The Last Man on Earth (10 page)

“Is what true?” Madelyn leaned back in her chair, amazed how fast news traveled. She hadn’t been back in her office more than five minutes, tops.

“You know what, and don’t toy with me. This is Peg knows-all-and-sees-all Truman you’re talking to, remember? Did you, or did you not, just have lunch upstairs in the executive dining room?”

Madelyn couldn’t contain her grin. “I did.” She swept a clean protective tissue off the top of a dessert-laden paper plate on the corner of her desk. “Napoleon, cream puff, or baba au rhum? I took what I could, but any more would have been gauche.”

“
Ooh
, the rum one definitely.” Peg reached out, picked it up, and took a bite. “My God,” she sighed. “It tastes just like sin. Yum-yum.” She licked syrup off her lips, eyeing the plate. “Would you mind if I took one of the napoleons for Todd?”

“Todd March? Since when do you bring dessert to Todd March?” Since when did Peg even know he existed? Madelyn wanted to know.

Peg flushed slightly. “I lost a bet. I’m hoping this will square us.”

“What kind of bet?”

“The kind I’d rather not talk about.”

“Oh, you’ll talk,” Madelyn promised. “But I’ll wait and torture the details out of you later.” She motioned a hand toward the pastries. “Go ahead. Knock yourself out.”

Peg placed the confection on a paper napkin. “Thanks. Speaking of details, let’s hear the dish on
you
. When you went up there this morning, you were all but ready to ask for your last rites.”

“I know.” Madelyn leaned forward and told her everything that had happened.

“That’s incredible,” Peg said once Madelyn finished. “All because of a rank chip. Who’d have thought? And boy, is Zack Douglas going to be steamed when he hears about Giatta Motors. I’m surprised we haven’t heard the explosion down the hall already.”

Determined to keep Peg from knowing absolutely everything that went on in the office, and out of it as well, Madelyn planted a smug little smile on her lips. “You know what they say: payback’s a bitch.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly what he’s gonna think you are—a bitch. Giatta’s his baby, besides being his favorite account. Those ads always feature a herd of sexy long-legged Italian models, and as all of us know, Zack’s not above fraternizing with the help. The last time they shot ad footage here, I heard he did the town, plus a whole lot more, with a pair of very well-endowed twins.”

“Somehow he’ll have to learn to live with the loss.”

Madelyn fought off the irrational spark of jealousy that burned through her, channeling the emotion into a mask of disdain. “New car, new campaign, and I’m in charge. The Italian models may just have to go, or may have to change gender. Nothing wrong with sexy male models, now, is there?”

Peg’s eyes lit up at the idea. “Still, I’d watch my back.”

Madelyn caught the movement of a very familiar shape out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t think it’s my back I’m going to have to watch,” she murmured to herself.

Zack loomed large in her doorway. One look at his face showed her he was in a serious temper. Uninvited, he walked into her office. “How’s it going, Peg?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Madelyn couldn’t recall ever having seen him talk through his teeth before.

Peg swiveled around in her seat. “Great. How about you?”

“Wonderful. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Madelyn and I have some business to discuss.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. You two go right ahead.” She settled back in her chair, obviously prepared to enjoy the show.

Zack pinned her with a dangerous look.

“On second thought,” she amended hastily, “I really should be returning to my cube. So much to do, so little time.”

Madelyn stood, glad that the desk was between her and Zack. “You don’t have to leave, Peg. I’m sure we all have a pretty good idea why Mr. Douglas has so rudely barged into my office. He can say whatever it is he has to say in front of us both.”

“What I have to say might shock Peg, and I wouldn’t want to offend her. She should leave.”

He was really angry, Madelyn realized, even more so than she’d expected.

Madelyn lifted her chin. “She’s staying.”

Zack had had enough. “Fine. You want an audience? Why don’t we invite the entire office?”

“The way you’re carrying on, they’re already starting to gather. I’ve seen three people conveniently drift by already.”

“You’re the one who started this.” He took three giant steps forward. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing stealing one of my accounts?”

He banged his fist against her desk. Pens and paper bounced, a cream puff jumping up and down on its plate.

“I did
not
steal it,” she said, hurt and not a little offended. “It was given to me.”

“Like hell it was,” Zack bellowed.

“Like hell it wasn’t,” she shouted back. “Fielding gave it to me himself.”

“You know, I really should be going,” Peg whispered. “I’ll just take Todd’s dessert.” She ducked under the line of fire to get the pastry, gathering up the abused cream puff while she was at it. Quietly she slipped out the door.

Zack moved to slam it shut behind her, taking a second before he did to glare at a cluster of onlookers loitering in the hallway. Seeing his expression, they scattered like geese.

