DuetsTM

Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #71

Talented Liz Jarrett takes us to Texas for Part One of the HOMETOWN HEARTTHROBS miniseries this month. Leigh Barrett is so-o-o tired of her three overprotective brothers! Her solution? Matchmake and marry ’em off one by one! Liz always writes “a passionate tale with delightful scenes and exciting characters,” says Romantic Times.

Duets Vol. #72

Twice voted storyteller of the Year by Romantic Times, Silhouette writer Carol Finch never fails to “present her fans with rollicking, wild adventures…and fun from beginning to end.” Jennifer Drew returns this month with another fun-filled BAD BOY GROOMS story. This writer “gives readers a top-notch reading experience with vibrant characters, strong story development and spicy tension,” notes Romantic Times.

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

The Family Feud

Carol Finch

Stop the Wedding!

Jennifer Drew

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

The Family Feud

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Stop the Wedding!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

The Family Feud

“You’re an exceedingly attractive woman, Janna.”

Morgan realized his hormones were in overdrive, but he didn’t care.

Janna smirked. “Don’t try to work your charm on me. I know what I look like.”

“I’m just stating the facts, sweetheart. Are you telling me those big-city corporate types haven’t noticed and panted after you?” he asked.

“Since I work ten-hour days, there hasn’t been time for personal relationships.” She plunked down at his table. “Besides, I learned my lesson about men twelve years ago—with you.”

Morgan sighed heavily as he took his seat.

“I was only eighteen years old then, Janna. You aren’t going to hold me personally accountable for distorting your perception of men, are you?”

“I was sweet sixteen and never been kissed until that night with you. And you must have made a lasting impression on me because I’m still a virgin.” Janna stared at him straight in the eyes.

The 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.

Dear Reader,

I’m delighted to be writing my fourth romantic comedy because love and laughter are the perfect combination for a story. In The Family Feud, Jan Mitchell is trying to reconcile her middle-age-crazy parents, but her old flame, Morgan Price, lands right smack-dab in the middle of the family feud. Ignoring him is about as easy as ignoring a rumbling volcano. Jan doesn’t need a distraction during her family’s fiasco, but there’s Morgan, handsome and sexy as ever.

So what’s a woman to do but fall head over heels for the first love of her life and hope she doesn’t get her heart broken a second time.

Enjoy!

Carol Finch

Books by Carol Finch

HARLEQUIN DUETS

36—FIT TO BE TIED

45—A REGULAR JOE

62—MR. PREDICTABLE

SILHOUETTE SPECIAL EDITION

1242—NOT JUST ANOTHER COWBOY

1320—SOUL MATES

HARLEQUIN HISTORICALS

592—CALL OF THE WHITE WOLF

This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed,

and our children—Kurt, Jill, Christie, Jon and Jeff—

with much love. And our grandchildren—

Blake, Kennedy, Brooklyn and Livia.

Hugs and kisses!

1

“SHE’S HERE, Morgan. I figured Sylvia would call her in to resolve the family crisis.” Grimly, John Mitchell stared out the hardware store window. “Damn it, I didn’t want my older daughter in the middle of this feud.”

Morgan Price strode down the aisle of his store to halt beside John, who was keeping surveillance on the dress shop directly across the street. It seemed to Morgan that John spent an excessive amount of time staring at Sylvia’s Boutique rather than simply hiking across the bricked street to work out his differences with his estranged wife. For Morgan, it was like being caught in the middle of a war zone during the Mitchell family feud, with one enemy camp keeping close observation on the other.

The Mitchell family feud had become the talk of this small hamlet of Oz that was located in the heart of Oklahoma’s peanut country. Naturally, Morgan’s mother, who delighted in being in the limelight every chance she got, wasted no time in fueling the fire by flirting outrageously with John.

Morgan’s thoughts scattered like buckshot when Janna Mitchell slid one well-shaped, hose-clad leg from the low-slung car and rose to full stature. Wow! The shy, plain-Jane teenager he remembered from high school had obviously been a late bloomer. She’d blossomed into a strikingly attractive, curvaceous woman. Sighing in masculine appreciation, Morgan pressed his nose to the window to thoroughly appraise Janna.

Her chestnut hair was knotted in a tight, sophisticated something-or-other—Morgan had no idea what names applied to feminine hairdos. Despite Janna’s streamlined navy blue silk business suit—that had expensive written all over it—Morgan could tell Janna had filled out in all the right places these past twelve years. The assertive way Janna held herself indicated she’d acquired the poise and self-confidence she’d lacked at shy, uncertain sixteen. That sweet, wide-eyed innocent teenager who’d been self-conscious about the metal braces on her teeth, and rarely smiled, had changed dramatically. She drew Morgan’s marveling gaze and his fascination like a magnet.

“Five’ll getcha ten that Janna hotfoots it over here to talk sense into me within fifteen minutes. Soon as Sylvia tells her twisted side of the story,” John Mitchell muttered resentfully.

“Here’s a thought,” Morgan supplied helpfully, without taking his fascinated gaze off Janna, “why don’t you hightail it across the street to intercept Janna and present your version of the feud first?”

John shook his head stubbornly. “Nope. I’m not going near that damn dress shop. I didn’t want Sylvia to buy it in the first place. She openly defied me and that was the beginning of our problems.”

Morgan slanted the older man a pointed glance. “That, and the fact that you purchased a Winnebago without consulting Sylvia first.”

John snapped his head around to stare belligerently at Morgan. “Well, I couldn’t let her walk all over me, could I? I’ve been giving in to my wife for thirty-three years. When I retired from teaching woodwork at the high school I decided my lifestyle and attitude were going to change.”

Morgan smiled in amusement when John refocused on the dress shop directly across the street. He’d lost count of the number of times the past month that John had stood as sentinel at the window, monitoring the comings and goings at Sylvia’s Boutique. Yet, when Sylvia appeared John commenced muttering and scowling.

Since John had come to work part-time at the hardware store, he and Morgan had become close friends. Therefore, Morgan was well versed in the squabbles that had caused John and Sylvia’s separation. As far as Morgan could tell, John had some legitimate complaints, but he suspected Sylvia had a few legitimate complaints of her own. However, according to John, there was supposed to be give and take in a marriage. John insisted he’d done the majority of giving for years—he, being the minority male in a household of a wife and two daughters. John had declared his independence now that he’d raised his family and put in his time teaching.

The feud was about to enter another dimension now that Janna Mitchell had arrived on the scene to resolve the rift between her parents. Morgan wasn’t sure it would be easy because John and Sylvia were both stubborn and set in their ways. John was dead-set on having his terms met. Ditto for Sylvia. This feud could get ugly, especially since Morgan’s mother had decided to work her wiles on John.

“I better round up the hardware I need for your mother’s new kitchen cabinets so I can get the hell outta Dodge before Janna comes gunning for me,” John grumbled as he glanced at his watch. “Soon as I get the door pulls, drawer sliders and hinges counted out and bagged up, I’m outta here.”

When John wheeled like a soldier on parade and marched toward the cabinet hardware section of the store, Morgan followed on his heels. “I’ll help you set Mom’s new cabinets in place when I get off work this evening.”

John smiled gratefully. “You don’t know how many times I wished for a son to help me with my moonlighting projects and to take my side against my wife and daughters. It would’ve evened the odds. If I could pick a son you’d definitely be him.”

“Thanks, John. The feeling’s mutual,” he said affectionately. “I would’ve liked having you for a dad.”

“You could’ve used one as a kid,” John agreed, then winked. “Maybe it isn’t too late to make that wish come true, if you know what I mean.”

Morgan didn’t reply, just scooped up cabinet door pulls and then crammed them in another sack. If his mother had her way, John Mitchell would become husband number four. John thought he had marriage problems now! Morgan inwardly winced at the prospect of John getting tangled up with Georgina Price and her ever-changing whims.

Although Morgan loved his mother he was aware of her flaws. She was fickle and flirtatious by nature and by choice and she’d yet to remain in a relationship for more than five years—she’d only lasted three years with Morgan’s dad. Marriage, as far as Morgan could tell, was worse than shooting rapids on a raging river. It was risky at best. He had firsthand experience at how divorce could cause upheaval in a person’s life, since he and his mother had been through three of them. Morgan wanted no part of it, and he sympathized with John’s emotional pandemonium.

“Hurry up and help me gather the rest of the stuff I need for your mother’s remodeling project,” John requested, casting a wary glance toward the front door. “I’m not in the mood to deal with Janna right now.”

Morgan quickened his pace, amused by John’s determination to avoid his older daughter. If Morgan didn’t know better he’d swear John was afraid Janna would grab him by the collar and drag him to the bargaining table to negotiate a compromise for the feud. Janna? That five-foot nothing of a female? Intimidating? Morgan couldn’t satisfactorily link that characteristic to the timid, unassuming teenager he’d known in high school.

