Convicted Read online

  "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."

  She didn't want him to go--not now. Lisa glanced around the room quickly. She had to admit that along with the way he made her feel, she also didn't really want to be alone.

  "Please stay," she said. "We could watch a movie or something. We did say we wanted to start over, right?"

  She must not have been doing such a bad job of being winsome because she saw him waver. Lisa offered more incentive.

  "I've got popcorn," she said. "We can even pop it in oil and add real butter."

  "Damn, woman," Deacon said in a false but charming twang. "You know how to tempt a man."

  "There's a Star Trek marathon on cable," she continued, making him laugh and throw up his hands.

  "Sold!" Deacon shook his head at her. "Though how you can possibly convince me that watching Captain Kirk is better than kissing you, I don't know."

  His teasing made warmth curl again in her belly. Lisa grinned. "Me neither."

  "Are you sure you want me to stay?"

  "Yes." She was sure. Not about what might happen later if their hands kept touching in the popcorn bowl because she couldn't begin to think about that now. But about wanting him to stay, to keep her company, to stop her from feeling like she had to keep looking over her shoulder... Yes, about that she was certain.

  "I'll make the popcorn."

  He followed her to the kitchen while she puttered with a pan and some oil. Lisa turned the electric burner on medium and began the search for the popcorn kernels. She normally kept them in the cupboard behind the peanut butter.

  "I know I have some," she said aloud, running her hands along the back of the cupboard. A small twinge of alarm pricked at her. Was this going to be another disappearing act?

  "Maybe it's in the pantry," Deacon suggested. "That's where my mother keeps hers."

  Lisa shook her head. "I never put anything in the pantry. The shelves are loose. The last owner didn't use molly bolts to secure anything in this house. I had to redo my entire closet because the shelves pulled right out of the wall. I've been too busy to get around to fixing the ones in the pantry."

  "Maybe your sister--"

  "Al doesn't eat popcorn," Lisa said. "Popcorn takes too long to count."

  She told him that matter-of-factly, still searching the cupboards, and was surprised to hear him laugh loudly.

  "What?" Deacon said. "It takes too long to count?"

  Turning, she realized how strange that sounded. "She counts everything. Food has to be in even numbers. The thermostat has to be on even numbers only. Things like that."

  What had been a quirk now sounded, when spoken to a non-family member, freaky. Deacon frowned when he saw she wasn't kidding. Lisa paused to turn off the burner, not wanting the oil to catch fire.

  "That's weird," Deacon said.

  "I know."

  "Lisa," Deacon said. "That's...that's not right. Has she ever had help for that?"

  "Are you saying my sister's crazy?" Lisa snapped, though the thought had crossed her mind more than once. But to hear a stranger say it rankled. "Allegra's just...special."

  Appalled to hear her mother's words fly out her own mouth, Lisa went to the pantry. "She's not crazy."

  "I didn't say crazy," Deacon called from behind her.

  Lisa pulled the pantry door open all the way and fumbled for the chain that would turn on the light fixture. She couldn't find it. It got stuck around the fixture sometimes if the last person to turn off the lights had let it go too quickly.

  The pantry was long and narrow, and lined with shelves that made the space even tighter. Normally, Lisa never ventured beyond the first section of shelving since anything she usually used was kept there. In fact, before today, she hadn't even paid much attention to what was on the other shelves.

  She stretched up as high as she could, trying to reach the cord that had tangled around the base of the light fixture. She simply wasn't tall enough. She went out to the kitchen and grabbed one of the chairs.

  Only by standing on it was she able to at last reach the chain and tug it. Instantly, light blared into her eyes, blinding her. With a cry, Lisa stumbled off the chair, shielding her face.

  "You okay?" Deacon asked from behind her. He moved the chair out of the way.

  Lisa nodded, wiping at her eyes. She blinked away the glare. "The light got in my eyes."

  Deacon let out a slow whistle. "Then I guess you haven't seen this."

  Lisa looked past the first section of shelving to the back of the narrow pantry. What she saw made her stomach drop and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A sudden chill swept over her.

&n