MacGregor, Cynthia - An Appetite for Passion (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by An Appetite for Passion (lit)

  After ten minutes of remaining prone but restless, Kari acknowledged that sleep was not an option, and she threw back the covers. The house was chilly. An unseasonable early fall chill had the late September morning in its grip, and even the carpet felt cool to her bare feet as she scurried to the closet to get out something to wear.

  Selecting something casual, yet not sloppy, a loose-fitting dress that she’d feel comfortable wearing to Larrimore’s headquarters, she left her clothes on the bed while she went into the bathroom. Her nemesis was in there—the scale—though this morning it was kind and reflected the loss of a pound. Elation on top of anticipation—a good way to start the morning.

  Still barefoot, she padded down to the kitchen, goosing the thermostat as she passed it, and stopping at the hall closet to grab a sweater. As the wool blend slipped over her arms, she fancied it was Max’s arms warming her shoulders. She put on a pot of coffee, some sausages, and toast. Taking two eggs out of the fridge, she hesitated, then put them down on the counter. Eagerly, she darted into the living room to boot up her computer. It could be doing its thing while the eggs were cooking.

  A few minutes later, she walked back to the living room desk, this time precariously balancing her plate, coffee cup, utensils, and napkin, all of which she successfully set down on the desk without spilling more than an errant drop or two of coffee. Eagerly, she logged on to her email, finding the hoped-for letter from Max.

  Good morning, lovely lady.

  It’s 6:30 AM, and I’m headed out to jog. Thought I’d drop you a quick line first. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me—errands including grocery shopping, plus housecleaning and laundry, and in whatever time I have left, tinkering with the ’47 Plymouth I bought a year ago and have been lovingly rebuilding. One of these days, I may even get it on the road! I’ve got a full plate of things to do before me. And what’s on your agenda?

  I probably won’t be back online till this evening around 6:00. I have plans for the evening, but will log on before I go out. Your picture arrived yesterday. Your pretty face is sweet—it fits your personality, as I glean it from your letters. I know I won’t be disappointed when we finally meet.

  I long to do delicious, wicked things to your body, but my designs on you go beyond erotic love. I want to get to know all of you, to know you as a person, not just as a bed partner. To appreciate the whole Kari, not just the exciting parts. To meld with your mind, not just with your physicality.

  But yes, I very much want your body too. At the moment, I’m not in “sex mode”—at 6:30 AM I’m more revved up for another kind of physical exertion: jogging.

  Do you like to jog? I want to know what your likes and dislikes, interests and pet hates all are. I want to be a student of Kari, learning you till I could get an “A” on the test of life. Educate me, sweet lady.

  I’ll “see” you here at 6 tonight.

  Yours,

  Max

  Kari glowed when she read the letter...except for the part about “plans for the evening.” Jealousy overtook her at the thought those plans might involve another woman. Did he talk the same way to her? Did he tell her she was sweet? Did he make love to her? Wrap his arms around her? Kari wanted Max to herself.

  The romance was unfolding like a rose slowly blooming, opening its petals to the sun, growing ever larger. It was taking over more of her life, more of her thoughts every day.

  In some ways, she truly felt she had a lover. Yet, when she went to bed at night, there was still no one to snuggle up to for warmth, comfort, companionship. When she wanted to share a sadness or a joy, there was still no one there to confide in...though she did sometimes rush to the computer and pour it into email.

  And when she was sexually needful—as seemed to happen more often now—she still had to resort to self-satisfaction. But at least she had a mental picture to accompany the solo act that had a ring of future plausibility. Her fantasy lover was no longer a faceless creation of her own imagining. She had a future rendezvous with Max in mind—and his picture on her desk to show her what he looked like.

  As for Max, he had a picture, too—of just her face. There was no sense in pushing her luck. Kari had sent him a photo from the neck up.

