Convicted

by Megan Hart

  "Are you sure?" he'd asked her seriously, twisting around on his motorcycle so he could look at her. The harsh fluorescent light from the store etched his handsome face in shades of black and white. The helmet he now held in his hands had mussed his dark hair.

  She'd nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Deacon took her hand in his, brought it to his lips, kissed it. The gesture had sent a white hot bolt of fire down to her belly.

  "I can drop you off at the door, give you a peck on the cheek--"

  "Stop." She leaned forward swiftly and kissed him hard on the mouth. His tongue dipped between her lips gently, and she sat back on the motorcycle's narrow seat. "Go."

  She had not made the decision to make love with him lightly. Nor, she'd thought at the time, had he. Every date had led them to greater intimacy. Their chaste goodnight kisses on her porch had led to passionate embraces on his sofa, and it was only a matter of time before she wouldn't be able to keep from giving in to what her body demanded every time he held her in his arms.

  He'd gone inside the mini-mart, helmet in hand, to buy what she didn't normally keep in her purse--condoms. He'd come out in handcuffs. The next time she'd seen him had been in court.

  Lisa stopped abruptly, her hand on the door to her office. She couldn't go back to work. Not today. Just remembering that last kiss had made her heart start pounding. Her palms felt slick, and a small coil of fire had lit itself in her abdomen again. She shook her head, knowing it was useless to force herself back in front of the computer.

  "I'm going to run this copy to the printer and stop at the newspaper," she called into the main office. Nobody would stop her. Running the copy was a chore she did regularly.

  Once behind the wheel of her car, she stopped the trembling of her hands by gripping the steering wheel. She caught sight of her eyes in the rearview mirror, and didn't like their wild look. She took a moment to breath deeply, then smoothed her hair and moistened her lips with the stick of balm in her purse. Another few deep breaths and she was fine.

  Fine except that no matter how she tried, she couldn't forget about Deacon Campbell's kisses.

  * * * *

  What stupid, masochistic inclination had prompted him to take Doug Shadd's offer to work at The Garden Shadd? Deacon asked himself the question one more time as he parked the Road King in an employee spot and lifted off his helmet. He knew Lisa's family owned the nursery. He'd been pretty sure he'd never be hired there because of his past with her. That was why he hadn't bothered applying there, even though he had the credentials. When Doug Shadd called him last night after dinner and offered him a job, Deacon had been too surprised to say anything but yes.

  Deacon needed a job. He wanted to work with the ground, growing things and helping people realize their dreams of the perfect yard or garden. Working at The Garden Shadd would let him do that. It was the largest nursery and garden shop in the area. Why should he turn down an offer of work, just because the owner's daughter had sent him to jail for a crime he hadn't committed?

  Deacon secured his saddlebags, tightened his belt, and hooked his fingers through the helmet. He might see Lisa today or he might not. He'd better prepare himself. If he had one consolation, it was that his presence at the nursery would be as uncomfortable for her as it would be for him. Like some weird sort of revenge.

  Except that now, with one work boot poised on the edge of the concrete steps leading to the greenhouse, Deacon knew he didn't want to get back at her. He just wanted to see her. He wanted to ask her why she hadn't had enough faith in him to see beneath the helmet on the man robbing The Circle K. Why she hadn't returned his letters. Why she'd never, not once, visited him.

  "You must be Deacon," said the short plump woman potting marigolds at the long trestle table just inside the greenhouse door. She held out her hand, streaked orange and lined with dirt. He took it. "I'm Jamie. Doug told me to look for you today."

  He looked over the pots of flowers. "Do you want me to start here?"

  Jamie laughed, her double chin jiggling. "This is stuff anyone can do. No, you're going to be in the design department today. They're having the monthly meeting to go over the client list and stuff."

  He'd expected to be put to work doing the most menial jobs, and now they were waiting for him to join their meeting? He looked down at his faded and torn jeans and flannel shirt, the scuffed work boots. "I should've dressed up."

  Jamie laughed again. "You'd have been the only one. It's through that door there, down the hall and make your first left. They've taken over the lunch room today."