THE MOMENT Jan Mitchell entered Sylvia’s Boutique her mother shrieked in delight and dashed forward to envelop her in a smothering hug. “Thank God, you’re here! I knew you’d come!” Sylvia gushed. “You’ve got to do something about your father. He’s driving me crazy and embarrassing me in front of my friends and customers.”

When Sylvia stepped back, Jan appraised her mother’s stylish linen dress and perfect hairdo. Except for the hint of tears in Sylvia’s striking blue eyes she looked as vibrant, sophisticated and youthful as ever. The only thing missing was John Mitchell at Sylvia’s side. Jan still couldn’t believe her parents had split up. It was inconceivable there could be trouble in paradise after three decades of marriage. How did this happen?

Sylvia grabbed Jan by the shoulders and spun her toward the door she’d just entered. “Get over to the hardware store and talk to your father,” she commanded. “He won’t be there much longer.”

“Why? Where’s he going?”

Sylvia shoveled Jan out the door. “He’s going out to Georgina Price’s house to remodel her kitchen. Or so he claims,” Sylvia said scornfully. “They’re having an affair.”

“What?” Jan chirped in astonishment.

“I told you that your father has gone middle-age crazy,” Sylvia muttered sourly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be going through the change of life and he’s the one who’s impossible to live with!” She flicked her wrist to shoo Jan on her way. “Hurry over there and talk sense into him before he scurries off like the rat he is.”

Resigned to a confrontation before she even had time to catch her breath after her long drive from Tulsa, Jan jaywalked across the yellow brick street the Chamber of Commerce had painted to draw tourists to this small town of Oz in western Oklahoma. Jan sorely wished there were a wizard in residence that could magically wave his arms and settle this feud.

Was it only yesterday that Jan had been holding a conference meeting with her staff at the corporate office to set up a new data processing system? Suddenly, here she was back in peanut country, walking the newly painted yellow brick road that symbolized the division line between her mother and father. According to her mother, neither she nor John would cross the street to confront each other. Someone else had to be the go-between and that duty fell to Jan. It seemed she’d played mediator in minor family skirmishes all her life. While living with a stubborn father and a flighty, emotional mother and younger sister, someone had to be the stabilizing force. Maybe that’s why Jan had ended up as a troubleshooter for the corporate firm in Tulsa. She’d been troubleshooting problems for her family for years.

“Well, it’s your own fault for landing in the middle of this mess,” Jan chastised herself halfway across the yellow brick road. She’d always had a weakness when it came to her family. By nature she had an overwhelming tendency to fix things—hence her job at Delacort Industries.

The moment Sylvia called—wailing on and on about John storming off and camping out in his brand spanking new Winnebago camper that was parked at Price Farm—Jan had dropped what she’d been doing and come to save the day. Never mind that her younger sister Kendra lived here in Oz, managed the travel agency and should’ve handled the situation. However, Kendra possessed Sylvia’s temperamental nature and was prone to panic first and then seek help from someone else, rather than solve the crisis herself.

Jan never had a flair for the dramatic—like Sylvia and Kendra, thank goodness. She prided herself in being calm, collected, organized and reliable in difficult situations. And so, here she was, back in the Land of Oz, hell-bent on mending family fences. Of course, Kendra couldn’t be bothered because she was planning her wedding and had last-minute arrangements to make before the grand affair in less than a month.

Discarding her unproductive thoughts, Jan pushed open the door at the hardware store. A small electronic device overhead played: “We’re Off To See The Wizard.” Jan stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes popped when she spotted her father, wearing a trendy red polo shirt and cargo pants that had more pockets than Captain Kangaroo’s. Even worse, her father could’ve been the poster model for Grecian Formula hair coloring. There wasn’t a gray hair on his dark head and he’d used some kind of gel that made his hair shiny and stiff. Why was he trying to recapture his youth? He looked ridiculous!

“Daddy?” Jan croaked in disbelief.

John whipped around so fast that he knocked one of the paper sacks off the counter. Hinges skidded across the tiled floor. Hurriedly, he scooped them up and crammed them in the sack. “Hi, hon. I knew your mother would call you. I’m surprised that you didn’t show up a month ago.”

Jan strode down the aisle to give her father a greeting hug and peck on the cheek. “I only found out about this separation yesterday. Why didn’t you call and tell me what was going on? I’d have been here sooner.”

“You have your own life,” John insisted. “I guess your mother decided to give me a month to come to my senses before she called you in. She’s been treating me like I’m sixteen since the day I retired from teaching and I’m getting damned sick and tired of it.”

Jan stared pointedly at John’s youthful clothes, the new gold chain that encircled his neck and then focused on his dyed hair. “What’s with this new image? Are we dressing like a teenager these days because we’re in our second childhood, Daddy?” she asked him directly.

John puffed up like an inflated bagpipe. “No, we are not! We’re trying to live life to its fullest, but your stick-in-the-mud mother has entrenched herself in that damn dress shop that I advised her not to buy. But did she listen when I told her I wanted to be able to pack a suitcase and drive off into the sunset on a whim? Nope, she’s got this marvelous career going, says she. Never mind that I’ve waited years for my retirement so we could travel.”

Jan smiled calmly at her red-faced father. “Maybe we can have supper together and you can explain your frustration in detail. Then you and Mom can work out a satisfying compromise.”

John scooped the paper sacks off the counter. “Sorry, hon, not tonight. I’ve got a hot date. You can come by tomorrow evening, but you might as well know, right here and now, that I’m not budging from my position, so your mother better give serious thought to budging from hers.”

Before Jan could reach out to snag his arm, John took off like a cannonball, leaving her to stare bewilderedly after him. For years, Jan had considered her father to be a reasonably adaptable man. Stubborn at the onset, but reasonably adaptable—until he went middle-age crazy on her.

“Janna?” A deep, ultrasexy voice called from behind her.

Jan wheeled around to see Morgan Price ambling from his office. She steadied herself against a nearby shelf to prevent herself from staggering beneath the impact of Morgan’s knock-’em-dead smile, his darkly handsome good looks and swarthy physique. He’d had the same effect on her back in high school. He’d dazzled her, fascinated her—until he’d committed the Queen Mother of all betrayals on a lovesick sixteen-year-old who idolized him. Her super-duper-deluxe crush on Morgan had transformed into hatred the night he’d made a fool of her and mortified her in front of her friends and classmates. He’d instantly fallen from grace and Jan had never forgiven his cruelty. Jan had learned her first lesson about love at his hands and she’d been careful never to commit the mistake again.

Morgan Price was the last man Jan wanted to encounter—she’d spent years avoiding him. But according to Sylvia, Morgan was responsible for John’s stiff-necked stubbornness and his retreat into his second childhood. Now that John and Morgan were running buddies—so to speak—John patterned his appearance and lifestyle after Morgan.

“Hello, Morgan. Nice to see you again.” Not! She tacked on silently.

Morgan folded his muscled arms over his broad chest, crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned casually against the counter. He flashed her another one of those killer smiles, and she steeled herself against his potent charm. She wasn’t a lovestruck teenager anymore and she wasn’t about to be taken in by those entrancing silver-blue eyes, shiny coal-black hair and that impressive athletic build that had won him all sorts of honors and recognition on high school and college basketball courts across the nation. For years he’d been hailed as the athletic wizard of Oz, but Jan’s opinion of him leaned more toward the cruel, belittling devil incarnate.

“You look terrific, Janna,” Morgan complimented in that smoky baritone voice that sent erotic chills shimmying down her spine. Willfully, she defied the devastating effect he had on her.

“It’s Jan these days,” she corrected as she tilted her chin to meet his appraising stare. Morgan might’ve won over her father with all that oozing charm, but she wasn’t falling for it—ever again. “I came to see my dad, but since he’s busy I’ll go across the street to visit with Mom.”

Turning on her heel, she tried to make a beeline for the door, but Morgan was as quick and agile as he’d been during his heyday as reining Homecoming King, All-State superstar jock and Big Man on Campus. He grabbed her arm, halting her escape.

“Hold on a minute, honey,” Morgan said huskily.

“Honey?” Jan jerked loose from his grasp and flambéed him with a glare as past resentment roiled inside her, seeking release. “Let’s get something straight from the get-go,” she told him sharply and directly. “I do not appreciate your negative influence on Dad during this marital crisis. I’m here to mend family fences and I’d appreciate it if you’d butt out and stop urging my father not to return home where he belongs!”

Morgan’s thick black brows jackknifed in surprise. It did Jan a world of good to know she’d startled this hometown Casanova, who’d probably turned out to be as fickle as his mother. Morgan obviously expected to encounter the meek, lovesick teenager he’d mortified years ago. Well, he better think again! Jan had come into her own since she’d left Oz.

