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

by An Appetite for Passion (lit)

  She couldn’t write, “I thought Jeff was my friend and a nice guy, but now I find he won’t date my fat friend, and so fat apparently matters to him anyhow. And, as a fat woman myself, I am bothered by this.” She couldn’t write it in any words, no matter how roundabout or lighthearted. She finally gave up trying, and settled for a truncated version of the evening.

  She told Max that her friend Jeff, from Larrimore’s headquarters, had come over, that they had discussed a sabotage problem at the campaign office for which Jeff was being blamed and of which she was sure he was innocent, and that she had made the roast pork recipe for him. She added that he had pronounced it excellent, that she heartily concurred, and she thanked Max for uploading the recipe to her.

  She told him all this in rather more stilted, formal language than she usually used in her letters to him, but it was her fourth try at answering his inquiry about the recipe, so she let it go at that.

  Sure enough, when he wrote back Sunday night, he asked, “Are you angry at me for some reason I can’t fathom?” Her letter had sounded cold, distant. He again told her of his eagerness to see her this coming weekend, adding, “I’ll rent a dogsled if I have to, but I’ll be there. Listen for the cry of sled dogs, and an eager, desperate man yelling, ‘Mush.’ (With all the fur on my parka, you might get me confused with the dogs, so I’ll give you a hint. I’m the one yelling, ‘Mush.’)”

  “Sweet, funny Max,” Kari said aloud to herself, and dashed off a real quick answer to the effect that she was not angry at him and hadn’t meant to sound cold and distant, that there was a lot on her mind, from fears of a repeat of the snowstorm to concern over an innocent friend being blamed for something he hadn’t done. She fell all over herself apologizing. She certainly didn’t want to mess things up now.

  Max’s letters on Monday morning, Monday evening, and Tuesday morning sounded normal, except that after Monday evening, he told her there would be no more hot talk. “I want you to save it for the weekend, again,” Max wrote. “Build up a full head of steam, a sizzling cauldron of unsatiated passions, bubbling and boiling, steaming and stewing, waiting for me to appear on the scene, stir things up even hotter, and then satisfy you till you yell for mercy.”

  “Mercy!” Kari wrote back. “And also ‘Merci.’”

  On Tuesday evening, Kari spent time at Larrimore headquarters. She was almost reluctant to go there, knowing Steve was working there too. The saving grace was that, being out of work, he had his days free, and he did most of his volunteering then. So far she had broken lucky, not running into him. But she wondered how long her luck would hold.

  While Kari was at the storefront on Tuesday, Eileen invited a bunch of the volunteers to a get-together at her house on Wednesday. A notice about it was also posted on the bulletin board. Kari almost declined the invitation, fearing that Steve would be there. After all, he was one of the volunteers. But I can’t live the rest of my life afraid to go here or there for fear of running into him. We’re going to see each other sooner or later when I’m visiting Lylah...I guess. So, she accepted.

  Her good luck held. Steve was not among the people at Eileen’s house. But twelve of the fourteen there comprised six couples, and as she looked around the room, Kari felt left out. Almost everyone was there with someone; only she and one other woman were there alone. Where’s Max when I need him? But that was silly...she didn’t need Max just because she was alone. Well, if it’s not a case of need, how about “want?” I want Max.

  Two of the couples, unmarried, kept clinging to each other, never straying far from their lovers’ sights. One couple, newlyweds, kept throwing meaningful glances at each other, whether they were seated earnestly talking together or temporarily separated and talking to others. Even the long-term marrieds all seemed attentive to their spouses, bringing each other drinks and food, circling the room to make sure the other wasn’t bored, and generally making it obvious they were there together.

  While Kari was alone, by herself. Since the party was casual, the food was informal too, and served buffet style. Among the offerings, there was spicy fried chicken, and an artichoke dip that she particularly enjoyed, and Kari consoled herself with plenty of both. Though she kept telling herself she wasn’t doing herself any favor, doubtlessly adding pounds on a week she’d meant to diminish her silhouette, she found solace in the food in the midst of her loneliness. So she kept returning to the buffet table for more.

