Free Between Friends by Sandra Kitt Page B

Marco.”
    “You want to know something? Alex wanted to know about you, too. Asked a lot of questions.”
    In the process of drinking more wine, Dallas used the motion to hide her reaction. “Really?”
    Valerie looked at Dallas. “What did you think of him?”
    Dallas shifted positions, once again in an effort to disguise her response. She now sat with one leg bent beneath her, and half turned to fluff the pillow behind her back. All to avoid looking directly at Valerie.
    “There was no time to think much of anything,” she said. “What happened after I left?”
    “Alex went to look at Nick laid out,” Valerie admitted quietly. “He sat with Lillian for a long time. Finally, he said good night to her and Vin, and that was that.”
    “Except for the coffee afterward,” Dallas probed.
    “It was just coffee. Megan had ice cream. She seems to like Alex. We never even talked about Nick and I can tell you this … if Alex starts asking me out, it won’t be because of him, either.”
    Dallas drained the rest of the wine and leaned forward to set the glass on the coffee table. She wasn’t surprised that Valerie was interested in Alex Marco. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if Alex was interested in Val. But the realization made Dallas oddly defensive. And a little let down.
    “Then … he’s not married?”
    Valerie stretched, arching her back in sexy abandonment. “I don’t know.” She yawned with indifference, getting up from her chair. “I’ll have to ask him the next time I see him.”
    The next time, Dallas considered.
    “Are you going to be okay out on the sofa tonight?”
    “Do I have a choice?” Dallas asked, getting up and taking the hint from Val. “I always sleep here.”
    “That sofa is so old … I don’t know how comfortable it is.”
    “I’ll be okay. Does this mean you’re not going to tell me any more about Alex?”
    Valerie shook her head. “It means there’s nothing more to tell, and I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”
    “We used to talk until three in the morning and not worry about it.”
    “Yeah, well … that’s when we were young and didn’t have to worry about jobs, kids, or hangovers.”
    “Speak for yourself. I only had one glass of wine. I better go say good night to Megan.”
    Dallas took the two used wineglasses and left them in the kitchen sink on her way down the hall to Megan’s bedroom. The door was half-open and she knocked softly and waited to make sure her godchild was still awake before entering.
    “Can I come in?”
    “Sure.”
    It always surprised Dallas that Megan’s room was so neat and orderly. Unlike her tendency to leave things about other parts of the house, her bedroom, while filled with the necessary accoutrements of any adolescent girl, had a place for everything. Most of the room was taken up with a twin-size canopy bed, draped with an eyelet lace awning that matched the mattress skirting and window curtains. There was a small desk and chair, a red-enameled trunk Dallas knew to be filled with games and unused toys, but the top of which provided another place to sit with two toss pillows for cushions. There was a bulletin board on one wall hung with necklaces, and ribbons won for spelling bees, school track meets, a science fair, and perfect attendance the year before.
    Dallas smiled as she briefly glanced around and then approached the bed. Megan was sitting with her knees drawn up so that her thighs provided the perfect surface against which to balance her diary. She closed it, but didn’t attempt to hide it as Dallas sat on the side of the bed. She reached out and tapped the top of the book. She had given it to Megan on her last birthday the previous August.
    “I hope you’re not writing terrible things about your mother or me.”
    “Uh-uh.” Megan shook her head. “I’m writing about my boyfriend.”
    Dallas suppressed her surprise. She smiled in interest and pretended that her godchild had not just said something