Free Kicks for a Sinner S3 by Lynn Shurr

rear.”
    He started to say he’d just kill them both in the accident, then she wouldn’t have to worry about it. The old Joe might have said something like that. Instead he sucked it up like trash talk from an opponent. The hormones and drugs she took to implant those embryos always made her bitchy, not to mention the current hangover. He ignored her show of temper.
    “Say, that pie place we stopped at last time is coming up. Remember, you wouldn’t admit the first implants took, that you were pregnant, and you kept blaming bad tamales for your upset stomach when all along you had morning sickness.”
    “I do recall.”
    “Want to stop there again? Last chance for some hot chili before it gives you heartburn again.”
    Nell swallowed. “I think I’ll pass this time. Let’s get to the hotel, order some soup, and have a nice quiet evening together.”
    “Wish I could make you feel better, sugar.” His large hand crept across the space dividing them. It moved under her stretchy red top and deftly unhooked her bra. His fingertips, lightly calloused from gripping footballs, found her nipple, gently tweaked and massaged. He waited for her to swat him away, but Nell simply closed her eyes again and sighed.
    “You still know all the moves, Joe Dean Billodeaux.”
    “A man has to practice his skills to stay in the game, sugar.” He expected her to snap at him about calling her that as she did when she got tetchy.
    “Well, it takes my mind off my headache.”
    So, petting while driving—okay, but texting, no way. Entirely fine by him. If Nell felt well enough for this, the evening seemed promising. Not only the last chance for spicy Mexican or Cajun food, but for sex for some weeks to come. He wanted them to make the most of it, and they would.
     

NINE
     
    The thing Nell hated most about whole implantation process was how people treated her afterward. She and Joe stayed in Phoenix for two weeks after the procedure to make sure all went well—in other words, no miscarriages since she’d lost one before by being careless. Joe grabbed her elbow at the least chance of a stumble as they toured museums and took in concerts and plays. He refused to clamber around ancient Native American ruins, citing the possibility of falls, rattlesnake bites, or crumbling adobe bricks conking her on the head. Forbidden to swim in the golf club pool while Joe played a few rounds, she basked in the sun like a desert tortoise full of eggs to be expelled and buried in the sand. No horseback riding, absolutely not, nor overland Jeep trips.
    Sadistically, she made her husband sit in a high-end maternity wear shop while she tried on a panoply of clothes from tight little tops that would show off her baby bump to the tent-like dresses she knew she would need if all three babies stayed in place. Joe smiled like a happy idiot and told her to buy them all while the saleswomen fluttered around offering him coffee or bottled water or a more comfortable chair than the little-lady-seat his large frame overwhelmed. In the dressing room, her glorified shopping assistant went on and on about what a handsome, strong and understanding man she’d married.
    “Don’t forget rich and famous,” Nell added with a growl.
    The hormones made her emotional and insecure. All the old feelings of inadequacy she’d experienced when first married to the legendary womanizer, Joe Dean Billodeaux, surfaced again. What if she lost all these babies? What if Joe strayed while she grew big as a harvest moon and got confined to bed for the last weeks of the pregnancy? She took it out on the clerk, sending the thin, nervous woman scrambling for other sizes, other colors, and endless accessories. In the end, Nell apologized for her rudeness, but the salesperson merely said pregnant women tended to be high-strung. She understood entirely, undoubtedly soothed by a huge commission and Joe’s compliments on the clerk’s good taste. By the end of their stay in Phoenix, their