“Now that the cavalry has abandoned you,” he said, facing her again, “we’re going to have this out.”

“No, we are not. Not here, not after the scene you’ve started.”

“
I
started?”

“Yes,
you
. Charging in here like a bull after a red cape. Why, they’re probably lined up ten deep out there to listen to every word we say.”

“And your buddy Peg is probably in the lead.”

“Yes, she probably is.”

They glared at each other for a long, tense moment.

Madelyn lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “I am not going to discuss this with you right now.”

Zack approached, planting his palms flat on her desk. “Yes, you are,” he growled. “How in the hell did you do it anyway? That’s what I want to know. You go upstairs with your head on the chopping block and come back wearing a crown. That’s an awfully neat trick, Madelyn. You’ll have to teach it to me sometime.”

“It’s a long story, but apparently my actions uncovered some graft going on at Carmichael Foods and they decided to reward me.”

“By giving you
my
best account!”

“They gave me the Carmichael account too. And you aren’t completely out of Giatta Motors. I’ll only be working on their brand-new sports line.”

“Yes, I know. Harry Fielding called me himself to give me the good news.”

“Well, that’s more than I ever got. It’s about time the tables were turned. Gives you a taste of exactly how it feels to have all your hard work snatched out from under you and handed to someone else. You’ve done it to me since the day you arrived.”

“I have not. At least not intentionally.”

“This wasn’t intentional either.”

“You could have turned it down.”

“This is an opportunity that could make or break my entire career. If you were me, would you have turned it down?”

Their eyes locked. They both knew the answer.

Madelyn laid her hand over his. “Your pride is wounded right now. Believe me, I know how that feels and I’m not even male. Somehow, though, you’ll find a way to heal.”

A glint of grudging humor slipped into his eyes. “Is that right? Well, since this is your fault, what are you going to do as recompense to ease my pain?”

“I may be able to think of something. Actually, though, if one of us is to blame, it’s you.”

“Me?”

“You’re the one who told me to follow my own instincts, to do the right thing. See what my honesty got you?”

“Next time remind me to be a bad influence on you.”

“Now, unless we want to give everyone congregated outside that door the idea that we don’t hate each other nearly as much as they think we do, we’d better break this up.”

“We’ll continue it later, in private,” he murmured. “I’ll stop by tonight.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m letting you stop by far too often these days.”

He reached out to trace his thumb over the delicate crest of her cheekbone.

Her lashes fluttered; her lips parted.

“But you’ll let me in anyway, won’t you?”

They both knew her answer.

He took a step back, then raised his voice. “Oh, yeah?”

He winked at her.

“Yeah!” she yelled, stomping across the room to fling open the door.

In the corridor, heads ducked and bodies scurried with the speed of kitchen cockroaches fleeing a midnight light.

“Now, get out of my office!” she ordered.

“With pleasure.” Zack stalked away.

Madelyn slammed her door. With a little smile playing on her lips, she went back to work.

•   •   •

In bed, Madelyn sat up, sheets pooling around her waist, her arms folded over her up-drawn knees. “Are you still mad?” she murmured.

Lying next to her, Zack slid a hand along the satiny length of her bare back, his fingers tracing the small bones that formed her spine. “About what?”

She dropped her cheek onto her forearm and slanted a look back at him. “About work. About your account.”

His hand slowed for a long moment, lying warm against her skin. Then he resumed his stroking. “No. Not much anyway. And not at you, not anymore.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the sensitive flesh at the very base of her spine. “Besides, how could I be angry when you put such a spectacular effort into making it up to me?” He snaked an arm around her waist to hold her still for another kiss, this time on the fleshy curve of her bottom.

She squirmed and laughed, twisting away from him. “I’ll have to remember that, to use as strategy the next time they give me one of your accounts.”

“There isn’t going to be a next time.” He lunged across the bed and wrestled her beneath him.

“Don’t be too sure,” she teased. “Besides, you’re just annoyed about Giatta because you won’t have a chance to cast a whole new bevy of big-breasted Italian models.”

Surprised by her remark, he lifted an eyebrow. “You know perfectly well I don’t do the casting. I only get to enjoy the big-breasted results.”

She cuffed him on the shoulder. “It’s a good thing I’m doing this ad campaign, then, so you won’t have any new results to enjoy.”

He rolled them over so she lay atop him. “And why would I want to, when I can have a fiery, redheaded American beauty like you in my bed?”

“Even a small-breasted one who takes your best accounts?”

“Yeah, even one like that. And you’re not small.” He cupped her breasts in his hands, letting their soft weight settle against his palms. “See? Just right.”