“Just calm down,” Morgan said soothingly. “I’m trying to help straighten out this situation between your folks.”

“Right,” she said, then scoffed disdainfully. “You’ve got Dad dressing like he’s half his age and dying his hair. And you call this helping?”

“You’re holding me responsible for John’s change in appearance?”

“Yes, I am. Considering that you hired Dad to help you part-time, and he’s emulating your younger appearance and your frivolous lifestyle—”

“Hold it right there,” Morgan leaped in. “You haven’t seen me in a decade, so how do you know I’m living a frivolous lifestyle?”

“Mother said,” she flashed back.

Morgan let loose with a snort. “Pure gossip. I’m standing in line for sainthood and my certified documents should be arriving any day now.”

Jan sent him a smirk that indicated she didn’t find him the least bit amusing. “I’m asking you not to put any more juvenile ideas in Dad’s head while I’m trying to get my parents back together.”

“Look, Miss Family Fix-it, you’ve come barreling in here without knowing what’s what. I suggest you get all your stories straight before you leap to erroneous conclusions and start hurling accusations. I happen to be an innocent bystander in the Mitchell family fiasco,” he said hotly.

“Sure, just as innocent as you were the night of the Homecoming dance,” she hurled impulsively, then mentally kicked herself for bringing that up at a time like this. She had to get out of here—pronto. Encountering the wildly attractive Morgan Price affected her more than she’d anticipated. She wasn’t behaving in her customary calm, rational and controlled manner. Since when had she become so reactionary?

Morgan’s dark brows shot up like exclamation marks and his jaw dropped on its hinges. “You’re still holding that adolescent idiocy against me a dozen years later? Jeez, that’s a little immature, don’t you think?”

“I think,” she said through clenched teeth, “that I’d like to avoid future contact with you while I’m in town. Instead of shoving my vulnerable father toward your mother for an affair that could destroy a solid marriage, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop playing matchmaker and let me handle this!”

Morgan glowered at her. She glared right back, matching him stare for formidable stare—though he was a good twelve inches taller and outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by this has-been athletic superstar, even if he was so sinfully handsome that her feminine hormones were spinning around like protons inside an atom. She wasn’t going to succumb to Morgan’s devilish charm. She wanted him to know she’d changed drastically and she couldn’t be bowled over by his heart-stopping good looks and seductive voice.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said sharply. “Just because I like your dad and hired him when he had so much idle time on his hands, and no one to share it with, doesn’t make me the villain here. Your mother is so wrapped up in her la-di-da clothing store that she isn’t giving John’s transition in lifestyle the slightest consideration. She’s too self-involved, inconsiderate and uncompromising, if you ask me.”

“No one asked you,” she sassed him.

He smirked derisively then shot her a critical glance. “I’m sure you can relate to self-involvement. You’ve been away for years, and suddenly you’ve come buzzing back to peanut country from the big city, expecting to snap your fingers and resolve this crisis overnight. Well, I’ve got a news flash for you, sugarbritches, it won’t work that way. Your dad has some legitimate beefs that need to be addressed. Until you’ve heard both sides with an open mind, don’t pass judgment on me or anyone else.”

“Who are you to tell me how to deal with my parents, Mr. Nuts and Bolts?” she retaliated hotly. “You’re an outsider!”

His thick brows flattened threateningly over his silver-blue eyes. “I’m the guy who can help or hamper your attempt to settle the family feud. So you don’t want to make me angry. Got it, sugarbritches?”

“Just what, exactly, is your interest in this feud? Aren’t you too old to be looking for a new daddy?” Jan asked sarcastically.

He bared his teeth and growled, “You’re annoying the hell out of me, so if John’s interested in my mother, then maybe that’s fine by me. You’re right, I never had the luxury of a father, just a string of men coming and going through the swinging door at my mother’s house. Just about the time I adjusted to her latest boyfriend or husband she went hunting for a new one. Why do you think I spent all my time in the gym shooting hoops? My home life wasn’t fun, but you probably took family stability for granted. Maybe you deserve to find out what I’ve put up with every day of my life!”

Jan stepped back a pace, surprised by the ferocity behind Morgan’s words. Obviously, he was sensitive about the subject of his fickle mother. Jan hadn’t given much thought to the upheaval and frustration he’d endured because of his mother’s reputation in town. But still, she didn’t want him stealing her father out from under her nose and more or less taking her place since she’d become the absentee sibling.

Morgan retreated a step, let out his breath in a whoosh, and then raked his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Janna, I don’t usually fly off the handle, but you managed to tick me off. The plain and simple facts are that, like it or not, I’ve become your dad’s confidant and friend. If he won’t open up to you about this rift with Sylvia or discuss his need to recapture his lost youth, then you can come see me and I’ll give you John’s perspective.”

“Thanks, but I’ll muddle through by myself,” she insisted, tilting her chin stubbornly. “This is my family problem, after all.”

He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders. “Have it your way, Janna, but don’t expect me to stop listening when John needs to blow off steam and discuss his problems with Sylvia.”

With a curt nod, Jan turned on her heel and exited the store. It rankled that her father confided in Morgan and refused to talk to her—his oldest daughter who’d dropped her important project at work in her assistant’s lap and had come running to solve the Mitchell clan’s problems.

She supposed she was partly to blame for her parents’ separation. She’d moved away to establish her own life and career and didn’t get home as often as she should to ensure things ran smoothly. But she’d come home the instant she learned there was trouble because family was family, and they should stick together, stick up for one another, not confide in outsiders.

Composing herself, Jan stepped onto the sidewalk to inhale a breath of fresh air. Her encounter with Morgan hadn’t gone as she’d hoped. She’d overreacted to seeing him again. She’d become spiteful and defensive and yes, damn it, a little juvenile. She supposed years of suppressed resentment had finally erupted. Now that she had the nerve to lambaste him, she’d let him have it with both barrels blazing. But she shouldn’t have allowed Morgan to affect her because he was ancient history and she wasn’t the teeniest bit attracted to him. She hadn’t given Morgan a thought in years.

Right, Jan, since when did you become a pathological liar? said that taunting voice inside her head. Okay, so maybe she’d given him a thought on occasion, but it didn’t mean a thing. She’d just take a wide berth around Morgan and focus on reconciling her parents. The first order of business was to get her parents to speak to one another.

MORGAN HAD major difficulty concentrating while he waited on the three customers that arrived shortly after Janna stormed off. He hadn’t been prepared for her hostility toward him. The moment he saw her up close all he could do was marvel at how attractive and assertive she’d become. He hadn’t expected to feel an immediate flash of awareness and interest, but he had. Watching her pearlescent skin glow in the florescent light, staring at her petal-soft lips, and appraising the sculpted features of her oval face had drawn his undivided attention and inspired a few fantasies.

He hadn’t expected her to walk in and flay him alive, as if he were responsible for the change in her father’s appearance and behavior. Her verbal jabs had set fuse to his temper. Morgan rarely lost his temper. He’d learned to take life in stride and roll with the punches. But Janna had provoked him and he’d reflexively lashed out at her.

Some reunion that had turned out to be. She had her heart set on disliking him because of that kiss at Home-coming. True, he’d suffered a severe case of the guilts when the incident swelled out of proportion and she got her feelings trounced on. He’d tried to apologize about a half dozen times, but she had avoided him and wouldn’t answer his phone calls.

Everyone in school had known plain-Jane Janna had a flaming crush on him. It was the worst-kept secret in Oz. Like a fool, Morgan had let his friends dare him into planting a juicy French kiss on Janna’s lips that night after he’d shot the lights out of the gymnasium in a game against Oz’s biggest rival. He’d been riding an emotional high after the victory, after his coronation as Homecoming King. Since his ornery teammates teased him about Janna constantly he’d decided to kiss her and appease his curiosity.

Truth was, there’d been something about Janna’s shy demeanor and those wide-eyed innocent stares that appealed to him way back when. Even though she was two years younger and didn’t run with his circle of friends, he’d kinda liked her. Even a dozen years ago, those enormous, deep-set, thick-lashed hazel eyes that were flecked with chips of gold had fascinated him. They were hypnotist’s eyes and he’d been drawn to Janna on some level that an eighteen-year-old kid failed to comprehend.

And so Morgan had kissed her soundly that night, not just because of that idiotic dare, but because he’d wanted to. She’d been soft, incredibly sweet, yielding and giving in his arms. But by the time his knucklehead friends spread the word that they’d dared Morgan to kiss the skinny little self-conscious sophomore his potential friendship with Janna shattered in a zillion pieces. He’d made a stupid adolescent mistake and it looked as if Janna planned to hold it over his head for the rest of his life.

