The Last Man on Earth (13 page)

A heavy silence hung between them.

He sighed. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t want to bring her up, that’s all. I didn’t want to spoil your birthday.”

“You haven’t spoiled my birthday. We are going to Atlantic City, I assume,” she said as they passed under a road sign that pointed them in that direction.

“We are. I thought you might enjoy the glitz.”

“I’ve never been to a casino before,” she admitted.

“Never? Not even in Vegas?”

“I’ve never been to Las Vegas. My family’s not big on gambling, and I was ill the one time a bunch of my college friends decided to fly out there.”

“Then it will be my distinct pleasure to corrupt you.”

•   •   •

“
Hah, hah,
this is fun!” Madelyn gave the lever a solid pull and watched the dials spin in wild succession.

“Slots are for suckers. We should go back to the blackjack tables,” Zack said as he leaned over her shoulder to watch.

“Everybody there’s too serious, staring at their cards as if they expect to witness the Second Coming, mumbling, ‘Hit me, hit me,’ then cursing when they go bust. I like this.” She patted the side of the machine. “Just me and the pretty box.”

“Looks like the pretty box ate your money again.”

“But if I keep playing, it’s eventually bound to cough it back up.”

“These machines are rigged, and at a dollar a pop you’ll be broke before the hour’s out.”

She drew herself up, sitting straight on the padded stool beneath her. “It’s my money and my birthday and I’ll waste it however I choose, Zachary Douglas.”

The machine ate another one of Madelyn’s dollars.

He shook his head and wrapped a hand around her ponytail, pulling gently on it to tip her head back for his kiss, a slow, easy slide of lips and tongue that warmed them both.

“Why don’t I go get us a drink?” he suggested, releasing her.

“Um, sounds good. Something cold and wet and nonalcoholic for me. I need to keep my wits sharp for the game.”

“The fleecing, don’t you mean?”

“If you disapprove so much, you should never have brought me here. Now shoo. I’ve got work to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Zack strode away from the casino area, his footsteps mute on the plush red and gold carpet beneath his feet. It was a pleasure to see Madelyn having so much fun. He congratulated himself on the decision to bring her here. The gaudy opulence of the hotel was exactly what she needed after weeks of intense pressure and hard work. The new ad campaign—the one that was supposed to have been his—was proceeding well, but at a punishing pace. Forgetting the work and the responsibility for a short while could only do her good, and him as well. In this palace of unabashed hedonism and shameless greed, one couldn’t help but find enjoyment.

At first, he’d thought he might have to coax her into letting loose, but she’d surprised him by adapting almost immediately to the easygoing style of the place. Over the past two days, she’d been happier and more relaxed than he’d ever known her—the only exception the times they made love. When they were alone together, intimate, she seemed to glow, losing herself to him with an abandon that never failed to steal his breath. Just thinking about her now fired his blood with need. No matter how many times they came together, it was never enough.

He’d expected their affair to be over by now, or at least on the wane. Contrary to his reputation, he didn’t invite every attractive woman he met into his bed. He was far more discriminating than most might imagine. Still, his relationships tended to be short-lived, ignited by passion, doused by disinterest when the flames burned low. But with Madelyn it was different. Yes, there was the sex, and yes, it was wonderful, but there was far more between them. The simple fact was he enjoyed her company, more than he could remember enjoying any woman’s company, ever. And that, above all else, left him uneasy.

He wasn’t looking for commitment. He didn’t believe in love—not the hearts-and-flowers kind the poets wrote about, the sort people claimed would last forever. Love was impermanent and fleeting, a fickle bitch who led you on, then turned her back and left you to bleed. It had no place in his life.

Yet there was such a thing as want, desire, need. And with Madelyn he felt all three, craving far more than a weekend with her and a handful of hours stolen in between. Being here together, free of the subterfuge and secrecy, made him long for a more honest arrangement where they no longer had to hide what they were to each other. Where he could exist in the open as part of her life.

But he couldn’t fault her motives, her caution. And when the day came and the passion between them died, he didn’t want to see her hurt or shamed or damaged—especially at work—because of what they’d been to each other.

His mood pensive, Zack ordered their drinks.

On his return, bells were ringing, sirens clanking, electronic whistles hooting in celebration as he wove a path in among the rows of slot machines. From the sound of it, somebody was a winner.

A crowd of people had formed, preventing him from reaching Madelyn. Being tall came in handy on occasion, and he put that advantage to use now, peering over the sea of heads to scan for a familiar glint of red-gold hair. His eyes widened when he located her and realized she was not just part of the hoopla but the main attraction.

