An Appetite for Passion Read Online Free PDF Page B

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 carried 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