Convicted (17 page)

"Lisa, don't be that way." Marcia seemed close to tears, a state Lisa wanted no part of. Her mother simply hated conflict, especially between her children, and would rather turn a blind eye to it than have to confront it.

"Allegra feels like a third wheel with me and Terry?" Lisa said. "Well, she won't have to worry about that anymore. Terry and I broke up."

"What?" Marcia cried, aghast.

"What happened?" Doug asked more practically. "Does it have anything to do with Campbell?"

"As a matter of fact, it does," Lisa told him.

Her mom's hands fluttered. "Oh, Lisa!"

"I knew it would be a mistake to hire him," Doug said. "What's he done to you?"

"Nothing," Lisa cried in frustration. Yet anyway, and nothing without her consent. But she couldn't exactly tell her parents that, could she? "Mom, Dad, listen. I have something to tell you about Allegra. Something you should know."

Again, she saw them exchange glances. "I think Allegra's been...stealing things. Clothes. Maybe other stuff, I'm not sure."

"Oh, Lisa!" Marcia cried again, covering her face with her hands.

"She said you'd accuse her of that," Doug told Lisa. "Frankly, I didn't want to believe it."

"Did she tell you why I'd be accusing her?" Lisa demanded. She put her hands on her hips, squaring off with her parents.

"She said you saw a few new things in her room and asked her where she got them." Doug's face was stony as he faced her. She'd gotten her stubborn temper from her dad, and it was times like these that it showed.

"A few?" Lisa thought of the room full of clothes. "It was a lot more than that, Dad. And there are other things, too."

"She told us you'd been giving her a hard time over there," Doug said. "Demanding she do more than her share of the chores, not sharing your things with her--"

"Are we three years old?" Lisa asked. "When she moved in with me, I told her there'd be rules. Like doing her share of the chores, yes. Like being adults, not children!"

"Nobody says you're still kids," Doug said.

"You treat her like she is," Lisa said. "You make excuses for her, you ignore the things she does--"

"Allegra has always been special!" Marcia cried. "And I won't hear another word against her from you, Lisa!"

"Fine." Lisa grabbed her purse from the end table and headed for the door. She paused, hanging her head to stop the tears from falling. She fought them back successfully before turning to her mom and dad. "I thought...I thought you wanted to talk about me today."

"We were talking about you," Doug said.

Lisa shook her head. "No, you were talking about her. You're concerned about her. You're always concerned about her!"

"We've never had to worry about you, honey," Marcia said, trying to make peace. "We know you can handle things."

So that was the way it was. Lisa nodded slowly, her hand on the door. "I'll see you guys later."

"Lisa..." Her dad was calling after her, but she ignored him.

Once outside, the hot afternoon sun did nothing to improve her mood. Lisa slid behind the wheel of her car, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. She pounded the wheel once before regaining control.

If nothing else good came of the past few weeks' events, at least Allegra was moving out. She couldn't pretend to be sorry about that. Lord knew, she loved her sister...but she didn't always like her.

Allegra had certainly wrapped their parents around her little finger, and was Lisa really surprised? Her sister was manipulative and sly. Of course she'd covered all the bases before pleading her woes to Mommy and Daddy. It just burned that they chose to believe Allegra and ignore Lisa.

She pulled up to her house, noting that Allegra's car wasn't in the drive.
Good. Maybe she's already gone.
Lisa went into the house and straight to the thermostat. She could keep the house as cool or warm as she liked now, instead of conforming to Allegra's insane insistence that the temperature be set only on even numbers.

She managed to hold herself together until she entered the living room. There, the sight of her carefully chosen, tapestry print couch no longer covered with Allegra's faded, tattered Penn State throw blanket suddenly made her burst into tears. Lisa flung herself onto the couch, giving herself over to the need to rage and weep and flail.

Damn, but it felt good. She punched the pillows fiercely, then lay back and kicked the cushions. That felt even better. That she was abusing her own couch, the first piece of really good furniture she'd ever owned, didn't really matter. It just felt so good to let go!