“Zack!”
She flung an arm into the air and waved. “Zack, I won! Oh, let him through,” she pleaded, motioning for people to step aside so he could reach her. Parting as if they were the Red Sea and he Moses, the crowd opened a path.

Bemused, Zack walked forward. “You won?”

Coins overflowed from a host of buckets scattered across the floor, gleaming and sparkling like booty spilled from a pirate’s treasure chest, an occasional straggler coin tumbling now and then from the machine to clink onto the heaps below.

“Can you believe it? I won. I won.” Laughing, exuberant, she launched herself toward him, leaping up to wrap her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist.

He staggered back a step or two, soda sloshing over the rims of the cups he still carried. Only he didn’t care, too busy enjoying the sensation of Madelyn’s lips moving with feverish excitement against his own. He kissed her back, abruptly hungry, losing himself in the scent and taste of her. The place and the people around him faded to nothing, the world spinning away.

Far too soon, Madelyn pulled away, returning once more to solid ground and her own two feet. “I won!” she squealed again.

“I know. How much is there?”

“A couple thousand at least. I was ready to quit, but since you weren’t back, I thought, ‘What the hell?’ and plunked in one more buck. All of a sudden the machine went wild, like it was going to explode, and wow, I hit the jackpot.”

He set their drinks aside, then hugged her hard, spinning her around twice. “Congratulations, baby, and happy birthday.”

B
y evening, Madelyn was more than a little tipsy. High on wine, intoxicated by Zack.

Dinner at the hotel’s elegant five-star restaurant had been divine. And despite her winnings, all $4,784 of them, Zack had refused to let her pay for a thing—part of his birthday gift to her. Afterward, they’d decided to take in the show of a well-known singer. Twenty minutes into a superb performance, Madelyn had begun nibbling on Zack’s neck.

At first, he’d tipped his head to one side to allow her better access but soon found himself wishing he hadn’t encouraged her, not in so public a place. She was unrelenting, reaching up to loosen his tie and unfasten his collar in order to give her lips and tongue a broader canvas on which to play. She began opening his shirt buttons, freeing a good half dozen before he realized he had to stop her. A shiver ran through him as she slid her hand inside to caress his bare chest in a most distracting way.

He’d whispered to her to quit, but it did no good. With people beginning to stare, he’d done the only thing he could do.

Leave.

Propelling them up and out of the theater with as little fuss as possible, he tried to keep her hands from wandering over portions of his anatomy not generally fondled in public.

He yanked off his half-knotted tie and stuffed it into his pocket as he hustled her down a carpeted hallway toward a bank of elevators. “You’re like an octopus. If you don’t stop, you’re going to get us arrested.”

She giggled, then confessed in a loud stage whisper, “I’ve never been arrested.”

“Believe me, it’s not an experience you’d enjoy.”

“I know an experience I
would
enjoy.” She snaked an arm down to grab his ass.

Zack sent her a disapproving look and walked them faster toward the elevators. He startled when she buried her face against his exposed chest, her lips and tongue roaming over his skin before pausing to suck on one of his nipples.

“Have I ever told you how good you taste?” She sighed, licking him. She gave his hard, flat nipple a gentle bite that turned other parts of him even harder.

“No.” He moaned, giving the elevator’s up button a savage punch with his fist. “Cut it out, Madelyn. I mean it.” His words sounded weak, even to himself.

She wrapped both arms around his waist and pressed her body flush against his. “Oh, I hope you mean it.” She rubbed herself sinuously against him. “I know I do.”

“I should never have ordered that bottle of wine.”

“But it was so sweet,” she crooned, blinking up at him. “A thirty-year-old bottle for my thirtieth birthday. I’m going to have to find some way to thank you for making my day extra special.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and began tugging his head down for a kiss.

He evaded her, reaching up to unwind her arms. “You already have thanked me. Now, behave yourself. Someone’s coming.”

Madelyn snuggled closer and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

Zack held her upright with one arm and gave a polite nod to the elderly couple who’d stopped to wait for the elevator as well.

The older woman, her head crowned by a thick puff of snow white hair, sniffed disdainfully and raised her eyes to the lighted panel of numbers above. Her husband, on the other hand, perused the pair of them with open interest, his lips curved with prurient amusement.

The elevator dinged and after the passengers inside disembarked, the four of them walked on board. Zack pressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor.

The old man pressed the one for the twentieth. “Newlyweds?”

After a short pause, Zack said, “No.”

The old woman sniffed again, lips pursed. Under her breath she muttered, “Shameful.”

