Kicks for a Sinner S3

Kicks for a Sinner

By Lynn Shurr

Published by L&L Dreamspell

London, Texas

Visit us on the web at
www.lldreamspell.com

Copyright 2012 by Lynn Shurr

All Rights Reserved

     No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations used in a review.

     This is a work of fiction, and is produced from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people is a coincidence. Places and things mentioned in this novel are used in a fictional manner.

ISBN- 978-1-60318-441-0

Published by L & L Dreamspell

Produced in the United States of America

Visit us on the web at
www.lldreamspell.com

* * * *

To my wonderful editor, Cindy Davis, and the hard-working ladies at L & L Dreamspell, Lisa Smith and Linda Houle.

* * * *

ONE

“If your mama mentions our little frozen babies one more time, I swear I will brain her with her own cast-iron skillet!” Nell removed the bacon tray from the microwave oven and slammed the door.

Joe Dean Billodeaux, star quarterback of the New Orleans Sinners, reformed womanizer and good family man, hunkered down behind his newspaper in a time-honored way learned from his father. Only now the newspaper, thin, crinkly, and rolling up at both ends, did not provide much shelter from a woman’s wrath. Who knew they made any paper cheaper than newsprint? Not exactly the way he’d planned to spend the first day of the off-season. The kids in school, Corazon’s day off. No
huevos rancheros
for breakfast this morning. He simply wanted a hearty meal followed by a return to the bedroom with his feisty little wife tucked under his arm. Did not look like he would get his wish
this
time.

“Our twins are in kindergarten,” Nell raged, “Tommy in first grade, and Dean in second. We’ve earned our time without dirty diapers and baby puke. Nadine has seventeen grandchildren already. If she wants more, let your sisters have them.”

The toaster popped. Nell took four pieces of browned whole wheat bread from the slots, buttered them, and lacerated the stack of slices in half. He waited until she put down the knife.

“You know how Mama loves babies, and the grandchildren haven’t started producing yet. Allie, Eenie, Lizzie, and Izzy are all older than us and say they’re done having kids. Catholic or not, if the Pope wants more children in this world, he should have them himself. That’s what Allie said.”

“I agree with her wholeheartedly.”

Nell pushed the mass of yellow eggs around in the non-stick pan. Not a chance in the world she would add a little bacon grease the way his mama did. His wife believed in healthy eating that did keep her petite figure slim and perky. No, she would pour that grease into a paper cup and dispose of it. At least she hadn’t inflicted turkey bacon on him yet.

He’d told Mama he would talk to Nell, a dangerous play to call. “It’s just that she knows we have those three frozen embryos sitting in a container in Phoenix. We did promise Father Ardoin we would use ’em all.”

“You promised and she promised, but not me.” Nell slid the scrambled eggs onto a large plate, garnished them with a heap of bacon and a pile of toast, and slapped his breakfast in front of him. The table jiggled causing his glasses of orange juice and milk to slosh over, which made him very glad he held the cup of hot coffee in his hand.

“You know how I feel about keeping my vows,” he mumbled into the mug.

She hadn’t finished yet. “Do you remember how difficult those days were before we implanted the twins? Do you know how hard it is to carry twins, and now you want to try for triplets?”

“I’ve been reading up. It won’t be as bad this time. You take the drugs that get you ready, and we can have as much sex as we want beforehand since I don’t have to save up for the fertilization process. We won’t have Emily to cope with this time either. She might be your sister and our egg donor, but that woman doesn’t make anything easier. Besides, having twins didn’t hurt you any. You only got more voluptuous, sugar.”

Her breasts were bigger and her hips a little fuller, but she wouldn’t want to hear that last observation. Joe Dean gave his wife one of his patented sure-to-get-you-laid grins. She put her hands on her hips. Those big, brown eyes of hers narrowed and her usually full, tender lips thinned. She still reminded him of a tiny, infuriated, brunette fairy with her hair always worn in a pixie cut. Once, he’d talked her into letting her locks grow out. She’d reminded him eerily of the bitchy, conniving Emily, and he hadn’t minded a bit when she cut them off, donating her ponytail to make wigs for cancer victims.

“Don’t think you are going to get around me with sex, Joe Dean Billodeaux.”

“Around you, over you, and under you.” He half rose from the table.

She pushed his broad shoulders down. “Eat your breakfast. We have another problem to discuss.”

“This can’t be good for the digestion, Tink.” He used her pet name. But, he sat and dug into the eggs.

“Cassie is coming over again this weekend.”

“So what? She is Tommy’s birth mother. We do have an open adoption with her.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Cassie is past twenty-one. She’s not a scared, pregnant teenager anymore, but a very attractive young woman with a college degree in child psychology going straight on for her master’s exactly like I did. Joe, I think she believes she’s in love with you, and that’s why she hangs around here so much, not simply to visit Tommy.”

“In love wit’
moi
?
Mais, cher,
I’m all beat up from playing football and ten year older den her. Me, I don’t notice she grown up, no.” He tried to humor her with his cute Cajun routine.

Truthfully, he had noticed. His total fidelity to Nell didn’t mean he couldn’t look at other women now and again. Cassie Thomas had morphed into a blue-eyed, red-haired beauty, though she toned down that hair with blonde streaks and covered her freckles with makeup. She had legs way longer than Nell’s and a nice rack, too. Cassie rode their quarter horses around the barrel-racing course with spirit and style, showing off for the children and maybe for him, while Nell could barely stay in a saddle. Still, Cassie seemed more like a daughter to be proud of rather than a woman on the make.

