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It also did not escape her that the three months she'd spent with Deacon had been more intense, more exciting, than the past three months she'd had with Terrence. Just the thought of Deacon made her stomach tighten in the hot water. Her eyes flew open, but it was too late. His face had already filled her mind. Lisa groaned and slapped at the water.
"Damn," she said aloud, in a tone that made fat Tabby turn her tufted ears in Lisa's direction. "What was I thinking?"
Urging her father to hire Deacon had seemed like such a good idea yesterday. The Garden Shadd would benefit from Deacon's expertise, and she would have expiated some of her guilt by helping him get a job. Her guilt. The problem was, she could barely look at the man without remembering their last night together, and the promise of lovemaking never fulfilled.
She groaned again and slipped completely beneath the water. It was quieter under there, so quiet she could hear the pounding of her own heart in her ears. Too bad she just couldn't stay under there forever, like returning to the womb.
The water caressed her everywhere, its touch as gentle as a lover's. Gentle as Deacon's hands would have been had they made love that night three years ago. Sputtering, Lisa shot out of the water. Wouldn't anything keep her from thinking about it?
She toweled off quickly, grateful for the chilly breeze sweeping in the open window. She needed some cooling down, all right. What on earth was wrong with her? She was acting like a jittery old maid.
Which wasn't so far off the mark, she thought morosely. She slipped into a comfortable denim skirt and her favorite cotton pullover. Lisa finished dressing and ran a comb through her wet hair, glad she'd been letting it grow so it was easier to put up. A swipe of pressed powder and a slick of lipstick and she was ready to go, but she still stared at her reflection critically.
She'd turn twenty-six in a few months, and what did she have to show for it? She still worked in her family's business, lived just a few blocks away from her parents, and wasn't married. Her boyfriend was more friend than lover, and the one man she'd thought she loved was back in town after getting out of jail.
Damn. She was thinking about him again.
* * * *
Deacon's white shirt was too tight at the neck, and the black string tie strangled him even further. Even his black pants hugged his waist too snugly for comfort, but it wasn't worth complaining about. Tom Lee would just tell him to go out and buy his own uniform instead of using the one The Evergreen provided. Since Deacon wanted to keep his job at The Evergreen until he was sure The Garden Shadd was going to work out, he'd make do.
It was a whole different world on the other side of the bar, he reflected as he watched Danny the bartender mix his drink order. Deacon had spent plenty of evenings down at the Evergreen, but always as a patron. Now that he was the one in the monkey suit dealing with slow kitchen staff and impatient customers, he had greater sympathy for wait staff everywhere.
"Kitchen backed up again?" Danny topped off the mug of Straub's and handed it to Deacon.
"All night." Deacon took the glass and put it on the ridiculously tiny tray Tom insisted they use instead of just carrying the glasses like normal human beings. "We're out of stuffed mushrooms and the lobster special is almost gone, too. It's only seven-thirty."
Danny laughed. "Gonna be a long night. Glad I'm behind the bar tonight and not waiting tables."
There were lots of dissatisfied customers, and all of them seemed to be in Deacon's section. He'd only been waiting tables for a week, and was still getting used to the elaborate system Tom Lee insisted his wait staff use. Lee thought flourishes and furbelows would add class to his kitchen's adequate but not outstanding food.
Didn't he know The Evergreen was pretty much the only game in town? Unless you wanted to take your date to The Golden Corral or Fred's Chicken and Cream, the only other choices were fast food places and a couple of pizza and hoagie joints. The Evergreen was considered a "nice" restaurant only because it had white tablecloths and matching china on the tables.
"Waiter, excuse me." A portly man waved his fork at Deacon. "My fork is dirty."
"I'll get you another one right away." Deacon thought about adding a bow and a scrape, but decided the man and his equally rotund wife wouldn't appreciate his attempt at humor.
With that potential disaster thwarted, he headed back to the kitchen to see what was holding up the rest of his orders. Before he could get there, the Evergreen's hostess, Nancy, stopped him.
"I had to put another one in your section," she said apologetically. "She's in number 23."
Deacon didn't complain. It wasn't Nancy's fault. "I'll take care of it right away."
The Evergreen's huge, multi-page menu hid everything about the woman sitting at the table except for her hands. Deacon got out his notepad and pen, pausing just long enough to smooth back his hair. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"
"Yes, I'd like a--" The woman stopped when she dropped her menu, clearly as stunned to see him as he was her. It was Lisa. "What are you doing here?"
Her question was pretty silly since she'd seen him there before. "I work here."
"But I thought you worked at--" She stopped again, as though at a loss for words.
He'd help her out a little. "I work there, too."
She nodded quickly, switching her eyes away from his. The creamy skin at the base of her throat began to flush a dull crimson visible even in The Evergreen's dim lighting.
"A drink?" Deacon asked coldly. Her reaction to him was irritating and embarrassing. What did she think he was going to do to her? She was the one who'd effectively sent him behind bars. If anyone should be upset, it should be him.
"Coke, please," she whispered.
He left the table and headed back toward the bar to get the drink. When he returned, she looked a little calmer. Then he noticed the shredded remains of a paper napkin scattered on the table. He'd had enough.
"Lisa."
She jumped. She actually jumped. Deacon frowned, looking around the restaurant to make sure nobody else was paying attention to them.
"Maybe I should switch tables with Rhonda," he said.
"No." Lisa ventured a look at him. "I'm all right."
"Do you know what you'd like to have?" He asked formally. She told him quickly, and he wrote it all down. "All right. I'll go put your order in."
"Thank you," she called after him.
She'd spoken a little too loudly, making most of the heads in that section of the dining room turn to stare at her. Then at him, which he wouldn't have minded except for the whispering that followed it. So much for anonymity. Not in this small town.
The kitchen seemed to be catching up on things, which meant Lisa's salad was ready in just a few minutes. Steeling himself for another round of awkward silence interspersed with stammering and blushing, he took it over to her table. She surprised him by speaking to him calmly.
"Deacon," she began hesitantly. "I'm sorry."
The salad bowl clattered to the table, making heads turn again. "For what?"
"For acting like such an idiot," she said. "Today in the meeting, and just now... I was being stupid. I'm sorry."
It had been too much to expect she'd apologize here, now, for being the reason he'd spent the past three years as part of a jail work crew. Did she think that just saying sorry would make things all right? Three years didn't erase so easily.
"Is there anything else I can bring you?" He asked as though she had said nothing.
She said his name again, lower this time. For the first time she met his gaze steadfastly, without twitching or turning away. "I am sorry."
The words hung in the air between them like smoke. "Can I get you anything else?"
She looked down at the salad without much interest in her eyes. "No, thanks."
Her apology rang in his ears as he checked his other tables. Extra napkins, refills on beverages, scraping crumbs off the tables between the entrée and dessert. All these things took up his actions, but no