The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!

“Hey, scram, will ya?” the blond-haired Romeo drawled. “I’m busy here. You’ll have to wait your turn, darlin’.”

“That’s my sister you’re pawing,” Jan snapped. “Back off, bozo.”

Behind her, Morgan leaned close to advise, “It’s best not to provoke a drunk. Use some tact or let me handle this.”

Before Jan could take a less-combative approach Romeo shoved her away and she stumbled against the rock-hard wall of Morgan’s chest. Jan tried to remain calm and rational, but when Romeo’s hand glided over the side of Kendra’s bosom, which was accentuated by the shrink-wrap, passion-pink dress, Jan lost her temper in one second flat.

“Hands off,” she growled. “I want to talk to my sister. Now!”

Kendra stirred sluggishly, her head lolling against Romeo’s broad shoulder. “Janna?” She blinked dazedly. “Tha’ you? Wha’re ya doin’ ’ere?”

“Saving you from disaster.” She tugged on Kendra’s limp arm. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Buzz off,” Romeo snarled menacingly.

Jan was in the process of dragging Kendra off the seat when Romeo grabbed a fistful of her shirt and yanked her sideways. The movement caused their pitcher of beer to splatter on her chest and dribble on the crotch of his jeans.

“Damn it to hell!” he yowled. “Now you’ve gone and done it!”

“Hey, Sonny. How’s it goin’?” Morgan asked calmly.

Romeo—or rather Sonny—blinked like an awakened owl, craned his thick neck and looked past Jan. “That you, Morgan?”

“Yep. Sorry about the interruption, but Kendra has to go home now.”

Sonny cast a droopy-eyed glance at Kendra who could barely hold up her head. “We were making plans to go to her place.”

“Some other time maybe, but not tonight. Now be a pal and unclench your hand from Janna’s blouse so she can stand up. We don’t wanna make a scene and get evicted, this being your favorite watering hole and all.”

“Janna?” Sonny Blair blinked in disbelief as he appraised her. “Damn, this isn’t the Janna I remember. The scrawny kid you French-kissed at Homecoming way back when?”

Jan inwardly cringed when Sonny snickered drunkenly. His grasp on her shirt loosened so she could upright herself. In dismay, she glanced down to see her knit blouse clinging to her like a coat of wet paint.

“Hot damn, girl,” Sonny slurred as he leered at her. “You filled out in all the right places, didn’t ya?”

“Get Kendra out of here,” Morgan murmured against her ear. “I’ll take care of Sonny.”

Jan hoisted her sister from the booth, then steadied herself when Kendra staggered drunkenly. “Damn it, Keni,” she growled at her sister. “You should have more sense than to pull a stunt like this.”

“Don’t care,” Kendra mumbled. “Besides, I wasn’t gonna sleep with Sonny, y’know. I may be tipsy but I’m not stupid. I wanna show the dog that I don’t need him. I hate men, all of ’em. Want ’em all dead.”

“Of course, you do, and for good reason,” Jan agreed—anything to keep Kendra moving toward the door. “They’re worthless, pesky creatures. I don’t know why the good Lord saw fit to populate the planet with them.”

“Me, neither,” Kendra slurred out. “Hate ’em, hate ’em.”

“Which is why hanging out with Sonny-boy isn’t the answer—” Jan jerked upright when an unseen hand patted her familiarly on the fanny.

Instinctively, she whipped around to protest, but Morgan was a step behind her, frowning warningly at her. “Just keep moving,” he advised.

“But, he—” she tried to explain.

Morgan glided his arm around her waist and clamped hold of Kendra who was wobbling like a bowling pin. “I’ll come back and beat the living hell out of your groper if that makes you happy, but let’s get Kendra home to bed first before we kick ass. Okay?”

Jan decided he was right. She wasn’t reacting logically at the moment and inciting a barroom brawl over a pat on the butt wasn’t worth the trouble. She’d be wise to take Morgan’s advice and get the hell out of here while the getting was good. She’d deal with her righteous indignation later.

Once outside, Morgan hoisted Kendra into his arms and strode quickly toward his truck. “Hold it, Morgan,” Jan objected. “I’ll drive Keni home in her car and you can get back to your farm. I’ve inconvenienced you enough for one night, but I do appreciate all your help.”

He never broke stride. “You’ll need a hand putting her in bed and it’ll be easier to haul her from my truck than from that piddling compact car.”