After awhile, the tears stopped and she rested, breathing heavily on the somewhat dented couch. Lisa wiped her face, pressing her fingers against her swollen eyes. A cool cloth would feel good right now.

She went to the kitchen to get one, leaning over the sink and letting the water run until it was reasonably cold. The cloth felt marvelous on her skin, and she let out a sigh of pure delight. A tantrum followed by a soothing cloth. Now she only needed some self-indulgent ice cream, and she'd be complete.

"Lisa?"

Startled at the sudden male voice in front of her, Lisa let out a shriek and stepped back. Her elbow connected squarely with the edge of the kitchen counter and she yelped in pain. Her entire arm tingled and she cradled it.

"Deacon!" She sounded exasperated when she meant to sound pleased.

He looked at her uncertainly. "Are you all right? You look like you were crying."

She touched her cheek, thinking about how she must look. "I was."

His instant look of concern made her almost glad she'd been weeping. "Did something happen?"

She thought of the night before and today's discussion with her parents. Lisa laughed, suddenly feeling much better about everything now Deacon stood so solid and real in her kitchen. "Nothing that won't go away," she said.

He looked confused. "Okay."

She felt her face again, embarrassed. "Let me get cleaned up."

She splashed water on her face, too aware of him standing so close behind her. The water felt good on her skin, which was hot now and not from temper. He was so close she could smell him...and that thought made her tense.

"What're you doing here?" she asked a little too sharply.

Last night's phone call played in her mind. I know everything you do, the voice had said. Someone was watching her. She didn't want to believe it was Deacon, but....

"You said you were going to call."

"I did call," he replied patiently. "You weren't home. I didn't know where you were...."

"So you came over anyway?" she said, her voice rising. "Even though you knew I wasn't here? Why would you come over if I wasn't here?"

She was being irrational, but knowing it didn't stop her heart from thumping or the accusation from forming on her tongue. Thankfully, Deacon stopped her before she could speak by putting his hands in the air in a gesture of peace. Lisa felt foolish...but also wary.

"Can we sit down and talk?"

Lisa nodded. "We'll go into the living room."

She led the way, entirely too conscious of how swiftly her moods and temper were changing. Lisa did not like being on an emotional roller coaster. She'd always prided herself on her ability to handle stress. The past few weeks, however, were catching up to her.
And who knew,
she thought bitterly as she and Deacon sat on opposite ends of the couch.
Maybe Allegra isn't the only diva bitch in the Shadd family.

"What happened after I dropped you off last night?" Deacon cut right to the center of things.

His frank honesty was a quality she admired. It seemed difficult to believe she'd ever doubted his penchant for being truthful. At once, suspicion reared its ugly head again because how did she
know
he was being truthful? She'd said she believed him about the robbery, but could she believe anything anymore?

"I got a prank phone call," she told him. "It was pretty nasty."

"Dirty?" Deacon shifted on the cushions to face her, one long leg crossed over his knee.

"Why does everyone assume that?" Lisa kept her own body facing forward, aware of her stiff posture. "Not like the email, no. Just...creepy."

Swiftly she outlined what the voice on the phone had told her, ending with the part about knowing everything she did. Lisa shuddered even as she said it, though in the bright light of afternoon, she should have felt safe. She toyed with her shirt hem, plucking at the fabric with nervous fingers until she annoyed herself with the action and forced herself to stop.

"Then Terry came back because he'd said I beeped him," Lisa continued. "But I hadn't."

"Came back?" Deacon's voice played at being casual, but Lisa sensed the tension in it.

She sighed mentally, feeling machismo fill the space between them. "He was here when I got home."

"Oh."

The short declaration carried as much meaning as if he'd spoken for an hour.

"I didn't know he'd be here, Deacon. We fought. He left."

"Then he came back," Deacon said.

Now Lisa turned to look at him. "Yes, because he said I paged him."

"But you didn't." Deacon tapped his crossed leg with his fingers.

"No. I told him about the phone call and he insisted on checking all the locks before I went to bed. And he left."