Ah well, no sense worrying about something that happened over a decade ago, he told himself realistically. Janna wouldn’t be in town long enough for him to mend fences with her. She didn’t want his input in the feud, didn’t want his friendship…But damn, she looked sensational. The entire time he’d been arguing with her he’d had to resist the wild urge to reach over and unwind that sleek hairstyle that made her appear stuffy and unapproachable. He’d wanted to crack that cool, sophisticated exterior, hoping he’d find that sweet, moon-eyed teenager who’d idolized him.

Morgan smiled ruefully as he sacked up his customer’s purchases and nodded his thanks. He hadn’t meant to burst Janna’s idealistic bubble all those years ago, but he had. Now she regarded him as an antagonist who had a vested interest in breaking up her parents’ marriage. Chances were he’d only see her at a distance during her stay, which was probably for the best anyway. She wouldn’t be around long enough for either of them to have an impact on each other’s lives. And that was a damn shame because Morgan was definitely interested in getting to know her better.

Ironic, wasn’t it? He was intrigued and attracted to the woman Janna had become and she wasn’t interested in giving him the time of day. Who said there wasn’t justice in the world?

2

WHILE LORNA MASON—Sylvia’s assistant—dealt with the customers in the clothing store, Jan settled into the back office for an in-depth discussion with her mother. Through a steady stream of tears Sylvia confided the problems that arose after John retired. All his grand plans of going wherever the wind blew didn’t appeal to Sylvia. After years of raising children, she’d purchased the clothing store—where she’d worked as a clerk for five years—and now enjoyed her success and a sense of accomplishment.

According to Sylvia, she and John wanted different things from life-after-fifty. He had a fanatical desire to see the world from behind the steering wheel of the new Winnebago motor home, living in RV parks on the American byways. Sylvia wanted to stay in hotels and dine out, not take her household duties on the road. While Sylvia listed her goals and aspirations Jan kept remembering what Morgan had said about hearing both sides of the story before she passed judgment in the feud.

A commotion erupted in the front of the shop. Jan recognized her younger sister’s hysterical shriek immediately. She’d often heard that earsplitting wail during adolescence. Damn, Jan mused as she dashed from the office. She didn’t need Kendra’s theatrics right now.

Jan stumbled to a halt when she saw her sister standing in the middle of the floor, dressed in a baggy, banana-yellow sweat suit that Kendra usually wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in public. But there was Kendra—her eyes puffy and red, her long blond hair in a wild tangle around her pale face—waving her arms in expansive gestures while she ranted and railed at Lorna who was having no luck whatsoever calming her down.

“Kendra, what’s wrong?” Jan yelled to be heard over the wails.

Kendra whirled around and exploded in another fit of hysterics. “What’s wrong, you ask? Only everything! My life is ruined! He humiliated me. Do you know what that snake did to me?”

The snake, Jan presumed, was Kendra’s fiancé who usually went by the name Richard Samson. Apparently Rich had been demoted from the love of Kendra’s life to the lowest life form to slither the earth. Jan never cared much for Richard because he’d been the first one to show up and taunt her after Morgan’s mind-boggling, body-tingling kiss at the Homecoming dance. These days, the upstart lawyer couldn’t carry on a conversation that didn’t revolve around making money and the right connections. Jan had always suspected Richard dated Kendra because of her popularity and her stunning good looks. She’d been the trophy that complemented his prestigious position in the community.

“What did Richard do?” Jan asked as calmly as she knew how.

“He cheated on me!” Kendra screeched. “A month before our wedding he decided to have himself a little fling and I caught him doing it! I’ve already ordered the flowers, sent out invitations and hired the caterer.”

“Oh, Kendra, honey,” Sylvia groaned in dismay. “We’ve already made the alterations in your wedding gown and I can’t send it back!”

Jan rolled her eyes and sighed when her mother blurted that out. The careless comment added fuel to Kendra’s fit-in-progress. Kendra wilted onto the carpeted floor and proceeded to bawl her head off.

“Please lock the door, Lorna,” Jan requested as she knelt beside her blubbering sister. “This isn’t a good time for customers to be arriving.”

Lorna darted over to post the Closed sign and secure the door.

“Not a word about this, Lorna,” Kendra wailed between gasping sobs. “Don’t you dare tell a soul until I’m ready to publicly cancel the wedding…and I’m going to have to return all the gifts. Oh, my gawd!”

Jan did what she could to console her sister—which wasn’t much because Sylvia plopped on the floor. Mother and youngest daughter wailed in chorus, cursed the male gender and sentenced all men everywhere to the furthermost regions of blazing hell.

Well, one good thing had come of this, Jan mused. The problem of John and Sylvia remaining civil to one another during the wedding and reception wouldn’t be a concern. As for Richard Samson, good riddance. He was too full of himself and he didn’t deserve Kendra.

“I’ll show him, I swear I will,” Kendra seethed as she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her banana-yellow sweatshirt. “Two can play his cheating games. It would serve him right to find me with someone else!”

“That sounds a little rash,” Jan cautioned. “I don’t think rebounding to another man is a wise solution.”

“Daddy’s on the rebound. It worked for him. Why not for me?”

Jan could’ve clobbered her sister for the thoughtless remark that set off Sylvia. They cried in each other’s arms while Jan watched helplessly. In the midst of the most recent fiasco that was tearing the Mitchell clan asunder Jan’s cell phone rang. She bounded up to fetch the phone from her purse.

“Hello?” she answered, distracted.

“Jan? It’s Diane.”

Jan sighed. Her assistant had called twice during the four-hour drive from Tulsa. Diane hesitated to make a decision without consulting Jan. She’d hoped this emergency leave would force Diane to become less dependent, but apparently Diane couldn’t deal with her temporary position of authority.

“Diane, I’ll call you back. I’m in the middle of a duel crisis here.”

“But this is important,” Diane whined.

“So were your first two phone calls, but I really have to hang up.”

“Is someone crying? I think I hear crying. What’s going on?”

“Yes, there’s a lot of crying going on here, but I can handle it.”

Jan switched off the phone to prevent another interruption. When she strode from the back office, mother and younger daughter were still sprawled in the middle of the shop, clutching at each other like the last two survivors of a catastrophic disaster.

“Men are pond scum,” Kendra said on a shuddering sob. “Lower than pond scum, in fact. They’re the bottom feeders in the cesspool of life.”

“You can say that again,” Sylvia howled. “You devote your life to your children and your husband and then he bails out on you, refuses to support your career and your dreams. I gave that man the best years of my life and this is the thanks I get! He leaves me for a floozy!”

Jan glanced at Lorna who was all eyes and ears. “Lorna, why don’t you go on home. You’ll receive full pay, of course.”

“My, you Mitchells sure are having a run of bad luck, aren’t you?” Lorna murmured. She cast one last pitying glance over her shoulder at the twosome huddled together on the floor. “First your dad walks out and ends up in Georgina Price’s open arms. Now Kendra’s fiancé fools around on her. Good thing you showed up when you did, Janna. Everyone knows you’re the anchor of the family and they always call on you for help.”

She was the anchor all right…on a sinking ship. She was beginning to think Morgan Price was right. She couldn’t waltz into Oz, wave her wand and work magic overnight. She definitely had her work cut out for her.

DESPITE THE King Kong-size headache hammering at her skull, Jan closed the boutique and transported her hysterical mother and sister home for a rousing pep talk—that had no effect whatsoever. Sylvia and Kendra broke open a bottle of wine and began another self-pitying tissue-fest that would probably last all night.

Jan’s pounding headache couldn’t tolerate another round of shrill, high-pitched wails so she piled into her car and headed to Morgan Price’s farm where her father had parked his Winnebago camper during the separation. Driving past the wide expanse of peanut fields eased the tension roiling through Jan. The countryside was peaceful and serene, unlike the turmoil at home that triggered her high-level stress.

Jan parked beside the motor home that was hooked to an electrical extension cord running from Morgan Price’s garage. Mr. Nuts and Bolts had apparently done well for himself, she mused as she surveyed the spacious ranch-style brick home. Obviously his ability to manage the hardware store and tractor supply shop in Oz gained him financial success.

Her gaze drifted to the older compact brick home that sat two hundred yards farther down the graveled road. According to Sylvia, Georgina Price lived near her son, and it was there that John Mitchell was working part-time to renovate the kitchen. Also according to Sylvia, there was a little hanky-panky going on. The mere thought of her father having sex with anyone, even her mother, was enough to make Jan shudder. Her headache intensified and she absently massaged her throbbing temples. She didn’t want to consider the physical aspect of her parents’ relationship.

Jan dragged in a steadying breath, noted her dad’s truck and headed toward the Winnebago. Although her dad informed her that he had a date, Jan hoped to catch him before he trotted over to Georgina’s to do whatever it was that a fifty-eight-year-old man did when he was on the make and purposely tormenting his estranged wife—who was at home, consuming wine like it was going out of style and bawling in unison with their youngest daughter.

