An Appetite for Passion (12 page)

Dressing more rapidly than usual, she raced down the stairs, as if by her hurrying she could speed Max’s arrival. She continued at a breakneck pace, booting up the computer, then putting on coffee while the computer slowly did its thing. She righteously forbore to eat any breakfast but the coffee—maybe she could lose another pound today if she skipped lunch too?—then, while the coffee brewed, she went to the computer and logged on.

My dear,

Just a quickie because I have so much to do. I want to be all packed and ready to leave when I go to the office this morning. That way, as soon as I wind up the day at work, I can leave right from there and zoom across the actual highway—instead of this “information highway” we’ve been travelling—to you and your waiting hospitality.

Just think—by this evening, my arms will know the feel of you, my hands will mold to your curves, my lips can worship you in more ways than merely forming your name, and my eyes can devour the sight of you. By bedtime tonight, my nostrils will know the scent of your hair, my feet will have traced lazy paths up your legs, and my lips and the back of your neck will be the best of friends.

I’ll grab a little nibble at my desk before I leave (around 5:00) to tide me over till I get there. Would you want to have a light supper ready for the two of us when I arrive (which should be around 9:00)? Making love surely requires some fuel. Besides, I want to know you in more ways than the Biblical sense. Since it was cooking that brought us together (did you ever try that first recipe?), it’s only fitting that we eat together, and I get to know you as the chef extraordinaire that I’m sure you are.

And now I must go pack a bag. I’ll log on one more time to see if you have any last-minute requests or driving instructions. I’ll see you later!!!

Yours,

Max

Kari kept her answer brief, thinking she didn’t want to delay him even by two minutes. Of course, she knew that was silly—two minutes extra reading in the morning wouldn’t delay a 5:00 PM departure—but she hurried all the same. She included her office phone number “just in case,” telling Max she’d be there till at least 5:00.

Between rising early and keeping her email brief, she was way ahead of schedule, and she didn’t feel like getting to work early, so she turned on the radio and straightened up the house a little. She’d been keeping on top of the housework, and it really was quite clean, but she eagerly polished the wood, dusted off the light bulbs and the lampshades, and bent to all the hard-to-get places she might have skimped on earlier in the week...like the carved legs of the end tables, and the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

Lost in a reverie of her romantic weekend-to-be, she wasn’t paying much attention to the radio, but suddenly the announcer’s voice brought her up short. “...would be the first snowfall of the season, and the first major snowfall to hit the area this early in the season in eighty-five years. If the front moves north of us....”

Oh no!

Holding perfectly still, she listened to the rest and gathered that there was a threat of a major snowstorm blanketing the area, starting around noon.
Why couldn’t it at least hold off till Sunday? That way it would keep him here instead of keeping him away!

But maybe the storm would track away from them. That seemed to be a possibility. Why hadn’t she been paying attention to the radio? What were the odds? What were the determining factors? When would they know?

Dispirited, Kari quit tidying up and got out her winter coat, her muffler, her gloves, and her warm boots. Snow or no snow, it was damn cold out. With heavy steps, she walked to the door. Her feet felt weighted with misery. Half of her wanted to just go back to bed and pull the covers over her head.

She tried to look on the bright side. Maybe it
wouldn’t
snow. Maybe the snow, if it came, would be minimal, and Max could handle the roads. Worst-case scenario, if it did snow heavily and preclude his visit, maybe he could still come visit next weekend. Certainly she had no other plans; maybe he hadn’t any either. The week’s delay would be insufferable, but she tried to tell herself it was
only
a seven day hold.

She stopped at a full service gas station, getting her antifreeze and tires checked...no harm in being extra safe. Now she was running late, and it was a little after 9:00 when she got to work. The morning dragged despite a heavy workload. At noon, though she had vowed not to eat lunch, she went out. She told herself she was only going to stretch her legs, only going to get a pack of sugarless gum, but she knew her real need was to assess the weather.

The low, leaden sky looked none too friendly. Though not a single snowflake was in evidence, the sky looked ready to unleash its wrath. Maybe it would just be flurries. Maybe it would pass without dumping snow. Maybe it would hold off till the night. Maybe they would just get a light dusting at worst. Wishing, once again, for an office with a window, Kari bought her gum and scurried back to the office against a nasty wind that was picking up.
Well, at least it’s not the calm before the storm!

All afternoon she was too distracted to work properly. She debated finding a window in an office whose occupant wouldn’t mind her peering out, then decided she’d be better off not knowing if a snowstorm was raging. In her present state, she could barely work as it was. If she knew the storm had tracked away from them, she’d be too excited and relieved to work. If she knew the storm had hit, she’d be too depressed.

She learned anyhow when she got back from a trip to the Ladies room. The receptionist rang her phone. “I took a message for you while you were away from your desk. By the way, have you looked out any windows lately?” That told her all she didn’t want to know; no further explanation was needed. Her worst fears were confirmed, though, with the next call. Max was on the phone, canceling.

“But I have nothing on for next weekend that’s not changeable or cancelable. What’re the odds of it snowing two weekends in a row? In October? Not likely! I’ll keep this brief—we both have to work—but I’ll call you tonight. At eleven? We can ‘go to bed together’ long distance. It’s better than nothing.” His own voice grew tattered; the enforced cheeriness was hard for even him to sustain.

The office closed at 4:00. Some roads were already impassable, and travel was hazardous at best. Kari, already near tears, had to fight off her depression to concentrate on driving, which required every ounce of her concentration. Visibility was minimal. The roads were both skiddy and drifted. The poor visibility was compounded by the tears that filled her eyes the way the snow filled the sky, and obscured her vision the way the drifting snow obliterated the view out her windshield.