She met his shining green gaze, her heart skipping a beat.

Just right.
The words repeated themselves in her head.
That’s what he is for me. Just right.

Fearing he might see more than she wanted to reveal, she buried her face in his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her. They lay quietly for a time.

Recovered, Madelyn leaned up. “So we’re definitely square, right?”

“Definitely. I may even give you a few helpful hints every now and then if you’d like.”

“I’d like.” She brushed a strand of hair off his forehead.

Serious, Zack said, “You know they’re pitting us against each other. We’re both in line for the same promotions all the way up the ladder.”

“I know.” She sighed. “We always have been. Or didn’t you think I was real competition before?”

“Oh, I’ve always known enough to recognize you as the enemy. And you know what they say about enemies?”

“No, what do they say?”

“That you should keep them close, even closer than you keep your friends.” He locked their mouths together for a scorching kiss, his hands roaming everywhere.

And when he had her trembling on the brink, he fit them together close, as close as two people could possibly be.

M
adelyn propped the heavy bag of groceries she carried against her left hip and struggled to fit her front-door key in the lock.

Her neighbor’s door down the hall opened a crack, a gray-haired head peeking out. “You’re home. I thought I heard you.”

Madelyn glanced up. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Strickland. How are you this evening?”

The old woman, sparrow thin in a peach cable-knit wool sweater, bold persimmon sweatpants, and yellow Keds, took a measured step out into the hallway. Gay colors, as she called them, colors that cheered her spirit even on the days she’d rather forget it all and just stay in bed.

“Oh, my knee’s paining me some,” Betsy Strickland said. “But then it usually does come spring, especially when it’s due to rain anytime like it is today. Otherwise I can’t complain. I keep busy with my knitting and my TV programs. I’m addicted to that cable cooking channel; keeps me hungry half the day. Then there are my books. I just started a very juicy romance novel.” She flashed a naughty grin.

Madelyn shifted the groceries to her other hip. “If it stays good, you’ll have to let me borrow it.”

“Well, sure I will, but with that new young man of yours coming and going at all hours I don’t suppose you have much time for reading these days. And so handsome, why, he could be a hero from one of my stories.”

Madelyn frowned. “You’ve seen Zack?”

“And spoken to him a time or two. Such a charming devil. He brought me cheesecake from that heavenly shop over on Ninety-third last week just because I happened to mention how partial I am to the stuff. Nearly made myself sick on it, I ate so much. But it was worth every bit of the misery.”

Zack and Mrs. Strickland had been having discussions? He’d been plying her with cheesecake? “He didn’t tell me you two had met.”

“Didn’t he? Well, it must have slipped his mind. He explained how you two want to keep things quiet for now. I know the way it is when you’re first in love. All you want to do is be alone together and shut the rest of the world right out.” Mrs. Strickland placed a finger across her lips. “Rest assured, no one will hear so much as boo from me until you say otherwise.”

For a moment, Madelyn’s tongue felt limp. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, thanks, Mrs. Strickland. We appreciate your discretion.”

“Think nothing of it. You’re a sweet girl, Madelyn. I’m glad to see you happy.”

Was she happy? Madelyn mused. She supposed she was, come to think of it. A warm glow spread through her veins, her lips softening into a smile.

“Will I be watching Millie for you again this weekend?”

“Yes, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I hate to be an imposition.”

“It’s no imposition. That cat’s the best kind of company. Friendly, affectionate, and she doesn’t talk back. Well, not too often anyway; only if I’m late with the cat food,” she amended. “Oh, I almost forgot—”

Madelyn’s front door opened from the inside with a smooth click of the lock.

“Your sister’s here. Hello again, Brie.”

Brie peered down the hall. “Hi, Mrs. S. I heard voices and finally decided to investigate. Thanks again for taking pity on me earlier and letting me in.”

“Glad to, dearie. Good thing I had that spare key Madelyn loaned me. Now, you girls have a good visit.” She glanced at the time on her watch. “I’ve got to get inside. They’re making Chateaubriand today and it’s the closest I’ll be getting to any.” She waved and went into her apartment.

Madelyn turned toward her sister. The bag of groceries she kept wrestling with got in the way of a proper hug. She did her best to compensate and pressed cheeks with Brie. “Hey, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you call? If I’d known you were coming, I’d have met you at the station.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment impulse,” Brie said. “Here, let me take those.” She hoisted the weighty grocery sack into her arms and turned toward the kitchen.

Madelyn raised an eyebrow but remained silent, grateful to have been relieved of her burden.
Something is up,
she thought. Brie never did anything on impulse, especially on a Thursday during a regular workweek. Quietly, she closed and locked the door, set her purse on the sofa, and trailed into the kitchen.