  She composed a reply to his letter:

  My plans for the day? Rather pedestrian, except for the visit to Larrimore HQ to sign up as a volunteer. I, too, have laundry, housework, grocery shopping. If I get back from Larrimore’s HQ early, I plan to cook a few things in advance and freeze them in single servings. That way I have dinner on hand for nights I’m too tired to cook. What did we all do before microwave ovens were invented?

  You want to know my likes and dislikes? I’m eagerly awaiting the leaves turning—autumn leaves are among my favorite things. Dare I add fluffy cats, or is that too predictable an answer? Actually, I guess the usual answer is “kittens,” but I prefer them fully grown. Soft and cuddly rather than cute and playful. I haven’t had a cat of my own, though, since Boots died. Too painful.

  My biggest dislike at the moment, I guess, is waiting for you to find the opportunity to come visit me. Second to that? Recipes that say “5 mins prep time” and take 20. Recipes that don’t come out right. (There I go talking food again.) And people who break promises. And rainy days—though they sometimes bring rainbows, which I’d have to add to my list of favorite things.

  Which reminds me—have you ever seen the Northern Lights? I never have and have always wanted to.

  No, I don’t jog.

  I’d love to see your ’47 Plymouth. My neighbor was rebuilding a ’55 Chrysler for a while but wound up selling it after he got it nearly complete. A money crunch thing. What a shame!

  Well, I want to get the house clean and the groceries bought before I take off for Larrimore’s headquarters. So I’d better get my butt in gear. I’ll “see” you here later.

  Yours,

  Kari

  She finished the breakfast she’d been eating intermittently and with less than her usual full attention and enthusiasm. Getting up, she carried her dirty dishes in, poured another cup of coffee, and took a mouthful before scrubbing the dishes and pans.

  She bustled around the house, speeding through her cleaning, racing to finish quickly. Yet, even while rushing, she took extra care that no uncaught dust sully the appearance of her house. What if Max sprang a sudden visit with little notice? She polished, she shined, she poked into corners that she sometimes neglected. When she was done, even the doorknobs gleamed.

  As she lived alone and was not slobbish in her habits, the house was basically neat and not that difficult to clean. Even with the extra touches, like cleaning the inner sides of the window panes, she was done while it was still early in the morning. Putting up a load of wash, she grabbed her grocery list and trotted out to the car.

  An hour later, back home and with the groceries put away, she checked her appearance in the mirror before heading over to Larrimore HQ.

  “Can I help you?” the harried-looking man with the perpetual grin on his face asked. Kari realized she was staring, but she couldn’t help marveling at the fact that his face managed to convey a harassed look even while he was smiling. The slightly disheveled look to his sandy hair, and the fact that one eyebrow looked like he’d been distractedly worrying at it with his finger contributed to his air of being beset with nagging problems, yet he had an open, friendly face.

  Something of an amateur artist, Kari liked to sketch faces and frequently made note of the appearance of people she passed in the street. Right now she was committing this man’s face to memory. But she realized she was being impolite. “Sorry,” she said with an answering grin. “Yes, you can help me by telling me how I can help you. I’m Kari Crandall, and I’m here to volunteer.”

  The sandy-haired man stuck his hand out. “Jeff. Jeff Linden. Welcome aboard.” She took his hand, and he grasped hers firmly, shaking it enthusiastically. They sat in two adjacent chairs to talk above the babble of voices around them, and Jeff told her that c
oordinating volunteers was one of his many tasks. “As a volunteer, you’ll wear several hats too,” he predicted. “Give me a clue what some of them will be. What are your talents? How can we best use you? Although I warn you now, even if you’re a brain surgeon, we’ll have you doing grunge work too.”

  Kari laughed. “I’m a publicist, a writer, but I expect you’ve got a professional team handling that. Put me to work wherever you can use me. And I’m not allergic to grunge work.”

