she should’ve made it a point to find out why D.J. and Dax had always seemed civilly distant with each other, even if they’d hung out with the same group. She’d just assumed that, even with the subtle tension between them, they still had a bond, like siblings were supposed to. In her experience, she’d enjoyed a close, if sometimes strained, relationship with her own much older sister and, true to naive form, Allaire had assumed that was how it was for most families.
But after marrying Dax, she couldn’t remember ever hearing the brothers talk on the phone or seeing them exchange an e-mail—not until their dad died, anyway. And even then their communication had been brief and to the point.
A couple of times, she’d asked Dax to elaborate, but he’d told her that he and D.J. were men, and how many men spent hours on the phone gabbing to each other? With a heavy feeling, she hadn’t pursued the subject. Her marriage was already weak at that point, and this was the least of their issues.
However, now wasn’t the time for pursuing the truth with D.J., either, so she caught up with him, bumping against his arm as a tacit way of saying she understood that he wanted to drop the subject.
The second she felt the hard muscle, even through his coat and her suit, Allaire’s skin came alive. Heat zinged through her chest, downward, zapping neglected areas and settling there.
She crossed her arms, wishing the sensations would go away. Wishing they would stay.
Soon, the two of them came to the gym, which was already chained shut. Even so, she seized the chance to look through a window, just as she had at the cafeteria when she’d been searching for anything to avoid the confusion D.J. was conjuring inside of her.
He came up behind her. She could feel the warmth of him, feel his breath stroking the back of her exposed neck.
“Old Mr. Ozzel,” she said, referring to the elderly custodian who was dust-mopping the gym’s shiny wooden floor. “Remember him?”
D.J.’s laugh softly chopped through Allaire. Her nape tingled, prickling the rest of her skin to goose bumps.
What was happening here?
“How could I forget him?” D.J. asked. “That night when you and I were leaving late because of a journalism deadline? Ozzel thought we were up to no good, wandering the halls with a mind to vandalize, so he hid himself and then yelled that we needed to scram or he’d ‘git us.’”
Allaire laughed, even though, at the time, she’d been scared of getting in trouble. Such a good girl. “We didn’t know it was Mr. Ozzel at first, so I ran, and you came after me because I was escalating the situation. He was fast on your tail, waving his mop. But he wouldn’t have caught us if you hadn’t come to your senses and turned around to make peace with him.” She laughed. “You were so well mannered, D.J., even in the face of catastrophe.”
She remembered it all now. D.J. the peacemaker, the levelheaded nice guy who smoothed out each and every hairy situation.
Except, obviously, his own home life….
“I tell you,” she said, her old affection for him feeling new again, “Mr. Ozzel became your number-one fan that night when you handled everything so…how did he say?”
“So like a wise sorcerer who’s out to calm a fire-breathing dragon. Ozzel was way into his fantasy novels.”
“That remains the same.” She smiled, still facing away from D.J. It gave her the courage to voice what she said next. “I think Mr. Ozzel wanted to marry you off to his daughter because you were such a catch. A lot of the girls thought so, too. Just how is it that you managed to avoid being roped in by someone in Atlanta, D.J.?”
She heard his breathing hitch, and heat lined her belly.
Turning her head slightly, still not looking at him, she fished some more. “You did date there.”
Shame on her for asking, but she wanted to know. Needed to know for some indefinable reason.
He cleared his throat, sending a cascade down her body.
“You first, nosey,” he said.
“All right.” No biggie. “I haven’t had much interest in ‘playing the game,’ as Tori might say, since the divorce.”
At his silence, she continued. “I know, I know, I need to start, but…I’m not enthused about trying. Not right now.”
He waited, as if anticipating that she would go on. But there was nothing to add. Zip. Bo-o-o-oring.
At that moment, Mr. Ozzel saw her peering through the window, and he raised a hand from the handle of his dust mop and waved.
She returned the gesture. “And you, Romeo?”
In spite of her flippancy, his voice lowered. “I dated all right. But there was never…anyone.”
“Anyone?” Clam up, Allaire. It’s not really any of your business.
“What can I say?” He laughed, but it sounded almost too jovial. “No one could ever measure up to you, Allaire.”
Her heartbeat yanked and tangled, blood stopping in its flow, leaving her light-headed. But was it because she hadn’t wanted D.J. to say something so blunt?
Or because she had?
When he laughed again, less forcefully this time, she turned all the way around, coming face-to-chest with him. She raised her chin to look up at her old friend, just to see if he was truly joking around.
Time suspended in suddenly thickened air. A flash of something—what?—filled his dark gaze, and his lips parted as if to speak.
Allaire found herself holding her breath, eyes widening. Instinct told her that he was about to turn her world on its ear, and she didn’t know if she could withstand the change. Not after she’d failed so miserably in her first marriage, not after she’d disappointed herself—and her family—so spectacularly.
Besides, this was D.J. D.J.—the one guy who would never threaten her heart.
As if reading her, D.J. pressed his lips together, then averted his gaze as he backed away, hands stuffed in his coat pockets.
Breathless, Allaire couldn’t move for a moment. What had that been about?
Did she even want to know?
She didn’t think so. More than anything, she wanted a friend again. She’d missed his companionship so much, and now she had the opportunity to reclaim it.
He headed back to her classroom, shoulders stiff. Luckily, two of Allaire’s colleagues strolled past, breaking the tension with cheerful good-nights and see-you-tomorrows.
By the time they got back to her room, D.J. had loosened up. She almost would’ve guessed nothing had transpired back at the gym doors but for the way her heart was still jammed in her throat.
At the threshold of her closed door, he sent her a very D.J.-like grin: soothing, sweet. The type of smile moms and dads all over the heartland loved to see on the faces of a neighborhood
