Convicted Read online

  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