Carol Finch - The Family Feud - The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!

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.