Jan smothered a ridiculous sensation of jealousy when her sister looped her arms around Morgan’s shoulders and pressed a string of kisses down his neck. “Kendra Rose Mitchell, behave yourself!” she shouted.

“He smells so good,” Kendra mumbled sluggishly. “Feels good, too. Better ‘an wha’s-’is-name.”

“I know he does, but five minutes ago you wanted all men dead, so just keep your lips to yourself,” Jan commanded.

Morgan propped Kendra on the seat, then turned back to Jan. “Bring her car. I’ll follow you because I don’t know where she lives.”

Jan wasn’t sure she trusted Kendra on the bench seat with Morgan. When Morgan closed the door, then pivoted toward her, she said, “You shouldn’t be within touching distance of Keni right now.”

To her surprise, Morgan bent to brush a light kiss across her lips. “Thanks for your concern about my honor, but I should be safe. I predict your little sis will pass out during the drive. Lead the way to her place and unlock her door so I can carry her inside.”

Jan was still standing there, her lips tingling, her body pulsating, when Morgan strode around the truck. Why had he kissed her? And why’d she have to like it so much? She didn’t need this on top of all else!

“Gawd, you’re losing it, too,” Jan muttered at herself. If she weren’t careful she’d turn into a basket case like her mom and sister. She was not going to go ape over Morgan again. She was a mature, sensible woman these days. That was nothing but a harmless, reassuring kiss he’d bestowed on her. It just happened to pack the wallop of a heat-seeking missile because she was emotionally distressed and ultrasensitive to the man. The kiss was nothing special, so she’d forget about it—just as soon as her traitorous body stopped quivering and coiling with awareness and desire.

MORGAN GLANCED over at his unconscious passenger, then stared at the taillights that led the way to Kendra’s place. He needed to get a grip. Unfortunately, visions of Sonny grabbing Janna by her shirt and dragging her across the table kept triggering his protective instincts. He’d wanted to punch Sonny in the chops. Then he’d wanted to kick himself in the keister when he’d ogled Janna’s beer-drenched blouse that exposed the full swell of her breasts and beaded nipples. To top it off, he’d felt the vicious urge to peel a strip off Eddie Pender’s hide when he swatted Janna’s fanny. Damn, jumbles of emotions were surging through him with Janna’s name attached.

Morgan cut Kendra another glance, surveying her long, shapely legs and the passion-pink dress that accentuated her curvaceous figure. By anyone’s standards Kendra was a knockout, but she didn’t do a thing for him, even when she’d been rubbing against him and slobbering on his neck. All he’d felt was resentment. If not for Kendra’s wild escapade to get revenge, Janna wouldn’t smell like a brewery and wouldn’t have gotten her butt patted by a local joker who hung out at Goober Pea Tavern.

And why on earth had Morgan leaned down to kiss Janna, right there in the parking lot? He had no idea. Maybe he wanted her to know that Kendra’s breathy kisses had no effect whatsoever on him. Maybe he wanted to stake his claim after Eddie and Sonny put their hands on her.

“Don’t get attached or involved,” Morgan chanted during the short drive. “It’s a dead-end street if ever there was one.”

Excellent advice—too bad he forgot it the moment Janna climbed from the car and his headlights flooded over that clingy knit shirt, curvy jean-clad hips and glinted off that flaming chestnut hair. Damn…

Morgan sighed heavily as he walked around the truck to haul Kendra off the seat. He was ready for this evening to end. His forbidden attraction to Janna and the incident at the bar had him all worked up. He needed to sleep on his sensible advice and wake up with a clear head.

He glanced down at Kendra’s limp form and grinned wryly. He was sincerely glad he wouldn’t have Kendra’s head in the morning.

“Right this way.” Janna motioned him into the apartment bedroom.

Morgan watched Janna turn down the sheets—his gaze glued to her shapely derriere—then he deposited Kendra on her bed.

“Should I undress her, do you think?” Janna asked. “I haven’t spent much time around drunks so I don’t know the standard procedure.”

“Take off her shoes and cover her up,” Morgan instructed. “The first rule of thumb is not to cater to, or pamper, drunks. They get what they’ve got coming so don’t waste much sympathy on them.”

Janna chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “Maybe I should stay with her in case she gets sick. She might need me.”

“No,” Morgan contradicted. “You need your rest. Kendra brought this on herself. On rare occasions when I’ve drunk myself unconscious, I don’t want anyone around when I wake up.”

