Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by Sandra Hill
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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First eBook Edition: August 2009
ISBN: 978-0-446-55205-9
Contents
Copyright
Join in on the High Jinx!
Also by Sandra Hill
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Tante Lulu’s Seafood Étouffée
About the Author
JOIN IN ON THE HIGH JINX!
WILD JINX
“Hill has filled this romance with her trademark whimsical humor, emotional dilemmas, and fun adventures. The characters are unforgettable and the dialogue clever… more fun than a barrel of frogs in Bayou Black.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“4 Stars!… The newest Bayou sizzler… This is the cure for the common blues!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“The story line combines plenty of humor with suspense, Cajun-style, as the LeDeux tribe up and meets the Jinx crew in an all-out wacky thriller.”
—Midwest Book Review
“A thrilling, sexy romp through the Louisiana bayou… Hill is a master at combining hot, sexy characters, quirky family members, and humor into a spellbinding story that is impossible to put down.”
—FallenAngelReviews.com
“The riotous cast of characters… will keep you laughing from cover to cover… passionate encounters keep the sexual tension at a steady boil. The outlandish adventures of this wacky, wonderful family will make you wish you lived on the bayou!”
—FreshFiction.com
PEARL JINX
“Some like it hot and hilarious, and Hill delivers both.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A hysterical, fast-moving page-turner, and the sexy love story between Caleb and Clair make it an absolute must-read.”
—RoundtableReviews.com
“4½ Stars! Hill’s books [are] inventive and heart-tugging. They are guaranteed mood boosters!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“Hilarious… The characters are colorful and vibrant, coming alive with every turn of the page… Packed full of humor and adventure, sizzling SEAL sex, and enough romance to touch even the coldest heart… A real pearl.”
—ARomanceReview.com
“[Hill is] the queen of humorous contemporary romance… The laughs keep coming… The audience will appreciate this zany Keystone State caper.”
Midwest Book Review
“For a hilarious good time, readers can’t go wrong with a Sandra Hill book. Pearl Jinx is loaded with charm, smart-alecky dialogue, adventure, and an endearing set of characters… rollicking… Hill’s signature style shines through.”
—SuspenseRomanceWriters.com
PINK JINX
“Sandra Hill writes stories that tickle the funny bone and touch the heart. Her books are always fresh, romantic, inventive, and hilarious.”
—Susan Wiggs, New York Times bestselling author
“4 Stars! A hoot and a half! Snappy dialogue and outrageous characters keep the tempo lively and the humor infectious in this crazy adventure story. Hill is a master at taking outlandish situations and making them laugh-out-loud funny.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“Hill has yet again given us an adventure that is unbelievably funny! I am eagerly looking forward to another treasure-hunting book from the incomparable Sandra Hill.”
—TheBestReviews.com
“A hilarious story filled with adventure, romance, danger, and mystery.”
—BookLoons.com
INDULGE IN THE CAJUN
BAD BOYS SERIES
THE RED-HOT CAJUN
“Hill’s thigh-slapping humor and thoughtful look at the endangered Louisiana bayou ecosystem turn this into an engaging read.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A brimming romance for people who like to laugh [and] people who like to cry.”
—Booklist
THE CAJUN COWBOY
“Hill will tickle readers’ funny bones yet again as she writes in her trademark sexy style. A real crowd-pleaser, guar-an-teed.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“A pure delight. One terrific read!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
TALL, DARK, AND CAJUN
“If you like your romances hot and spicy and your men the same way, then you will like Tall, Dark, and Cajun… Eccentric characters, witty dialogue, humorous situations… and hot romance… [Hill] perfectly captures the bayou’s mystique and makes it come to life.”
—RomRevToday.com
ALSO BY SANDRA HILL
Tall, Dark, and Cajun
The Cajun Cowboy
The Red-Hot Cajun
Pink Jinx
Pearl Jinx
Wild Jinx
This book is dedicated to all those Hurricane Katrina survivors who are still struggling to regain their old lives. Tante Lulu recognized your bravery and needs in this book by establishing a new foundation. While her charity is a fictitious one, there are plenty of good ones out there. It’s always amazing to see how we Americans pull together to help each other in times of natural disaster. If you feel touched by this book, and are so inclined, I have a list of some of the good Louisiana-based charities on my Web site at www.sandrahill.net
And this book is dedicated to my husband Robert C. Hill who, even though he is a stockbroker, has led and aided many a charitable endeavor in our region: The Second Mile, Make a Wish, and children/youth agencies. His generous spirit inspires us all.
