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

by An Appetite for Passion (lit)

  “Relax. You don’t have a weight problem. Why should you suffer through a diet lunch?”

  “You don’t have a weight ‘problem’ either...unless you let it be a problem to you. Your weight is just part of your outer shell. It’s what’s inside that counts. Your weight is just another meaningless statistic.”

  “I thought a man embroiled in politics would be in love with statistics. Aren’t they necessary for winning elections?”

  “Yes, they’re necessary in politics. But I never confuse politics with real life.”

  They headed back over to the Southdale Shopping Centre. There was a huge discount supermarket there, and Jeff posted Kari at the door to talk to the shoppers going in and out while he took up a post at the department store at the other end of the plaza.

  Kari was getting more comfortable with the pitch, engaging more people in conversation when possible. Before, she had handed out flyers to anyone who would take them, but gave them the spiel only if they asked a question or otherwise seemed inclined to talk. Now, she found she was starting conversations, earnestly explaining to one and all why Larrimore was the better candidate.

  “I’m sure Chris Badley would make a fine mayor,” she told one woman. “But Ron Larrimore would be ever so much better! Doesn’t Jeffersonville deserve the best we can get? And that’s Ron Larrimore!” And she was off on an impassioned monologue about the ways in which Larrimore surpassed Badley in qualifications and the ways Larrimore could improve life in Jeffersonville. She earnestly recited his list of past accomplishments, and finished with, “I’m not being paid to say this. I’m not being paid to stand here in the cold and talk to you. I’m doing it ’cause I believe in the man. He’s what we need for Jeffersonville. He’s what we need for us. He’s what you need at the helm of your town. Please vote for Ron Larrimore!”

  “Bravo.” The quiet voice came from right over her shoulder. Whirling around, surprised, she found Jeff behind her. He’d been quietly, surreptitiously monitoring her pitch. “They ought to make a commercial out of that speech!” he proclaimed.

  “Not bad for a fat broad, huh?” Kari didn’t usually speak so flippantly—or comfortably—about her weight. She surprised herself.

  Jeff went back to his post by the department store after that, and Kari returned to exhorting discount-grocery shoppers to get out and vote for Ron Larrimore.

  To her surprise, a familiar face appeared among the shoppers bustling out of the store. “Kari? Is that you? Lord, lady, I haven’t seen you in...what? A year?”

  “Marcy?”

  “In the flesh...and lots of it.” Marcy had never had trouble laughing at her weight. Maybe that was why Marcy had been unsuccessful with every weight reduction plan she’d tried, Kari decided. She just wasn’t motivated enough. She’d met Kari when they’d both been enrolled in the same program...a program that had failed both of them miserably.

  Though they’d never met before, they’d enrolled at the same time, and they’d gravitated to each other, becoming “diet buddies.” The idea was that when one was tempted to eat a no-no, she was supposed to call the other to be talked out of the Snickers bar, hot fudge sundae, or heaping platter of fried food.

  Instead, the opposite took place. Marcy, for example, would call Kari and say, “I have such a yen for a triple-tier sundae. I can just see it—banana ice cream, chocolate ice cream, and coffee ice cream with hot fudge sauce and butterscotch sauce, loads of thick, gooey whipped cream, nuts, and a rich maraschino cherry perched on top.”

  Then Kari, instead of talking her out of it, would be tempted to run out and buy one just like it for herself. When they quit the program together after twelve weeks, each woman weighed 10 pounds more than when she’d joined.

  They’d lost touch shortly after quitting the program, but now, here was Marcy, eyes sparkling with merriment as always, fat as ever, and unconcerned about it as ever. “I know I should lose weight,” she said with a shrug. “I know it’s healthier...and supposedly, I’d be prettier. But I’ve never had trouble getting dates.”

  Kari envied her that. “Who are you seeing now?”

  “I just broke up with someone. Why? Got someone you want to fix me up with?”

  That wasn’t why Kari was asking...but it gave her an idea. “Maybe. Have you got time now? I’ve got a friend. Nice guy. Made a remark just today about fat not being important. He’s over on the other side of the plaza right now.”