“You’re sure?” Her worried gaze lingered on her sister’s wan face.

“You wanna come back to my place, drink my bottle of wine and find out for yourself?” he asked, grinning. “Hangovers are hellish, believe me.”

“No, I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Still, she hesitated, never taking her sympathetic gaze off Kendra.

Although Morgan admired Janna’s concern for her foolish sister it was getting late. “I thought you wanted to speak to your dad tonight.”

Janna sighed audibly as she cast another glance at Kendra. “I do, but I don’t know if I can take knowing my dad and your mom might’ve been—”

When she slammed her mouth shut, Morgan smiled compassionately. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been through that before…wondering…”

“Parents,” she muttered. “And they think their kids drive them crazy?”

“Amen to that,” he seconded.

Janna’s attention swung back to Kendra. “You’ve told me all the reasons I shouldn’t stay with Keni, but I’d feel better if I were here.”

Morgan opened his mouth to object, but his brain hit the skids when Janna pushed up on tiptoe to graze his lips in a soft, tormentingly sweet kiss.

“Thanks for all your help,” she whispered.

At that precise moment, for reasons that utterly defeated him, he knew he couldn’t let it go with that one wispy kiss. At least a hundred times he’d played that deep, searing kiss of long ago over in his mind. He wanted to know if the jolt he’d received way back when was as titillating as he remembered. He didn’t wait to see if Janna would accept or reject him, just hooked his arm around her trim waist, pulled her up his torso until her feet were dangling in midair and he claimed her mouth.

Devoured her was more like it, he realized. The velvety texture of her lips lured him in. In less than a heartbeat he was plundering the soft recesses of her mouth with his tongue, pressing her body into his masculine contours—which had turned hard and aching in record time. Desire hit him so hard so fast that his head twirled like a pinwheel. Kissing Janna was everything he remembered—and then some. This experience had turned highly combustible in two seconds flat and he couldn’t get enough of her!

Morgan wasn’t sure where his next breath would come from and he didn’t care because he was pretty sure he could survive on the pure unadulterated pleasure coiling inside him. He tried to ease his grasp on Janna, but his arms developed a will of their own and refused to let her go. It was as if he’d been suspended in a time warp of amazing pleasure and pulsating adrenaline. Hungry passion shot through his veins like electrical currents. One hand skimmed over the taut peaks of her breasts, savoring the feel of her, hearing her gasp of pleasure. The other hand clamped against her butt, pressing her against his arousal, and he groaned in unfulfilled need.

“Oh, gawd! I’m dying…!”

Kendra’s gravelly voice jostled Morgan to his senses. Reluctantly, he set Janna to her feet, then kept a grip on her arm when her legs wobbled unsteadily. The astounded look on her face, in those enormous, mesmerizing eyes, tempted him to start right where’d he’d left off. But Kendra was floundering on the bed and groaning in misery.

“I better help her,” Janna wheezed.

“I better go home,” Morgan said raggedly. “But you need to know there was no dare involved in that kiss. I kissed you because I wanted to. Hell, I needed to. If that offends you, I’m sorry. G’night.”

Morgan got the hell out of there before Janna came to her senses and railed at him for practically giving her a tonsillectomy. Damn, as kisses went, that one was of the 220-volt variety. He was still sizzling from the shock of it when he climbed into his truck. He’d probably blown the makings of a friendship, but hell’s jingling bells! That kiss between them had gone off the charts and touching her familiarly left him aching.

Morgan breathed deeply to get himself under control and tried to assemble rational thought, but it just wasn’t happening. One devouring kiss and caress and wham! He wanted her—badly. But she was a—

He slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel and cursed inventively. He might not be a rocket scientist, but he had enough brainpower to figure out that if he was the reason Janna avoided intimacy, the chances of her ending up in his bed were about a billion to one. No, he amended, make that a gazillion to one. He’d damn well better cool his heels—and the other parts of his male anatomy that needed to cool off. If he didn’t, what little headway he’d made today, hoping to compensate for hurting and humiliating Janna twelve years ago, would be blown to smithereens.

Morgan repeated all the sensible reasons why he should keep his distance during his drive home. Too bad his male body wasn’t paying the slightest attention to the logic sent down from his brain. He was still on a slow burn when he walked through his front door—and aching need didn’t go away after he crawled into bed—alone—either.

