Home Field Advantage by Janice Kay Johnson Read Free Book Online

equally lightly.
"Speaking of a life of glamour, I'd better be getting the kids to
bed."
    Was that a warning? Back off,
he thought. Take it slow and easy. Quit imagining the raw silk of her hair
tangled around him, the gentle weight of her breasts in his hands, her dark
eyes dreamy with passion. Quit imagining how it would be to make love to her,
slow and easy.
    His voice was husky with the
effort he'd made. "Emma sounded happy. Any problems?"
    "None at all," she
said. "We'll see you Monday morning?"
    "Right. Although you'll
see me sooner if I decide at half-time tomorrow to grin at the TV camera and
say 'Hi to Marian and the kids.'"
    "You wouldn't."
    "Hey, I'd be the one
losing my dignity, not you. Besides, it's in a great tradition. Ahmad Rashad
proposed to his wife on camera."
    "You're kidding."
    "Nope. It was very sweet
and newsworthy. She even blushed."
    "No wonder," Marian
muttered. "I'm not sure I will watch tomorrow!"
    Laughing, he said good-bye.
For a moment he toyed, not at all seriously, with the idea of asking her from
the broadcast booth for a date. Then with a sigh he reached for the notes he'd
taken on the Rams' hotshot new quarterback. Personally, he had doubts the kid
would know what to do under real pressure.
    But then, everybody had to
learn sometime, John thought. After all, he'd figured it out, hadn't he? And
he'd been a hotshot once, too.
    But no more. He knew better
now than to force a pass deep. He'd learned that slow and easy got the job
done, too. But the impatience he'd once conquered tightened his fingers on the
sheaf of papers. "Take your time," he said aloud to the empty hotel
room. "There's no hurry." But he was frowning as he forced his
attention back to the stats.
     
    *****
     
    Emma told Marian
knowledgeably that they ought to watch the pregame show Sunday afternoon.
    "That's practically the
only time you can see Daddy. The rest of the time you only hear his
voice." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "And then he's talking
about football."
    "That is what they pay
him to talk about," Marian pointed out in all justice.
    "Yeah, but it's
boring." Emma brightened. "I wish he was in something different. Like
Star Trek."
    "I don't know if I can
see him with pointy ears," Marian said doubtfully.
    "And purple hair,"
Emma suggested. "I like purple. It's my favorite color."
    Switching on the TV, Marian
concluded that pointy ears and purple hair wouldn't look any more outlandish
than football gear. She would never have recognized John McRae with a cage
across his face and white streaks on his cheeks to reduce the glare and those
silly pads on his broad shoulders. When the camera panned in on a player
trotting away from it, however, Marian decided that the tight pants weren't too
bad.
    "Tell me when this game
is over, okay?" she asked. "I'm going to fold some laundry."
    It wasn't long before the
little girl called, "Marian! There's Daddy!"
    Marian dropped the heap of
towels and hurried into the living room. She was just curious, she told herself
defensively. Why her heart took an odd thump when she recognized Emma's father
on the screen, she didn't try to explain to herself.
    She sank slowly onto the
couch while Emma grabbed Anna and thrust her face almost up to the screen.
"See? That's my daddy. He's on TV."
    How bizarre, Marian thought.
She'd never actually met anyone who was on television before. But there indeed
he was, leaning comfortably back in his chair, his gestures emphatic as he made
some point about a prevent defense. Whatever that was.
    The twins stared wide-eyed at
the television, Anna sucking on her thumb and Jesse clutching his tattered
white rabbit. After a minute Anna unpopped her thumb to say in a small voice,
"He's little. Make him big again."
    "That's dumb," Emma
said, sounding offended. "My dad's not little!"
    Marian bent to hug her son
and daughter. "Emma's daddy isn't inside the TV. That's a picture of him,
just like we have in our albums. Like your baby pictures, except this