  “No. I’ve got perishables in the bag...and a hairdresser appointment in half an hour. I’ll have to hustle to get home, get these put away, and get to the hairdresser real fast.”

  “Got a picture of yourself, then?”

  “Sure. So far, he sounds like my kinda guy, if that’s his attitude on fat women. Here.” Having rummaged through her purse, she came up with a picture of herself. “Will this do?” It showed her full-length, fat and all, and made Kari feel like a coward for having sent Max that picture of herself from just the neck up. “Well, I’ve gotta run. You’ve got my number? It hasn’t changed. I’m in the book, too.”

  “I’ll show him the picture, give you a call.”

  “Bye, hon.” Marcy gave Kari a peck on the cheek and scooted toward her car, pushing the grocery cart as she scurried along. Kari pocketed the picture.

  In half an hour, Jeff was back. It was growing late, his supply of flyers was gone, the number of shoppers was dwindling, and he was ready to call it a day. “What do I need to bring tonight? Have you got salad fixings? Potatoes? Milk? Flour? Paprika? Butter or margarine?”

  “I have everything you need for the scalloped potatoes, and I have oil and vinegar, but no veggies for the salad.”

  “I’ll meet you at your place in half an hour, give or take...or do you need more time, like to shower or something?”

  “Is that a hint?”

  Jeff laughed. “No, you don’t need a bath. I was being polite.”

  “C’mon over anytime you’re ready.”

  “Great. I’ll run back into headquarters, stop at a supermarket, and come right over. I don’t need to go home for anything.”

  “See you in a little while, then.

  “That computer key isn’t sticking any more, is it? I don’t need to bring any tools?”

  “Nope. It’s fine. See you shortly.”

  Chapter 13

  With the heat on and the windows closed, the house smelled stuffy. The stale smell assailed Kari’s nostrils as she bustled in the kitchen door, and she resolved to do something about it at once. Before she’d even taken off her coat, she had a pot of water heating up on the stove and had dropped some simmering potpourri into it. Before long, the house would smell of pork and potatoes, but that didn’t help now. Kari went about removing her coat and settling in, and soon the scent of blossoms filled the house.

  She set the table, pleased to be having a dinner guest, and then hurried to the computer to log on. She’d left the Mac up and running, so it took no time at all to go online...and discover she had no email at all waiting for her. Not from Max and not from anyone else. Not even spam! Well, Max had said “this evening.” It was only 5:30, not really evening yet. She quickly browsed the recipe exchange and found an interesting recipe, downloaded it, then logged off. As she did, she heard Jeff’s car pull into her driveway.

  “Honey, I’m home,” he teased when he saw her standing at the open door. A pang went through her at the thought it might be Max saying those words to her for real some day... Max, who was supposed to be here this weekend, but wasn’t. But Kari was pretty good at living in the here and now, and here and now her friend Jeff was spending the evening with her...which wasn’t such a bad plan either.

  Jeff was funny, Jeff was fun, and Jeff had her laughing so hard she kept losing her place with the recipe. He had the advantage. Not that the pork roast recipe was complicated, but she’d never made it before. He could do scalloped potatoes with a blindfold on and one hand tied behind his back. And salad certainly didn’t require much concentration. S
o he kidded around as he cooked while she continually lost her place with her recipe. And as they cooked and kidded around, the scent of potpourri filled the rooms and lent a sweet, friendly air to the house.

  At length, everything was in the oven that was supposed to be, and the salad was complete, minus the dressing, which Jeff wouldn’t add till it was time to eat. He’d made a salad that seemed too good for everyday consumption with both Boston lettuce and spinach leaves, sliced mushrooms, sliced black olives, scallions, water chestnuts, green peppers, cucumbers, radishes, bacon bits, and crumbled bleu cheese. Oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, herbs, and crushed garlic would go in right before serving. “I could feast on this alone!” Kari rhapsodized, looking it over eagerly.

  “Well, then, another night I’ll have to come over and make you one of my really special salads, and we’ll make a dinner out of it.”

  “This isn’t a special salad?”