Kari tried to keep the windshield clear, running the wipers at fast speed, occasionally getting out at a red light to wipe down the windshield with a piece of the paper towels she always kept in the car. She tried to keep her eyes dry, too, but as hard as she tried, that was as much a losing battle as the windshield.

She was only nine blocks from home when she hit the ice patch. First, her tires wouldn’t grip, and they spun with a sickening
whirrr
. She started to panic. She was in no state to have to cope with trouble. Getting a grip on herself, she told herself,
Rock the car.
So she put it in reverse, in drive, in reverse, in drive, in reverse, in drive...and finally, she got traction.

Unexpectedly, the car shot forward, veered off at an angle, barely missed the lone other car in sight...and landed in a drift. A shower of white obscured the windshield as Kari let loose and bawled.

She tried the wipers, but the sheer weight of the mounded snow on the glass was more than the wipers could handle. She tried backing up, but she was wedged in. Snow and ice had trapped her. She sat and cried enough tears that they could have melted the snow on the windshield. Then she got her paper towels and got out again.

Kari succeeded in wiping down the windshield, but she was no closer than before to getting the car unstuck. She had neither sand, nor salt, nor a shovel in her trunk, nor anything else that would have eased her predicament. She hoped to flag a car down, but none passed.

It was a small, mixed-use block—stores at one end, four houses at the other, and two vacant lots interspersed. The stores were closed up tight, their owners undoubtedly smarter than she and no doubt cozily ensconced in their homes. The vacant lots were, of course, no use to her. She rang the doorbells of two of the houses, but there was no answer. At that point, shivering and wet, physically miserable and emotionally more so, she returned to the car. At least her heater was working.

She did have the presence of mind to make sure her tailpipe was clear before sitting in the car with the engine running. Though upset, she certainly wasn’t
terminally
miserable! Surely a car would come along soon, she thought, as she warmed up, courtesy of the car’s powerful heater.

Two cars did come along...and passed without stopping. The first went right by despite her sitting there, heedless of the paper towel she’d tied to the antenna as a distress signal. After that, she kept a keen eye out, and exited the car quickly when another car approached.

This second car she tried to actively flag down, but the driver never stopped. Whether he was concentrating so hard on his driving that he was unmindful of the chilled, snow-covered figure standing there, or
 
he selfishly chose not to stop in his eagerness to get home safely, the net result was that Kari was left watching his taillights as he cautiously proceeded down the road.
I haven’t lost that much weight that I should be so hard to see!
The thought tugged Kari’s mouth into a minor smile, the best she could muster under the circumstances.

It was Steve who finally rescued her. Like a knight in shining armor—except he was driving a Cherokee, not riding a steed—he providentially drove by, saw her, stopped, produced a shovel, got her out of her predicament, and insisted on tailing her home to be sure she arrived safely without further incident.

The least she could do was invite him in for coffee—she wanted a cup of something warm, herself, after her misadventure. Liberally lacing the coffee with brandy, she served them each a cup, leaving Steve with his while she ran upstairs to get out of her wet things. She shivered her way out of her clothes and into a fleecy robe and warm pink slippers. In the grip of a strong chill, she was still shivering when she went back downstairs to Steve.

“Don’t you think you’d better call Lylah to tell her where you are? She’ll be worrying.”

“She’s at her mom’s for the weekend.”

“How fortunate you came along when you did—God!—nobody came along and then, finally, two cars did but they wouldn’t stop and I was really freaking out and thinking I was stranded there forever and wondering what I was going to do and whether I’d still be there when the storm was over and...thank God you came along when you did!” The words tumbled out as fast as avalanching snow rolls as Kari had a delayed reaction to her relief at being rescued.

“Thank God for four-wheel drive...and good tires, hmm?” Steve said. “Do I deserve a reward for rescuing you?”

“Does brandy-spiked coffee and my eternal gratitude do it for you?”

He answered with an odd smile, tilting his head slightly sideward as he looked at her. For no reason she could put into words, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She also still felt cold. “I want to go put a sweater on under this robe,” she said. “If you want more coffee, there’s more in the pot. I made plenty. The brandy’s already in it. Help yourself. I’ll be right back.”

Grabbing a sweater from the hall closet, Kari went upstairs to put it on, and put some socks on in addition to the slippers. She had the robe off and was picking up the sweater from the bed where she’d dropped it to look for the socks, when she heard a noise. Turning, she saw Steve.

She was startled, and not at all pleased. She was standing there in her underwear, socks, and slippers. Quickly, she grabbed for the robe. Steve strode toward her, pulled the robe aside, and kissed her. For a second she stood there, stunned, while his hard, dry lips scorched her lips, lips that had expected to be kissed by Max in just a few hours.

But as disappointed as she was about Max, and as unfulfilled in her longings, she had no desire to take out her frustrations with Steve. He was not the man she longed for...and he was her friend’s husband, besides. “What are you doing?” she spluttered around his lips. “Get away!” She pushed against his chest.

Her rejection only made him kiss her harder, mashing his lips to hers while his hands gripped her buns and pulled her to him. She felt his excited male organ through his heavy corduroy pants. It was throbbing palpably and sticking out in distended eagerness. But she wanted no part of this scene. While he stroked her hair and cupped her broad buns in a manner he obviously thought seductive, she brought her elbow down sharply onto his arm, breaking his grip on her.

Tearing away, she slapped his face, grabbing the robe around to hide her semi-nakedness, not stopping to put the sweater on underneath.

“Hey, what gives?” Steve asked, seeming genuinely surprised as he rubbed his smarting face.

“Get out of here!” Kari snapped, her eyes flashing. Steve took two steps backward, but stretched a hand out to stroke her arm. Kari evaded his hand and snarled, “Out!”