The Last Man on Earth (2 page)

Madelyn picked up a pencil, twirled it between her fingers. “Um, Mother, about that—we may not be able to make it.”

“What do you mean, not make it? Of course you’re going to make it. A weekend in the country is exactly what you need, both of you.”

“Connecticut isn’t exactly the country, you know.”

“It is compared to where you live. Now, I won’t hear another word. You’re coming and that’s that. You can help me pick out new sample invitations and James can get in a round of golf with your father and brother.”

Madelyn tapped the pencil against her desk mat a few times, then tossed it aside. “All right, I’ll be there. But about James, he . . .”

“Yes?”

She didn’t want to discuss this. Not now. Actually, not ever, if she had her druthers, but she knew it would have to be done sometime. She drew in a deep breath. “James and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

Laura Grayson chortled. “Not seeing each other? Whatever do you mean? Has he gone on a trip somewhere? I know he was talking about acquiring some property in Asia. Hong Kong, I think, despite the Chinese taking it back and all. Although it isn’t like him to simply run off without a word. He’s never been the thoughtless type. Such a dear boy; I couldn’t love him more if he were my own.”

Leaning her head back against her upholstered seat, Madelyn closed her eyes. Yes, she knew.

The “boy”—who’d just turned thirty last month—was everything her mother said. Kind, thoughtful, charming. Incredibly handsome, intelligent, and rich. The epitome of everything any red-blooded American woman could desire in a man. Added to that, he and Madelyn were friends. They had been since the day fifteen years earlier when her family purchased the house next to his and they’d met as hesitant teenagers over the hedge in the backyard. Everything had been fine between them. Great, in fact. Until last Saturday. The day he’d asked her to be his wife.

“Mother, James and I broke up.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “I don’t understand. You and James . . . Well, the two of you . . . you’ve been together forever. Did you have a fight?”

“No, not exactly. He proposed.”

“But that’s wonderful!”

“I didn’t accept.”

“Didn’t accept? Why not? The two of you have been practically engaged for years.”

Madelyn picked a microscopic piece of lint off her skirt. “Maybe we have, but . . . please just leave it alone, Mother.”

“But, sweetheart, you love James,” her mother sputtered, helpless confusion plain in her voice.

Madelyn sighed. “You’re right; I do love him. But not enough. Not the way I should. Not the way a wife should.”

“Pish-tosh! Cold feet—that’s all it is. I see it all the time in my profession. Give yourself a little room to reconsider and you’ll snap out of it.”

“There’s nothing to snap out of.”

“Of course there is. The two of you are wonderful together and you couldn’t ask for a better man. Besides, dear, despite all your hard work and dedication to your job, I know how much you want a family. What about that?”

“What about it? I can have a family and work too. You do.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m thinking of your age.”

Madelyn bristled. “I’m only twenty-nine.”

“Soon to be thirty,” Laura reminded her. “It’s time you were starting your family. With you settled on James, it wasn’t such an issue. But now . . .”

“Women are having babies well into their forties these days. I have time.”

Laura sighed. “Perhaps you do, biologically speaking, but from a practical standpoint, I’ve always wondered about these women who wait so long. I know the kind of energy it takes to raise children. And let me tell you, the older you get, the harder it gets. So when these thirty- and forty-something-year-olds finally have their babies, I can’t help but think they’re too tired to keep up, too exhausted to enjoy what they’ve waited so long to have. I don’t want that to be you, Madelyn. I want you to be able to have fun with your children and still have enough spark left over to enjoy life once they’re grown.”

“I will, Mom. Don’t worry. I’ll find someone.”

“The way I see it, you already have found someone and his name is James Jordan. Who is it you’re waiting for? Prince Charming?”

No, not Prince Charming,
Madelyn thought,
just a man.
A real, human man who would one day lock eyes with her across a crowded room and make the rest of the world fade into nothingness. Whose most casual touch would send her heart skipping as fast and hard as a smooth stone across the surface of a calm summer lake.

Madelyn shook her head. Maybe her mother was right and she was being fanciful. A stupid, idealistic fool throwing away the best thing she was ever going to have. Perhaps she should call James, beg his forgiveness, tell him she’d reconsidered. He’d take her back—she knew he would—in spite of the hurt she knew she would see in his blue eyes.

But she’d done the right thing. When James had proposed, her refusal had come rushing from her lips before she’d even thought out the answer. It wasn’t right for her to settle, not for James or for her. He deserved a woman who adored him. Not one who would always see him first and foremost as a very dear friend.

And she deserved . . . Well, she didn’t know precisely what she deserved. All she knew was that there had to be something more, something deeper. Love with a man who would take all she had to give and offer her more than she could ever imagine in return.

“Look, Mom, I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

“All right,” her mother sighed. “We’ll talk about this later when we both have more time. Congratulations on today’s ad launch.”

“Thanks. Good luck on your swans.”