Busy unloading groceries, Brie had the sleeves of her gray Washington Wizards sweatshirt pushed to her elbows, her short blond curls held away from her narrow high-boned face by a slender pink hair band.

Brie set a loaf of bread and carton of strawberries on the counter. “It’s a good thing you went to the market. Your cupboards are practically bare and your refrigerator’s a disgrace. Half a quart of milk, one raspberry yogurt, and a single leftover pork chop.”

“Yes, Mother. That’s why I went shopping.”

Brie made a face and laid a pound of raw shrimp, wrapped in butcher’s paper, on the counter. “I ate the pork chop, by the way, and drank the last of that bottle of wine you had sitting around.”

“My cooking wine. There won’t be any for the scampi now.” Madelyn crossed to her sister’s side and reached into the sack, lifting out a box of dry pasta and two cans of organic whole tomatoes. “That’s what I was planning to cook for dinner, unless you’d rather go out.”

“No, scampi sounds good even without the wine.”

“Good thing I always buy extra shrimp to freeze, or we’d be eating light tonight,” Madelyn said. “So, when did you get here?”

“This afternoon. Around three.”

“Then you really should have called me instead of waiting around half the day.” It was now well past seven o’clock. “I’d have left work early.”

“Exactly the reason I didn’t. I knew you’d feel compelled to rearrange your entire afternoon because of me. I figured springing myself on you without a word was enough of an imposition.”

Madelyn shot her a stern look. “You’re never an imposition.”

“You didn’t say that the time Mom made you take me to the movies and I ruined your plan to meet Stephanie and Jill so you three could sneak over to Craig Tidewater’s senior siesta party.”

“That’s because you were a thirteen-year-old pest who squealed louder than a Nazi informant.”

“Only because you refused to take me with you.”

“You didn’t have any business going to a party with all those upperclassmen.”

“Neither did an innocent little underaged sophomore like you.”

“
Hmmph
. Well, that’s all water under the bridge now, even if I still haven’t completely forgiven you.”

They exchanged mock sisterly glares, then broke into grins.

Brie continued to unpack the groceries, pulling a small white bag of high-end coffee beans out of the sack. She perused the small gold label. “Since when do you drink Jamaican Blue Mountain? I thought you liked tea at home.”

The beans were for Zack. He enjoyed a cup in the evenings or for breakfast when he stayed over, and Madelyn didn’t mind paying a little more for the good stuff. “I do. The coffee is for . . . um . . . friends.”

Not a total lie, she assured herself. Zack qualified as a friend these days, didn’t he? And their relationship was supposed to be a secret, although she guessed telling Brie wouldn’t do any irreparable harm. She wasn’t eager to discuss him, though. She trusted Brie; that wasn’t the issue. Pride was.

With her sharply honed lawyer’s memory, Brie was sure to dig Zack’s name out of her mental Rolodex. Once she did, every nasty remark Madelyn had ever made about him would come flooding back; that’s when Brie’s fun would begin. Serious as she could be, Brie was also a merciless tease when the mood suited her. And there was no doubt the mood would suit once Madelyn confessed she was embroiled in a red-hot love affair with a man she’d once referred to as Lucifer’s spawn.

“Lucky friends,” Brie murmured about the coffee. “You won’t mind if I indulge in a cup later on?”

“Hey, it’s your sleepless night.”

Casually, Madelyn emptied the last few items from the brown paper bag. Folding it into thirds, she tucked it away with a stack of other paper sacks stored in a rack next to the refrigerator.

Brie waved a hand toward a pair of bakery bags filled with cookies and a bottle of extra-virgin olive oil. “Tell me where these go and I’ll put them away for you.”

“Cookies in the cupboard, there.” Madelyn pointed a finger. “Just leave the oil out. I’ll use it to cook dinner.” She turned to wash her hands at the sink. “Let me change out of these work clothes; then we’ll talk.”

Brie’s expression sobered. “Yeah, all right.”

•   •   •

After Madelyn walked from the room, Brie placed the strawberries and a wedge of cheese into the refrigerator. A short search through the cupboards unearthed a stainless steel colander. She’d set it in the sink and prepared to clean the shrimp; then the buzzer rang.

Someone was downstairs.

“Madelyn!” she called, moving into the living area. She heard the sound of water flowing through the pipes and caught a glimpse of the closed bathroom door on the opposite side of her sister’s bedroom.

Millie lounged in a sprawl of gray-and-white splendor across the lilac-colored quilt on the queen-size bed.

The buzzer rang again.

