling restaurant kitchen, Claire surrendered the pitcher of mint juleps to her sister before she sloshed ice onto the counter. "Swizzle stick? Either you're more innocent than you let on or you've just insulted some poor guy in a big — or would that be little? — way."

"Guilty as charged," Starr answered ambiguously as she assumed control of the fragrant mixed drink, sprinkling fresh mint leaves on top before passing it over to a waitress.

Claire picked through her herb garden in the open window while stifling the urge to blurt how she'd handled one man a little too well three-and-a-half months ago. Now, she had a permanent reminder of that weekend-long sensual feast last January.

Her hands shook as she snagged the empty bowl for parsley sprigs. "I'm too busy for a love life."

Today in particular, she had enough on her plate feeding the Beachcombers Bar and Grill Saturday lunch crowd while prepping for the packed week of catering events. Even with the help of her two foster sisters, co-owners in the business, soon she would be busier still with a baby on her hip. Not that she intended to let that information leak to the kitchen full of staff clanging pots and filling orders.

She had to tell the baby's daddy first.

And she would — after this week passed and she could compose herself with a long bubble bath. She'd only been delaying telling Vic out of practicality. Right? Ever reasonable, she always made the prac