With a chuckle, her mother hung up.

Madelyn slumped in her seat, desperate for a moment’s peace.

And a moment was all she had before her e-mail beeped to let her know she had six new messages, her telephone rang, and someone knocked on her door.

•   •   •

“That man is the bane of my existence,” Madelyn declared. It was several days later, and she was gathered around a small table in the bar of a trendy midtown restaurant with her three best friends.

The crowd was heavy, especially for a Wednesday night, the atmosphere thick with a haze of heat and noise, glassware chinking softly in the background.

“He should be drawn and quartered,” she fumed. “And once that’s done, his head should be stuck on a pike.”

“Ooh, kinda like that poor guy Mel Gibson played. You know, the one who got it at the end of
Braveheart
.” Suzy Katz’s brown eyes widened at the gruesome idea.

Peg Truman, vivacious and brunette in a red miniskirt that barely covered her legs, and copy editor Linda Hernandez, who’d long since resigned herself to knee length after the birth of her second child, exchanged knowing looks. Suzy, a production assistant and the youngest of the group at twenty-three, had a habit of saying whatever popped into her head, which usually provided welcome comic relief.

Madelyn, too sunk in her own misery, didn’t even crack a smile at Suzy’s guileless observation.

Linda scooped a handful of pretzels out of a bowl in the center of the table and set to munching.

Peg took a swallow of her vodka gimlet. “It wasn’t a sure thing to begin with anyway, Madelyn. The fact that they decided to give the account to Zack might not have anything at all to do with that lunch.”

“It has everything to do with that lunch,” Madelyn said. “I’d bet my boots on it. Takamuri Electronics was supposed to be mine. Everyone knows I’d done the prep work, the initial concept planning, and then suddenly they go and give it to
him
. Rotten, conniving creep. He worked it just right.” He’d worked her just right too, hadn’t he?

“Maybe it wasn’t his idea at all,” Peg countered. “You know how management can be. As much as we women like to think we’ve earned our equality, things still run along pretty traditional lines. I mean, look at what Zack works on, cars and sports products. You, on the other hand, primarily get handed fashion and cosmetic accounts. They probably wanted a man for the Takamuri deal since electronics targets so heavily with the male consumer.”

“Which is exactly why they should have given it to me. The company, the industry in general, needs to broaden its appeal with women. And I could have offered that to them, tapped into a market with real growth potential. Brought them the woman’s point of view. I thought they agreed with that. I thought they were going to give me the green light. And they were until Zack oh so conveniently got himself invited upstairs for a tête-à-tête with the company’s CEO. No, he planned it, executed it, and got exactly what he wanted.”

And like a fool she’d let him. What bothered her most was that she hadn’t seen it coming. Instead she’d stood there in his office last week like some dewy-eyed fawn and let him bamboozle her. He’d talked such a good line she’d believed him in spite of her own better judgment. All that garbage about how much he liked her work. Yeah, right, and he had a nice bridge for sale at a rock-bottom price too.

“I don’t know, Madelyn.” Peg twirled the toothpicked olive from her drink through the air for emphasis. “As hungry as Zack is to move up, it doesn’t sound like something he’d do. He’s more direct than that. I’m not claiming he’s a saint, but if he wants something he goes straight for it. He doesn’t sneak around from behind.”

“How do you know he doesn’t? The man’s a manipulator, plain and simple. Why, my God, he’s even got you wrapped around his little finger.”

“He does not.” Peg stiffened. “Just because I don’t think he’s the devil incarnate like you do doesn’t mean I’m in league with him.”

Madelyn apologized. “I know. You’re a good, loyal friend and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s just . . .”

“Just what?” Peg asked.

“It’s just that everyone likes him so much!” Madelyn said with exasperation. “How can so many people be taken in by a pretty face? There’s more to a person than their looks, you know.”

“True, but when you look like him, well . . . it’s hard not to be swayed,” said Linda. “Especially when he turns on that smile.”

“I know,” sighed Suzy. “He’s so positively yummy. All that thick dark hair and those gorgeous green eyes. Have you noticed his lashes? They’re as long as a girl’s.”

“Yeah, and that body ain’t so bad neither,” Linda drawled, wiggling her brunette eyebrows up and down in her best Groucho Marx impression.

They all laughed. All except Madelyn.

She scowled. “Hey, would you three snap out of it? This is exactly what I’m talking about. So he’s hot. So what? There is such a thing as character, stability, morals, and he’s got none of the above. Did you hear the latest, about that clerk in accounting? I understand they were found together in the third-floor copy room doing a lot more than making copies.”

Peg waved a hand. “I know the one you’re talking about. From what I hear she’s a total tramp. Wears her skirts even shorter than mine.”

“Is that possible?” Linda quipped in mock seriousness.

