Convicted Page 14

  "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
bsp; Every shelf, from floor to ceiling, had been filled with canned goods. What made it an odd sight was the choice of goods and the way they were arranged, as well as how they'd been altered. Every can, from the simplest tomato soup to strange things like marinated fennel, had been marked with what appeared to be black permanent marker.

  As Lisa stepped closer, she saw the markings were not random. Letters had been blacked out--sometimes a few in a row and others every other one. Any face on any label had been carefully colored in, too. Each can had been lined up perfectly, edge to edge, and all of them, no matter the contents, were exactly the same height.

  "Oh, my God," Lisa muttered, craning her head to see up to the top shelf. "They're all like this?"

  "Do you think your sister did this?"

  "Who else?" Lisa shuddered. "Let's get out of here."

  She pushed past him and back into the safety and brightness of the kitchen. A sour taste had collected in the back of her throat. She went to the sink and began washing her hands rapidly, uncertain as to why.

  "Lisa." Deacon's voice was calm and his hands on her shoulders warm as he turned her to face him.

  Water splashed between them, wetting the front of his shirt. Lisa looked at her hands and bit her lip. What was happening to her?

  "Allegra is special," she whispered. Hot tears stung her eyes and she could not fight them. "Oh, God, Deacon, what's wrong with my sister?"

  "I don't know," Deacon said. "I wish I could tell you, Lisa."

  "I need to talk to my parents again," Lisa said. She was aware of Deacon steering her toward one of the kitchen chairs, and she let him lead her there. Sitting felt good since her legs had gone numb. "They need to see this."

  Deacon chafed her hands. Lisa felt like her head was a balloon, barely tethered to the rest of her body. She'd always known her sister was different. She'd just never had to face how much.

  "That must've taken hours of work," Deacon said reflectively.

  "And I never had any idea," Lisa told him, forcing herself to focus. "I never paid any attention to the back of the pantry. Those cans could've been in there for years and I never would've known."

  "At least she's out of here," Deacon said with quiet vehemence.

  The intensity of his reply startled her. "You've never liked her, have you?"

  He had the grace to look away for a moment before meeting her gaze square on. "Frankly, no. Your sister has always been a pain in the ass."

  "That's no reason to assume she's..." Lisa could not bring herself to say "crazy." "No reason to enjoy it if there's something seriously wrong with her."

  She heard the sharp edge of anger in her voice and wanted to soften it. She turned her palms upward so his fingers could entwine with hers. The gesture steadied and calmed her.

  "She's still my sister," Lisa said. "No matter what."

  "How sweet." Terry spoke from the doorway. His handsome face twisted into a grimace as he caught sight of their clasped hands.

  Lisa's first instinct was to pull away from Deacon's grasp, but his tight hold refused to let her. Still, she managed to wriggle her fingers out of his. Terry saw the struggle and his eyes flickered to hers. They held no humor.

  "Sorry to interrupt," he said coldly, turning.

  "Terry," Lisa said, wanting to bury her head in her hands. Wanting this all to be a nightmare she could simply wake from at the sound of her alarm clock. "Wait."

  He did turn, his back stiff and his face set into a cold and stony mask. He refused to look at Deacon, instead pinning his gaze on Lisa with an intensity designed to make her squirm. Deacon, too, was looking at her. Judging her. They both were judging her, waiting for her reaction. Waiting, she supposed, to see whom she'd choose.

  "I came to talk to you," Terry said. "I tried calling earlier, but you weren't answering."

  Another one who came over even when he thought she must not be home. Lisa frowned. "I was at my parents' house."

  His face, as his look flickered briefly to the back of Deacon's head, told her he didn't believe her. Lord only knew what Terry was imagining had kept her from answering the phone, but she could guess that he was blaming Deacon. Lisa heaved a mental sigh at the posturing of men.

  "I only got home awhile ago," she continued. She didn't think it a good idea to mention Deacon had been with her for most of that time.

  "What about him?" Terry asked anyway, jerking his head toward Deacon.

  Deacon's shoulder's stiffened and he turned his head to face Terry. "I got here awhile ago, too."

  Of course he didn't mention he'd done the same thing Terry had, Lisa thought, watching the two men face off like billy goats butting heads over a nanny goat. Suddenly, she was tired of it all. She felt like a piece of meat caught between two very hungry and determined lions, and she had other things to worry about.

  "Terry, this isn't the time," she said. "I've got some problems I need to take care of."