Before Zack could stop her, Madelyn spun around and flattened herself against him, caressing his thighs through the material of his pants. “There’s nothing shameful about it,” she declared. “It’s my birthday and I’m here with my man to celebrate.”

She thrust out her breasts, proudly displaying the expanse of cleavage revealed above the top of her evening gown along with the opal and diamond pendant nestled in between. “He gave this to me. Isn’t it beautiful? I adore it.”

The old man leaned in for a closer look.

His wife gave him a hard smack on the shoulder and yanked him around to face forward. “We’re getting off,” she said, pushing the button for the next floor—the sixteenth.

Zack angled his head and whispered into Madelyn’s ear. “God knows I’m going to do the same if you don’t quit with that rubbing of yours.” He captured her hands to still them.

The other couple must have heard him, the woman’s spine stiffening so much it was a wonder it didn’t crack. Her husband choked out a laugh as the elevator doors opened and his wife hauled him out.

Zack wrapped his arms around Madelyn as the doors slid shut and the elevator glided upward. “What’s gotten into you, Red?”

“I don’t know. She made me mad, that’s all. And I don’t want to be mad, not tonight.”

“Then don’t be.” He turned her around and took her mouth in a ravenous kiss that quickly had her purring against him.

Somehow they made it to their room without causing another scene.

Zack had left a small lamp burning; it cast the furniture in dim shades of amber, the bed a wide plain of inviting shadow. Between the elevator and their room, Madelyn had managed to unfasten the rest of the Zack’s shirt buttons. He yanked the tails out of his pants and flung the garment behind him as he and Madelyn danced, lips locked, toward the bed. The mattress gave a squeak as they fell upon it, bouncing once.

Consumed by desire and the overpowering urge to feel the silk of her bare flesh beneath his hands, to sheath himself inside the hot, honeyed depths of her body, he yanked down the zipper of her dress with one hand as he thrust up the long formal skirt of her gown with the other. Slipping a grateful hand beneath her panties, he cupped her rounded bottom and fondled her flesh.

He was poised to move on to even more interesting territory when Madelyn stopped the wicked things she’d been doing to his neck and propped her elbows against his chest.

“I’ve gotta tinkle,” she announced, levering herself out of his arms and off the bed.

Zack groaned in acute frustration and flung an arm over his face. He could wait, he assured himself. She wouldn’t be long. He hoped she wouldn’t be long. In a cruel way, this was nothing less than he deserved for making love with an inebriated woman. He should never have bought that wine.

Eventually, he heard the toilet flush. Renewed anticipation surged through him, intensifying the ache lodged in his groin. She’d be back any second.

One minute ticked past, then two; still no Madelyn.

“Zack?” she called from inside the bathroom.

Oh no. Please,
he prayed,
please don’t let her be sick.

“Zack? Can you come in here?”

He doubted he could even walk. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you.”

Yeah, he needed her too.

Urgently.

But not in the bathroom. Although . . . ?

He shook his head, immediately banishing the idea. With an audible grunt and an abject groan, he pushed himself off the bed and delicately made his way across the room.

The door was wide open, and there in front of the sink stood Madelyn, a toothbrush in one hand, a tube of partly squeezed toothpaste in the other. A heavy frown of confusion wrinkled her brow. She looked a sight, half of her once tidy topknot hanging in a messy russet tangle over her shoulder. Her right dress strap dangled near her elbow, leaving one pert breast exposed. And she was lopsided, forced to take an occasional hop to keep herself steady on the single three-inch heel she still wore.

The sink basin was a sight as well, covered with several misdirected globs of white-green paste. She held out the tube and brush—his, he noted—her blue eyes pleading. “There’s something wrong with this stuff. It won’t stay on the brush.”

“You can brush later. Come to bed,” he told her, his body still throbbing for release.

“No, I won’t be sexy for you unless I brush. Don’t you want me sexy?”

Right now, he just wanted her. But considering the state she was in, he realized he’d have to tolerate another small delay. Sighing, he plucked the toothbrush out of her hand—pausing to exchange it for her own—then the toothpaste. He squeezed a short dab across the bristles and handed it to her.

She sent him a wide smile of gratitude. But when she tried to move the brush over her teeth, her arm refused to lift high enough to do the job, her loose dress strap binding her elbow to her side.

Aware that she was currently incapable of figuring out a solution, Zack took pity. Pausing a moment to drop a kiss on her naked breast, he inserted a single finger beneath the pesky strap and pushed it up and over her shoulder, settling the loose bodice of her dress in place. He turned the tap on for her, then crossed his arms and leaned against the countertop. “Better?”