  "Thanks." Deacon already liked Jamie, whose plump cheeks seemed made for smiling.

  He followed her directions past a row of office doors. One opened just as he passed, and he nearly collided with the woman coming out.

  "You!" Allegra's handful of papers fluttered to the ground.

  "Hello, Allegra," Deacon said in resignation. He'd anticipated running into Lisa here. It hadn't occurred to him that Allegra might also have started working at the family business.

  Her pretty mouth curled in a sneer. "You're heading the wrong way. The safe is in the main office. But you probably know that already, don't you?"

  It took all his willpower to not react, but it was worth it to see how his lack of reaction antagonized her. Allegra jerked her head toward the papers on the floor. "Pick those up."

  Deacon did not like being told what to do. He stepped over the papers and continued down the hall. Behind him, he heard Allegra mumbling. He expected his quick glance back to show her fumbling with the papers and sending him black looks. What he saw instead made him pause.

  Lisa's sister knelt in front of the scattered pile, fists clenched. She rocked slowly as she muttered, then touched one of the papers with one finger. She jerked back as if burned. Still muttering, she touched another paper, then another, faster and faster until finally she'd touched every paper in quick succession.

  He must have made some soft sound of surprise at her actions because her head flew up. Her eyes, bright but unfocused, cleared rapidly and turned to a glare so fierce it made him physically take a step back. Allegra scooped the papers into her arms, crumpling them, and went back into her office. She slammed the door.

  Deacon had no time to wonder what all that had been about. The scene left him uneasy, though, and as he walked toward the lunchroom door, he recalled what Lisa used to say about her sister.

  "A little nuts," he said under his breath. "Yeah, that's a good description."

  He stopped just outside the lunchroom door to brace himself for what awaited him.

  "...late," Deacon heard a man say.

  "What do you expect?" Said another, and though he didn't finish the statement, Deacon knew what he meant. What do you expect...from a criminal?

  For a moment, Deacon seriously considered just turning around and walking away. He'd find work someplace else. He didn't have to work here, where at any moment he could come face to face with Lisa. Where every day he'd be working with people who'd already written him off before they even bothered to give him a chance.

  Bertha Campbell hadn't raised any quitters. Deacon might be considered the black sheep of the family because of his supposed wild ways and the trouble he'd gotten into, but he wasn't a quitter. Doug Shadd had offered him this job for a reason, and Deacon was going to make certain he proved he was worth hiring.

  He stepped through the door, clearing his throat. He already knew Doug, but the man sitting next to him at the long lunch table looked enough like him Deacon guessed it must be a son. He knew Lisa had three brothers and two sisters, and he knew only two of the brothers worked at The Garden Shadd. One of them was still in high school, which left only one choice. If only he could remember the guy's name...

  "Good morning, Doug...Kevin," Deacon said, making a guess. The faint look of surprise on Kevin's face proved he'd guessed right. Deacon held out his hand and both men stood to shake it.

  "Have a seat," Doug offered. "We're just about to get
started."

  Deacon pulled out one of the hard plastic chairs and sat down, wondering if he should have brought a pen and some paper. Both men had thick date books and pages of notes in front of them. They stared at him, equal expressions of assessment on their faces.

  "I'd like to thank you for hiring me." Deacon figured it couldn't hurt to be honest. He was at a disadvantage with them, and he knew it, but it didn't sour his mouth to say nice things with it.

  "Don't thank me." Doug waved his hand. "Thank..."

  "Sorry I'm late!"

  And there she was. Lisa, her honey-colored hair swept back today in a sleek roll at the nape of her neck. When he'd known her, she'd always worn it loose around her shoulders. Instinctively, Deacon got to his feet just as Lisa turned and saw he was there.

  Her face paled instantly. She dropped the handful of papers she'd been holding, and they scattered on the floor. She bent to retrieve them, the serviceable gray skirt she wore riding up her thighs in a way Deacon fought not to notice.

  Kevin bent down to help her, laughing at her clumsiness. "I swear, Lis, you're all thumbs."

