Home Field Advantage
Read Home Field Advantage Online
Authors: Janice Kay Johnson
ISBN-10: 0-9890418-2-4
ISBN-13: 978-0-9890418-2-9
Home Field Advantage
Copyright 1991 Janice Kay Johnson
All Rights Reserved
Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc. Design
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters,
locations and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been
used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales,
or events is entirely coincidental.
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
The e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like
to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for
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your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dear Reader,
I’m really excited to be making three of my earlier romances
available again. One of the big drawbacks to writing series romance is that
the books don’t stay on the shelves very long. As much as I love real books (I
confess, I even love the
smell
of new books), I’m sold on e-books if
only for the amazing benefit of having them readily available for purchase and
to be read at any time. We all know how frustrating the hunt can be for that
elusive book written ten or fifteen years ago by your new favorite author!
Working on these three books to make them ready to go up
online turned out to be fun. I was a little nervous – after all, I’d like to
think I’m a better writer now than I was then, right? – but I was also happy to
find I really liked every one of these books, originally published by Meteor as
Kismet Romances. The biggest difference I could see is that there’s more of my
life in these books than you’d find in my more recent ones. I wrote more about
what I knew. No, I’ve never had to flee from Mafia hitmen, like Megan does in
DANGEROUS WATERS, but I was quite a serious competitive swimmer from the time I
was nine years old until college. Didn’t make the Olympic team, but I know the
sacrifices that have to be made to compete at that level. I worked as a
lifeguard, too, through high school and college. Long days at a beach, keeping
the kids safe? Been there, done that. HOME FIELD ADVANTAGE? I had young
daughters when I was writing it, and had grown up with horses. Yes, I’ve
always especially loved Arabians. And
I
fell off the swing when I was
five years old and knocked myself out. ALL THROUGH THE HOUSE? Well, there’s
the daughter again (one of my two is even a Katie, I was really getting close
to home there), and I really love old houses – the first house my husband and I
bought was an old farmhouse and we discovered the never-ending surprises that
accompany each project. (New vinyl in the bathroom? Oh, gee, the floor is
rotting. Solution? Completely gut room.) Plus, I have to tell you this town
is, thinly disguised, my own small hometown. The hike to the ice caves? A
long-time favorite.
One warning, just in case you read Kismet Romances –
DANGEROUS WATERS was originally published as LIFESAVER. I always hated the
title, and decided now to go back to my original. The other two books have
retained their original titles.
I love to hear from readers! Look for my Facebook page and,
coming soon, my website at
www.JaniceKayJohnson.com
.
Janice
Also Available from Janice Kay Johnson
John McRae straightened,
abandoning his comfortable slouch against the tiled kitchen counter. Into the
telephone, he said incredulously, "You're what?"
The woman's voice babbled on.
"I'm so sorry. I know this must be inconvenient for you, but I was so
upset, and, of course, things were in a mess here at home. Dad's in intensive
care now. The doctor says he should make it, thank God, but, of course, I've
just been living in the hospital. There's no way I can leave him, and I'm
dreadfully sorry, Emma is such a doll, but ..." At last she faltered.
"Well, I'm sure you understand."
"You couldn't have
called a little sooner?" He reached up and rubbed the tight muscles at the
back of his neck.
"I did try once,"
she said defensively, "but you must have been out. And since then...well,
I didn't think about much but Dad. I am sorry."
She wasn't the only one who
was sorry. A moment later, after tersely expressing his sympathy, John dropped
the receiver back in its cradle, then slumped into a straight-back kitchen
chair. What in hell was he going to do?
He was booked for a flight
out of SeaTac in—he glanced at his watch—precisely three hours and forty-three
minutes. Obviously he wasn't going to make that. He'd cancel the dinner date he
had with the Denver Bronco's coach and switch his flight to tomorrow. Fine and
dandy, he thought grimly, but where was he going to come up with a baby-sitter
in the next twenty-four hours, one he could leave Emma with for two days?
Ten minutes later his flight
reservation had been changed and the Bronco's coach had agreed to make their
dinner tomorrow night instead. John could snag the Seattle coach sometime
before the game for some profound words to quote during the broadcast. For that
matter, he could make them up himself. Lord knew he'd heard it all often
enough.
He was reaching into the
refrigerator for a can of beer when the clatter of footsteps on the front porch
distracted him. Glancing through the window, he saw the yellow school bus just
lumbering into motion again out on the road. Then the door slammed and a
five-year-old bundle of energy catapulted across the kitchen into his arms.
"Daddy, is she here? Can
I help her unpack? You're not going right now, are you? I don't want you to
go."