4

KENDRA’S TORMENTED MOAN prompted Jan to lurch toward her sister, though her body was still humming with sensual awareness. Good gracious! The impact Morgan had on her at sixteen was a drop in the proverbial bucket compared to the potent effect he’d had on her tonight. Their first kiss had been branded in her memory a decade ago, but it had been superimposed by tonight’s mind-scrambling, body-sizzling, knock-you-off-your-feet kisses and caresses. For certain, what that man did to a woman’s senses was worse than a drug overdose. It should be declared illegal in all fifty states!

Willfully, Jan tried to stop quivering like a tuning fork and focus absolute attention on Kendra who was struggling to gain her feet and moaning in nauseated torment. Janna grabbed hold of her sister and steered her toward the bathroom.

It was a long night that granted Jan only fits and starts of sleep. But she was there each time Kendra needed her, soothing her, consoling her. If this was Kendra’s method of purging Richard Samson’s memory and his betrayal it should be effective. She’d cursed Richard soundly and consigned him to hell with each agonized breath.

Bleary-eyed, Jan awoke and glanced at the digital clock. As near as she could figure she’d gotten a whopping two hours’ sleep. Kendra was still oblivious to the world so Jan made use of the shower and tried to clear the fuzzy cobwebs from her brain. Jan glanced around Kendra’s room, recalling that her suitcase and car were still at Morgan’s place. The thought of going commando was a little unsettling, but Jan wasn’t about to borrow anything more than a blouse from her sister. For certain, she couldn’t wear her own beer-stained shirt.

Quickly, Jan rummaged through Kendra’s over-stuffed closet. She slipped on a black knit blouse and tiptoed from the darkened room. Since Kendra’s apartment was only two blocks from Main Street, Jan hiked off, hoping the walk would invigorate her. She needed coffee—intravenously would be best. But she’d settle for a cup from the Peanut Gallery Café.

Janna walked into the busy restaurant and men’s heads turned in synchronized rhythm as she ambled to the counter. Did she have her shirt on backward, or what? Why were men staring openly at her? Must be her wild hairdo, she decided as she slid onto the tall stool. Those untamable chestnut curls were probably in a wild tangle after her morning walk.

“Hey, Janna. Heard you were back in town.”

Jan glanced up and smiled at Shirley Knott, the waitress. “Hi, Shirley, could I have a cup of coffee, please?”

“Black or blond and sweet?” Shirley asked as she champed on her chewing gum, and then fluffed her puffy platinum hair.

“Definitely doctored,” Jan requested.

Shirley grabbed a cup and picked up the steaming pot. “So…how are you coming with that rift between your folks?” Snap, pop.

“Just getting started on the project,” Jan replied.

Shirley smacked her gum and leaned her forearms on the counter. “Ask me, you need to grab them both by their shirt collars, drag them into the same room and knock their heads together a couple of times.”

Jan took a cautious sip, then smiled. “I’ll admit the idea holds certain appeal, but I was saving that for my last resort.”

Shirley nodded her dyed blond head pensively. “Yeah, I s’pose that’d be best. I gotta tell ya though, I was shocked down to my skivvies when I heard your folks split up. My gosh, they’ve been married forever.”

While Jan drank her coffee, Shirley commenced to explain—in detail—what went wrong with her marriage. From what Jan ascertained, reopening the lines of communication between her parents was essential. Shirley and her ex, it seemed, had relied heavily on shouting matches and juvenile retaliations.

Before Jan finished her second cup of coffee, two of her mother’s friends walked over to add their two cents’ worth. The female consensus was that, basically, men were insensitive, obtuse, unobservant idiots who required social and emotional training. The lists of improvements needed to bring the male of the species up to snuff went on—and on.

The threesome volunteered to teach Jan’s dad how not to behave like an imbecile when he was obviously wrong. They offered to instruct John on how to do his share of domestic chores and how to combat the stupidity of walking out on Sylvia, who’d been devoted, steadfast and loyal forever. Since John was one hundred percent at fault—according to the women—he should hightail it to Sylvia’s Boutique, throw himself at her feet and humbly beg forgiveness. Oh, and bringing a bouquet of flowers, along with a card that read “I’m so terribly sorry for being a fool,” wouldn’t hurt, either.

Jan exited the café, startled to find four men—who hadn’t given her a second glance in high school—trailing her. Why was she—who’d been the opposite of popular and pursued a decade ago—suddenly the center of attention? Probably because she was braless and pantiless and male radar picked up on that sort of thing. Regardless of the reason for the unwanted attention, Jan was escorted to the hardware store. What she wanted, instead, was time to gather her thoughts before encountering her father.

