She was reading in bed, snuggled under the covers—replete with two extra blankets—when the phone rang at five of eleven. It was Max. “Am I too early? I couldn’t wait any longer to talk to you.”
“No, honey. You’re not too early at all.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Absolutely nothing...I’m ready for you.”
“If I were there, I’d keep you warm on this cold night.”
“I’ll have to settle for two extra blankets and the heat turned way up...which isn’t the same at all.”
“The telephone isn’t the same, either, but we’ll have to settle for that, too. And email...I reread all your letters tonight. It was the best way I could be with you under the circumstances.”
Kari was pleased to think he’d saved all her correspondence and reread it.
“How did you spend your evening?”
Kari thought of the incident with Steve, but skipped any mention of it and just talked about going through the fridge to see what could be frozen for next weekend, making a large dinner, spending time online, luxuriating in a warm tub twice, and reading.
“Did you have any trouble getting home in all this weather?”
“Yes...but fortunately my friend’s husband came along and rescued me.”
“That was nice. Maybe you should have cooked him the dinner as a thank you...or I guess his wife was expecting him home.”
He paused. Kari had to answer. “His wife is out of town.” She hesitated. “And he had a different kind of thank you in mind.”
“Ohhh?” His voice rose. He had clearly caught her meaning, though he didn’t know the scenario.
“It’s going to be awfully awkward going over to Lylah’s house now. I slapped him. I don’t ever want to see him again.”
“He didn’t just ask, then?”
“I think I hurt him. I hope I hurt him.”
“He didn’t...he didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“The only thing he wounded was my feelings. Christ!” She burned all over at the memory. She, again, felt his hands, his lips, his male hardness. Shame burned her cheeks. Then she heard his remark again, about fat girls being desperate. Anger flooded her. But she kept that part of the story to herself.
“My poor baby,” Max cooed. “If I were there, I’d kiss you to make you feel better.”
“I think if you hit him for me, that would help even more.”
“That can be arranged too.”
“I didn’t mean it literally. It’s nice to think about, but I wouldn’t want you to really do it.”
“Well, how can I make you feel better?” His voice had dropped to a sexy purr.
“Just talk to me awhile.”
Max was understanding. He obliged her with a recounting of the day, his work, his drive home under adverse conditions, the dinner he’d scrambled to put together with nothing much in the house. In anticipation of being away for the weekend, he’d bought little in the way of groceries, but he’d made a cheese omelet and home fries, a strong cup of coffee, and he’d had some frozen blueberries too. “An odd combination...I hope I can get to the store tomorrow, or I may be reduced to eating cat food!” he joked.
“Did you remember to call off the neighbor who was coming in to feed Pandora?”
“Yes...I don’t need any surprises when I’m in the kitchen in my underwear.”
“Now there’s an interesting picture.”
“I can picture you making coffee in your underwear...mmm.”
“Wrong. I’m always dressed when I come down in the morning.”
“But you’re naked now.”
He was leading her toward hot talk, and she decided she was finally relaxed enough to be ready. She let herself be led. “Yes, naked and warm. Want to try for naked and hot?”
“I’ll get in bed with you and warm you up alllll over. Where shall we start? A kiss on the tip of your nose? And here’s a kiss on your cute little chin. I’ve been studying your picture. I’d know that chin anywhere.
“And now I’m moving down to your neck, kissing the hollow there, moving south to your breasts. I always did like mountain climbing. And those are worthy peaks to conquer. Mmmm. Soft breasts. So kissable. Flesh firm, yet yielding. Nipple hard...mmm, so good. Just the way I like them. Brown or pink?”
She gulped. “Pink areolas and nipples. And you—hairy chest or smooth?”
“A sprinkling of hairs, but I’m not one of those beasts.”
“Good. And your bellybutton—an innie or an outie?” She was feeling playful now.
“An outie. And yours?”
“An innie.”
“I’ll dip into it with my tongue, then. Feel it flicking into your navel? Just like another part of me wants to do to another part of you.”
“Oooooh.” She squirmed in the bed as her dormant female cleft awakened and began to thrum to the excitement of his words. At last, the bad day was truly relaxing its grip on her, and she could get into the excitement engendered by his words.
As they talked, a fever rose in her. His words, and the pictures they gave life to in her mind, fanned the flames that raged through her body.
“I want to make you squirm in high heat,” he said.
“You’re doing that now!” she gasped.
Between his words, her own words, and the pictures playing through her brain, her body seemed in danger of spontaneous combustion.
At last, the conversation reached a natural peak and subsided. They couldn’t talk any longer about what they longed to do to each other. Being unable to actually do it was too frustrating. She brought up a neutral topic instead—the political situation in Max’s town. It had the damping effect on their desires that she sought.
They talked for a few minutes more, making plans for the following weekend. “It wouldn’t dare snow again next weekend,” Max thundered as if issuing an edict.
“It would certainly be a meteorological phenomenon in October,” Kari said. Suddenly, she was exhausted. Sleep was ready to claim her.
Max heard it in her mumbling voice. “I’ll be waiting in your computer in the morning,” he promised softly.