  “Got time this afternoon? You can go to the Southdale Shopping Centre with me and hand out flyers. Maybe even talk to a few people. But I need to brief you first, so you can answer questions intelligently if people ask you Larrimore’s positions on issues. Got time Tuesday night? We’re doing a big mailing. It’ll be back from the printer’s Tuesday afternoon, and we need all the hands we can get to get it out. Got time Thursday night? We’re shorthanded for volunteers on the phone bank.”

  “Whoa! You’re planning my life for me already!” Kari laughed. “Actually, yes, I’ve got time now for a briefing and this afternoon for Southdale and Tuesday for the mailing and Thursday for the phone bank...but don’t make any plans for me any further ahead than that, and I reserve the right to cancel if...if something important comes up.” She was thinking that, although it might be months till Max drove to Jeffersonville to see her, he also might surprise her and show up soon.

  “Fair deal,” Jeff agreed, sticking his hand out again to shake on it.

  She appreciated Jeff’s openness, as well as his sense of humor. There were too many bullshit artists in the world. She liked the fact that Jeff was down-to-earth. It made her all the more willing to put in long hours for Larrimore.

  Clearly, she wasn’t in a volunteer job for the money, nor was she in it for thanks. But it was nice to be appreciated, and she instinctively felt Jeff wasn’t the kind to take her for granted. Moreover, he was nice. If you’re going to work for no compensation, you want to at least be working with nice people.

  Jeff gave her an index card to fill out: Name, address, phone, business affiliation, hours available, special talents, previous political experience. She filled in all the blanks, and imagined handing prospective lovers a similar form. What would the blanks be she’d want them to fill in? Name, address, phone, occupation, likes, dislikes, favorite topics of conversation, favorite forms of recreation, favorite kinds of sex. Could she have a blank for “minutes of staying power?” She giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” Jeff asked. She blushed. “Never mind,” Jeff said discreetly. But his trademark grin widened.

  He took her around the storefront headquarters, introducing her to the others who were present. As he did, he chatted to her about a mix of campaign related details and computer oriented chatter. The headquarters had just gotten a new computer, this one a Mac, unlike the PC it was replacing, and he was very excited about it. He was the proud possessor of a Mac himself, and when he learned that Kari, too, had a Mac at home, he really took off at high speed on the subject.

  Jeff, when he was excited about what he was talking about, had a tendency to talk with his hands, to punctuate with body motions, and to use his face to mirror his words. He raised his eyebrows—sometimes just one at a time—moved his mouth as if it was made of Silly Putty, jutted his jaw, or cocked his head to one side in an attitude of thoughtfulness. There was something about him that put Kari right at ease, as if he were an old friend she had known for years. Though, in fact, she decided she had never known anyone quite like him before.

  When she’d made the rounds of the storefront and Jeff had briefed her on the candidate’s positions, he asked her to be back by 1:00. It was now noon. The sensible thing would have been to grab a bite nearby, but Kari raced home to see if there was any email from Max. Logging on, she found letters from two other online friends, but nothing from Max...who, after all, had said he wouldn’t likely log on till 6:00. Disappointed, Kari made a salami sandwich, grabbed some cookies and a banana, and took it all with her to eat in the car while she drove back to campaign headquarters.

  “Good—I didn’t scare you off this morning.” Jeff grinned at her when she showed up. “Here—grab a bunch of flyers,” he said. Then he put his forefinger on her chin and made a brushing motion. “Crumb,” he explained casually. Kari felt self-conscious. Normally fastidious, she wasn’t used to walking around with crumbs on her chin, but then she didn’t usually eat lunch on the drive-while-you-gulp plan.

  They took their respective cars to the Southdale Centre. Jeff huddled with her for a quick orientation, then turned her loose, impressed with how much she already knew about the candidate. “I can tell you read more than just the supermarket tabloids,” he laughed.

  “Actually, I never touch those.” She wrinkled her nose up in mock disgust.

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “Go on. Ask me about Elvis, Oprah, the latest scandals. I won’t know the answer. That should prove my innocence.”

  “Then how come you know what the topics are?”