Madelyn scrubbed her teeth, delighted to find her movements no longer hampered. She spat into the sink, then gave him a big grin and a nod, her teeth and lips sticky with foamy flecks of toothpaste.

The ludicrous nature of the moment struck him and he tossed back his head laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she mumbled around the brush.

“You.” He skimmed a finger down the bridge of her nose. “You make a cute drunk. Annoying but cute.”

“You’re cute too. I’ve always thought so.”

“Have you?”

“Oh, yes.” She leaned over to rinse her mouth. “Even when I believed you were a womanizing creep who didn’t deserve to lick my boots, I thought you were cute. More than cute; beautiful, actually. You’re every bit as hot as any movie star, even Brad Pitt.”

“Gee, thanks.” He picked up a fluffy white washcloth and patted her face and hands dry. “So you just want me for my body, huh?”

“Well, it is an awfully nice body.” She ran her hands over his muscled arms and shoulders.

He sucked in a sharp breath when her palms played over his taut stomach, barely an inch from his fly; his erection stiffened full force once more. If only she would touch him there, he knew he could die in peace.

Unwilling to wait even a second longer, he bent his knees and lifted her over his shoulder, carrying her to the bed. He laid her against the sheets, then stripped her bare.

She raised her arms above her head. “I like your mind too,” she said, continuing their conversation. “You’re smart and interesting, superinventive and fun. You don’t put up with crap from idiots, but you’re generous and kind, much more than I would ever have suspected. You can be so incredibly sweet; sometimes it takes my breath away.”

Sweet?
he thought. Jesus, right now he was about as far from sweet as a man could get.

Naked, he spread himself over her and parted her legs to fit himself between them. He claimed her mouth with demanding heat, taking care to touch her body in all the ways he knew she liked best. He suckled her breasts, tonguing her nipples with firm strokes to make sure she was ready.

Madelyn shifted beneath him, moaning with clear need.

“I guess it’s like my necklace,” she panted, her hands roaming over the limber curve of his back to trace his buttocks and the lean hollows along the sides of his hips.

His shaft throbbed, warning him just how close he was.

“It’s thoughtful and unique,” she said. “A beautiful gift that will remind me of this day and you, forever.”

Zack shuddered, his skin on fire, need driving him crazy. He couldn’t wait much longer. He brushed scorching kisses over her neck and took her hips in his hands.

She threaded her fingers into his hair. “You’ve done so much to make this weekend special. Because of you it’s been the best birthday I’ve ever had. I’ve loved it and . . .”

He thrust himself inside her, burying himself satisfyingly deep.

She arched and gasped. “And I love you too,” she cried. “Oh, God, Zack, I love you too. So much.”

Shock rippled through him at her words, but the animal need pounding inside him was too intense for anything but action. Pushing her declaration aside for now, he thrust again, driving her hard, then harder still, until the only sounds she could make were frenzied moans.

He fought his body’s urgings to climax as he took her higher and higher, determined to make her come spectacularly. Suddenly she shattered around him, calling out his name in wild gasps. Only then did he let himself follow her over the edge, his mind and body quaking from the overwhelming pleasure.

•   •   •

Madelyn wore a pair of sunglasses to breakfast.

Her head throbbed, despite the twenty-minute soaking she’d given it beneath a stream of near kettle-hot water and the trio of aspirins she’d swallowed afterward.

Zack was quiet this morning. She’d awakened to find him dressed and standing on the small balcony outside their room, contemplating the shoreline. The waves were a rough blue-gray chop, the cloud-laden sky the color of dull steel.

When he suggested they dine at one of the hotel restaurants downstairs, she’d been surprised. Every morning since their arrival, they’d dined in their room, usually in bed. This was their last day in Atlantic City; she’d assumed they’d spend it alone. By afternoon they would need to be back on the road, traveling home. Perhaps he just wanted one last chance to soak up the carnival atmosphere of the place, to take advantage of a final few hours of casino games and shameless, decadent fun.

Whatever the reason, she’d had no energy to argue. Incapable of facing the noisy whine of her hair dryer, she’d fastened her hair into a damp ponytail and allowed Zack to guide her downstairs.

The smell of fried eggs and cinnamon buns at the restaurant’s entrance was sickening this morning. White cheeked, she trailed the hostess and slid carefully into a back booth, lifting the menu up to shield her face. At least they were away from the kitchen, with only the faint aroma of coffee perfuming the air.

“Take off those glasses,” Zack said. “You look like a Hollywood starlet trying to hide from her fans.”

She lowered her menu an inch. “The light hurts my eyes.”