Convicted (13 page)

"Because I knew you didn't take it," she said seriously.

She knew his eyes were deep and dark, but in the scanty light from the street lamp they could have been any color. Deacon blinked, watching her. Lisa thought again of kissing him, and knew if he tried, she wouldn't stop him. Not now. Not with the night whispering to her like this.

"What would it have been like, do you think?"

She knew what he meant and what he was thinking about. It was all either one of them had been thinking about since he first spoke to her from the darkness, she was certain.

"It would've been magic." She didn't care if she sounded giddy. That's the way she felt.

Deacon reached out to touch her cheek. Lisa leaned into the touch, afraid to close her eyes and afraid to meet his gaze. His hand, warm on her skin, was rough from work. Should she turn her head a little to the left, she'd be able to press her lips to the throbbing pulse at his wrist.

"Lisa," Deacon whispered.

If she answered him, all would be lost. She would let him pull her against him. She'd open her mouth beneath his and let him kiss her like he used to. She'd let him touch her with the caresses that had been haunting her dreams for three years, and she would not stop to think about the consequences.

"Why?" he asked.

It was enough to pull her out of her sensual reverie. "Why what?"

"Why did you know I didn't take your purse?"

There was such a thing as too much talk,
she thought sourly. "Did you?"

"Of course I didn't," he answered.

"Then why are you worried about it?" she snapped.

He dropped his hand from her face and she was glad of it. Glad, too, for the darkness that hid the fierceness of her blush.

"I'm just never sure if the past is really behind us," he said. "I never know if you're going to look at me in that way again."

His words hurt, but she knew what he meant. Still, she had to ask, to clarify. "What way?"

"Like I'm going to bite you," he said. "Like you're afraid of me."

She was afraid of him, of the way he still made her feel, even after all this time. "No, Deacon."

"I like working at The Garden Shadd," he said. "And I like working with you."

"I like working with you, too. We're really making progress."

"We used to be real good friends."

She thought of them tangled together on the couch in his old apartment, hands and mouths on each other. Not the way she acted with her friends. But she knew what he meant, and his words pleased her.

"Yes."

Deacon took her hand. "Do you think we could be friends again?"

"That's it?" she said, startled.

She'd been thinking about him kissing her, and he'd been thinking about being buddies?

"I like hanging out with you," he said with a light punch to her shoulder. "I remember you can throw a mean game of darts."

Oh, did she feel like an idiot. Of course he hadn't been thinking the same things she had. How could he? She'd made it perfectly clear things had changed, and they could never go back to what they'd had before.

She moved imperceptibly away from him on the porch. "I always could beat your butt at darts. And in pool."

"Hey," Deacon protested. "Let's not go there."

"Friends would be good," she said, forcing herself to shove away any other thoughts she'd had.

"It just makes sense," Deacon told her. "We have to spend a lot of time together and everything. And after that day in my office, I thought that maybe... Well...it seemed like we had a good chance at starting over. It seemed like you were ready to anyway. I just wanted to make sure."

"Starting over," she said in a low voice. He didn't mean it the way she would have. Starting over to be buddies. Really, though, wasn't that better? Didn't it make much more sense? And really, wasn't it the only option? "Okay."

"Friends?" Deacon said.

"Friends," Lisa answered. "You want to shake on it?"

Deacon held his arms out wide. "Friends can do better than that, can't they?"

Of course they could. Chuckling a little at herself for getting so foolishly worked up earlier, Lisa opened her arms to. They hugged.

For the first second, the hug was nondescript and nonchalant. Immediately after that, it became something else. Deacon's hug was firm and strong, his arms around her didn't waver and didn't squeeze too hard. The broad, muscled plane of his chest felt good beneath her cheek, the point of his chin pressed not too tightly to the top of her head. His hands, fingers spread, drifted lightly on her back.

She felt cocooned, but far from safe. Her heart began to beat a triple-time rhythm. She should pull away. She had to pull away or do something foolish.

But she didn't pull away. It felt too good to be in Deacon's arms again. This was no friendship hug. They'd be fooling themselves if either of them thought it was. Yet, she'd been wrong before, thinking he was going to kiss her and he didn't. Could be she was wrong now? Were the emotions sweeping through her of her own making and Deacon wasn't feeling the same?