  After everyone had eaten their fill, the fourteen partygoers settled into something of a circle. Instead of little conversation groups, as there had been earlier, with twos and threes talking together, the conversation became all-inclusive. The first topic was the recent snowstorm, and then came the state of the national economy, and then one of the women, who had two school-age kids, brought up a situation in the local schools.

  “Larrimore will take care of that,” Eileen’s husband said, and they were off and running, discussing the campaign again till someone yelled out, “Hey this is supposed to be a party! Leave the shop talk back at headquarters. We’re here to have fun!”

  “How about some games?” Eileen suggested.

  “I know one,” said a man named Chad. “Every woman stands with her back to her man, and....”

  “What about us?” The interruption was from Evie, the other single woman there.

  “One of you will have to be the man,” Chad said, looking at Evie and Kari.

  “Do you want to be the man?” Evie asked Kari.

  “I’m outta here,” Kari said. “Sorry, Eileen. I really need to get home. It is a work night. Thanks for a lovely evening.”

  It was only 9:00, but Kari didn’t want to “be the man.” She didn’t want Evie to “be the man” either. She wanted a real man. She wanted Max. That not being possible at the moment, she wanted the next best thing...to go home and talk to him online. If she couldn’t have him in the flesh, at least she could have him electronically.

  The question burned in her brain as she drove home. “Do you want to be the man?” The world was set up for couples. It was a two-by-two world. And singles were out of place. Well, with a little luck, she and Max would overcome their geographic obstacles and get together permanently, and then she wouldn’t ever have to deal with the Glenns and the Steves of the world, or with “Do you want to be the man?” Her letter to Max that night was filled with longing. And his was filled with promise. Just two more days till they saw each other face to face, in the flesh.

  If singlehood seemed a pressing problem Wednesday night, it diminished in importance Thursday night in contrast with the problem she had to deal with then. Actually it wasn’t her problem; it was Jeff’s, again. Another batch of flyers was missing.

  The campaign had had a new batch of flyers printed up with a statement from the candidate, endorsements from leading local figures, and ten short, impressive reasons to vote for Larrimore in the forthcoming election. The printer’s deliveryman had offloaded them from his truck at the back door, and they’d been left there in anticipation of the van’s return from some other errands. The cartons were to be loaded right onto the van.

  Somehow, in the hour they’d been left outside, they’d vanished. “What do we need to do—post a guard?” Russ yelled, adding a few choice expletives. Jeff hadn’t been anywhere around at the time, but of course, his very absence made it possible that he’d been the one to spirit the flyers away.

  He walked into the middle of the tumult and immediately fell under suspicion. “I know you didn’t do it,” Kari soothed, but Jeff was beyond consolation. He was distraught.

  “Someone is tarnishing my name, and I can’t prove my innocence. How do you prove you didn’t swipe some cartons?”

  “Where were you between five and six?” Kari asked helpfully.

  “Leaving work, grabbing a bite to eat, and coming over here.”

  “Where did you eat? Maybe the waiter can provide an alibi.”

  “I grabbed two hot dogs from a vendor. I doubt he’d remember me.
Thanks for trying.”

  “C’mon home with me for a while,” Kari offered. “Let’s get away from this atmosphere.” Though still smarting over his refusal to date her plump friend, she also still considered him a friend, and right now, he was a friend in need. In need of consolation, and maybe detective work too. Though she doubted she could shed any light on the missing flyers, she could at least offer Jeff a friendly shoulder, a sympathetic ear, and a good cup of coffee.

  But Jeff declined. When Kari asked why, he just said, “I’ll pass. But thanks.” He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a grateful squeeze.

  “C’mon home with me for an hour,” she persisted.

  “Kari, I haven’t been entirely honest with you....” he started, then closed his mouth as he was about to say something else. “Never mind. Thanks anyhow,” was all he added.

  “Honest about what?” Kari’s eyes grew wide with concern.

