Carol Finch – The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?! (страница 8)

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 for so many years. But damn if he could think of a single, solitary thing to say.

“I’m sorry,” Janna apologized. “I can’t believe I blurted that out.”

“That makes two of us,” Morgan mumbled.

“Maybe 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.”