The hug had to end sometime. Already it had stretched out longer than was conceivably appropriate. And still they both held on as though neither one wanted to break contact. She could float in Deacon's arms forever.

The moment passed, as it finally had to do, and Lisa felt a twinge of sadness. There'd be no going back. They'd sealed the unspoken agreement. Friends they would be. And wasn't that better than nothing at all?

They pulled slowly apart, their cheeks touching as she lifted her head. Then, in that incredibly brief moment when their mouths were nearly touching, Deacon did the unthinkable.

He kissed her.

It was better than she remembered. His mouth was hot and sweet. He tasted of peppermint. She breathed in, and he breathed out, and he filled her.

Lisa felt her head tip back as Deacon kissed her harder. His tongue swept hers, just once, as though testing. She put her hand to the back of his head and that gave him the answer he needed.

When his hand slipped up to cup her breast through her thin tee-shirt, however, Lisa had to pull away. Even the sweetness of his kisses couldn't make her forget they were sitting on his front porch in front of the neighborhood's eyes. It might look like nobody was watching, but in a small town, there was always someone looking.

"I'm sorry." Deacon dropped his hand from her chest, but didn't move away. His breath whispered on her cheeks.

"We don't need to give everyone a free show," she whispered back, embarrassed. Without his mouth on her, it was easier to think.

"No, I guess not." He smiled, leaning forward until his forehead bumped hers. "And I'm not really sorry."

Lisa sighed. "Oh, Deacon, why did you do that?"

He pulled back, his eyes surprised. "You're mad?"

She took his hand and pressed it to her lips. "No. Just...not sure what to think."

"You think too to much," he told her. "Don't think about it, Lisa. Just let it happen."

"Let what happen?" she demanded in a low voice, still aware of how public their private interlude really was. "Making out on your front porch like a couple of teenagers?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you."

"No," she cried. "I mean, I don't know. I'm so confused."

He scooted back from her the fraction of an inch he could before he'd fall off the porch. The space between them didn't do much except emphasize the heat still lingering from the amazing kiss they'd just shared. Deacon crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her.

"I thought we'd settled all this," Lisa said helplessly.

"I guess we didn't," Deacon countered.

She let out a low moan of frustration. "I thought we were going to be friends."

"That seemed pretty friendly to me."

Damn him, he was still joking. Lisa frowned. "I don't make out with my friends."

He must have sensed her lack of humor about the situation because he sobered up quickly. "You think I don't know that? I know you, Lisa. I know what kind of woman you are. And all that tells me is kissing you was not a mistake."

She rubbed her temples. "Deacon, three years ago..."

His back stiffened and his jaw set. "Three years ago, what?"

"Do you really think we can just pick up where we left off?" she asked him almost angrily.

He didn't say anything for a minute and she was glad. She wasn't really sure what she wanted him to answer. Then he let out a breath of air between pursed lips and spoke. "Yes, I think we can. I think we want to. I know I want to."

She shook her head. "How can you? After what happened? After what I did?"

He put his hand on hers to stop her from talking more. "If I can forget and forgive, Lisa, can't you?"

Could she? Lisa tugged her hand from his and stood. The small, bumpy lawn didn't offer much room for pacing, so instead she just shifted slowly from foot to foot. Then, realizing it looked like she had to use the bathroom, she put one foot on the porch's concrete step and leaned on her knee.

"You asked me to believe you didn't do it," she finally said. "And I want to. I really do."

His voice was flat. "But you don't."

Her answer surprised her. "Deacon, you're a good man. With a good heart. I don't know what happened at The Circle K, but I don't believe you're a liar."

The light from the street lamp slanted across her shoulder and lit up his eyes. "I told you, Lisa, I never lied to you."

"I believe you," she said. And she did. Probably she always had. "And if you say you didn't rob that store...then I believe you."