  “They glare at you while you’re waiting in line to check out. If we could rent that space and post headlines about our candidate there, we’d have a captive audience, a better informed electorate, and no question about winning the election.”

  “Hey, lady, I like the way you think.” He gave her a mock salute.

  Saluting him back, she went off to accost the populace about voting for Ron Larrimore and was pleased with how well she fielded the occasional questions people raised. Most people just took the flyers without any more comment than “Thank you,” if that. A few asked a question or two about where the candidate stood on certain issues. And one or two were downright disputatious.

  Kari felt she handled them all well. At one point, she became aware that Jeff was behind her, surreptitiously listening to her handling one of the more difficult people. She went on talking to the man in question, and when he finally turned and left, Jeff gave her a thumbs-up sign and a cheery wink before whirling around to press a flyer into the hand of a passing shopper.

  Toward the end of the afternoon, Kari realized she was comparing all the men she talked to to Max. Did they look as handsome? If she talked to them, did they seem as interesting? Did they have as good a sense of humor as he seemed to? A sense of humor was very important to her.

  As they left the shopping centre, Jeff helped her carry the flyers back to his car. “I’ll take the leftovers back to headquarters. You can go straight home if you want. It’s getting late, and you probably have plans for the evening.”

  “Yes,” Kari said, brightening at the thought of communicating with Max again. “Do you need help tomorrow?”

  “Hell, yes, if you don’t mind. But I don’t want to take up your time if you’ve got something else you need—or want—to be doing.”

  “I’m free as a bird. Or should I say, ‘I have a date with Ron Larrimore’?”

  “You and I have a date with our esteemed candidate. Is 1:00 too early?”

  “I’ll see you at headquarters at 1:00.”

  “Here’s the number at headquarters, and here’s my home phone. Get to me if you can’t make it for any reason. Otherwise, I’ll be counting on you.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter 4

  Kari, whose movements were usually sure and steady, found her hand fumbling with the key in her eagerness to get into her house. It was after 6:00. Max’s email would be waiting.

  Getting the door open at last, she switched on lights against the encroaching darkness, making her living room cheery and cozy, which pretty well matched her mood. She had powered down her computer before leaving the house, and now she booted it up again, letting it whir and do its thing while she bustled around the house.

  In the kitchen, she pulled a plastic container of lemon chicken from the freezer. Removing the lid, she popped it in the microwave. After putting on water for instant rice, she fixed herself a salad while the water came to a boil. When dinner was ready, she carr
ied it all, plus utensils, a paper napkin, and a glass of diet Pepsi, into the living room.

  But she actually ignored the food till she had logged on to email and found Max’s letter, and even then she ate distractedly, sporadically, while she read. Her attention was almost completely on the letter:

  My dear,

  I hope you’ve been having a good day. Weekends are special...like you. I’ve grown to treasure knowing you as we’ve exchanged these letters that have nurtured and cemented our relationship. Funny, has it really been so short a time that we “know” each other?

  Though we’ve never met, I know you’re sweet, caring, and thoughtful—all important qualities. I also am sure you’ll be caring as a lover, as well as responsive and imaginative.

  Start imagining now, sweet Kari, the things we will do to each other when we get together. Of course, I have my ideas, but making love is for the pleasure of both partners, and if there’s something special you want me to do to you, I’ll have no way of knowing if you don’t communicate it to me.

  How do you like to be touched? Where do you like to be touched? You needn’t tell me now...you can show me when I get there, if you prefer. And I’ll show you what I like...though you may have even better ideas.

  I want to make love to all of you, not just your female parts. I long to run my fingers through your hair, kiss your fingertips, nuzzle your chin.

  There is more to a woman than “there”—other places that deserve attention, and I mean to lavish my affections on all those wonderful parts. But then, I am sure there is not a part of you that isn’t utterly wonderful.

  But yes, I will get to “there” eventually, too. I will lavish you with physical love and show you that mouths are for more than just talking.