  “Where’s the avocado? Where’s the zucchini? Where’s the tomato? Where are the croutons? Where’s...?”

  “All right! I believe you.”

  She felt comfortable in the kitchen with him. Normally wary of weight cracks from people she didn’t know—and the experience with Steve had proved they could come from people she did know, too—she had let her guard down with Jeff.

  He had earned her trust in that regard. He had said nothing about the fattening potatoes. With flour, butter, and whole milk, they were certainly not a slimming dish. He hadn’t even discreetly and helpfully suggested a more sensible dish. The cranberry sauce on the pork roast wasn’t exactly slimming either, but not a word had Jeff said. No, he was all right!

  Of course, she was in his corner, too. There was the problem at campaign headquarters. Or rather, the series of problems. It was clear that somebody was sabotaging the campaign. But it was just as clear to Kari that, whoever was behind it, it couldn’t be Jeff.

  They were finished in the kitchen, ready to go sit in the living room and talk while dinner cooked. “Want a drink?” she offered.

  “You could twist my arm,” Jeff replied.

  So she did—literally, though not hard enough to really hurt.

  “Ow! You’re a literal one, aren’t you?” Jeff said.

  The perpetual grin was broader than ever, and Kari hated to say anything that might make that grin do a disappearing act, but she just had to talk about the problems at headquarters. Maybe together they could get to the bottom of it. First, though, she asked him, “What are you drinking?”

  “Nothing. Do you see a glass in my hand?”

  “Now who’s the literal one? What do you want to drink, wiseass?” She gave a playful swat at his behind.

  “What does this establishment offer?”

  “All the standard stuff.”

  “Then you’ve got scotch?”

  “How do you want it?”

  “Just on the rocks. Thanks.”

  She made two drinks, and they sat to sip them and talk. “Who do you think is really at the bottom of all this trouble?” she asked.

  She didn’t have to explain what she meant by “this trouble.” The election hanky-panky wasn’t far out of his consciousness either, and he sighed a long sigh. “I don’t know.” He looked at her. “Any ideas? You’ve been around the place a little while now.”

  “I turned in my junior detective’s badge in sixth grade. But who works there who stands to benefit from Larrimore losing? That’s one tack to take. Who’s registered to the other party? He or she might be a mole placed in our campaign by the Badley campaign. Or maybe it’s someone who’s out to make you look bad. The campaign might not be the real target at all. You might be. Got any enemies?”

  “You’ve been watching too much TV.”

  “Well, somebody’s doing it, for some reason. I’m serious, now. Think.”

  “I am thinking. But I’m not keying into anything.”

  “Think harder.”

  Jeff sighed wearily. “Don’t you think I have been? For days?”

  Instantly contrite, Kari apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only trying to help.”

  “You didn’t upset me...the whole situation upsets me, but I know you’re trying to help. Go on. Keep thinking. Maybe you’ll puzzle it out.”

  “Well, either someone’s trying to help Badley—with or without his knowledge—or they’re trying to make you look bad. You know all the volunteers better than I do. Who stands to benefit from Badley winning? Or to be happy if he does? Or would benefit from you looking bad? Is there another guy there who’s competing with you for the attentions of one of the women? Are you dating any of them?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Paying some business attention to one of them that might have been misconstrued by a jealous co-worker boyfriend? Or would-be boyfriend?”

  “I don’t know that any of our workers are a couple. I don’t know that any of the men has a thing for any of the women...which isn’t to say that no one does. I don’t know what goes on in everyone’s mind. I haven’t pursued any of the women...which isn’t to say that some jealous co-worker hasn’t mistaken my professional attentions for something else.” He paused in thought, then shrugged his shoulders. “I just don’t know.”

  All the talk of male-female relationships reminded Kari that she’d meant to try to fix Jeff up with Marcy. “I have a friend, by the way, who’s lots of fun to be with, and if you’re not involved with anyone right now, I’d love for you to meet her. I ran into her today at Southdale. I hadn’t seen her in a year. She’s recently broken up with someone.”

  “Rebound romances are dicey.”

  “Ah, but she doesn’t have a jealous suitor working for the campaign.”

  “How do you know?”