He smiled down into his
daughter's dark eyes. "Whoa! No, she isn't here, and unfortunately she's
not going to be. Her father is sick, and she can't come. I'm going to have to
find somebody else, so I'm not leaving until tomorrow. Okay?"
Emma nodded, but looked
troubled. "Didn't she like me? I was quiet when she came. Wasn't I? You
said I was good."
John hugged her thin
shoulders again. "You were terrific! She said she was especially sorry
because she'd liked you so much. But her father has to come first. Do you
understand?"
Emma nodded again, her brown
ponytail bobbing, her face solemn. "Daddy, can't Helen come back? Just for
this time? If we asked, I bet she would. I really miss her. Couldn't we ask
her? Please?"
John crouched down to his
daughter's level. Hands on her arms, he looked directly into her eyes.
"Sweetie, Helen got married. Remember? She can't come back. Her new
husband needs her, too. Besides," he added practically, "she's still
in Hawaii. Hey, she's probably scuba diving this very instant!"
Normally Emma could be
distracted by a discussion of what their former baby-sitter and housekeeper
might conceivably be doing at any given time, but for once his tactic didn't
work. She stared at him, her eyes looking even bigger and darker than usual. He
was reminded painfully of how young and vulnerable she was.
"Daddy, I didn't want
Helen to go away." She bit her lip and tears suddenly shimmered in her
eyes. "I miss Helen."
He pulled her against him and
laid his cheek against her hair. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I know you miss her.
But she'll visit. She promised. And you have me. You'll always have me."
Her voice was very small.
"If you don't die and go away like Mommy."
John rocked back on his heels
so he could meet her eyes. "I won't die," he said. "God would
have to drag me kicking and screaming. And I never was easy to bring
down."
A watery chuckle rewarded
him. "That's not what Isaiah says. He says you would have been knocked
down all the time if it weren't for him. He says if you hadn't been so slow
throwing the ball he wouldn't have knees that hurt so much."
John grinned at his daughter.
"Don't believe a word he says. Your dad was All-Pro. I unloaded the ball
damn quick on occasion. Isaiah is just teasing you."
She looked thoughtful.
"Oh."
"Now." He stood up.
"We need to go see if today's newspaper has come yet. Because, you know
what? We have to find a baby-sitter for you, kiddo, or this time I am gonna get
pounded for sure."
He tried to picture what his
boss at the network would say if he called and pleaded baby-sitting problems
as an excuse for not showing up in Denver to cover Sunday's game between the
Broncos and the Seahawks. He failed, since he was pretty sure that'd be a new
one on Frank. He also had a feeling Frank wouldn't be very forgiving. As it
was, the network had a hell of a time shuffling play-by-play people and color
commentators to make sure all the games were covered.
On the other hand, he wasn't
going to leave Emma with just anyone. He'd taken weeks to select a new
housekeeper, interviewing what had seemed like dozens of women. What he'd
really been hiring was a mother for Emma, and she needed someone special. After
losing her real mother when she was three, and now Helen, Emma was fragile.
He never had found anyone who
really satisfied him, but in the end he'd decided he was being unrealistic.
Hell, if he'd found the perfect woman, he'd have married her! But perfect women
didn't answer newspaper ads.
Twenty minutes later, he and
Emma sat at the kitchen table together, poring over the classifieds. No one was
interested in baby-sitting in the child's home. And nary a one mentioned
overnight stays. But that didn't mean he couldn't ask.
He was on his sixth call
before he heard anything but "No, I'm sorry, children in my care have to
be picked up by six
p.m
. I don't
do evening babysitting."
Emma sat and listened to his
end of the conversations, her small face anxious. For her benefit, John hid his
growing frustration and worry. If only Emma had a close friend, whose parents
he could ask. But they hadn't lived here in the Northwest long enough for
either to have made friends yet, and school had only started three weeks ago.
If Helen had just stuck it
out for a few months longer... But he had known she was in love. Deciding to
move and taking her with them, separating her from her boyfriend, wasn't the
smartest thing he'd ever done, even if this ranch about an hour north of
Seattle was the perfect set-up. Rural, the area was still within easy reach of
a major airport.
John shook his head
impatiently. Who was he justifying his decision to, anyway? What was done was
done. Helen wasn't here. They didn't have friends yet in this small Washington town.
Could he leave her with
Isaiah? He just couldn't picture it. The huge, former offensive lineman was
brilliant with the elegant Arabian horses out in the pasture, his big hands
gentle and his rough voice a soft growl. Unfortunately, with people he rated closer
to a zero. He talked to Emma, barely, but making dinner, washing her hair,
holding her at night if she awakened crying...not Isaiah.