Convicted Read online

  "Doesn't know what?" Deacon's grip wasn't painful, but it was tight. If she tugged, he might let her go, but Lisa stayed where she was. "That we dated? Or that we were going back to my house to make love for the first time that night?"

  "He doesn't know that." She could smell him, the light scent of soap and musk. Of sexual attraction. She felt her own tongue sweep her lips and was rewarded by the sight of his gaze riveted on her mouth. "I never told him. He knows we dated, yes, but he thinks it was just casual. That we only went out a few times. That...that I didn't like you very much."

  "And is that true?" Deacon asked.

  "No," Lisa replied.

  "No?"

  She wanted to answer him. Wanted to tell him the truth. She had never told him that she loved him. To tell him now, three years after her love had been snuffed out like a flame in the wind, would be foolish. More than foolish, idiotic. If she hadn't told him when she'd been willing to give him her body, why on earth would she do so now?

  So, instead, she just repeated her answer. "No."

  "And now?"

  Thinking of Terry had broken the spell. Lisa pulled away and Deacon let her go. She bent to the soggy paper bag and tossed it into the trash pail.

  "There is no now," she said. "Whatever we had ended three years ago. I need to get back to the office."

  Without waiting to see if he'd join her, Lisa turned and went back to her car.

  * * * *

  Having Lisa avoid him was worse than having her jump when he spoke to her, but having to watch her get pawed by that blue-suited monkey made Deacon want to puke. If turning around and walking the other way wouldn't have been so obvious, he'd have done it. Instead, he was stuck trying to squeeze past them into the tiny lunch room.

  "Hey, Campbell," Hewitt said, with a grin the size of Montana. He draped his arm across Lisa's shoulders, rubbing the bare skin with his fingers.

  "Terry," Deacon said with a nod. He headed for the pop machine, jingling the coins in his pocket. With any luck, they'd be gone by the time he finished microwaving his leftover meatloaf.

  He heard the scrape of chairs on the linoleum floor. So much for them leaving. Deacon grabbed the can of pop out of the machine and popped the button on the microwave. He could put his plastic food container inside and manipulate all the buttons without turning around, but he couldn't stay facing the wall forever.

  Since their last conversation at the park, the only communication he'd had with Lisa was through inter-office memo, email and an occasional voice mail message which she was always certain to leave after she knew he'd gone for the day. Three weeks was a long time for partners on a project to go without physically seeing each other, especially in a work area as close as The Garden Shadd. In fact, he wasn't quite certain how Lisa had managed it, except with perseverance and dogged stubbornness. She was deliberately avoiding him without compromising the project.

  "Here, babe," he heard Hewitt say. Lisa murmured something in reply, and Terry laughed. "So? We'll ask him to join us."

  Bastard. Deacon gritted his teeth, knowing Hewitt had it in for him. The microwave dinged and he pulled out the steaming meatloaf, then slipped in the small container of mashed potatoes. One more task to keep him busy while they talked about him behind his back. Of course, he could turn around and they could talk about him to his face, but that wasn't an attractive option.

  For the past three weeks, he'd had a lot of time to think. Knowing Lisa was in the same building, even if he never saw her, meant a lot of his thinking was about her. It was a waste of time. She'd made her feelings, or lack of them, clear enough. Surprisingly, Deacon found accepting what they'd had was in the past also left him with one other feeling toward her–forgiveness.

  "So, Campbell," Hewitt said, loudly enough Deacon couldn't pretend not to hear him even over the noisy microwave. "What's for lunch today?"

  "Meatloaf," Deacon said, turning just enough to show the other man the container. "And mashed potatoes."

  "Sounds great," Lisa's boyfriend said with false heartiness. "You must be quite a cook."

  Deacon could see where this was going, all right. "My mom made it."

  "Your mom?" Hewitt's voice sounded like he was trying not to laugh. "Oh, that's right. You still live at home."

  Like he was some adolescent boy, Deacon thought, his annoyance growing. "Yeah. For now. Mom likes the company."

  "Sure," Hewitt said.

  At last the food was hot, and Deacon had no more excuses for not facing them. He gathered his lunch and headed for the door. Hewitt stopped him with an invitation.

  "There's plenty of room here," Hewitt said, indicating the table. "I'm sure Lisa wouldn't mind sharing."

  Lisa gave Hewitt a glare of such heat and magnitude Deacon was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of it. Hewitt, though, seemed too dense to know when he was treading on thin ice with her. Deacon hoped the man found the games he was playing with Deacon worth the price he'd have to pay with Lisa.

  "Not at all," Lisa said, her eyes flashing. "Deacon, sit down."

  It wasn't a request. It was a command. Deacon sat, bemused, his anger toward Hewitt turning into pity. The man had no clue. It didn't make watching him touch Lisa any easier to stomach, but at least Deacon might have the chance to see her cut the other man down. If she got angry enough, and if Terry kept picking at her, she was going to blow up.

  Hewitt popped open a clear container of strawberries and laid them out on a paper plate. He picked one up and offered it to Lisa, who reached to take it. Hewitt shook his head and popped it into her mouth for her.

  Lisa's cheeks turned nearly the same color as the fruit. "Thank you," she said in a strangled voice.

  "How's the new project coming along?" Hewitt asked. "Lisa tells me the children's garden is going to be great. She says your designs are perfect."

  Ah. So Hewitt is jealous. Deacon gave Lisa a glance, but she was concentrating on her salad. She'd said his designs were perfect? "Without Lisa's input, the garden wouldn't be half as good."

  She looked up at him. "But it's Deacon's idea for the water garden and interactive fountain that'll really make it something spectacular."

  Now Hewitt was looking from Deacon to Lisa and he didn't look happy. Apparently, Officer Friendly didn't like not being in control of the situation. "Yeah?"

  "It's pretty amazing how much you can accomplish on paper," Deacon said. "Lisa's great about leaving a paper trail. Heck, I don't think I've actually seen her in three weeks, but she keeps coming up with fantastic ideas."

  She had the good grace to blush again. "Sometimes it's easier for partners to work together if they're not breathing down each other's necks."

  Deacon sat back in his chair. "Eventually what's on the paper has to go in the ground."

  She forked her salad, but didn't bite it. "Then the project will be over, and we can put it in the past. We'll never have to think about it again."

  "Are you kidding?" Deacon asked her. "We'll think about it every time we see it. It'll never be in the past."

  "Once something is over, it's over," Lisa said firmly, stabbing at her lunch again.

  Her boyfriend kept looking at her, then Deacon. He might not be the brightest crayon in the box when it came to Lisa's moods, Deacon thought, but he was smart enough to see the conversation was about more than just the children's garden. Terry's face darkened into a scowl.

  "Just because something ended," Deacon said quietly, "doesn't mean you can't ever think about it again."

  Her fork clattered against the side of her bowl. This time Lisa managed to get the food into her mouth. She chewed furiously.

  "Sometimes thinking too much about the past means you don't spend enough time thinking about the future." Hewitt was good at sounding menacing, but Deacon wasn't scared.

  Was the man talking to him or to Lisa? Lisa seemed to think the words were directed at her because she swallowed heavily. She took a drink before answering, a tactic even Deacon could see was meant to delay her