The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!. Carol Finch
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from her car so she could change clothes. He set her luggage by the door and watched her appraise his home. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath, hoping for her approval, until she smiled in appreciation. It was that particularly radiant smile that hit him right where he lived. Her smile made her more appealing to him than she already was. God, she looked good and smelled alluring. He didn’t know what fragrance she was wearing but it made him want to sidle closer and breathe her in.
“Nice place,” she complimented as she walked unevenly into the living room. “I like your western décor.”
“Your dad helped me with the construction. That’s how we got reacquainted. I had him for a teacher in high school. Nice man, your father.”
Jan wrinkled her nose. “I always thought so until he went middle-age crazy, bought a Winnebago motor home and walked out on Mom.” She turned her questioning gaze on him. “Will you explain where Dad’s coming from so I can get a better feel for the problems I need to address?”
“I’ll tell you what he’s told me over supper. Go change clothes while I grab the makings for sandwiches.”
While Janna changed, Morgan rounded up supper. The phone rang while he had his head stuck in the fridge. One of the women from a nearby town that he dated occasionally invited him over for supper Saturday. Ordinarily, Morgan would’ve leaped at the chance for a home-cooked meal and romantic companionship, but he asked for a rain check. He suspected the reason was because Janna was underfoot. Not that he believed for one millisecond that this short-term truce was going anywhere, because it obviously couldn’t. But he felt comfortable with her. Plus, he was inclined to compensate for hurting and humiliating her years earlier. He’d accidentally crushed what little self-confidence she’d acquired. She’d been a sweet, impressionable teenager and he’d trampled on her heart. He’d like Janna to realize that he wasn’t the cocky, insensitive bastard she thought he was.
When Janna ambled toward him, wearing a powder-blue knit blouse and jeans that accentuated her curvaceous figure more than her streamlined business suit, Morgan’s hand stalled over the slices of bread and ham he’d arranged on a plate. She’d let her hair down and a riot of shiny, spring-loaded chestnut curls tumbled over the rise of her full breasts and cascaded halfway down her back.
Damn! His male hormones snapped to attention in two seconds flat, reminding him that it’d been a long time between women.
Janna angled her head and stared inquisitively at him while he stood there immobilized by sexual awareness. “Something wrong?”
“Yeah,” Morgan muttered. “You’re an exceedingly attractive woman and it’s hard not to notice, but I do apologize for staring.”
“Right.” She smirked as she tugged at her comfy blouse. “I grew up in a household with two tall, willowy blue-eyed blondes. I was the runt of the litter and Kendra attracted more boyfriends than she could count. I was overlooked constantly, the one given the second notice and second consideration. Don’t try to work your charm on me, Morgan. I know what I look like.”
No, he thought, obviously she didn’t have a clue how appealing she was. “I’m just stating the facts, ma’am. I find you extremely attractive. Next you’ll be telling me that none of those big city corporate types have noticed and panted after you,” he added, then smirked. “Yeah, right.”
Janna filled the glasses with ice. “First off, the majority of corporate types offend my independent streak. Second, romance in the workplace is ill-advised. Since I work ten-hour days there hasn’t been time for personal relationships.” She tossed him a surreptitious glance as she plunked down at his table. “Besides, I learned my lesson about men twelve years ago.”
Morgan sighed heavily as he took his seat. “If you’re trying to make me feel like a world-class ass, you’ve succeeded. I was eighteen years old then, which is the equivalent of being a hormone-driven idiot. Jeez, Janna, you aren’t going to hold me personally accountable for distorting your perception of men, too, are you?” he asked as he rocked back on the hind legs of his chair—a habit he’d picked up during childhood, a habit his mother disliked. It had become his way of annoying Georgina whose lack of attention and constant string of men annoyed the hell out of him.
Jan leaned her forearms on the table, stared him straight in the eye and said, “I was sweet sixteen and never been kissed until that night with you at Home-coming. And you must have made a lasting impression on me because I’m still a virgin.”
The forthright comment caused him to rear back in surprise—which wasn’t a good thing since he was teetering off balance in his chair. Morgan yelped when the chair tipped back and crashed to the floor—with him in it.
3
MORGAN LAY THERE like an overturned beetle, his eyes bugging out. His body was vibrating like a paint mixer after the jarring fall. His brain echoed with Janna’s shocking admission. A virgin? She was still a virgin? His forbidden, X-rated fantasies of getting to know Janna in the most intimate sense—on the couch, the dining table, in the shower and eventually on the bed—had just been shot all to hell.
Janna appeared above him, her glorious mane of hair tumbling around her face. She flashed him an impish grin, obviously delighted that she’d gotten his goat. Morgan just couldn’t let it slide—maybe it was the natural-born competitor in him. “So, you’re telling me you’re still carrying a torch for me, hmm? Well, I’ll be damned, sugarbritches.”
She shot him a sour glower while she loomed over him. “Don’t be a world-class ass, Morgan. I was just starting to like you again.”
When she whipped around to return to her chair, Morgan lay there, wondering if he should apologize for ruining her love life. A virgin? Damn, he just couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around that concept. He thought twenty-eight-year-old virgins were extinct. Apparently there was one on the endangered list and she’d returned to the Land of Oz.
When he stopped to consider how much he’d learned about Janna in the course of one day it made his head whirl like the spin cycle of a washing machine. He’d dated and bedded other women and he hadn’t been able to pin down their traits and characteristics as easily as he could define Janna.
She was a late bloomer who believed she was second-rate compared to her mother and sister’s striking appearance—and boy, was she ever wrong about that! She’d learned not to trust the motives of men—his fault. She was well educated, devoted to her successful career and unfalteringly loyal to her family. She was honest and straightforward and had no delusions of self-importance. She impressed the hell out of him and she kept him off balance—which was why he was still sprawled in his upturned chair on the tiled floor, staring dazedly at the ceiling.
Being with Janna was like riding a roller coaster—blindfolded. Just when you caught your breath and got a grip you were plunging into another breathtaking dive and mind-spinning curve.
“Do you need help getting up?” she called to him.
No, he mused as he rolled onto all fours, then uprighted his chair. He needed help coping with the fact that he wanted to be the man who altered Janna’s low opinion of men and introduced her to intimacy. After all, he was the one who provoked her to swear off men in the first place. Didn’t it naturally follow that he should correct her misconceptions…Whoa, down boy. Don’t even go there, he scolded himself. You’ve done enough to influence her life. Just back off!
Morgan sighed inwardly as he plunked into his seat. He’d already been dragged, unwillingly, into the middle of the Mitchell family feud. Getting involved with Janna would be the dumbest thing he’d ever done. Second dumbest, he amended. Humiliating her and spoiling her perception of men twelve years ago was fast becoming the curse of his life.
Morgan kept his gaze downcast and grabbed his sandwich. After Janna’s shocking announcement he wasn’t sure how to kick start conversation. He’d never had that problem before. As she’d said, he was outgoing by nature and habit, especially after working with the public