Chapter One
The angel was wild tonight…
Angel Sabato stood at the edge of the dance floor like a dunce, shaking in his thousand-dollar Tres Outlaws boots as he watched the redhead shake her booty to the beat of “Wild Thing.” For an ex-nun, she sure had moves.
Ironically, he was the one feeling wild. His hands were clammy, his heart was thumping—da dump, da dump, da dump—and, truth to tell, he was scared spitless. Tonight was going to be the night. Do-or-die time.
It was ridiculous, really. He was thirty-four years old. He’d been around the block so many times there were probably street signs named after him. At the least, his “tread marks” were notorious. Shyness wasn?
??t even in his vocabulary. After all, he was the dick-for-brains who’d once bared it all for Playgirl magazine.
Just then the redhead in question, Grace O’Brien, noticed him and smiled widely, crooking a forefinger for him to come out and join her.
Not a chance.
It wasn’t dancing he had on his mind.
She said something to her partner, one of the young LeDeuxs… a freshman at LSU. Then she left the kid behind and snaked a slow, sensuous boogie toward him, her twinkling green eyes holding his the entire time, her arms held out in front of her, fingers beckoning. She must be half plastered or, more likely, in a teasing mood.
He was not in the mood for teasing.
“Yo, matey,” she drawled at him.
This was the tail end of the Pirate Ball. It was being held here in Houma, Louisiana, to celebrate the successful search by Jinx, Inc., a treasure-hunting company, for Jean Lafitte’s hidden gold. Thus the silly pirate talk. Not to mention silly pirate costumes.
He and Grace had worked on the Jinx team’s Pirate Project these past weeks. Before that they’d been professional poker players. And before that, Grace had been a nun, and he had been in the navy, then construction, and… well, a lot of things.
She was dancing around him now, dressed in a saucy tavern-wench costume with a jagged knee-length hem, while he was in a puffy shirt tied with a red sash. Jerry Seinfeld would be so proud of me.
When he pretended to ignore her sexy dancing, she grabbed his upper arm and attempted to tug him forward. Being about seventy-five pounds heavier at six-foot-one to her measly five-foot-five, he was pretty much immovable.
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Come out here and shake a peg leg, you randy buccaneer.”
He had to grin at that. “Who says I’m randy?”
“You’re always randy.”
“And you know this… how?”
“All the satisfied smiles I’ve seen on women exiting your revolving bedroom door the past ten years.”
“You noticed?”
“Stop changing the subject. I wanna dance.”
“Are you blitzed?” he asked with a laugh.
“Just a little,” she slurred.
Luckily, the DJ changed the music to a different pace. Now Mariah Carey was urging “Touch My Body.”
He opened his arms to Grace and adjusted her so that her arms were around his neck and his hands were linked behind her waist, just above her butt. And yes, Mariah, he had touching in mind. Touching Grace.
“I’m flying back to Jersey early tomorrow morning. I need to talk to you,” he said into her hair, which smelled like apples, or was it peaches? Some kind of frickin’ fruit, anyway.
“Uh-huh. I’m listening,” she replied, definitely not listening as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, inadvertently pressing her belly against the crotch of his tights.
Yeah, he was wearing XXX-sized tights. With testosterone-induced hysterical irrelevance, he mused that the guys back in his old gang in Newark would get a kick out of him in latex, unless it were of the prophylactic kind. Or was that spandex? Spandex, latex, whatever! That was beside the point. Call me crazy, but did she just lick my ear?
Blood drained from his head and slam-dunked into sex central. For a second, he thought his knees might give out.
“Not here,” he gurgled. “Let’s go outside for a walk, down by the bayou. Better yet, I’ll take you back to your hotel room.”
“I already checked out. I’ll be staying with Tante Lulu from now on.” She leaned her head back to look at him. “You sound serious.”
“I am serious, babe.” He wondered if she was aware that when she arched back like that it caused his erection to rub against her belly button, which was exposed by her low-riding wench skirt. And that was damn serious.
“You can drive me to the cottage. Let’s go tell Tante Lulu that I’m leaving.”
“So, you’re staying with that Cajun dingbat, huh?” he asked, arm looped over her shoulder as they walked to the other side of the hall, where Tante Lulu was chattering away to some guy in a frock coat and tricorne hat. At least he wasn’t wearing tights.
Louise Rivard, better known as Tante Lulu, was the craziest old woman he’d ever met. But she was a noted traiteur, or folk healer, and Grace had decided to apprentice herself to the fruitcake in hopes of learning more about the healing arts. Really, Grace’s life was like a pendulum swinging from one extreme to the other. Nun to poker player to treasure hunter to healer. He couldn’t wait to see where she landed next, as long as she took him along for the ride.
