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But she wondered about his comment all day long. Not to mention their kiss.
JACK SPENT THE AFTERNOON out of the area, visiting some of his late father’s properties in nearby towns. They were mostly rentals, small tract houses for young families. His father hadn’t been a slumlord, but some of the buildings were old and in need of repair. The agent who was handling the sales told him he’d take care of it.
When he got back to Pleasantville that afternoon, he found the duplex empty. Kate’s SUV was not parked outside. She’d probably gone back to her cousin’s place on Lilac Hill, which was the reason Jack decided not to go to his mother’s house.
He told himself he wasn’t avoiding her. No, he was just trying to avoid temptation. He hadn’t been kidding in the kitchen when he’d said he wanted things to change between them once they got back to Chicago. That day couldn’t come soon enough for him, particularly after that kiss they’d shared.
He had also been fully aware of her desire for him. Hell, she’d worn it as if it were perfume, oozing from her every pore. So staying away from her seemed to be the smart choice.
Needing something to do, he remembered Rose’s request for help at the Rialto. He’d developed a real affection for the old theater, particularly since the day he’d met Kate. Changing into some old clothes, he drove downtown and pulled up outside the Rialto.
Right behind a silver SUV.
Drive away. Of course he didn’t. Seeing her might be foolish, since he already spent way too much of his time thinking about her, but he parked and got out of his truck, anyway.
As he entered the building he heard loud music blaring from a boom box and saw a pair of bare legs, complete with paint-speckled sneakers, dangling from a scaffold. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, recognizing the curve of Kate’s calves.
He realized he probably should not have startled her only after he saw her drop the paintbrush. Right toward his head.
A quick step back saved his skull, but not his shorts.
“Jack,” she cried as the brush careened down his leg, leaving squishy beige marks in its path.
“I’m really sorry,” she muttered. She shimmied on her hands and knees across the wood plank of the scaffolding, doing very interesting things to her black gym shorts. Well, black and beige gym shorts, considering all the paint stains.
She reached the built-in metal ladder on the side of the scaffold and swung around to it. Not wanting her to drop anything else—including herself—Jack went over and steadied her as she descended.
“Did you get any paint on the walls?” he asked her, looking down at her speckled clothes. And her skin. Not to mention her face and hair. “You are a complete mess.”
“That’s what long showers are for.”
Oh, great. Kate was taking another long shower. Maybe he should just shoot himself now.
Looking around the empty lobby, he said, “You here alone?”
She nodded. “Miss Rose and her brother were here when I arrived. They were just getting ready to go for a dinner break, but said if I wanted to I could keep working on this wall.”
Jack followed her gaze and looked at the interior wall that she’d been painting. It extended up all the way to the top of the open, two-story lobby. Where Kate had been working, he saw a big circle of paint. “Didn’t anyone teach you to do the trim first?”
“Since you’re the construction genius, why don’t you do it?” She bent, grabbed another brush and tossed it to him. Though not paint covered, the brush was wet and as he caught it on the bristle-side, it oozed beige-tinged water between his fingers.
“Nice,” he said as he shook the moisture off. “I think you’ve been selling body paint at your store too long. This kind doesn’t come off so easily.”
She stepped closer, a laugh on her lips. “Oh, so you’re saying I shouldn’t do…this?” She lifted her completely white hand and cupped his cheek.
He cringed, then realized he didn’t feel moisture against his skin. “If that paint on your hand had been wet, I’d be turning you over my knee and spanking you right now.”
Her eyes widened. “Oooh, sounds kinky. I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing.”
