"Kitty Giroux?" Jack gasped.
"My name is Katherine Clifford now," she corrected. Her eyes flashed over his face before dropping to his clothes. "You really have been in a hole."
Jack looked down at himself. He was covered with gray dust and streaks of brown dirt, and his jeans had a jagged tear in one knee. He brushed his hands down his front and a small cloud formed in the air.
Jack coughed, swallowed, looked at Kitty and attempted to put some of his usual trademark charm into his reply. "Yeah, I always like to make a dramatic entrance."
"I see." Her voice seemed to have changed; maybe because he was closer to her now. That warmth, that honey-edged sexiness, was gone. Instead, her words were dry and clipped.
"Well, Mr. Taylor, I've brought some examples of my work that you may want to look through before we discuss your needs for the Delphi." He saw for the first time that she wore a tailored skirt and jacket in creamy ivory and carried a large leather portfolio. "Jack. Call me Jack, please. We went to high school together, remember?" He held out his hand again for her to shake.
Her fingers were cold and allowed only the briefest contact before she withdrew them. "I remember. Do you have a desk or a table where I can lay out my portfolio?"
This did not sound like the woman who had been talking with Oz minutes before. Invasion of the Body Snatchers, he thought, and then instantly dismissed it. In real life, responsive, laughing, sexy women didn't instantaneously get taken over by distant, businesslike aliens. It was much more likely that, after eleven months, six days, eight hours and twenty minutes, Jack Taylor had lost the knack for making women swoon at his feet.
Either that, or she was still mad at him for what had happened in high school. But prom night had been ten years ago, right?
Jack shoved his hand, which was tingling strangely from the small, chilly contact, into the back pocket of his jeans.
"Actually, I think it would be better to show you around first," he said. "The place needs a lot of plain old renovation before we start decorating it, but I want to get a designer involved as soon as possible to see what we can preserve of the period features. If you don't run screaming out into the street, I'll assume you want the job."
The smallest of smiles. Even that was a knockout. Man, it could be because he hadn't touched a woman in nearly a year, but to his mind Kitty Giroux was the most beautiful woman he had seen…well, maybe ever, in real life.
Her hair, for one thing. It was even more vivid than he remembered. Its color, of course: rich, fiery, gleaming with warmth. But more than that, it seemed to have a life of its own. It had escaped the clips that held it back, and curled in tendrils around her face, near the shells of her ears and down the back of her white neck.
Her body, for another. She'd been cute in high school, but she'd definitely grown up since then. Her suit was businesslike, but still fit every curve of her as if it were snuggling up for a good hug. She had delicate shoulders and, from what he could see peeking out between the lapels of her jacket, an exquisite collarbone, dusted with freckles. Full breasts and a narrow waist that curved out into hips a man could drool over. Long, long movie star legs, ending in ivory high heeled shoes.
She looked like a celebrity idol, he thought, only that she is more luscious. Fuller in the lips, less transparent in the skin.
And nobody else, not even a film star, could have hair so vibrant. He wanted to sink his fingers into it, bury his face in it and inhale its perfume. He could smell its vanilla and cinnamon scent now. He pictured it on his naked chest, spread out across his skin, springing against his fingers, every curl a caress. It would be easy to reach out now and let that strand by her ear entwine itself around his finger…
"That portfolio looks heavy. Let me take it for you, Kitty."
Oz's voice broke Jack's reverie.
Of course! Politeness! And Oz, considerate, handsome, polite, single Oz, whom Jack had just told to get his own girlfriend, had thought of it first.
Jack's charm had definitely gone rusty.
"Thank you." Kitty was all gracious smiles for Oz as she handed over her leather case.
"So." Jack's voice sounded unsteady to his own ears; he cleared his throat and started again. He held out his arm as if he were presenting the room to Kitty.
"So. The Delphi Theater. Built in 1926, originally as a music hall. It was converted to a cinema in the thirties and showed films until it closed in 1996. From 1999 it was Portland's largest X-rated movie house. I've searched through the whole building looking for relics of that time, but I haven't found any yet."
Oz chuckled at this. Kitty stayed silent. Jack carried on anyway, feeling slightly foolish.
"This is the lobby; you can see the original art deco detailing still on the walls and ceiling. They tell me all the black stains were caused by a minor fire they had last year. Some kids were having a party that got out of control. You should have seen the bags of empty beer cans Oz and I carried out of here when I first bought the place."
He walked across the spacious, high-ceilinged room, gesturing at the features he pointed out to kitty as she followed him. The electric light made the dark wooden paneling on the walls look slightly yellow.
"This is the box office, and the concession stand is over here." He ran a finger over the dusty blue tiles of the concession counter. "The original tiling is mostly intact, though some of it will need replacing. Men's room over there on the other side of the room, and ladies' next to it. The ladies' is a real powder room, with a big mirror and space for seats. And of course, in the middle of the lobby there's the broken trapdoor in the floor. Which I've been examining closely, as you know."
Jack looked at Kitty's face. Still impassive, and she wouldn't meet his gaze. Though what Oz was thinking was plain for any idiot to see. The big lug was practically slobbering.
He led them to a set of dark wooden double doors. They opened to a short, semi-lit corridor, ending in another set of doors. "This is the light trap. It stops light from coming in with the customers and spoiling the film. There's a similar vestibule at the front doors of the cinema, though I think that's to keep cold air from coming into the lobby in the winter."
He opened the second set of doors and ushered them both into the musty darkness. "And this is the real heart of the Delphi," he said.
Anticipation, excitement, a showman's pride in spectacle made him smile to himself as he flicked on the lights. Maybe Kitty Giroux wasn't impressed with him, but she had to be impressed with this.
She gasped.