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “I know you didn’t steal those flyers!”

  “No, I did not.” But he wouldn’t elaborate on his supposed dishonesty, and Kari couldn’t pry any more information out of him. Abruptly, he turned and headed for the door, calling out a general “Goodnight!” and waving at everyone.

  What was her friend guilty of? She didn’t believe he was the one sabotaging the campaign, yet he’d admitted to dishonesty. She was torn up by his admission...and his refusal to elaborate on his confession. All around her, the general buzz was that Jeff must have done it. Kari didn’t believe it, yet she couldn’t refute it. In the end, she turned and left, dispiritedly returning home earlier than she’d planned.

  Max’s letter that night was bubbly and warm.

  My dear,

  Do you believe it? Tomorrow we will be together. Tomorrow! The two of us in one room, touching, kissing, laughing, talking, touching some more. Making love, making dinner, having fun, having sex. I will get to see the exact color of your hair, your eyes, your skin. Photographs can be misleading, but now I will get to know the real Kari, my Kari, exactly as you are in all your beautiful glory.

  I cannot wait. I know it is considered by some to be unmasculine to be so emotional, but I don’t give a damn. I want you and I want you to want me, and this strong want of mine is for out of bed as well as in, for your soul, not just your carnal being (but that too!).

  I need to feel your hand in my hand as we sit and talk, your foot stroking my leg as we lie together in bed, murmuring of how good our lovemaking was, your hair touching my shoulder as we kiss, your breasts pressed against my chest as we meet in a fierce, yet tender hug.

  Kari, my dear, how lucky I am that you share my passion for food. Lucky twice over. Once because I know it will be a source of enjoyment to us as we eat together, cook together, try new restaurants (and old favorites) together, and sample new cuisines. And lucky again because were it not for your searching for new recipes on the recipe exchange, I would never have met you.

  Do you care for smoked oysters? I will bring a can of very fine ones that I have. We can feed them to each other tomorrow evening.

  Well, I want to go pack a bag so I’m ready to get out of here early in the morning. Again, as last week, I plan to leave work at 5:00 and be at your house at 9:00. I have checked the weather forecast; it’s for sunny skies, with temperatures in the high 40s. I see no impediment to our being together.

  Here’s to the first of many weekends...and other days...together. I’ll see you tomorrow, my sweet Kari. Now you say it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Max.” Aren’t those beautiful words, “I’ll see you tomorrow”?

  Till then....

  Yours,

  Max

  Kari couldn’t help wondering what would go wrong this time. Nothing seemed to be going right lately. Why should the upcoming weekend be any different?

  Chapter 15

  After sleeping restlessly all night in anticipation that was half eager and half concerned, Kari finally fell into a deep sleep around 4:00 and was groggily awakened by her rooster alarm. As she shot her hand out to silence the mechanical bird, she came to an instant realization of what day today was... Max would be here tonight!

  She sprang from bed to go to the window. It was still dark out, but the visibly twinkling stars reassured her it wasn’t snowing. She switched on the radio. There were no reports of fires, floods, snowstorms, earthquakes, newly grown volcanoes, or other natural phenomena such as might intervene to preclude Max showing up on schedule.

  So far, so good.

  Standing on the scale, Kari saw that her weight was the same as it had been the weekend before. After a week of vowing to be good one day only to eat too much the next, the net result was no loss, but at least no gain.

  Kari selected a royal blue blouse and powder blue skirt, soft yet bright, to complement her mood. Nothing was going to go wrong now; she could feel it. Her mercurial mood was on a definite upswing, bolstered by the fair weather and lack of doomsaying on the radio.

  According to plan, she had a fridge full of goodies. For starters, she was cooking dinner tonight. When Max left Elm Ridge at 5:00, he wouldn’t stop to eat anything, and by the time he got to her house, she wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be hungry for. A man who’d just driven four hours needed to buttress his body, as well as needing sustenance for the soul.