While Jan rapped on the door she asked herself why she didn’t grab a bottle of booze and get soused. Certainly, this fiasco with her family was enough to drive a teetotaler like herself to drink.

When no one answered the knock, Jan hammered on the door again, then waited another impatient moment. “Be here, damn it.”

“He’s not there.”

Startled by the husky baritone voice, Jan wheeled around on the narrow metal landing. The heel of her navy blue pump dropped off the edge, hurtling her off balance. She flapped her arms like a duck going airborne in an attempt to upright herself, but it was a wasted effort. Shrieking in alarm, she tumbled, pellmell, down the steps, scraped her leg against the metal and landed in an undignified heap in the grass.

“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 challenged him.

Morgan stared her squarely in the eye and Jan struggled valiantly not to get lost in those mesmerizing silver-blue pools that were surrounded with the kind of long curly lashes that women would kill for.

“If I was crazy in love with one woman? No,” he declared. “Or at least I don’t think I’d be that stupid. But what the hell do I know? I was raised by a mother who was too busy chasing men to notice me.

“And the truth is,” he was quick to add, “I’m not encouraging your dad to consort with my mother. She likes John because she needs a steady stream of male companions. She doesn’t think she can function without a man in her life. I advised Mom to back off because John is vulnerable, but she doesn’t listen to me. Never did.”

“Parents,” she grumbled. “You go off to have a life of your own, but you can’t trust them to behave properly in your absence.”

“Yeah well, Mom never behaved properly,” Morgan replied. “I don’t know a damn thing about family dynamics because my string of stepfathers weren’t around long enough for me to figure out how a family is supposed to function. For me, turmoil and upheaval were a way of life.”

One corner of Jan’s heart melted. She never realized how good she’d had it, growing up in a loving household—even if that household had shattered recently and she was left to pick up the pieces. Life for Morgan couldn’t have been easy, despite his popularity and athletic prowess.

Jan sighed audibly. “I want to apologize for coming down on you like a ton of bricks this afternoon. You just sort of got caught in the crossfire of my frustration with my parents. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”

“And you never forgave me for the Homecoming incident,” he put in perceptively. “I hurt and embarrassed you and I’m sorry as hell.” Morgan reached over to curl his finger beneath her chin, raising her gaze to his. “For what it’s worth, I took that stupid dare because I was curious about how it would feel to kiss that shy, unbelievably sweet sophomore who was infatuated with me, even if she was caught up in the fact that I was supposedly the superstar athlete of Oz.”

“That wasn’t the reason I had a crush on you,” she blurted out, then withdrew into her own space. His touch was seriously affecting her vital signs and her thought processes. Plus, her emotions were already spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl carousel because of today’s fiasco.

“No?” he asked skeptically. “In those days all the girls I dated were caught up in my celebrity status. The image is what attracted them.”

“Well, I wasn’t looking to attach myself to the image,” she insisted. “I envied your outgoing personality and your ability to make friends easily.” She felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she added, “And okay, you did have the dashing good looks of a heartthrob, still do, but you were everything I wanted to be. Just working up the nerve to strike up a conversation with you at school made my palms sweat and my pulse pound in my ears. I was the little computer nerd with a mouthful of metal and the physique of Olive Oyl. You were the high school stud muffin who inspired feminine dreams.”

Morgan chuckled in amusement when Jan’s face turned a deeper shade of pink. Despite their initial argument at his store, being with Janna had a soothing and yet arousing effect on him. He found himself wanting to touch her for whatever excuse he could dream up. Staring into those lustrous hazel eyes, splattered with shards of gold nuggets, left him wishing she’d be in town long enough to make amends for his past mistakes.

Knowing she’d dropped whatever she was doing in Tulsa to ride to her family’s rescue impressed him. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would feel like to have that kind of loyalty and devotion directed toward him. But Janna was here to resolve the Mitchell feud because she was fiercely loyal to those she loved most—and he wasn’t included on that list.

According to John, Janna had always been the family peacemaker, the solid rock in a household of emotional and melodramatic women. Unlike Georgina Price, Janna had stability and stick-to-itness. Morgan admired that.

He hopped off the tailgate, then hooked his arm around Janna’s waist to playfully tote her to the truck. She was a featherweight in his arms and he looked for any excuse to touch her. Plus, he didn’t want her tramping around with one shoe off and one on and stepping in something gooey.

“Have you had supper yet?” he asked impulsively.

“No, I was too busy playing nursemaid and therapist to Mother and Kendra. But I’ve imposed enough on you already.”

“It’s not an imposition. I’d enjoy the company. I could throw together sandwiches and chips so neither of us would have to eat alone.”

“Well, if you’re sure I’m not intruding,” she said hesitantly.

When they returned to the house, Morgan retrieved Jan’s suitcase 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 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.”

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 sister—pdq. Jan didn’t bother to rake herself over live coals for blurting out her virgin status to Morgan. She supposed she only wanted to shock him, get a reaction from him and she’d derived wicked amusement watching him crash to the floor and gape at her in amazement.

Yet, none of that mattered at the moment, Jan mused as she bounded from the truck and hightailed it to Goober Pea Tavern. She had to save Kendra from sheer idiocy. Kendra wasn’t accustomed to being jilted and now she was determined to soothe her feminine pride by reinforcing the belief that men still wanted her.

Jan cannoned through the door, momentarily disoriented by the cloud of smoke and dimly lit interior. She could only make out shadowy silhouettes at the tables and bar. Lord, she hoped she wasn’t too late to rescue Kendra. If she’d come and gone, Jan wasn’t sure where to search next.

Squinting, Jan panned the crowded bar and studied the couples that two-stepped around the dance floor while the jukebox played Garth Brooks’s hit: “I’ve Got Friends In Low Places.” Frantically, Jan tried to locate that mop of tangled blond hair that belonged to Kendra. She felt Morgan’s reassuring presence behind her and she fully appreciated his towering height when his arm shot out to indicate the chummy couple nestled in a corner booth. Jan plunged forward, oblivious to the speculative male glances directed at her.

With Morgan hot on her heels, Jan strode up to the booth and stared disapprovingly at her inebriated sister who was half sprawled on her burly date. When the man stroked Kendra’s arm and nuzzled her neck, indignation rose inside Jan. She swatted the man’s wandering hand away from her sister.

“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.

JAN EASED a hip on the desk when her father plunked sullenly into the chair. “Dad, I know this must’ve been a difficult month for you. I know it was hard on Mom because she couldn’t get through the telling of her side of the feud without breaking down in tears. She really misses you.”

John snorted. “Not enough to tramp over here to apologize.”

Jan smiled faintly. “What things would you like her to apologize for?”

“For starters, she could admit that buying that blasted clothing store was a mistake of gigantic proportions,” he burst out resentfully.

“You don’t think Mom deserves the sense of accomplishment that comes from owning her own store?” she asked tactfully. “Did she begrudge your successful career as a teacher? Does she begrudge all the praise you receive from moonlighting as a carpenter?”

“No, but she certainly complained that I wasn’t home to help raise you girls while I was moonlighting to make extra money when we needed it,” John replied. “I couldn’t win for losing.”

Her dad was probably right on that count. Even so, he’d opened himself up for criticism. “By objecting to the time Mom spends at her store, you’re guilty of doing the same thing you claim she did.”

John flashed her a disgruntled frown. “Maybe so, but the situation is different now. We don’t have babies underfoot. We’re in our late fifties.”

Jan swallowed a smile. Her dad wasn’t dressed like he was over the hill. He was wearing another of his trendy shirts and slacks that were better suited for college students, not a man suffering a midlife crisis.

“This should be our time together. We should be seeing the world together, not chained to that damned dress shop,” John muttered sourly.

“Couldn’t you see the world from a car seat and stay at hotels?” she asked gently. “You could still sightsee to your heart’s content.”

John slammed his fist on the desk. “No, damn it. I knew you’d take her side. The Winnebago is my idea of a vacation!”

“And your idea of fun is dining with Georgina Price when you know you’re humiliating Mom to no end? How’d you like it if Mom was seeing someone and inspiring gossip and speculation?”

John stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Fine by me. Maybe she’ll entice her boyfriend instead of ignoring him the way she’s been ignoring me.”

Jan fought valiantly to prevent a blush from creeping into her cheeks. She was trying to tiptoe around the sexual aspect of her parents’ relationship. “Er…let’s bypass that issue and focus on other problems.”

“Why? Don’t you want to know she doesn’t find me desirable anymore? Why do you think I’ve dyed my hair and bought these flashy clothes? I thought it’d gain her notice. But, you know what she did?” he asked bitterly. “She laughed at me. Well, other women have taken notice!”

Georgina Price again, Jan mused. No doubt, the woman gushed compliments to attract John’s interest and he soaked it up like a sponge.