“Don’t call her a dingbat.” Grace turned slightly and swatted him on the chest, then grinned. “Even if she is a dingbat.”
“Grace… Angel… hope y’all had a good time t’night.” Tante Lulu was dressed as a senior citizen pirate gal. A scary sight, to be sure—she was ninety-two, after all. She eyed them suspiciously when Grace told her she would be leaving with him. Grace was oblivious to that pointed look, which took in his arm on Grace’s shoulder, but he could practically see the matchmaking wheels churning in Tante Lulu’s little brain. “That full moon t’night, she is purty enough to make a cat smooch a hound dog.”
“Huh?” Grace said.
“Welcome to TanteLuluville,” he muttered under his breath, then smiled.
“Ya gots a hope chest?” Tante Lulu asked Angel just before they walked away. Tante Lulu had a tradition of making hope chests for the men in her family, or male friends of the family, just before the “thunderbolt of love” hit them.
Hah! He had news for the Louisiana love bug. That thunderbolt had done its business with him a long time ago.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Grace asked, once they were sitting in his rental car back in Tante Lulu’s cottage driveway. She didn’t seem so tipsy anymore.
A full moon allowed him to see Grace’s face. She was concerned. For him.
“I want you to come back with me, sweetheart.” Well, that was laying his cards on the table from the get-go.
She frowned. “Back to your motel room?”
“No. I mean, yeah, that would be great, but I meant, fly back to the East Coast with me in the morning. Come with me and the Jinx team to Germany for our next project.” He gulped. “Just come with me, that’s all.”
“I don’t understand. You know I quit treasure hunting. It was never intended to be more than a one-shot deal for me. I’ve already explained why I’m staying here.” She moved closer and accidentally put a hand on his thigh.
Big mistake, that.
He picked her up by the waist and laid her across his lap, her head cradled over his left elbow. “This isn’t about treasure hunting, or folk healing, or any other damn profession. It’s about you and me.” He leaned down, kissed her lightly on the lips, and whispered against her gaping mouth, “I love you, Grace.”
She squirmed into a sitting position on his lap. “I love you, too, sweetie. You’re my best friend.”
“Dammit! That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m in love with you, have been for a long time.”
A stunned silence was not what he was looking for here.
“You’re kidding, right? What’s the punch line? You gonna tell some lame nun joke?” She nipped at his lower lip with her teeth as punishment.
Angel jerked backward, though he didn’t release her from his embrace. It was true, he had been teasing Grace with nun jokes for ages, even though she hadn’t been a nun for ages, but not now. “This is not a joke, Grace.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “Sex. All this forced celibacy while trapped out in the bayou must have turned you horny. You want to have sex with me.” Grinning, she taunted him with that last accusation.
“No! I mean, yes. Here’s the deal: I don’t want sex for sex’s sake, as in any ol’ female would do. I want to make love with you. But that’s not all I want. C’mon,” he said, opening the car door and hauling her outside. Oh, God! I’m blowing it
. What the hell is wrong with me? “Let’s walk.”
“You’re scaring me, Angel.”
“I’m scaring myself,” he muttered as he linked his hand with hers and led her onto Tante Lulu’s back porch facing the bayou. Once they were leaning against the rail, he raised their linked hands and kissed her knuckles.
“Oooh, you are smooth.”
“You have no idea.” Something occurred to him then, related to her mentioning going back to his motel room. “Would you have sex with me? Just like that?” He snapped his fingers. “Friends with benefits?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Angel was both angry and intrigued.
“Actually, I probably wouldn’t. Even half drunk. You and I have been friends for a long time. I wouldn’t want to do anything to ruin that.”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, friendship isn’t enough anymore. Haven’t you felt it, too, Gracie, these weeks we’ve been here in Louisiana? Those LeDeuxs are crazy as coots, but they’re a close-knit family. They would do anything for each other. And you can just see the passion between the husbands and wives. Luc and Sylvie. Remy and Rachel. René and Val. Rusty and Charmaine. John and Celine. That’s what I want.”
“Passion?”
“Passion, yeah, but more than that.”
“Family?” she said with an oddly sad sigh.
“Bingo. I want a woman to love who will love me back. And a home… a real home, not some luxury condo. And kids.”
The more he explained himself, the stiffer she got. Then she started biting on her thumbnail, a nervous habit she’d been trying to break ever since he’d first met her. Angel sensed he was losing her bit by bit, but he didn’t know how to fix it.