Convicted

by Megan Hart

  Even the fact her planned route took her right by the police station wasn't enough to make her go on. Well-lit and more heavily traveled Saint Mary's Avenue seemed a better choice, even though it meant dragging out her walk by another fifteen minutes.

  I could always go back to Mom and Dad's and beg a ride, she thought, to chastise herself for being such a fool. She wasn't desperate enough to do that though. She didn't want to admit to them that the attack still affected her.

  Instead of continuing on Ida, Lisa made a quick right onto Dippold Avenue. The steep hill ahead would do her thighs good, and in a few minutes, she'd be on the main street. From there, she could easily make it to the police station and wait for Terry there. No need to tell him she was afraid, Lisa thought. He'd just think she was eager to see him.

  A win/win situation.

  "Fancy meeting you here."

  The words, curling out of the dark, made her gasp in surprise. She knew that voice. Deacon.

  "What're you doing there?" She asked.

  "I could ask you the same thing," he drawled, unfolding the length of himself from the concrete front porch.

  "I was at my parents' house," Lisa said. "I'm walking home."

  "Really?" He asked.

  The light from the street lamp didn't quite reach his face. So why did she know he was smiling? Deacon's white shirt glimmered as he walked toward her.

  Lisa's heart pounded, and she wasn't sure if it was from anticipation or fear. "Really."

  "And you just happened to turn down my street."

  "I didn't know this was your street."

  He nodded, now a clear picture in the street lamp's glow. He looked tense and Lisa couldn't figure out why. "Allegra didn't tell you?"

  Now she was beginning to be annoyed. "No. Why would she? How would she know?"

  "Because a couple weeks ago she came walking down here herself," Deacon said.

  "When my sister does something, she usually has a reason," Lisa said. "Whatever it may be. This is just chance."

  "Lucky chance, I guess." Deacon seemed to relax. "You live down on Curry Ave."

  He'd remembered. Of course he had. "My folks live up on Edward."

  "That's a long walk," Deacon said. "Especially at night."

  She could tell he was thinking about the night in the Evergreen parking lot, too. "I decided to take the main road."

  "Nice night for walking anyway," Deacon said.

  The conversation, for all intents and purposes, was over. She should keep walking. Lisa's feet didn't move. She and Deacon stared at each other. The harsh light cast his face into slashes of black and white, and she found herself wondering if the light was as unkind to her. And why should that matter?

  "What're you doing?" she blurted.

  Deacon looked around as though surprised she'd asked. "Sitting outside. Mom's down playing bingo, and my brother Steve is bringing her home later."

  "So you're just...sitting."

  He smiled, his teeth like ivory. "Yup."

  Lisa didn't know why that struck her as funny, but it did. She began to laugh. Deacon joined her, and they laughed together, the sound ringing through the night and chasing away her fears.

  "Sounds fun," Lisa said through her chuckles.

  "It is. You should try it sometime," Deacon answered, as though daring her.

  "Maybe I will," she said. "Right over there?"

  He gestured broadly. "Best spot for it."

  Lisa crossed the small hump of grass that passed for a lawn and sat down on the bumpy concrete. The porch was just large enough for two people to sit comfortably side by side. A large and fragrant rose bush spilled its perfume into the air from beneath the house's windows, and Lisa sniffed it.

  "That's my favorite smell in the whole world," she said, as Deacon sat down next to her. "Too bad roses are such a pain to take care of. I'd have dozens."

  "A pain?" Deacon said. "Don't let your dad hear you say that. Heiresses to The Garden Shadd shouldn't be talking bad about roses."

  They sat in silence for a few moments, breathing in the scent and enjoying the night air. Lisa didn't feel chilly any more. If anything, sitting so close to Deacon made her cheeks feel flushed.

  "So this is sitting," she murmured.

  "Yup."

  "Nice."

  "Yup."

  It had been a night much like this one three years before. A lazy summer night fraught with possibilities. If she turned to him now, he'd kiss her. And did she want that?

  Lisa thought that yes, she probably did. But could she do it? Could she really throw away the past three years and pretend they'd never happened? Forget about Terry who certainly deserved better?

  She was saved from deciding when Deacon spoke. "That day in my office when you were looking for your purse? Why didn't you search for it?"

  Now she could look at him. With words between them, it would be easier to stop herself from giving in to the crazy desires flashing through her head.

  "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.

  Chapter 8

  * * *

  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."