Jan leaned forward and got right in John’s face. “Dad, what’s the real reason for this second childhood and your desire to see the world?”

John opened his mouth, slammed it shut and then glared at her for a moment. “I don’t want to talk to you about this stuff. Morgan knows how I feel and why. He’s a man and he understands where I’m coming from.”

“I’m trying to understand so I can explain your needs to Mom,” Jan replied. “She’s embarrassed about the separation and she’s humiliated because you’re lollygagging with Georgina. Mom wants you to support her new career, not force her to give up her store.”

John shook his head—not a dyed hair moved. The shiny gel held it in place like superglue. “You’re too biased and I can’t discuss things openly with you because it makes you and me uncomfortable. Since your mother appointed you as her speakpiece I’m appointing Morgan as mine.”

“Dad—”

He held up his hand like a traffic cop. “Nope, I’ve made up my mind. You girls aren’t going to gang up on me anymore. You can talk to me about this separation through Morgan, or not at all and that’s final. And by the way,” he added. “I heard gossip that your sister went on a binge last night after she cancelled the wedding. Tell her to get her act together. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to earn my wages at the store.”

“But, Daddy—” Jan’s shoulders slumped in defeat as John marched from the office. Great, now she had to play he-said-she-said with Morgan. How was she supposed to concentrate on getting down to the basic issues that kept her parents apart when last night’s mind-boggling kiss was right there between them? Just seeing him this morning, looking sinfully handsome, got her hormones all riled up again.

When Jan exited the office, Morgan and John were deep in conversation. Jan figured her dad was informing Morgan that he’d been appointed negotiator for the male side of the Mitchell feud. And here Jan had decided it was best not to spend much time alone with Morgan, considering her volatile reaction to him the previous night. Well, scratch that. For the sake of her parents’ crumbling marriage she’d have to set aside her vulnerability to Morgan and focus on getting to the crux of the problems with her parents.

When Morgan ambled toward her, Jan battled the warm sensations that rippled through her and tamped down her desire. Her female hormones needed to take a chill pill, she decided irritably. She had a relationship to salvage and it demanded her absolute concentration. She wasn’t going gaga over Morgan again.

“So,” Morgan murmured, staring at the air over her left shoulder. “I’ve been informed that I’ve been appointed as John’s spokesman. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

“Not as big a problem as walking away and letting a divorce take place,” she replied. “Dad says…” Her voice trailed off when she noticed who’d entered the store. “Well, damn.”

Morgan glanced over his shoulder and frowned darkly. “Gee, I wonder who Richard wants to plead his indefensible case to Kendra?”

Richard plastered on a high-voltage smile and moved steadily toward Jan. “Janna…” His gaze dropped to her chest. “Whoa. Word around town is that you’ve changed drastically. That’s an understatement. You look—”

“Do you have a reason for being here?” Morgan cut in. “If so, state your purpose. Jan and I are in the middle of a discussion.”

“Yeah, okay.” Richard shifted awkwardly beneath Morgan’s hard stare. “I want Jan to talk to Kendra for me.” It was a command, not a request. “I dropped by to see her this morning. She looked like hell, by the way. I tried to talk to her, but she stormed out the door and told me she’s going to see that country bumpkin rancher she was dating when I—”

“When you beat his time?” Morgan supplied helpfully.

The suave, Nordic-godlike lawyer winced. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way. But the point is Kendra went running to Evan Gray to punish me for something that didn’t mean a thing.”

Jan wanted to wallop Richard upside the head. “You could’ve talked all day without saying that,” she snapped.

“Well, it didn’t mean anything. I went a little crazy is all.”

“Easy for you to say after a reckless tumble in the hay,” Jan said through her teeth. “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear it wasn’t the first time.”

Richard had the decency—though not a lot of it, mind you—to blush sheepishly. “It’s Kendra I love and want to marry. That was just sex—”

When Jan pounced Morgan roped his arm around her waist and held her back. Damn if he didn’t admire her killer instinct. She went straight for the jugular. “You can’t kill him,” Morgan cautioned.

“Why not? He deserves to die!” Jan sputtered in outrage. She squirmed for release, but Morgan refused to let her go.

When Jan hissed and spat like an angry cat, Richard took a wary step backward. “Look, I know I made a mistake.”

“What? Getting caught in bed with your secretary? You can say that again, Richie,” Jan seethed. “Because of you, my sister was deathly ill all night. She’s been humiliated, and you want me to intercept her and talk to her before she falls into that ‘country bumpkin rancher’s’ clutches?”

“Well, yeah, I do,” Richard said, undaunted.

“So, it’s okay for you to have a premarital fling to sow your wild oats, but not Kendra?” Jan demanded hotly.

“Well, she’s a woman. Women aren’t supposed to—”

“Argh!” Jan, seeing red, launched herself forward, itching to claw out the man’s eyes, pickle them and hand them back to him in a hermetically sealed jar. Unfortunately, Morgan’s arms tightened around her like vise grips, leaving her clawing air.

“Richard, ol’ pal,” Morgan said calmly. “I advise you to skedaddle before I turn this little wildcat loose. As you can plainly see, she’s in attack mode, she’s got attitude and she’s ferociously protective of her family.”

“Just track down Kendra, okay?” Richard pleaded and retreated. “Make her talk to me so we can work this out, okay? Please? I love her.”

“You sure have a strange way of showing it,” Jan snarled. “Words are cheap and you betrayed her trust in the worst possible way. If you were my fiancé I’d have you castrated so you couldn’t cheat again—ever!”

She could feel Morgan’s massive body shaking in silent amusement, but still he wouldn’t release her. If he’d been there all through the night, while Jan listened to Kendra wretch, sob and wail, he wouldn’t think this was so damn funny.

Morgan didn’t set Jan on her feet until Richard scuttled through the door. Huffily, she rearranged her shirt that had twisted sideways while she squirmed and wriggled for release.

“That went well, didn’t it?” Morgan commented, swallowing a grin.

Jan skewered him with a glare. “You should’ve let me kill him.”

Morgan cupped her chin in his hand and stared into her bloodshot eyes. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Very damn little,” she muttered sourly.

“Breakfast?” he inquired.

“Two cups of coffee.”

Morgan nodded in pretended thoughtfulness. “I still don’t think we could’ve gotten you off a murder rap by pleading temporary insanity. Duress, insomnia, lack of nutrition and excessive caffeine probably wouldn’t hold up in court.”

Jan raked her hair from her face, sighed heavily and told herself to calm down. Morgan was right. She was weary and wired and just plain furious with Richard. Even so, she had to find Kendra before she repeated last night’s idiocy and rebounded to her former boyfriend—who, by the way, wasn’t a country bumpkin, not in Jan’s book, leastwise. Evan Gray might’ve been too old for Kendra and not nearly as handsome and sophisticated as Richard, but he’d been good to Kendra.

“May I borrow your truck to track down Kendra?” Jan asked. “I’d ask Dad, but he won’t talk to me unless I go through you.”

Morgan turned her around and guided her down the aisle. “We’ll both go. Your dad can mind the store.”

“No.” Jan put on the brakes, but Morgan uprooted her without breaking stride. “Really, Morgan, I can handle this. It’s my problem.”

“I told you last night that I’m making the Mitchells a study in family concept and interactions.”

“I don’t know why,” she mumbled as he swept her alongside him. “We’ve turned dysfunctional.”

“Regardless, I’m going along for the ride. It’s my pickup, after all. I don’t want you to run down Richard with it.” Morgan waved his arm to nab John’s attention. “I’ll be back before you leave for lunch.”

“You’re taking Janna with you? Good.” John smiled devilishly. “After lunch I’m going to test drive that flashy sports car I’ve had my eye on.”

Jan groaned. “Dad—”

“Clam up,” Morgan cut in. “He’s only baiting you so you’ll go running to Sylvia to tattle. Then she’ll be upset and the feud will fester.”

Jan swore she was near tears by the time she reached the pickup. Frustration was building inside her like molten lava, threatening to blow sky high. She needed a nutritious meal, a good night’s sleep…and a family that didn’t drive her nuts! If she had a nervous breakdown, they’d all be sorry. Who’d save them from themselves?

“I wanna go back to Tulsa,” she murmured as Morgan headed west.

“Wise idea,” he agreed. “Despite the hype, Oz isn’t the magical paradise we’d have tourists believe.”

Jan’s cell phone shrilled in her purse, contributing to the headache she felt intensifying behind her eyes. “Hello?”

“Jan, things are falling apart here,” Diane whined in a voice that reminded Jan of a mewling Siamese cat. “Nobody knows how to operate this new software program. They keep grilling me and you know I’m uncomfortable leading a meeting. I can’t do it!”

“Diane, just take a breath and calm down,” Jan ordered.