“With my luck, the storm will take down the connection,” she answered.
“You’ll be fine,” Max soothed. “And we’ll see each other next weekend...and you’ll have a nice time all cozied inside this weekend. Or you’ll go work for Larrimore. Maybe try out some new recipes while you’re home. I’ll send you my recipe for pork roast with cranberry sauce. Invite a friend over, and think of me when you eat it.”
“My closest friend is Lylah, and I don’t see much of her anymore. And after tonight...that was her husband that....”
“Shh. Yes, I know. You’ll invite another friend over. Now go to sleep, and dream of me.”
“Goodnight, Max. You’re so sweet.”
“You’re sweet. You’re my sweet. Goodnight, my sweet.”
But Kari couldn’t go right to sleep. As Max’s voice went silent at the other end, his picture began to fade from her mind, edged out by other visions—those of Steve and Lylah.
First it was just Steve. Steve grabbing at her. Steve pawing at her. Steve thinking he had a right to claim her in return for rescuing her.
He was vile. He was awful. She had thought he was her friend, her rescuer, one of the good guys, but he had shown his true colors when he came upstairs to take her. To take her without even asking first, just assuming she would want him because “all fat women are desperate.”
She would have to be something more than desperate to mess around with her best friend’s husband!
Lylah! What was she going to say to Lylah? Should she call her and inform her that her husband, the man she’d said she trusted implicitly, was trying to cheat behind her back? Was possibly already cheating? Because if he had no compunctions about trying to score with his wife’s best friend, who knew who else he’d been chasing after, quite possibly with more success!
Or would Lylah somehow find a way to blame Kar
i? “What did you do to lead him on?” Lylah was her best friend—but in a contest between Lylah’s best friend and her husband, which would she choose?
Surely Steve would deny his transgression, forcing Lylah to decide which of the two was lying. There were no winners in such a contest, only losers.
And even if Lylah believed Kari implicitly, and even if Lylah didn’t seek mitigating factora—“You must have said or done something to encourage him!”—wouldn’t Lylah resent Kari? Wasn’t it typical to “kill the messenger?” And how could she not feel that Kari had been instrumental in breaking up her marriage? Humans were funny animals. Lylah might easily find a way to make this incident out to be Kari’s fault altogether!
Suddenly, Kari didn’t envy Lylah’s life as much as she had. Suddenly, being married and pregnant had lost some of its allure. Especially if you were married to someone like Steve.
Of course, Lylah didn’t know it. Lylah thought she was married to Mr. Perfect. But that was it right there...if Lylah could be fooled, so could any woman. And if Steve could cheat, so could any husband, including any potential future husband of Kari’s.
Was Max a cheater?
Yeeesh! She hadn’t even met him face to face yet, and already Kari was worrying if Max was a cheater.
Face to face—that reminded her. How was she ever going to face Lylah again? Kari had fairly well decided not to tell her about Steve’s advances—although, wouldn’t that be just what he was counting on? But how would she ever deal with keeping the secret buried? With not letting Lylah know her husband was a cheater?
Sleep was elusive for the longest time, and troubled and restless when she finally found it.
Chapter 12
Stretching in bed, half-awakening, Kari was aware that something had pierced the shroud of sleep, and it wasn’t the rooster alarm. Was it close to time to get up? Then she again heard the noise that had permeated her sleep. Snowplows.
Now it all came back—the planned weekend with Max, the snowstorm, Steve’s unwelcome advances…and insulting assumption…the phone call, poor substitute for a visit. Well, it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to be at work...or anywhere else in particular. She would probably call in to the campaign office later to see if her help was needed. As the plows were on the roads, she’d probably be able to get out. But for now, she could just roll over and go back to sleep.
She opened one eye to see what time it was, and was surprised that it was 8:30 already. Maybe she should think of getting up after all.... She lay there for five minutes, searching for sleep, but her brain was in gear, so she swung her feet out of bed and went over to the window to see what the weather was.
A brilliant sun was doing as much work on the snow as the plows were, and though the air coming in the cracked open window felt undeniably cold, it didn’t feel hostile. Surely it would warm up to a tolerable level by mid-day. Kari picked out a pair of grey pants and a fuzzy pink sweater to wear.
A short while later, seated in front of the computer with a steaming cup of coffee, Kari logged on and found three letters, including one from Max.
My dear,
I so much enjoyed the conversation with you last night, though it was a pale substitute for actually holding you, making love to you, touching you, talking to you, kissing you all over.... But next weekend is only six days away. Surely the weather will be more favorable then.
If only there were a way to slip into the computer and send myself to you by modem. Which reminds me, in an attached file, I am sending you the recipe for pork roast with cranberry sauce. Why not try it this weekend? Cook it for one of your friends. Let me know how it comes out.
I’m off to the campaign headquarters where I’ve been volunteering; I presume your plans are similar. I may get another room painted, too. As I’ve said before, by the time I’m done painting, it’ll be time to start over again. And I’ve definitely got to go grocery shopping! Maybe I’ll spend the evening with a friend; I’ll have to make some calls. I’d rather be with you.
