“Ice cream?” Bette asked, cradling the phone to her ear as she signed for a Fed Ex package.

“Dont tell me you dont like ice cream,” Tina said.

“No, I like ice cream. But I was hoping that maybe youd consider something a little moreromantic,” Bette said, tossing the envelope onto her desk and continuing to pace around her office.

“How about ice cream…and a movie?”

“How about cold take out food sitting untouched in the cartons and a trail of clothes back to the bedroom?” Bette thought to herself. But out loud, she said, “Okay.”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll pick you up at noon.”

“I actually have a thingy in the morning and I wont be done until closer to one. Does that work?”

“I dont know. Ice cream requires fairly rigid scheduling,” Bette said.

“Ill make it worth your while,” Tina replied, her voice breathy. “Ill get you jimmies.”

Bette felt the familiar tug of want deep in her belly. She could imagine Tina sitting behind her desk, a Cheshire smile on her face as she lazily twined locks of that golden hair around her long, lovely fingers. This woman was making her absolutely crazy. Totally, wonderfully, deliciously crazy. Everything about her was intoxicating, and all Bette could think of was the next high, the next buzz, the next time she could see, smell, touch Tina Kennard. It had only been a few weeks and Bette was already in the red zone on the infatuation scale. If this kept up, she was going to have to admit that her feelings were on another scale altogether.

But try as she might to woo Tina out for an endless evening of candlelight and Cabernet, their dates so far had all been more safe than steamy. Walks in the park. Lunches at crowded restaurants. An afternoon of gallery hopping. And now, ice cream. Bette was determined to let Tina set the pace. Which meant no pushing to advance her own agenda. But it was getting more and more difficult with each lingering embrace, each scorching kiss, each flicker of desire that Bette saw in Tinas eyes. Bette shook her head and sighed.

“Well, if youre willing to spring for jimmies, the least I could do is be flexible. Whats your thingy, anyway?”

“ItsumIm meeting a friend. We have kind of a standing date,” Tina said.

The little stumble in Tinas response went unmentioned. But not unnoticed. Neither did her use of the word, date.

“I could join you,” Bette said casually. “Id like to meet your friends.”

“Maybe next time, okay? This is kind of atwo-person deal. And Devons shy.”

“Devon? So your friend is a he?”

Bette could hear voices and background noise coming from Tinas end of the phone.

“Bette, Im sorry. The sky is falling over here”Ive got to run,” Tina said, her tone suddenly brisk.

“Wait! Where should I pick you up tomorrow?”

“The Community Alliance Center on Santa Monica. Do you know it?”

“Ill find it. See you then.”

“Ill be out front,” Tina said hurriedly, and then there was nothing but a dial tone.

Bette replaced the receiver in its cradle but kept pacing. Devon. Devon. She was sure Tina had never mentioned anyone named Devon. Darren, yes. And Diane. Both friends from work. But who the ***** was Devon? And what was their standing-date-two-person-thingy that she hadnt been invited to join. Bette stopped pacing, frozen in mid-stride. “*****,” she realized. “Im jealous.”

So it was accidentally on purpose that Bette arrived at The Community Alliance Center at 12:30. Well before she was supposed to be there. For in addition to being jealous, Bette was also curious. Was this guy an ex-lover? Some jilted boyfriend begging for another chance? It wasnt that she didnt trust Tina. More that she didnt trust anyone else where Tina was concerned.

Bette was greeted by raucous laughter when she pushed through the double glass doors of the three-story building, and she looked up in time to see a breathless woman in her 20s jogging down the hallway after half a dozen rambunctious children.

“Are you here for the basketball game?” The woman asked, grinning and pushing unruly brown curls back from her forehead.

“Uhno. Im here to meet a friend. Tina Kennard. Do you have any idea where she is?” Bette asked.

“Tina? Sure. Shes down the hall with Devon. They should be finishing up by now though. You can go back if you want. Its the last room on the left, right after the giraffe.”

Bette smiled and nodded, and the woman headed off to rejoin her group.

“After the giraffe?” Bette said to herself, wandering in the direction shed been given. But by the time she got farther down the hall, she understood. A life-size mural of a giraffe covered the better part of one of the walls, and Bette stood smiling up at the doe-eyed mammoth. The artwork was clearly the product of young hands and eager brushes, and a dozen or more lopsided signatures were scrawled across the bottom of the painting, claiming it. As she stood there, Bette could hear a conversation coming from one of the open doors.

“Do we have time for one more Tina? Just one?” Someone was asking. Someone very young.

“One more. But then I have to go, okay? Your mom is going to think I forgot my watch,” came the reply.

Bette followed the voices until she was right outside the room. There, sitting cross-legged on a brightly colored hand-hooked rug, was an adorable little boy of about 6 and his gorgeous tutor.

“Which one do you want to hear?”

“The moose one!” Devon called out, a 1,000-watt smile lighting up his face.

“Again? The moose one again? You always pick that one!” Tina said, feigning incredulity.

But she handed him the picture book hed chosen, and he settled in close to her, turning the pages as she read him the story. When Tina finished the last page, Devon began to applaud, and he was quickly joined by another fan standing in the doorway.

Tina looked up, startled at first, then embarrassed.

“Whos that lady?” Devon asked, warily assessing Bette.

“Thats my friend Bette. Bette, this is Devon,” Tina said.

Bette walked towards them, extending her hand to the child for a formal grown up shake. And then, turning to Tina, she kissed her very, very gently.

“Ewwww. Im never going to kiss a girl,” Devon said adamantly.

“I used to think that, too. But when you get older, you might change your mind,” Tina said, still looking into Bettes face.

As they walked out the front door and got into the car, Bette reached for Tinas hand and squeezed it. “How long have you been volunteering there?”

Tina shrugged. “A while, I guess. Couple of years.”

“Why didnt you tell me? About Devon?”

“I dont know. Itdoesnt seem like the kind of thing you talk about.”

“I want you to talk to me about everything. What you think, what you feel, whats important to you. It matters, Tina. You matter to me.”

“You were jealous, werent you? On the phone yesterday?” Tina asked after a moment, cocking her head, smiling.

“Not in some chest-beating, Neanderthal way. But in my own calm, mature, reasonable way? Yes. I was jealous. A little bit,” Bette said.

“Only a little, huh?”

“How about that ice cream?” Bette said, looking over the top of her sunglasses at her grinning girlfriend.