Morgan took his eyes off the road momentarily to toss her a grin that implied she shouldn’t be calling the kettle black after her little scene with Richard. Childishly, she stuck out her tongue at him. He chuckled.

“When are you coming home?” Diane wanted to know.

“I’m not sure. I have another crisis to resolve,” Jan reported.

“My gosh, boss, the company needs you. I need you. You have to come home. I’m not ready to command yet.”

“Of course, you are,” Jan encouraged as she massaged her pounding temples. The headache was increasing in intensity by the second. It felt as if elf-size carpenters were drilling holes in her skull. “You have the educational background and know-how. That’s why I hired you.”

“Well, you made a mistake. The staff keeps storming the office, firing off questions at me and interrupting each other. It’s so noisy I can’t think straight!” she yowled.

“Breathe, Diane,” Jan instructed. “Now listen very carefully. Don’t sit there making up excuses as to why you can’t handle the situation while I’m talking to you. Just listen to me. Are you listening with both ears?”

“Yes, boss,” Diane said dutifully.

Jan closed her eyes against the glaring sunlight that aggravated her headache and gave Diane the step-by-step procedure to follow, in hopes of pacifying the staff. When she finally convinced Diane that she could handle the situation, Jan disconnected and then slumped against the seat. Between her family and her assistant she felt emotionally and physically drained.

“So, maybe going back to Tulsa isn’t such a hot idea,” Morgan said.

Jan didn’t open her eyes. It took too much effort. “I’ve decided to fly off to a deserted island in the South Pacific. No forwarding address. No phone connection,” she whispered. “Nothing but uninterrupted silence.”

“I’ll help you pack.”

“I haven’t unpacked,” she reminded him, then pried open one eye to glance at him. “Now, if you’ll agree to marry my sister and adopt my parents, I’ll be indebted to you for life.”

Morgan gave his raven head a shake, then smiled. “Sorry, but Kendra isn’t my type and I already have an uncontrollable mother to deal with.”

“Not your type?” Jan scoffed. “Kendra is every man’s fantasy.”

“I’m not every man,” he clarified as he hung a left and drove down the graveled road. “I’ve gotten attached to a flame-haired fireball female who tells everybody else to calm down while she tries to take her sister’s unfaithful fiancé apart with her bare hands.”

“I wasn’t going to take Richard apart,” she corrected, lips twitching. “I was only going to jerk out his eyeballs and castrate him on the spot.”

“Oh, pardon me. My mistake…Janna?”

“Yes?” She sighed tiredly and squirmed to find a more comfortable position on the seat.

“About last night’s kiss, I—”

“I liked it,” she broke in. “It was the only good thing in an otherwise hellish day.” She glanced his way, wondering how he’d reacted to her honesty. Maybe she shouldn’t have admitted any such thing, but she was suddenly wishing there was one person in Oz that she could be truthful and open with. She was tired of playing mediator for her parents, watching what she said and how she said it. She just wanted to be herself for a few minutes before she had to psych herself up to deal with Kendra’s latest shenanigan.

“So, we’re square then?” Morgan asked. “No hard feelings—except on my part, obviously. No regrets on either side of that kiss?”

Jan chuckled at his off-color play on words. “No regrets, except that I didn’t listen when you warned me not to stay at Kendra’s because I wouldn’t get any sleep.”

He waited a beat and then, without taking his eyes off the road, he said so quietly that she had to strain her ears to hear him. “You probably wouldn’t have gotten much sleep at my place, either, despite your current status.”

Jan pondered the quiet comment during the drive to Evan Gray’s ranch. Why, she wondered, was he suggesting that she could experiment with sex at his place? Because she was convenient? Because she was a challenge to him? Because one-night flings were the norm for him?

She closed her eyes, massaged her aching temples and decided this wasn’t the time to puzzle out the answer to that question. She had a killer headache and a gone-wild sister to rescue—again. No sense borrowing trouble when she already had a truckload of it.

5

MORGAN WATCHED in admiration as Janna drew herself up to full stature, cut a quick glance toward Kendra’s car, and then strode determinedly toward the two-story farmhouse. Despite the apparent exhaustion and emotional turmoil swirling around her, Janna was intent on dragging her sister from Evan’s clutches and saving Kendra from a critical mistake.

What Janna didn’t know was that Evan Gray was probably the one man in Oz who could handle Kendra and who loved her still, despite her engagement to slick Richard, the ladies’ man. Morgan well remembered Evan’s drunken binge after he’d lost Kendra to the smooth-talking lawyer. What Morgan didn’t know was whether Kendra had lingering feelings for Evan or if she was just looking for vindication. Whatever her true agenda, Morgan didn’t want to see Evan hurt again.

Morgan bit back a chuckle when Janna pounded both fists on the door, then grabbed her aching head. One look at her ashen face indicated she was operating on sheer will. When no one answered the insistent knock, Janna invited herself inside.

“That might not be a good idea,” Morgan cautioned, then sighed when she flagrantly ignored him. The woman was hell on wheels, he decided.

Morgan grimaced when he heard country music and slumberous laughter wafting down the hallway. He snagged Janna’s arm, but she shook loose and darted ahead of him. “No,” he muttered as he clamped his hands over her eyes as she rounded the corner to the bedroom.

Sure enough, Evan and Kendra were exactly where Morgan predicted they’d be and they’d done exactly what he presumed they’d done. In between a raft of four-letter words, Evan more or less told them to leave. Not that the command had any effect on Janna. She clawed Morgan’s fingers from her eyes and gasped in dismay.

“Kendra!” Janna yelped as her face turned a dozen shades of red.

To Evan’s credit, he protectively shielded Kendra with his brawny body. As Morgan suspected, this was far more than a reckless tryst to Evan. The man was in it for the love, not just for the lust. Morgan had no way of knowing Kendra’s motives, but he hoped like hell she didn’t bring this rugged rancher to his knees, leaving him holding his heart in his hands and triggering another monthlong binge.

“I said get the hell out of here!” Evan roared furiously.

“Go away!” Kendra wailed, covering her head with the sheet.

“No. If you aren’t in the living room in five minutes I’m coming back for you,” Janna insisted, her face still pulsing beet-red, her back ramrod stiff. “I don’t care if I have to go through Evan to get to you. Got it, sis?”

“Yes,” Kendra simpered, still cowering under the sheet.

When Janna wheeled around and stalked off, Morgan tarried in the hall. After Kendra dashed past him, her blouse inside out, her jeans sagging on her hips, Morgan stepped into the bedroom to meet Evan’s menacing scowl. “Sorry about that. I tried to stop her, I really did.”

Evan zipped his jeans and snatched up his work shirt. “Right, you couldn’t manhandle that shrimp of a female,” he bit off sarcastically.

“Right, just like you couldn’t tell a rebounding blonde no and you couldn’t fight her off when she had her way with you,” Morgan retaliated with equal sarcasm.

Evan’s hands stalled over the buttons of his shirt, and then he smiled wryly when Morgan arched a challenging brow. Evan’s smile evaporated as he fastened his shirt. “I never got over her,” he confided. “I’ll take her back any way I can get her—in a red-hot minute.”

“Obviously,” Morgan murmured. “But what if she’s only using you, Evan? What if she’s here today and gone tomorrow?”

Evan crammed his shirttail in his jeans, refusing to meet Morgan’s steady gaze. “Doesn’t matter. I love her. Always have. Always will. You know that. Hell, who in town doesn’t know it?”

“Fine, it’s public knowledge,” Morgan agreed. “But, damn it, I consider you a friend and I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Evan smiled faintly. “Thanks, Morgan. I appreciate your concern. But Kendra needs me. She may be too distraught to realize it yet, but today was a milestone.” He sent Morgan a meaningful glance. “Ever been in love so deep that you couldn’t let a day go by without driving by her place, catching sight of her on the street and wishing she was still yours?”

“No, can’t say that I have,” Morgan admitted truthfully.

“Then don’t judge me until you’ve stood in my boots and wanted someone so badly that you ache with it. Hell, I know I don’t have Richard’s cash flow, his social connections or his dashing good looks, but I’d sure as hell never do to Kendra what Richard did to her. I’m not gonna cower in the bedroom while her sister—and damn, does she look like a fox these days. When did that happen?”

Morgan shrugged and waited for Evan to finish his comment.

“Anyway, I’m offering Kendra moral support and I want Janna to know this isn’t a fly-by-night fling on my part.”

Morgan sighed as he followed Evan down the hall. Love, he decided, was hell—and then some. If he ever found himself in as deep as Evan Gray he might just shoot himself and avoid the misery.

By the time Morgan reentered the living room Kendra was blubbering in tears and Janna was trying to shuffle her out the door. Morgan intercepted the looks bouncing back and forth between Evan and Kendra and he rolled his eyes. He’d never had much appreciation for melodrama. How did Janna deal with this stuff on a regular basis while growing up in her household?