  The brotherly teasing sent red circles flaring in her pale cheeks. Lisa scowled at him, yanking the papers from his hands and slapping them on the table. Kevin, still chuckling, raised his hands as if to ward off her blows, and took his seat again.

  When Deacon was able to tear his eyes away from her, he saw Doug watching him. The man didn't look pleased, and could Deacon blame him? If he had a daughter, and some man was looking at her the way Deacon had been... Yeah, he guessed he could see why the old man might be mad.

  "Sorry," Lisa said a little breathlessly. "I wasn't expecting... I mean..." She stopped to clear her throat, awkward silence hanging in the air like the unpleasant odor of burnt bread.

  "It's all right." This was probably a mistake. Obviously nobody had told Lisa he was going to be working here. From the nervous way she plucked at her papers and avoided his eyes, he could tell she wasn't too thrilled with the surprise either. "Maybe I should just go."

  "No," Lisa cried at the same time her father said the same word.

  With a bemused look at his frazzled daughter, Doug said it again. "No, Deacon. You're part of the team now. I took the opportunity to look over your resume and portfolio yesterday afternoon, and I'm really impressed. I think you're going to bring a lot to this meeting today. We have some new clients I think you're going to be perfect for."

  Deacon sat again. So did Lisa. Now her papers were straight, he thought she might risk a glance at him. Still nothing. She was acting like he was going to leap across the table and bite her, for crying out loud!

  "Let's get started," Doug said.

  As they discussed the regular clients' needs and went over the list of potential new business, Deacon warmed to the work. Self-confident by nature, he jumped right in with his opinions and ideas for many of the land plots shown in the photographs Doug and Kevin presented. It occurred to him at first that he might be expected to sit back and listen, but after both of the other men nodded and agreed with his thoughts, Deacon relaxed. Doug had said he was impressed with Deacon's work, despite it being three years out of date. Maybe working here wouldn't be so bad after all.

  Except for Lisa. Throughout the entire meeting she'd spoken in a monotone and studiously avoided looking at him while passing around the sheets of upcoming promotions. When his hand had accidentally brushed against hers, she'd jerked away so suddenly it was like he'd burned her.

  The meeting ended and Lisa excused herself quickly. Kevin followed her, his backward glance at Deacon just short of hostile. Deacon waited stiffly as Doug gathered his reports, not sure what he was supposed to do next.

  "Let me show you your workspace," Doug offered. "Since neither Kevin nor Lisa seems to be available."

  Deacon followed the older man through a series of short hallways and out into the greenhouse again, then among the rows of lush foliage to another door. It led to a spacious potting shed, well-lit and comfortable, with an architect's table in one corner. One set of shelves held office supplies and another gardening gloves and tools.

  "Nice," Deacon commented, looking around.

  Doug handed him the pictures and notes from the meeting. "I'll leave you to get started. If you need anything, just ask someone."

  Just like that, the older man left. Deacon stood in amazed silence, then shook his head with a grin. He hated having someone hanging over his shoulder, watching his every move, telling him what to do. This freedom was an unexpected bonus, and one he wasn't sure what to think of.

  It felt good to not be under suspicion. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime. He actually felt like whistling as he flipped through his first assignment, landscaping for a fried chicken and ice cream joint on the far side of town. It wasn't until he got up to sharpen his pencil at the wall sharpener that he noticed the small glass covered opening in the wall. Hidden as it was behind the shelves, and completely nondescript, most people wouldn't have even noticed it. For Deacon, though, who'd spent the past three years under the watchful glare of dozens of such glass eyes, he knew right away what it was.

  A surveillance camera. Apparently they didn't trust him after all.

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  Lisa bent to scratch behind Tabby's ears and let the fat orange cat rub against her legs. The cat loved when Lisa wore nylons, and would rub itself all over the slippery fabric until its fur stood up in great, bushy spikes. Usually Lisa tried to keep Tabby from underfoot, but tonight the animal's simple affection was just what she needed.

  "Oh, Tabby," Lisa sighed aloud. "What have I done?"