The trouble with Nell when she got an idea in her head, no matter how wrong, she let it build like a hurricane in the Gulf, until it led to disaster as it had when she gave birth to their twins. She needed to be distracted, the sooner the better.

“Put on that cute Cajun routine all you want, Joe. I know what I see when she looks at you. And dammit, you are still a very tall, dark, and handsome man.”

Nell leaned from her place beside him at the table where she’d sat to have this discussion with a cup of black coffee not nearly as strong as his Mama made. She smoothed away that black curl on his forehead, gazed into those dark chocolate eyes, and ran her pinkie along his full, delicious lips. That was all it took. He was up and ready. She should have known better than to succumb to touching him when they needed to have a serious discussion.

Joe grasped her around the waist and headed for the kitchen counter. Her barely over five feet tall, about one-hundred pounds body never could resist his six-three, over two-hundred pounds of incredibly toned flesh. He could pretty much do what he wanted with her when he wanted. Still, she protested, pushing against his chest with her hands.

“Joe, put me down! We need to talk about this situation with Cassie. We cannot have counter sex. Someone might walk in.”

He gave her that white-toothed grin blazing out of his tanned Cajun complexion, no stopping him now. To love Joe Dean was to have frequent sex with Joe Dean. Not that Nell minded most of the time. They had barely moved into his white-columned mansion when he discovered the kitchen counter had the perfect height to make up for the disparity in theirs. When the children were babies, she hadn’t minded at all, but now counter sex had become riskier. You never knew when someone would interrupt.

“Like who? Everyone is gone.”

He sat her between the butter and the remaining bacon draining on a paper towel. Moving fast, he had her snug jeans unsnapped and those long thumbs of his inserted in her panties, pushing both garments down around her ankles. His hands moved up under her stretchy red top and unsnapped her bra. He dabbed a finger in the soft butter and rubbed it on her nipples, all the while kissing her neck from ear lobe to collarbone and beyond. The top and bra, too much in the way, came off. He sucked a nipple, paused, and said, “I am so, so glad we haven’t switched to margarine.”

Nell gave him a light punch in the bicep, not that he cared. She was no three-hundred pound lineman beating up on him. Nothing more to do than close her eyes, lean back on her hands, and enjoy the moment. She spread her legs to take him inside her body. Bracing her hips with his hands, he went long and deep. He kept up a steady rhythm until the two-minute warning came with her small scream. He picked up the pace and scored a big one. Nell collapsed with her head on his shoulder. She’d put her hand down in the butter somewhere along the way and overturned the dish. Joe licked it off her palm.

“Stop that! We still need to talk.”

“Nell, even if Cassie does have crush on me, I just proved how much I love you. She’s never getting none of this.”

“Easy for you to say…”

The kitchen doorknob turned. A person stood outside trying to peek through the crack in the little frill of curtains over the pane in the door.

“You in there, Joe Dean? What for you lockin’ your doors now? I brung y’all a nice bread pudding wit’ the high meringue the way you like it. Okay, you still in bed. For shame, so late in the day. I’m gonna get the key and set this on the table, you hear.”

“Jesus God, it’s Mama!” Joe hiked Nell off the counter and gave her a tiny swat on the rear. “Run, Tink.”

Nell gathered up the jeans around her ankles and snatched her bra and top from the counter. Admiring her sweet, naked behind, Joe watched his wife retreat to the powder room in the hall. Leisurely, he tucked himself in and buckled his belt. By the time his mother had foraged the hidden key from the shrubbery, he stood at the door ready to take her on.

“Hi, Ma.” Joe pecked her cheek. “Let me take that. Looks delicious.” He deposited the pan of bread pudding topped with lightly browned meringue and drizzled with rum sauce on the kitchen table.

“Did I interrupt anything?”

Nadine eyed the overturned butter dish and a few strips of bacon that had fallen to the floor. She sniffed the air. Joe sure hoped the scent of the bacon trumped the smell of sex.

“Nope, only breakfast.”

“It’s okay. You married now.” Nadine helped herself to a triangle of toast and shoved some of Joe’s food onto it. “These eggs is cold. Speaking of which, you talk to Nell about our little frozen babies, yet?”

“Sure. I promised. She says she isn’t ready for more kids yet.”

“What? Been five years since you had any. You got this great big house to fill, son, and we did swear we’d use all them eggs instead of waiting on God to do the job if He’d bless our going with doctors and test tubes and such. I thought a little dessert might sweeten Nell up, but I can see you got your own way of doing that.”

With a big smile plastered on her face, Nell entered the kitchen. “Hi, Nadine, you’re out early this morning. Want some coffee?”

In the past five years, her sturdy mother-in-law had gotten more iron gray in her black hair, but her strong features hadn’t softened a bit. Though Joe Dean had gotten his daddy’s height and build, he resembled this woman more than she liked to admit. She supposed they could both be described as handsome.

“I never turn down coffee,
cher
. You got grease stains on your shirt, here and here.”

“Um, so I do. Must have happened when I made the bacon.” Nell filled a mug for her mother-in-law and hastened to take a bottle of disinfectant from a cabinet and begin vigorously wiping down the counter. The smashed butter went into the trash, the dish into the washer and the fallen bacon into a dustpan.

Nadine all but spit out her coffee. “What, you don’t use dark roast no more? This stuff is weak enough to water plants wit’.”

“It’s decaf.”

“Figures. So, about your little frozen babies.”

Nell clutched the handle of the dustpan like she would raise it as a weapon. Joe pried it from her hand, disposed of the bacon, and put it in its place. “We have embryos, not babies, only a collection of cells.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you was Cat’lic, dear. You should convert. Less confusing for the children than going to two churches.”