The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!. Carol Finch
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I’ve been subconsciously using your betrayal as a defense mechanism to prevent getting hurt again, and for explaining the fact that I’m utterly lacking and inadequate in the romance department.”
Damn, she was trying to apologize, but he was feeling worse by the minute. Glumly, Morgan bit into his sandwich.
“So, now you know I haven’t had any men. Have you had a lot of women?” she asked flat-out.
Morgan sucked air—and the mouthful of ham sandwich stuck in his windpipe. While he choked and gasped, Janna bounded up like a jackrabbit to whack him soundly between the shoulder blades. After Janna performed the Heimlich maneuver he managed to fill his oxygen-deprived lungs. When his vocal apparatus began to function properly he wasn’t sure he wanted to respond to that question, but she was staring at him with persistent curiosity.
“Why do you want to know?” he bleated like a sick lamb.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m trying to revise the bad impression I carried around for twelve years. Thus far, I’ve discovered you really aren’t trying to urge Dad toward your mother, that your childhood was a constant adjustment to your mother’s companions, that you have an honest affection for Dad and you aren’t trying to undermine my attempt to mend family fences.” She paused to wet her whistle with a sip of iced tea. “I just wondered if you went through women to retaliate against your mother for giving more attention to her boyfriends than to her one and only son.”
“The answer to your last question is no. I’m not into transferring revenge against Mom to other women.” He grinned rakishly. “And how many women is a lot?”
She returned his smile and he felt another jolt of awareness deliver a one-two punch to his solar plexus—and body parts below the belt buckle.
“A lot would be ten in ten years,” she decided.
“Less than ten, but not the right one, if there’s such a thing as the right one,” he qualified. “After watching Mom operate I’m leery of marriage and the divorce that inevitably follows.”
“Understandable,” she concurred. “I’ve pretty much figured I’ll be married to my job. I aspired to be the favorite aunt to Kendra’s kids, but now, who knows how long before I reach exalted aunt status?”
Janna stood up to grab the pitcher of tea and filled his glass. It occurred to Morgan that Janna was the sort of individual who simply noted what needed to be done and did it. She was nurturing, efficient, competent and aware of what transpired around her, unlike many women he’d dated who were so caught up in themselves that they’d trip over a bomb in a posted mine-field and be surprised when the ground exploded.
Damn, he liked Janna’s style. He also liked the fact that she didn’t play flirtatious games and that she wasn’t aware of how appealing and attractive she was. He supposed that, being the plain goose surrounded by two elegant blond swans, Janna had accepted her lot in life and got on with it. Well, no plain goose, this, he mused, casting her a discreet but appreciative glance. She captivated him, bewitched him without trying.
The jangling phone sent Morgan’s thoughts scattering like quail. He scooted his chair backward—carefully—to reach the phone. “Hello?”
“Morgan?” Sob, shudder and sniffle. “This is…S-Sylvia Mitchell. I c-can’t find Janna so I need you to d-deliver a message to John. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere, doing…whatever.”
“Okay,” Morgan said, his gaze fixed on Janna. His newfound protectiveness for Janna refused to let him inform Sylvia that her daughter was sitting across the table. The Mitchells had put Janna’s emotions through the wringer today. She’d relaxed and he didn’t want her stressing out again. Ask him, her family expected too much from her.
“Kendra disappeared,” Sylvia went on shakily. “I dozed off after drinking too much wine. When I woke up Kendra was gone. I’m worried sick about her. The last thing I remember her saying was that she was going to have her revenge on her two-timing ex-fiancé by giving him a taste of his own medicine…Oops, I forgot that’s not public knowledge yet.”
“Mum’s the word,” Morgan assured her. “I’ll send out a search party. Just try to get some rest and don’t worry about a thing.”
“Impossible!” Sylvia blubbered. “My whole world’s falling apart!”
Morgan hung up the phone and met Janna’s curious stare head-on. “How’s your headache?” he asked.
“Bearable,” she replied apprehensively. “What’s wrong?”
Morgan grabbed the empty plates and set them in the sink. “Your sister has gone missing. As delicately as your mother knew how, she told me Kendra is out on the prowl to punish Richard for his infidelity.”
“What!” Janna vaulted to her feet. “I’ve got to find her!”
Morgan expected as much. Janna was a one-woman rescue brigade. Her nagging headache and emotional exhaustion be damned. “We’ll take my truck,” Morgan insisted on his way to the door.
“You don’t have to help.” Janna grabbed her purse from the sofa. “I don’t want to put you to more trouble. Thanks for supper—”
Morgan latched on to her arm before she barreled through the door. “I’m going along as backup, just in case things turn ugly.”
“I can handle Kendra,” she assured him confidently.
“Maybe so, but you might not be able to handle the jackass she turns to for comfort and validation. I can provide the muscle.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I’ve imposed too much already.”
Morgan decided they could argue during their womanhunt. Time was wasting. “You aren’t imposing. You’re saving me from a dull evening of sorting socks. Besides, how am I going to learn about family dynamics unless I stick with you?” he said as he shepherded her toward his truck. “For curiosity’s sake, I’d like to watch you operate, Miss Fix-it.”
“Your significant other might not like it if we’re seen together,” she said as she hurried to keep up with his long, swift strides.
“I’m not seeing anyone seriously.” He cut her a quick glance. “But maybe you don’t want to be seen with me.”
Janna shook her head, causing that mass of curlicue strands to ripple over her shoulders like molten flames, making him itch to bury his fingers in those silky tendrils. Funny, he’d never had a fetish for running his hands through a woman’s hair before. Why now? Why her? Talk about your ill-fated attraction! He had a bad case of the hots and he needed to cool his jets.
“All I care about is rescuing my sister from a reckless fling she’ll live to regret. How could she even think about sleeping with the first man who comes along? Surely she has more respect for herself than that.”
“My guess is she isn’t thinking clearly after that wine-fest,” Morgan replied as he backed up the truck. “She’s hurting and she’s been betrayed. Her solution is to find a man who wants her on any terms and conditions.” He stared surreptitiously at her. “Unlike you, who went to the opposite extreme after I shattered your adolescent illusions.”
Janna placed her hand over his and smiled apologetically. “I shouldn’t have unloaded on you earlier, and I’m sorry about that. Could we just forget I said that?”
Not likely. Morgan was fiercely attracted to this alluring virgin. Knowing he couldn’t have her was slowly and steadily driving him crazy. As soon as they rescued Kendra, he’d keep his distance from Janna. As much as he enjoyed her company he couldn’t let himself get too involved or attached. Resolved to that sensible notion, Morgan headed toward the local beer joint to find Janna’s gone-wild sister.
JAN GRABBED the door latch, intent on leaping from the truck the moment Morgan stamped on the brake. Her sense of urgency provoked her to find her moronic