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Evan,” Kendra murmured as Janna tugged her toward the door. “Janna says I should leave now.”

Evan nodded, his gaze locked on Kendra. “I’ll be here if you need me. I’m just a phone call away…always…” Although Janna glared mutinously at him, Evan didn’t flinch. “I mean it, Kendra. If you need me, just call me and I’ll be there for you.”

Morgan watched Janna haul her sobbing sister away, then turned back to Evan. “You wanna grab a beer tonight…oh say, eightish?”

Evan nodded his tousled brown head. “Yeah, thanks, Morgan.”

Morgan ambled outside to see Janna, behind the wheel of Kendra’s car, chauffeuring her sister home. Well, he supposed his mission here had been accomplished. He might as well head back to town. He wanted to be on hand to see how many more dragons Janna planned to slay in her quest to put the Humpty-Dumpty Mitchell family back together again. Damn, that woman was something, wasn’t she? She’d go to amazing extremes to protect her family.

He couldn’t believe Janna was the same bashful duckling he’d known in high school. No wonder the town was in an uproar and bachelors were crawling from the woodwork to take a gander at her.

JAN DROVE Kendra’s car toward Morgan’s home so she could retrieve her own car and suitcase. Kendra stared straight ahead, her arms crossed hostilely over her chest, her backbone rigid.

“I really wish you hadn’t interfered,” Kendra ground out bitterly. “You embarrassed Evan and me to no end.”

“Well, excuse me for worrying about you,” Jan snapped, then breathed deeply, wishing her hellish headache would ease off. No such luck.

“It’s not what you think,” Kendra mumbled. “You need to know that.”

Jan’s brows shot up at the absurdity of Kendra’s remark. “Not what I think? Hello? You just stooped to Richard’s level to retaliate.”

“No, I didn’t!” Kendra railed explosively.

Jan winced at the high-pitched shriek that blasted her eardrums and vibrated through her sensitive head. “You need to come to your senses and show some respect for yourself. Keni, these escapades have to stop.”

Kendra half turned on the seat, her blue eyes shooting hot sparks. “For your information, Ms. Know-It-All and Fix-All, that was my first time and I’m glad it was with someone who cares about me.”

Jan’s jaw dropped to her chest. Her astounded gaze flew to her sister.

Kendra nodded affirmatively. “Despite what you think, I’m no more promiscuous than you. Do you think I’m so stupid and shallow that I don’t know my outward appearance attracts men and I’ve been some kind of masculine challenge for years? I thought if Richard would wait until we married that he did want me for who I am not what I look like. But his betrayal spoke volumes. I’m just window dressing to him.”

Jan sat there, thunderstruck. She and her sister had drifted apart the past few years. She’d erroneously assumed Kendra had been caught up in her own appeal to men and had become intimate with one or two of them.

“Having drinks with Sonny was all about revenge and inciting gossip for Richard’s benefit. But Evan was always different from the rest. Caring and kind. Why I let Mom and Dad convince me he was too old I’ll never know. I guess I was waiting for Evan to make a commitment to me, but he admitted today that he believed I was too good for him. I didn’t understand where he was coming from until this afternoon. I discovered my feelings for him are as strong as ever. And then wham! Here you come to save the day, dragging the devil’s advocate from Daddy’s camp along with you and taking Daddy’s side—”

“I most certainly have not!” Jan protested.

“Looks like it to Mom and me,” Kendra flung back. “And worse, you interrupted a pivotal moment between Evan and me and I’m not sure I’m going to forgive you for that!”

Jan stopped Kendra’s car beside her own vehicle and climbed out—as did Kendra who stormed around to plunk behind her steering wheel.

“Butt out of my life,” Kendra demanded sharply. “I’m going to marry Evan, if he’ll have me after I foolishly got engaged to Richard.”

Jan’s mouth fell open again. “You can’t rebound to Evan at the snap of your fingers. You can’t keep the wedding gifts, your caterers and your church reservation! Next you’ll be telling me that you’re going to scratch out Richard’s name on the invitation and pencil in Evan’s. Are you insane?”

“No, I’m thinking clearly for the first time in a long time.”

Jan shook her finger at her sister’s stubborn expression. “Now you listen to me, Kendra Rose. You go shower and change and go to work. You’ve already missed a full day at the travel agency. And you damn well better cool it with Evan. Don’t you dare hurt him the way Richard hurt y—”

Jan didn’t get to finish her sentence because Kendra shoved the car in Reverse and laid rubber. Kendra stuck her head out the window and yelled, “Leave me alone, Butinsky! You’re not the boss of me, so there!”

Jan rolled her eyes and muttered, “Oh, now, that’s mature.”

Tired, hungry and exasperated to the extreme Jan stalked to Morgan’s house to retrieve her suitcase, then cursed when she found the door locked. Reversing direction she approached her car and flung herself onto the seat.

No good deed, it seemed, went unpunished. She’d tried to rescue her sister from her own stupidity and had inadvertently, embarrassingly, interrupted the aftermath of her sister’s initiation into passion. Who would’ve thought the much-sought-after Kendra, the gorgeous, well-built, blue-eyed blond bombshell had taken time to analyze the male psyche and realized she was a challenge and acquisition to her endless male admirers. Kendra had more depth and insight than Jan had given her credit. Yet, Jan still wasn’t sure Kendra was thinking clearly, for she could’ve been motivated to give herself to Evan, just to spite Richard.

Jan put her car in Reverse and backed away from her dad’s Winnebago. Although she was desperately trying to help her family, Kendra was furious with her. Her dad wouldn’t speak directly to her and her mother thought Jan had joined the enemy camp. Worse, her family was turning her into a raving lunatic, who would’ve ripped Richard Samson to shreds at the hardware store, if Morgan hadn’t kept her chained in his arms. No doubt, that little scene would be zipping along Oz’s grapevine. The whole town would think she’d gone as bonkers as the rest of her family. Then Jan had burst in on her sister and Evan during their monumental tryst. Jeez, she just couldn’t catch a break today.

Fighting the urge to bawl her head off, knowing it would aggravate her megaheadache, Jan drove to town. What she needed was the privacy and isolation to fall to pieces, then regroup. Unfortunately, she didn’t have that luxury. She had to hightail it to Oz and assure her mother that she hadn’t taken Daddy’s side in the feud and that she was striving to find a workable solution to the separation.

Ten minutes later Jan pulled into the only available parking space, which happened to be in front of Dorothy’s Hair Salon. The owner and proprietor’s name wasn’t Dorothy. She’d recently changed the salon’s name to promote tourist trade in Oz. The town’s original name was Oswald, but after that whole Lee Harvey fiasco, the name had been cropped off to Oz. Then someone had the bright idea to change the image to a magical city. In Jan’s opinion—which obviously counted for zilch in her hometown—combining the tale of Oz with the peanut capital of the world didn’t quite fit. But the Chamber of Commerce was advocating the transition for the sake of tourism. Next thing Jan knew the school system would be renamed Munchkinland. Goober Pea Tavern would become Wicked Witch’s Saloon—or some such nonsense. If Morgan’s two shops combined to become Tin Man’s Supply Shop she would lose all the respect she’d recently gained for him….

The thought caused Jan’s hand to stall over the door latch. It dawned on her that she’d gained tremendous respect for the man she’d held a grudge against for a dozen years. Through all her family chaos Morgan had been her anchor, the calming waters beside the whirlpool of emotional undercurrents that kept sucking her under. Well, except for the kiss—which carried the impact of a thermonuclear bomb—he’d delivered last night, she amended.

Jan climbed from the car and reminded herself that she didn’t have time to delve into these feelings for Morgan that kept ambushing her at inopportune moments. She had to speak to her mother before the poor woman’s resentment festered up and exploded like Kendra’s had.

Before Jan reached Sylvia’s Boutique, three women, with their hair in curlers, scampered from the salon and bore down on her. Gina Thompson, owner and proprietor, led the brigade.

“Janna, hon, we want a word with you,” Gina insisted.

Jan bit back a groan as she appraised Gina’s dyed copper-red hair, thick coat of makeup, false eyelashes and trendy clothes that suited her age of fifty no better than John Mitchell’s outrageous attire. She smiled faintly and nodded a greeting to the women. “Is there a problem?”

“Absolutely,” Gina confirmed. “You aren’t going about this business of getting your folks to kiss and make up the right way. The other girls—”

Jan presumed that anyone under the age of eighty qualified as a girl.

“—think that since John is flaunting Georgina in Sylvia’s face that she should return the favor. We’ve selected a man to serve as the jealousy factor for Sylvia. We want you to approach your mom with the idea,” Gina went on. The curler brigade nodded in perfect agreement. “We’ll send Stanley Witham over to the boutique. He’s a lonely widower and he could use some female companionship. This’ll work splendidly.”

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