Brie moved toward the front door, pressed a button on the wall. “Yes?”

“Hi, it’s me. Let me up.”

It was a man’s voice, low, provocative, and obviously well acquainted with whomever he thought he was talking to. Maybe he had the wrong apartment.

“Who’s this?”

He hesitated. “Madelyn?”

“No. It’s Brie, her sister.”

Silence.

Curious reaction.

Who do we have here?
Brie wondered, intrigued.
Does Madelyn have a man she hasn’t told anyone about?

•   •   •

Unaware of the drama, Madelyn strolled from her bedroom dressed in an ancient pair of blue jeans and a well-washed sweatshirt, long since faded to dusty plum. She saw the look in Brie’s expressive aqua eyes, the small quirk curving her lips.

She stopped. “What?”

“You have a visitor. Downstairs.”

“Who?”

“He didn’t say.” Brie stepped away from the intercom. “Great voice, though. Very sexy.”

Oh, hell,
Madelyn thought as she moved to take her sister’s place. Why did Zack have to pick tonight to drop by? They usually spent Thursday apart, to catch a full night’s rest before the weekend. She pressed the button. “Hello?”

“Red? Is that you?”

“Red?”
Brie mouthed, her eyes dancing.

Madelyn turned, leaned against the wall as if that might make her conversation more private. “Yes, it’s me,” she said in a low voice. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight. My sister’s here, visiting.”

“So I heard. I didn’t know you were planning on company.”

“I didn’t either. This evening’s been one surprise after another.”

He paused. “Perhaps I should go.”

Yes, perhaps he should. But what was the point now? As far as Brie was concerned, the cat was not only out of the bag; it was sitting on the front stoop, flicking its tail, and meowing to come in. She might as well give in gracefully and open the door.

But Brie didn’t give her the chance to decide one way or the other as she moved forward and mashed her finger against the door release. It buzzed like a hive of angry bees.

“What’d you do that for?” Madelyn demanded.

“I couldn’t let you send him away. I’ve got to meet this mystery man. Why haven’t you told any of us about him? What’s the matter? Is he ugly?”

“No, he isn’t ugly.”

“Fat, then?”

“No, he’s not fat either.”

Brie’s sense of humor revved into high gear. “A cross-dresser? An excommunicated priest? A dangerous felon on the run?”

Madelyn crossed her arms, shook her head in exasperation. “No. No. And no!”

Brie’s playfulness faded. “He isn’t married, is he?”

“No, of course he’s not married. Why would you even think such a thing?”

Brie shrugged. “If he’s gorgeous and single, then how come you’re hiding him?”

A fist rapped twice on the other side of the door.

“Because he’s Zack Douglas.”

Madelyn left Brie to puzzle out the name and went to let him in.

Dressed all in black, Zack could have passed for the felon Brie had mentioned, a handsome thief on the run, the sort that populated major motion pictures and graced fashionable magazine covers. He was a man of dangerous magnetism and power. Was that why she’d fallen so easily? Taken to the low habit of lying? Even to her sister.

He walked in, a few drops of rain clinging to his leather jacket. Without thinking, Madelyn reached up and brushed them away from his shoulders in a gesture of telling intimacy.

He smiled and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Sorry about this.”

She met his look. “It’s okay. I didn’t realize it had started to rain.”

He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “Just a drizzle.” He turned to greet her sister.

“You must be Brie,” he said. “I feel like we’ve already met. I’m Zack.” He held out his hand and gave her a friendly glimpse of his straight white teeth.

Brie wasn’t any more immune to Zack than any other woman, Madelyn noticed, watching the way her sister had to shake herself clear of his spell after a lengthy pause.

A light of recognition flashed to life in Brie’s eyes. “Lucifer’s spawn, I presume.” She accepted his hand for a quick shake.

This time, he was the one who looked like he needed a moment to recover. He gazed at Madelyn, then back to Brie. “I haven’t heard that one before. I’ll have to add it to my collection.”

“The family was a bit surprised when Madelyn chose art over writing,” Brie commented. “She’s got a tongue that can shave steel.”

“She is gifted with language, I agree,” he said.

Madelyn sighed. “You two stay here and continue your insults in private. I’m going to make dinner.” She stalked off to the kitchen.

“So what’s on the menu?” Zack inquired.

“Shrimp scampi over fettuccini. Have you eaten?” Brie asked.

“No, and I’m starved.”

“Then we’d better get in there and help. Otherwise she’s liable to botch the meal just to spite us.”

But they needn’t have worried. Madelyn relaxed as she cooked, listening to the two of them tease and bicker like a pair of kids trying to one-up each other. They were arguing sports by the time she set the meal on the table.