Well, no news—I just spoke to you last night, after all. I’ll check in online later, pick up your letter, and write back this evening.
Yours,
Max
She read the letter, answered it, and downloaded the recipe. Who should she cook it for? Should she try to round up one of her friends to spend the evening with? Which one? Certainly not Lylah—oh, she was at her mom’s this weekend anyhow. God, she hoped she never ran into Steve again!
After logging off, she drifted aimlessly around the house for a few minutes, straightening knick knacks that had been fine where they were, and dusting non-existent particles off the tables. Then, she picked up the phone and called Larrimore headquarters. The line was busy, busy, busy, but after ten minutes she finally got through.
One of the volunteers answered. “Got anything going on there today?” Kari asked.
“Hold on. I’ll get Jeff for you.”
After a minute, Jeff picked up. “Hey! I thought you were all involved this weekend?”
“I had to give him a rain check...or snow check. Have you looked out your window?”
“I was afraid the weather might put a crimp in your plans. Well, you want to stand out in the cold and hand out flyers again?”
“Sure, if that’s all there is. I was hoping there’d be phone work.”
“We’re a little short of phone lines....”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll fill you in when you get here. What time can you be here?”
“Have I got time to make a quick run to the grocery store?”
“Hey—you’re a volunteer. You’ve got time for anything. Come in when you can...but the earlier the better.”
“Ouch—my arm hurts when you twist it like that.”
Jeff laughed. “Well...see you soon?”
“About an hour, I guess.”
She ran out to the store, got what she needed for the pork roast recipe and a few other items besides, came home, put her groceries away, and called three friends...all of whom already had plans for the evening. She put off any further calls, knowing Jeff was waiting for her at the storefront campaign office.
Between the sun, the plows, and the moderating temperatures, the roads weren’t bad. She was pleased with the ease in which she was able to drive around. When she got to the office, Jeff complimented her on her outfit, which made her feel good, but the atmosphere of trouble hanging over the headquarters was so thick it was palpable, so heavy it weighted on Kari’s shoulders.
“What’s going on?” she asked Jeff.
“Trouble with a capital T.”
“More missing flyers? More lost data?”
“No, but more of the same kind of thing. We’ve got double trouble this time. We got dealt a one-two punch. First of all, someone called the phone company yesterday and ordered most of our lines disconnected. Only the first line is still working.
“When the other lines went out, the people who were here assumed it was storm damage, so nobody reported it right away. By the time Eileen called Repair Service to ask when it might be fixed, it was late in the afternoon. Repair checked and said there was no storm damage. The phones had been shut off in accordance with an order they’d received.”
“But who called it in?”
“They gave a bogus name—‘J.T. Hendricks.’ We have no one by that name. It was a man, they said. With all the suspicions already on me, people are starting to really look at me funny on this one. No one’s come right out and accused me to my face yet, but I’ve heard whispers. I’ve caught looks.” He shook his head. “This is bad for me.”
“Can’t they turn the phones back on?”
“Yeah, sure...on Monday. But we’ll have to spend the weekend with just one line, and unable to put you people to work on the phones. Dammit! It’s the weekend, people are home, we could reach a lot of folks to persuade them to vote for our guy...and we can’t use the phones!”
“You said double trouble.”
<
br /> “Yeah.” He sounded glum. “Badley gave a speech last night. Maybe you heard it on the radio?” Kari shook her head. “Well, he answered all the points Larrimore is making in his speech today, refuted all the charges Larrimore plans to make, just knocked all the oomph right out of Larrimore’s speech. Took the claws out of the tiger.
“It’s apparent that somebody slipped an advance copy of Larrimore’s speech to Badley. But who? Who’s the spy? What do we do...hire a P.I. agency to tail every volunteer? Get expensive video monitoring equipment set up in the storefront? Get paranoid and keep watching each other for clues? It’s unreal.” He paused. “Meanwhile, I know people think it was me. And it wasn’t!” He punched a desk with his hand.
“You need a friend. What’re you doing tonight?” Kari asked. “I have a neat new recipe for roast pork with cranberry sauce. Just downloaded it off the computer this morning. Want to be my guinea pig? I bought all the ingredients this morning. Is friendship and roast pork a tempting combination?”
“If you’ll let me contribute something to the dinner. How about letting me make a big tossed salad and some scalloped potatoes? Will that go with the roast pork?”
“I’m drooling already.”
“That’s because it’s almost lunch time,” Jeff said, the familiar grin returning to his face. “C’mon. I’ll buy you a quick bite to eat and we’ll hit the road.”
Kari wanted a chicken salad and bacon sandwich, but the thought crossed her mind that one good aspect of the weather delaying Max’s visit was that now she had a chance to lose a couple more pounds before he met her face to face. So she ordered tuna salad on wheat toast with a diet Pepsi and Jell-O. Jeff, who had no weight worries with his lean frame, ordered a cheeseburger, cole slaw and fries, and a cup of coffee. For dessert, he put away a slice of lemon meringue pie. “I feel guilty doing my glutton thing when you’re being so good,” he said.
MacGregor, Cynthia - An Appetite for Passion (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 10