Four Kisses by Bonnie Dee Page B

slick floor. She hadn’t seen Drake Malinson since their day in court three years before when she’d presented the plea bargain to the judge. He would have gotten out fairly recently, unless he’d been released earlier for good behavior.

    “Drake. How are you?” She stood and held out her hand. Even now--how many years later?--memories darted through her mind like a nervous school of fish as he took her hand and shook it.
    “Much better than the last time you saw me. Thanks for what you did.”
    “Just negotiated a lighter sentence, that’s all.”
    “No, that’s not all.” He didn’t say anything more but she felt his appreciation. It was more potent than someone else’s effusive “thank yous” might have been. Drake always could say a lot with few words.
    She felt her cheeks burning. Why was gratitude often harder to accept than criticism? “I’m glad you’re doing well. How long have you been out?”
    “A year and a half. Early parole. I’ve got a job. Don’t love it, but it’s not terrible either.”
    This was the first time she’d ever seen him in a suit. It was charcoal gray, inexpensive, but pretty sharp against his crisp white shirt. And the loosened tie around his neck added an element of casualness that was very sexy.
    “What are you doing now?” she asked.
    “You won’t believe it. Are you ready for this?”
    “Hit me.”
    “The guy most likely to live hard and die young is selling life insurance. Yeah, I’m that guy now. But I promise not to give you a sales pitch if you let me hang with you for a few minutes and watch the fish.”
    “Be my guest. Sit down,” Jen said brightly, but she wasn’t feeling it. This was her decompressing time and she didn’t really want to put forth the energy of talking to anyone, let alone Drake. Their past history was fraught with strange coincidences and unexpected moments she’d rather not revisit right now. He always managed to disturb her calm waters.
    She resumed her seat on the bench and moved her purse to make room for Drake.
    His body seemed to take up too much space, even though not so much as an arm was touching her. His mere presence was enough to suck up all the available oxygen.
    “Still like the dancing fish?” Laughter simmered in his voice.
    “It’s soothing here,” she answered. “It’s my quiet temple, a place to unwind.”
    “For me too. I come here and eat my lunch or at the end of the day to just be at rest. I’ve never been much of a talker and trying to sell shit people aren’t very interested in buying can be exhausting.” He grinned. “Drugs were way easier.”
    “I imagine. Who doesn’t like drugs?” Jen smiled back, enjoying the banter that seemed to come so effortlessly to them even when they hadn’t seen each other for several years. What was it about Drake that put her at ease and ruffled her both at the same time?
    As if intuiting her desire not to make conversation, Drake fell silent and gazed at the floor to ceiling tank in front of them. The quiet purr of pumps in the various tanks and voices in another room were all that disturbed the silence for several minutes. With someone else it would have felt awkward. With Drake, stranger though he might be after all this time, the lack of spoken words felt comfortable. Jen stared at the pretty sea creatures and allowed herself to be lulled into a meditative state.
    “I’m working for the State Attorney’s office now,” she said after some time had passed. “It felt like the right thing to do. I couldn’t see myself, year after year, defending the guilty, not as a public defender or in private practice. So I crossed over to the other side.”
    “I’m glad you were there when I needed you. Don’t ever think you didn’t do some good.” His voice was quiet. “I have changed, you know. Maybe you thought I wasn’t listening but I was.”
    She looked at his profile illuminated by the azure light. “I’m glad. I’ve always hoped for the best for you,