  “That’s true...how do we know who’s really interested in anyone?”

  “How do you really know who’s interested in anyone?” Jeff echoed.

  Kari got up and went over to her pocketbook, pulling out Marcy’s picture. “This is her. Marcy. I was thinking I could have her over here one day soon, and you, too. If it works, great, you’ll go out together. If not, well, three people will have had a nice dinner together, and an enjoyable evening, and no harm done.”

  “If you’re cooking it, I’m sure it’ll be delicious if the smell of that pork is any indication.” Jeff inhaled deeply, savoring the scent that was filling the whole downstairs. “But I’ll pass on that offer, thank you anyhow.”

  “Too proud to accept a blind date?” Kari teased. But deep down she was disappointed. If Jeff was refusing without even meeting Marcy, it had to be her looks that had turned him off. And since her face was really strikingly pretty, the only negative aspect of her looks was her girth. Marcy was fat, and apparently, Jeff was turned off by that, or else why wouldn’t he be willing to date her?

  “I—I’m so busy with the campaign,” Jeff said. “I don’t really want to get involved right now.”

  “I could fix you up after the election’s over.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Kari knew what “we’ll see” meant. It meant, “No.” It meant Jeff, despite his pretty speech at lunch, really was put off by weight. She was disappointed, even hurt. It didn’t compute, didn’t figure. He seemed to accept her weight okay. But maybe not in women he dated? Maybe it was only all right for friends to be fat, but not girlfriends?

  “Well, let’s get back to the problem at headquarters.” Kari’s voice, as she swiftly changed the subject, was businesslike and brisk.

  “I don’t know what else to tell you. I’ll check the election board’s rosters to see if any of the volunteers is registered to the other party, and I’ll keep my eyes and ears open...but I’ve been doing that already. I keep coming up blank. If you can figure it out, you’re a better Sherlock than I.”

  The rest of the evening went fine. The dinner was delicious and was eaten amid much bantering and teasing. But over it all, for Kari, hung a pall from Jeff’s refusal to date her fat friend. When sh
e gave him a good night kiss on the cheek, it was with a heavy heart. He had let her down.

  Max was something of a disappointment that evening, too. His letter, though certainly not cold, was briefer than usual, and...was it really less warm, or was Kari imagining it? “I’m very tired,” he’d said. That was probably all there was to it. Why was she looking for trouble, concerned his interest was waning? Why didn’t she accept his statement at face value? He had said he was tired. Believe it. Let it go at that.

  Why couldn’t she accept Jeff’s lack of interest in Marcy at face value, too? Maybe he really couldn’t deal with dating anyone now. His time was certainly short. And he certainly had other problems to deal with at the moment. Maybe his “we’ll see” really meant, “We’ll see when the election is over,” and not the “no” she took it for. Or maybe he had some other reason for not wanting to date Marcy, some reason Kari couldn’t begin to guess at. But what it was, she had no idea.

  Then again, maybe she had been right in the first place. Maybe Jeff was simply unwilling to date a fat woman.

  Kari took a quick shower, got in bed, and turned on the bedroom TV to watch Saturday Night Live. Only, tonight, nothing seemed very funny.

  Chapter 14

  Sunday morning’s note from Max was pretty typical of the letters she’d been getting from him in the mornings—not hot, but warm and friendly, caring and affectionate, saying that he missed her and was counting the days—five, as of this morning—till he would see her. He also asked if she had tried the pork recipe.

  She wrote, deleted, and rewrote the beginning of her reply to him three times. The trouble was her figure.

  She found it difficult to discuss the pork roast without discussing Jeff. And she found it difficult to discuss Jeff without discussing her disappointment that he wouldn’t date Marcy. She found it difficult to explain why that bothered her without discussing her own hefty figure. And she had never discussed her weight with Max.

  Surely, he guessed that a woman who liked to eat as much as she admitted to was not thin. Surely, the rounded lines of her face, though it was not a fat face, gave a clue that the rest of her body was also built along rubenesque lines. And surely, Max wouldn’t mind her girth. But they had never actually discussed it, and she found herself unwilling to now.