The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!. Carol Finch

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      “Janna, are you all right?” Morgan asked as he sprinted toward her.

      “No, I’m not all right,” she muttered as she levered herself into a sitting position to survey the damage. What could be worse than coming off looking like a world-class klutz in front of a man you wanted to impress for only God knew what insane reason? “I’ve got a Godzilla-size headache from listening to my mother and sister bawling for three steady hours. I snagged my hose, ripped the heel off one shoe and twisted my wrist.” She heaved a defeated sigh. “My family’s falling apart right in front of my eyes and I can’t seem to do anything about it.”

      Morgan hunkered down in front of her and flashed her a compassionate smile. “Definitely a rough day out here in peanut country.” Effortlessly, he hoisted her to her feet. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”

      “What? A bottle of wine like the one Mother and Kendra are sharing? I don’t drink. Or at least I usually don’t drink,” she amended as she took inventory of the gaping hole in the knee of her panty hose, her scraped shin and her aching wrist. “I’m thinking of making an exception.”

      Morgan chuckled as he plucked up Jan’s de-heeled shoe. “I have wine in the house, but I had another kind of tension-reliever in mind.”

      Jan eyed him dubiously. “What? Forget-all-your-troubles sex? I’m not interested in that, either, thanks all the same.”

      Morgan snickered again, then scooped her effortlessly into his arms and carried her across the driveway. “Not sex, either,” he assured her. “I’m not so egotistical to believe you like me enough for that.”

      Jan was surprised by his modesty. She’d pegged him as the Don Juan of Oz because women had fallen all over themselves to capture his interest since high school. If anything, Morgan’s darkly handsome good looks had enhanced with age. A woman would have to be dead at least two weeks not to react to his masculine charm and sex appeal.

      Even so, she scolded herself for finding comfort in his muscular arms. She wasn’t accustomed to leaning on a man. She, after all, was the anchor for her family, the troubleshooter for her associates at work. People looked to her for solutions and encouragement. But, after the day she’d had, leaning on Morgan—even if he was the enemy—felt good, necessary even.

      To Jan’s surprise, Morgan deposited her on the seat of his hunter-green pickup, then strode around to the driver’s side. “Where are we going?” she questioned. “I need to talk to Dad.”

      “John hitched a ride with me when I helped him secure the upper and lower cabinets in Mom’s kitchen. She invited him to supper.”

      “Great, and you didn’t stay to chaperone them?” she muttered, trying very hard not to notice how sexy Morgan looked in a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans that hugged his muscled thighs and lean hips like gloves.

      He tossed her a wry smile. “I wasn’t invited.”

      Jan sighed in frustration, but her gaze instinctively slid back to Morgan. She wondered if she’d ever get past the fact that she’d been wildly attracted to him as a teenager and was unwillingly attracted to him now. Damn, that’s the last thing she needed, while in the middle of the family feud. Morgan was quartered out here in the enemy camp. Hell, he owned the enemy camp. Mr. Nuts and Bolts of the hardware world was aiding and abetting her father and making it easy for Daddy to dally with Georgina who had a reputation as a femme fatale.

      Her headache roared back in full force.

      Her sullen thoughts evaporated when Morgan drove over the metal cattle guard that led to a scenic pasture, complete with a tree-lined creek and herd of Black Angus cattle.

      “This is where I come to escape the hassles and frustrations of the world,” he confided as he climbed down from the truck. “Sit tight while I lower the tail-gate and scatter the range cubes. Then we’ll sit back and enjoy the peace and quiet of our surroundings.”

      Jan watched Morgan grab two three-gallon buckets from the truck bed. He ambled forward, whistled loudly, and then scattered cubes across the grass. In the distance, the cattle raised their heads, then trotted eagerly toward him. Jan smiled in spite of herself while Morgan gabbed conversationally with two dozen cows and their young calves. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to do with his leisure time, but it certainly wasn’t this. Having been raised in town, Jan hadn’t had the chance to appreciate the wide-open spaces. Communing with nature, she decided, was good for the troubled soul.

      Jan forgot to protest when Morgan swung her up in his arms and settled her on the tailgate. Being pampered had its advantages, especially when she was one shoe short of a pair. “I see what you mean about easing the tension,” she murmured as she surveyed the herd then breathed in a deep gulp of country air.

      Morgan leaned over to gently massage the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders. Ah, the man had wonderful hands. She could only imagine how she’d feel if those magical hands were skimming over her naked body…What was she thinking? Damn it, the soft spot she’d developed years ago seemed to be spreading rapidly. That was not a good thing.

      “So tell me what else went wrong today that has you knotted up like a rope,” he murmured as he kneaded her stiff shoulders.

      Jan hesitated, unsure she wanted to confide Kendra’s fiasco. Then she decided Morgan would hear it through the grapevine because, no way, could Lorna Mason keep her trap shut. Likable and competent though Lorna was, her favorite hobby was gossiping and she was quite proficient at it.

      “I came to tell Dad that Kendra’s wedding has been called off.”

      “Yeah? How come?” he asked, continuing his marvelous massage.

      “Because she found her fiancé in bed with another woman and now she and Mother are at home, drowning their troubles in wine. I told them that troubles have gills and fins and know how to swim, but their wounded pride wasn’t listening.”

      “I’m sorry to hear it,” Morgan commiserated. “Surprised? No. But sorry just the same.”

      “Richard Samson called the house twice while I was there, demanding to speak to Kendra,” Jan confided. “She told me to tell him to go straight to hell and never come back because she wasn’t speaking to him as long as she lived—or he lived, whichever came first. In addition, she told me to inform him that she hoped he was the first to go so she could trample on his grave.”

      Morgan chuckled. “So, your sister is in phase one of the Woman Scorned Syndrome. She’s put a death wish on the man she proclaimed to love and respect above all others till death do part. Quite the contradiction.”

      “Yes, well, Mother and Kendra have a tendency toward melodrama,” she said as she absently worked the stiffness from her tender wrist. “But I wouldn’t be the least bit forgiving or charitable to a man who supposedly loved me enough to marry me and then had a prewedding fling a month prior to publicly pledging undying love and devotion to me.” She stared inquisitively at Morgan. “Why do men do stuff like that?”

      Morgan shrugged, then leaned back to brace his weight on his forearms. “I’m not sure it’s fair to condemn the entire male gender because of one idiot. Richard always had a roving eye to rival my mother’s. He’s handsome and successful, but he sees himself as a ladies’ man.”

      “But you wouldn’t pull a stunt like that, right?” she СКАЧАТЬ