He reached out a hand to her and she went to him. She put her knee on the porch just between his thighs and leaned in to kiss him. His arms slipped around her waist, his fingers splaying over her hips. Lisa put her hands on his shoulders feeling the muscles grown harder and more pronounced since the last time she'd felt them.

His shoulders weren't all that had gotten harder. Her knee nudged something she definitely wasn't sure she was ready for. And yet, didn't the thought thrill her that she could so affect him, even with the simplest of kisses?

"What are you going to tell Terrence?" he murmured in her ear, and Lisa pushed away from him so hard she nearly fell.

"Terry!" Damn, she'd forgotten all about Terry. Lisa twisted her wrist, forgetting again she'd lost her watch. "Damn!"

"Lisa?" Deacon questioned.

"I was supposed to meet him at ten o'clock when he got off work," she said. "What time is it?"

Deacon's watch had a nice green light on it. "It's ten-thirty."

Lisa muttered a garbled expletive. "This is not good."

"Whoa, slow down," Deacon said, reaching for her even as she danced out of his grasp. "I'm getting the feeling you're having second thoughts."

"Second thoughts, third thoughts," Lisa said. "He's not exactly going to be thrilled!"

"Nobody likes getting dumped," Deacon said.

If he was trying to be commiserating, he failed. Lisa spun to face him. "Who said I'm dumping him?"

"The past twenty minutes says," Deacon told her. His voice had no smile in it now.

Lisa's head spun. "I don't know what to do," she said, not meaning to speak aloud.

"It's pretty easy," Deacon said. "Dump Terry--"

"Will you quit saying that?" she hissed. "I'm not dumping anyone!"

"I see." Deacon sounded angry. "I thought I knew what kind of woman you are. I guess I was wrong."

He got to his feet. His hand was on the screen door. Lisa stopped him.

"Please," she said. "I'm just confused. This is all a little sudden. You said earlier that Terry ought to be more understanding. I guess I'm asking for the same from you."

He snorted. "You like him that much?"

"He's a good man," Lisa said, and it wasn't a lie. That Terry didn't make her heart beat faster wasn't his fault and it never had been. "He doesn't deserve to just be...dumped."

"You have to tell him." Deacon leaned against the front of the house. "He'll find out even if you don't."

Whether Deacon meant Terry would find out because he was a police officer or because the town was so small, Lisa didn't know. But she did know he was right. She had to tell Terry. It wouldn't be fair to him if she didn't.

"Then what?"

"We pick up where we left off," Deacon said.

Lisa sat on the porch hugging her knees. "No. Not exactly."

With an exasperated sigh, Deacon sat next to her. "Then what?"

"We start over," she said. "I like you, Deacon...."

"Really?" he asked jokingly, and she stuck out her tongue at him.

"...but I'm not ready to just plunge back into what we had before," she said. Her heart felt lighter for the admission.

Deacon nodded and took her hand. "Okay."

"Okay?" She'd been half afraid he'd refuse. Then where would she be?

He kissed her swiftly and lightly on the cheek. "Absolutely. I'll take you on dates, buy you flowers, the works."

"Really," she said in speculation, thinking about it. "You never bought me flowers before."

"I didn't work in a greenhouse before," he reminded her.

"Oh, yeah," Lisa said with a laugh, thinking about where he'd worked while taking the gardening classes. "You used to bring me light bulbs from the Sylvania plant."

"You light up my life," he told her, repeating the corny joke he'd said way back then.

The sick feeling in Lisa's stomach had begun to subside, but only a little. "I have to go meet Terry. He's probably worried."

"I'll give you a ride home," Deacon told her. "C'mon."

She protested, but he insisted. "I'm not letting you walk home in the dark. Even if you hadn't been attacked already, I wouldn't. Now be quiet and put on the helmet."

She hadn't been on the back of a motorcycle since the night at The Circle K. Now, riding behind Deacon as the powerful machine vibrated her entire body, Lisa couldn't help think about the promises of the kisses they'd shared.
Starting over,
she thought as Deacon leaned into a curve. She could handle that.

Only the single porch light glowed when they got to her house. Allegra must really have stayed at their parents. Lisa couldn't pretend she wasn't relieved. The last thing she needed tonight was a confrontation with her sister.