  Kari made coffee, logged on while it was brewing, and downloaded an uncharacteristically brief, but essentially hurried, letter from Max. He swore, “Only a tornado picking up my car and depositing it in Kansas will prevent me from being at your door at 9:00—give or take a few minutes, depending on traffic.”

  She barely knew what she was doing at work. Somehow, she made it through the day, but she was definitely on autopilot. Her mood still veered between exultant and worried. Max was coming! But what if his car broke down on the road? No, it would be fine...he would get there on time and without trouble. But what if he didn’t like her as well in person? No, he knew her from email and the phone; there’d be no problem! But what if Kari-in-person seemed substantially different from Kari-online or Kari-by-phone? No, Kari was Kari. She’d been honest with him; she hadn’t tried to present a “better” face. If he liked her by email and phone, he’d like her in person. But what if he didn’t? No! Stop worrying—he’d be here in less than twelve hours, and things would be fine....in less than eight hours....in four hours.

  Somehow she’d made it through to 5:00 quitting time. Her palms were sweaty, her hair a mess from her fingers worrying through it, her nerves a wreck, but it was 5:00, and Max would be leaving Elm Ridge now.

  But it was only 5:00; he wasn’t due till 9:00, and she hadn’t that much to do till he got there. It would be nice not to have to rush around frantically, getting ready, but how was she going to make these last four hours pass by?

  In her eagerness to get home, Kari found herself doing 55 in a 40 mph zone. I could have an accident—that would really ruin the weekend. She slowed down to a 35 mph crawl. She wouldn’t be home to greet Max if she was in a hospital or police station. Ultra-cautious, she all but inched the car the rest of the way home.

  She made one stop along the way, at a local card shop, purchasing a banner that read WELCOME HOME. They didn’t have one that just read WELCOME, but Kari reasoned that “home is where the heart is,” so WELCOME HOME was appropriate, after all. And maybe this would actually be Max’s home in the future.

  Bustling about the kitchen, she prepared the meal she’d serve him when he arrived. It was only 6:15, too early to put anything on to cook yet. Nervously fluttering around the house, Kari checked for dust, clutter, any discordant notes, but she’d been keeping up with the housework all week, and the house was in immaculate condition.

  She ran a bubble bath, intending to luxuriate, but she was too excited to linger in the tub. She settled into the aromatic bubbles, but she couldn’t lie back in the tub and relax, and finally, she washed herself scrupulously and got out again. It was still only 7:00. She put the chicken on to cook.
Not your ordinary stuffed chicken, it was one of her favorite recipes, and she hoped it would make a hit with Max. Looking at her watch, she sighed when she saw how early it still was and drifted into the living room.

  Booting up the computer, she tried to compose a love poem to Max, but she found herself writing lines that were either cloying or clichéd, and finally she gave up the effort. At 7:30 she returned to the kitchen, peered at her vegetable casserole, checked her watch for the bazillionth time, and pulled the lid off the other casserole dish, in which were her potatoes. Then she set the table, using real linen napkins and putting pretty, deep-blue candles in her candleholders.

  Then she wandered back to the computer, logged online, and found two letters from friends. She hoped writing to them would distract her from her nervousness, but instead her nervousness distracted her from concentrating on her email. She wrote both replies with half a head, stopping at 8:00 to start the potatoes cooking. At 8:15 she was left with nothing special to do, too restless to wander the internet downloading recipes or reading the news.

  She changed into a jade green pantsuit with a big, loose top, applied fresh makeup, and fussed with her hair. It was still only 8:30. After putting up the veggie casserole, she paced the house looking for anything out of place. Picking up the phone, she started to dial Lylah’s number, remembered Steve, and changed her mind, started to dial Jeff’s number, remembered the events of the evening before, complete with his statement that he hadn’t been quite honest with her, and again, changed her mind.

  The purr of a motor outside her window caught her ear. Running to the window, she made out headlights in her driveway, though she couldn’t tell what make or color of car they were shining from. Was it Max? Should she let him in the front door—because he was special—or the kitchen door—because—hopefully—he would soon be “family?”