Lisa didn't mention Terry's unsubtle accusation that Deacon might be at the heart of her recent disturbances, neither did she tell him what Terry had said about Deacon just leaving her without making sure she was safe. There was enough rivalry between the two men already without her egging them on.

"You should've called me," Deacon said. "I would have come over."

The thought of what that would have meant caused another sort of chill to slip down her spine. Lisa could not deny the affect Deacon had on her. Even with all that had happened, even with the doubts Terry had tried to plant in her head, the thought of Deacon spending the night still made her squirm.

"Today my parents called and said they wanted to talk to me," Lisa continued, as though he hadn't spoken. "I thought they wanted to talk about me, about the things that have been going on. Instead I had to listen to a lecture about how special Allegra is, and how horribly I've been treating her. She's moving back home to get away from me."

Deacon laughed. "Are you sorry about that?"

"No, actually, I'm not," Lisa said, and a welcome smile brushed her mouth. "Not about that. I just thought for once they'd be worried about me instead of her."

"You're too responsible," Deacon said. "They never have to worry about you."

"That's what Mom said," Lisa answered, surprised again at his insight.

"It's true," Deacon said. "It's one of the things I always admired about you."

"Being responsible isn't all it's cracked up to be," Lisa said grouchily. She finally was able to relax against the back of the couch. "Sometimes I'd like to be the needy one. The one who goes out and just does whatever she wants, who gets wild without thinking about the consequences."

She glanced at him as she said it, meaning it lightly. Seeing his face tighten at her words, Lisa's voice trailed away. She hadn't meant sex, not specifically, when she talked about getting wild. But it was there. The meaning of her words hovered between them.

Speaking would ruin it and she was glad he didn't bother. Deacon slid across the couch to her, taking her in his arms and slanting his mouth across hers in a searing kiss. She had not had time to breathe, but didn't need to, because kissing him was like drinking pure oxygen.

It was good to be touched, to be held. To lose herself in the passion that erased everything else from her mind. In Deacon's arms, she didn't have to think about Allegra, or phone calls, or missing items from the laundry.

Lisa moaned, a soft sound from deep in her throat. He pulled away, his eyes glazed. She didn't want him to let go, but he'd misunderstood the sound she'd made.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This probably isn't a good time."

Why did men have to be so difficult? Wanting it when she didn't want to give it and refusing it when she needed it? Lisa stifled a disgruntled snort and answered him by pulling him back to her.

The kissing grew more passionate, reminding her of the times they'd spent on his couch three years before.
So much for starting at the beginning,
she thought hazily, but then didn't care. His hands on her made her forget anything else.

Deacon slipped his hands up beneath her tee shirt, finding the bare skin of her stomach. His fingers traced a light pattern there, tickling. Lisa giggled, the sound muffled against his mouth, but she didn't try to squirm away. The tickling sent pleasurable shivers across her skin.

She ran her hands through the silken length of his hair, glad he was letting it grow long again. She'd liked the way it hung to his shoulders, making him seem like some sort of sexy pirate. Now her lips found the place her fingers had just caressed.

Kissing his earlobe made Deacon wriggle a little, and Lisa laughed again. She ran a line of kisses down his neck, pausing at the curve of his collar to nip the beginning of his exposed collarbone. Deacon's fingers tightened convulsively on her stomach, pinching.

"Ouch!" She sat back with a wince.

"Sorry," he said, smoothing the injured skin with his fingers. "You tickled."

"You tickled me," she pointed out, "and I didn't pinch you."

She wasn't sure, really, if she was joking or serious. The pinch hadn't hurt or even left a mark. It was that he'd reacted that way at all that made her take pause.

He kissed her cheek, then her mouth. Deacon leaned his forehead against her, looking in her eyes. "It was an accident."

In her head, she knew that.

"I'm sorry." Lisa sighed, not wanting the passion to fade and feeling it start to anyway. "There's been a lot of stuff going on lately."

He sat back. "You still don't trust me?"

"That's not it at all," Lisa said, trying to reassure herself as much as him.

"Why don't I just go," Deacon said. He pushed further back on the couch. "We can talk later."