  "And one of them is sitting at the table with you," Terry said. His hands fisted at his sides.

  Deacon pushed away from the table slowly, stretching to his full height. Though both men were about the same height, Terry was more heavily muscled and Deacon, leaner. Deacon carefully pushed his chair back in before speaking.

  "You got a problem with me?" Deacon asked.

  "You know I do," Terry said.

  "Why don't we let Lisa decide then?" Deacon said. Unlike Terry, whose anger was clearly stamped in every outline of his body, Deacon's stance seemed almost casual. Lisa wasn't fooled. She could see the flash of his eyes. They were going to fight like school boys if she didn't intervene.

  All at once, Lisa no longer had the patience to deal with either one of them. She got up from the table, not bothering to push her chair in. Her head swam with thoughts of her sister.

  "Get out, both of you," she said sternly. Both men swung to look at her, near-identical and comical expressions of surprise on their faces. "I don't have time for this."

  "But Lisa--" Terry began.

  "Lisa--" Deacon said at the same time.

  "No," Lisa cried, shaking her head at both of them. "I've got too much to worry about without you two making asses of yourself in my kitchen. Get out! Deacon, I'll see you at work tomorrow. Terry, I'll call you when I'm ready to talk to you."

  She could see both of them wanting to protest even more, but she fixed each of them with a glare so fierce it made her eyes hurt. "Leave me alone!"

  They scattered like leaves before her fury and did as she asked. Only when she was alone in the kitchen did Lisa sit back down to the table and cradle her head in her hands. Try as she might, she could not forget the sight of all those cans. She would have to talk to her parents, to convince them they needed to seek help for their youngest daughter.

  The problem was, Lisa thought, how was she going to do that?

  Chapter 11

  * * *

  Deacon didn't mind working late when he fell behind on the job. What irritated the hell out of him was having to work late because of someone else's problems. After discovering the bizarre arrangement of cans in her pantry, Lisa had convinced her parents Allegra needed serious help.

  Unfortunately for him, that meant Lisa had been out of the office for a few days dealing with the problem. He could handle most of the project himself, but now things were coming to a close and she needed to be there.

  At least staying after hours meant he got to spend some time alone with Lisa, who was back on the job. She'd refused his offers to take her out, saying she needed some time to herself. I get to see her at work, which was more than Terry can claim, Deacon thought smugly. He watched Lisa flip through the order books at his desk and couldn't hold back a grin. They might not be painting the town red every night, but he was with her.

  "What are you grinning about?" Lisa had turned and caught him in the act.

  "Just thinking how pretty you look." It wasn't really a lie. He always thought that.

  Lisa rolled her eyes. "I don't feel pretty. I feel gr
ubby."

  They'd spent the day on-site taking only a short break for lunch and grabbing supper to eat back at the office. The Garden Shadd's bid had guaranteed the work would be finished by the end of the summer, and August had already begun. They would finish on time, but only if there were no more delays.

  Deacon tugged at her hand until she consented to sit down next to him. "You look beautiful to me."

  She sighed, not easily persuaded. "I'm sorry we're so behind. If I hadn't had to take that time off to go with my folks..."

  "You had to do what's right," Deacon said. "You always do."

  She looked at him, and he could tell she was remembering her testimony and how it had affected him. "Sometimes doing what's right is so hard."

  "But you do it anyway," he told her, tilting her chin up with one finger.

  "It wasn't even worth it." She turned her face away. "The doctors declared Allegra in perfect health. She passed all their tests. And I ended up looking like the crazy one. My parents think I'm just jealous and Allegra refuses to talk to me."

  "You should've shown them the cans," Deacon said. "That would have convinced them."

  She looked surprised. "Didn't I tell you? The shelves in the pantry collapsed after you and Terry left. All the cans fell down."

  "They were still marked."

  Lisa shook her head, looking tired. "Once they were all over the floor, they didn't look any stranger than if they'd come from the bang and dent store. Whatever was so intense about them being all lined up that way just got lost." She shrugged. "Besides, at that point, my parents weren't willing to listen to anything I had to say on the matter. I just threw them all away. It's not my problem any more."

  He didn't believe she really felt that way. The bluish circles under her eyes told him she wasn't sleeping well.

  Lisa shrugged again, changing the subject. "Let's get back to work, okay?"

  She tried to turn back to the pile of work orders, but he stopped her. "You want to talk about it?"

  She shook her head, but her shoulders heaved. "Maybe I really am the one with problems."