“WHAT THE DEVIL is going on with Janna?” John Mitchell questioned.

The comment drew the attention of Morgan and five customers. They strode to the window to join John. Morgan frowned disapprovingly when he noticed who was vying for Janna’s attention. Jealousy nipped at him like a rabid dog, but he restrained himself from marching across the yellow brick road to retrieve Janna. Word had obviously spread through Oz that Janna had transformed into a bombshell. Every skirt-chaser in peanut country had come to take a gander at her.

“What’s this all about?” John demanded of Morgan. “First I find her car parked at your house overnight and now this!”

When the customers flung Morgan speculative glances he wished John would’ve kept his yap shut. “Janna came by to see you last night, but you weren’t home. She drove Kendra’s car to the apartment.”

John muttered under his breath—something about his younger daughter going wild and the older one turning into a streetwalker. Morgan would’ve loudly objected, but his thoughts derailed when Janna wiggled and jiggled her way across the street. He couldn’t take his eyes off her chest to save his life. Neither, he noted, could the other men who’d pressed their faces against the window. With that flaming hair framing her pretty face and that trim-fitting blouse that hugged her unbound breasts like a lover’s caress, it was all Morgan could do not to groan aloud.

Damn, seeing her and wanting her were becoming synonymous. He had to get a grip before he embarrassed himself in front of John and the customers. Criminey, he’d been in a state of arousal most of the night—up to and including his erotic dreams that featured hers truly. The cold shower he’d taken this morning had lost its effectiveness and he was back to wanting her with what was fast becoming an irrational obsession.

The door chimed its musical refrain as Janna entered the hardware store. Morgan’s gaze dropped to her breasts and he clenched his teeth when he noticed the other men—John excluded—were looking their fill. Morgan wanted to clobber his customers. Two of them were married, damn it.

Janna nodded a quick greeting, then focused her attention on John. “Daddy, I’d like to talk to you in private.” Her gaze skittered briefly to Morgan. “Could we use your office?”

When John reluctantly followed Jan down the aisle, one unattached customer leered at the hypnotic swing of Janna’s hips. “Man, did she turn into one hot tamale.”

“Hubba, hubba,” bachelor number two purred.

“Shezam!” Bachelor number three all but drooled on himself.

“Knock it off, fellas,” Morgan snapped as unwarranted possessiveness roared through him and his traitorous gaze focused on her denim-clad fanny.

“I’d like to knock some of that off,” bachelor number two said rudely.

Infuriated, Morgan grabbed the man by the nape of his shirt and propelled him out the door. At the moment Morgan wasn’t proud to call himself a man because he didn’t want to be lumped in the same category with these disrespectful, heavy-breathing Neanderthals.

“You guys wanna buy something? Fine. If not, take a hike,” Morgan said discourteously. “On your way out the door, tell those other skirt-chasers across the street to get lost. I don’t want them standing around, panting on my doorstep and fogging up the windows.”

“Jeez, Morgan, don’t get your shorts in a tangle,” bachelor number one said, then snickered. “We’re only scoping out the attractive scenery. Looking at a gorgeous, well-built woman isn’t a federal offense.”

Morgan’s dark brows flattened over his narrowed eyes as his arm shot toward the door. “Scram. Janna Mitchell isn’t a sex object.”

“Couldn’t prove it by me,” bachelor number three said, smiling scampishly. “And since when did you turn into such a Goody Two-shoes?”

“Since I realized men degenerate into jackasses in the presence of beautiful women,” Morgan muttered.

“Yeah, but this one’s so hot she makes my—”

“Out!” Morgan snarled. “And don’t come back until you can keep your eyes in your head and your thoughts out of the gutter.”

“Sheesh, what a grouch,” bachelor number one said as he exited.

Morgan sighed audibly. What the hell was wrong with him? He had no claim on Janna, but every protective instinct he possessed—plus about a dozen he wasn’t aware he had—uncoiled inside him when his customers ogled and salivated over her. He was more than a little ashamed that he’d visually undressed her—which is probably why he’d taken out his frustration on his customers. He would’ve covered her with the shirt off his back if he hadn’t been so focused on the taut nipples that pressed seductively against her knit blouse. Muttering at himself, Morgan stalked off to rearrange the stock on the shelves, while Janna conferred with John.