  How could she have forgotten Deacon would be at the meeting? Dad told her he'd called and offered Deacon the job, and that he'd be starting today. But when she'd walked into the lunch room for the design meeting and seen him... Well, they were all just lucky she hadn't lost her lunch in the lunch room.

  He hadn't changed much. Some silver threads had woven themselves into the thick darkness of his hair, which he now wore trimmed short instead of in silky lengths to his shoulders. The lines around his eyes had deepened, but the deep brown eyes themselves and the black brows, smooth and shaped liked crow's wings, were still the same. He was thinner than she'd remembered beneath the bulky flannel shirt and blue jeans.

  But he was still Deacon.

  At last Lisa nudged the cat away and shucked the pantyhose, now covered in cat fur, from her legs. "Yuck!" She tossed them directly into the kitchen trash, pulled a can of tomato juice from the refrigerator, and headed upstairs for a hot bath.

  Before she could even start the water, the phone rang. With a groan, Lisa flopped down on her bed and yanked the hand set from the cradle. "Hello?"

  "So?" Allegra's voice trilled through the phone line. "No movie tonight?"

  "I got a message from Terry on the machine," Lisa said dryly, knowing her sister would already have listened. "He had to work late. Where are you?"

  The background shrieking told Lisa the answer before Allegra spoke. "Kevin's."

  Lisa made a mental note to thank her brother. "Watching the kids?"

  Allegra snorted into the phone. "As if. I'm getting ready to come home."

  Lisa groaned silently. After coming home to the empty house, she'd been looking forward to an evening curled up on the sofa watching an old movie on TV. "Great."

  "Kevin said you looked like you were going to puke today at the meeting."

  Lisa gritted her teeth. "Kevin doesn't know everything."

  "Dad said he liked Deacon's ideas, but that he still wouldn't trust him with the cashbox."

  Now Lisa let out a garbled sound of aggravation. "Let's not talk about it, okay?"

  "Don't get your panties in a twist," Allegra said. "I'll be home in an hour. Get dressed. We're going out."

  Lisa sighed, rubbing her eyes. The bed was so soft, the covers thick and inviting. She had just put on fresh sheets, and her favorite pajamas were clean and scented from
the dryer this morning. She had the remote control all ready.

  "No."

  Allegra snorted. "I'll be home by seven-thirty."

  "I said no," Lisa cried into the phone.

  "Wear something sexy," Allegra said blithely.

  The buzz of the dial tone came next, and Lisa slammed the phone back into the cradle in frustration. Something sexy? That meant Allegra wanted to go over to Dubois and hit one of the bigger bars. Lisa was not in the mood for a thirty-minute drive just to sit around listening to throbbing dance music and fending off drunken college guys' advances.

  She just wouldn't go, that was all. She looked at the alarm clock. Six-thirty. She'd take her bath, then maybe order a hoagie from Vito's for dinner.

  Even as she ran the water, she knew it was no use. Allegra would show up at seven-thirty, always prompt when it was something she wanted to do and invariably always late when it was something she didn't. Though three years younger than Lisa, Allegra knew how to bully her older sister into doing what she wanted. Unless Lisa just wasn't home when Allegra showed up, they'd both be going to Dubois.

  That was it! Lisa sat up in the slippery claw foot bathtub, bubbles and water sloshing over the side. She wouldn't be here! Allegra wouldn't hang around to wait for her, and she could be home by nine p.m. But where to go to wait out her little sister's arrival?

  Instead of a hoagie from Vito's, she thought she might treat herself to a better dinner. The Evergreen had good specials on Friday nights, with live music that didn't make her head pound. She'd be able to get a nice, quiet table and eat her dinner, then head home in time to slip into her fresh, clean jammies under her fresh, clean covers, and go to sleep.

  That eating dinner alone and going to bed early sounded like a lonely and sad way to spend a Friday evening did not escape her. Lisa sank back beneath the scented bubbles, trying not to frown. If Terry hadn't called off their date, they'd have spent the night like they usually did. Dinner and a movie, followed by a passionless kiss at the doorstep.