Free Home Field Advantage by Janice Kay Johnson

Susan's. He hadn't realized how angry
he was at her. At fate.
    What the hell was it about
Marian Wells that called up similar feelings of choking frustration? Was he
most angry because she had hurt Emma? His daughter, who had needed a woman to
want her and love her?
    Or was it Marian's
stubbornness that infuriated him? He found a certain ironic amusement in the
idea. Because if so, it was a case of like calling to like. Or maybe he'd told
more of the truth than he had realized, when he'd reminded Marian of how
competitive he was. Maybe he just didn't like losing.
    At least he had sense enough
to know this wasn't the time to suggest a romantic evening out. For one thing,
Marian would have had every reason to feel pressured, in more ways than one.
For another thing...all he had to do was look at her. What she needed was a
good night's sleep, an unexpected windfall, a house she could afford. Not
another demand.
    He had asked if she needed
her weekends free, if while she packed and moved he should try to find
someplace else for Emma. She had looked at him with alarm she tried to hide.
    "Heavens, no! Emma's no
trouble. If anything, she's a help keeping the twins out of my hair! Really.
I'm delighted to have her."
    And she needed what he paid
her each Monday. But when he added ten dollars to the amount, Marian handed the
check back to him.
    "You've been paying me
more than generously. I can't accept this."
    "Stubborn," he
muttered, reaching into his back pocket for his checkbook.
    She just smiled. "That's
like the pot calling the kettle black."
    "One of my mother's
favorite sayings." He tore off a new check. "Wednesday night okay to
come and get the animals?"
    "Yes, of course."
This time her smile wasn't as convincing. "Emma told me that's what you
had in mind."
    "We figured that would
give her a day to help them settle in before she's back here for the
weekend."
    "Yes." Marian
looked down at her hands, which were tightly clasped together. "John, I
know I've said this before, but...thank you."
    "The clock's
ticking," he said roughly. "You're down to eight days. What are you
going to do, Marian?"
    She lifted her chin in
unconscious pride. "Rent something temporary, if I have to."
    "What about the dogs and
cats?"
    "One of my other parents
offered to take them for a few weeks, if it came down to that."
    He was dumbfounded,
speechless. Later he realized how he'd felt. Astonished. Hurt. Like a kid who
had been told he wasn't big enough to help. Why had he convinced himself that
she had no one to turn to? Of course she had friends and family! The trouble
was, he wanted her to need him. It was a humiliating admission to make.
    Do all men imagine themselves
as a prince in disguise, sweeping a woman away ?
    He had to laugh at the irony.
So far, he was one of the contenders who had ended up as a skeleton in the
middle of the thicket.
     
     

CHAPTER 5
     
    Marian drew a deep breath and
steeled herself. "I'll take it," she said, without allowing herself
to look over her shoulder at the plain, boxlike house, painted pale green and
set behind a tiny, yellowing lawn.
    "Wonderful!" the
owner said. "Well, then, let's see... As I mentioned, I'll require first
and last month's rent as well as a damage deposit. Especially since I've agreed
to permit both cats and children."
    "I supervise the
children very carefully," Marian said from between gritted teeth. The
woman, plump and well-dressed, had introduced herself as a realtor who owned
several "investment" properties. The rent was unreasonable for a
house this size, but Marian was the beggar who couldn't be choosy. It was a
twenty-year-old rambler with three small bedrooms, one bath, and a kitchen
that would have fit in the cabin on a weekend boat. A "galley"
kitchen, the owner had euphemistically called it. Marian called it cramped.
    But the house would do. The
backyard was fenced, and the owner had agreed to let her run her day-care
business—with a substantial deposit—and Marian had to move