Free An Appetite for Passion by Cynthia MacGregor Page A

back down to the living room and put on a Tony Bennett album, cranking it up loud so she could hear it upstairs. Then she returned to the bedroom, selected a filmy, scarlet nightgown, and laid it out on the bed.
    Sinking into the fragrant, warm, bubble-heaped water, Kari lay back and luxuriated. She imagined Max was there with her. Soaping her back. Talking softly to her. Climbing into the tub with her. Would he fit in there with her? It was a small tub. What if it turned out he, too, was overweight? He didn’t look it in the picture, but photos could be deceptive, and besides, the picture showed him only to the waist.
    She had taken her watch off to get into the water, but she suspected it was closing in on 11:00. Hurriedly, she sat up, washing herself carefully. A scrupulously clean person to begin with, she washed extra-well tonight, as if Max were really going to be in bed with her instead of just over the phone. Then she got out, dried off, and went into the bedroom where the nightgown was waiting.
    The clock on the bedside table said ten of eleven. Moving quickly, she hurried downstairs, turned off the stereo, the lights, the computer, put the chains on both doors, hung up her coat belatedly, and double-checked the stove. When she was content that everything was in order, she practically dashed up the stairs. The phone was ringing as she pulled back the covers.
    “Hello?”
    “My dear Kari. That is you, isn’t it?”
    “Max?”
    “At your service. Are we in bed together?”
    She sat down, pulled her legs up onto the bed, pulled the upper sheet over her, and lay on her left side, holding the phone to her right ear. “Yes. Yes, we are. You’re in bed too?”
    “Under the covers in the altogether.”
    “I’m wearing a fancy nightgown especially for you.”
    “Describe it for me.”
    “It’s scarlet, sheer, floor-length with fancy stitching around the bustline, and it plunges between my...between my breasts.” She had typed the word “breasts” to him any number of times, but she was momentarily shy about saying it.
    “It’s beautiful. You look delightful in it. But now, take it off. I want you naked.”
    She complied, sitting up to remove the nightgown, then resuming her former position.
    “First, tell me about your day before we get into anything more intimate.”
    More intimate . A shiver raced through her at the implication. She told him about her day, glossing over the most depressing parts and leaving Glenn out altogether. Max, in turn, filled her in on his day. He made the life of a stockbroker sound more exciting than she would have thought.
    Max had worked on a mailing that evening at the campaign headquarters where he was volunteering; he agreed it sounded like someone had sabotaged the Larrimore mailing.
    “I know Russ thinks it was Jeff, and I just don’t believe it,” she said. “I looked for the flyers. They said Steve—my friend Lylah’s husband—looked for them. Other people looked for them. No one could find them. They didn’t just get up and walk off by themselves. But it wasn’t Jeff!”
    “The culprit will be found,” Max soothed. “Keep your eyes and ears open...maybe you’ll even solve the mystery yourself. Now let’s talk about more...personal...matters. Like you. And me. Together. I still want to see you this weekend. And I’m still not one hundred percent positive I can. But it’s only Tuesday in any event. Right now, let’s deal with tonight. Tonight, I’m in bed with you long distance...which is better than not at all. I have a good imagination. Do you?”
    “Oh, very!” Kari gasped. She could already feel him in the bed with her, feel his strength as he pressed against her, even feel every hair on his chest, his arms, his legs.
    “You have a very sexy voice, my dear. Talk to me.”
    She’d been thinking that he had a sexy voice, especially when he talked about sex, and his voice dropped into a lower register and took on the qualities of pouring