Peg’s eyes flashed; then she retaliated, flicking a drop of her drink across the table at the other woman using the end of her plastic olive skewer. Linda squealed, swerving sideways on her chair as she tried to duck.

Suzy ignored them, leaning forward to share. “I heard he had her shirt off.” She paused, then sighed dreamily. “I’d let him take my shirt off.”

“In the copy room?” the other two exclaimed.

Linda and Peg cracked up.

Madelyn waited until they’d settled down. “Yes, well, the point is that Zack Douglas is a complete tomcat.”

Linda snapped a pretzel in half. “Maybe, but there’re other men in the office with reputations just as bad or worse than his. And at least he isn’t married and cheating on his wife like most of them.” She paused. “You know what the problem is between the two of you? You’re too much alike.”

Madelyn’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me, but I can’t have heard you right. Zack Douglas and I are nothing alike. I don’t know how you could even suggest such a thing.”

“You’re both intelligent, ambitious, highly creative people who happen to be in a position to get in each other’s way. My guess is if you weren’t so competitive toward each other, you’d like him better. And you’d be able to see what other people see in him.”

Madelyn gave a self-righteous snort. “I’d see exactly what I see right now. A devious, unprincipled jerk who manipulates people with his good looks and charm. He’s even managed to manipulate you guys. I will never, ever find anything good to say about the man.”

Peg sipped the last of her drink. “Nothing? Not even one single tiny thing?”

“Not so much as a microscopic speck.”

“And why should you?” Suzy defended. “Not when you’ve got James, that sweet, gorgeous guy of yours. He’s loaded, kind, brilliant, and built, plus he practically hangs on your every word! We should all be so lucky.”

Linda and Peg murmured their agreement.

Madelyn gave a false smile, then buried her face in her frozen strawberry daiquiri, taking a long, slow sip that sent a jolt of cold straight to her sinuses. She hadn’t told them yet, not even Peg. She knew she needed to soon. But right now, she couldn’t handle the inquisition that was sure to follow.

She twirled the straw in her half-empty glass and decided the moment demanded something stronger. She flagged down a passing waitress.

“Hot fudge sundae, please, with the works.”

L
ight flakes of snow drifted out of the sky, lazy and fat, a halfhearted reminder from old man winter that the first day of January was but a few short hours shy of its birth. Although not enough to stick to the streets and sidewalks, the small weather event had nevertheless given the awnings and treetops a wonderland effect, as if they had been sprinkled with a light coating of powdered sugar.

From high above, Madelyn watched, inside, where it was dry and a little too warm. The atmosphere was noisy with the press of people desperately trying to wring a few more drops of fun out of this last special night of the year. Behind her the elegant New Year’s Eve party was revving into high gear. The room glittered, linen-lined tables crowded with platters of food: hors d’oeuvres and salads, entrées and sweets.

And champagne, lots of champagne.

Tables, each with a holiday-themed centerpiece, ringed the outer walls. A ten-piece band played in the far corner, the lively music encouraging more and more people to join the growing crush of dancers. And above everyone’s heads, suspended inside a clever series of mesh nets, were hundreds of colorful balloons and masses of curling streamers

Madelyn kept a smile on her face, even though she couldn’t really say she was enjoying herself.

She had dressed for the occasion in a full-length evening gown made from a clever combination of crushed gold velvet and sleek bronze satin. The square-cut neckline was low enough to show off some cleavage. As usual, her hair was pinned onto the crown of her head. Tonight, though, she’d softened it with a few curls left down to frame her face.

She always went out on New Year’s Eve. It was tradition with the Grayson clan, who never failed to ring in the holiday with gusto. But this year was different. This year, for the first time since she’d been a naive girl, she was out on the town without a date.

“Champagne?” A white-jacketed waiter stopped near her shoulder, a tray of filled glasses at the ready.

She accepted one with a grateful nod.

She’d danced a bit earlier in the evening, fending off one obscene proposition from an owl-eyed drunk who even now was staggering around the room, hoping to get lucky. The odds weren’t in his favor. From what Madelyn had seen, nearly all the people in attendance were paired up, arriving two by two, male and female, like mated species boarding a symbolic Noah’s ark.

When she’d originally agreed to meet her brother, P.G., and his wife, Caroline, for the evening, she’d still been dating James. The four of them had often gone out when her brother and sister-in-law were in the city.

P.G. had offered to set her up with a friend of his, a fellow architect who’d recently ended a long-term relationship of his own. Madelyn had declined, figuring it would be preferable to go solo rather than be stuck for an entire evening with a guy who was still moping over a recent breakup.

Now that she was here, she wasn’t so sure. What she ought to have done was canceled and stayed home. At this very moment, she could have been lying on her sofa, wrapped snug and comfy in her rattiest robe, eating popcorn, and watching a sentimental old movie on TV.

Thanksgiving and Christmas had been less than jolly times for her this year too. She’d been forced to endure a constant barrage of questions from her multitude of relatives over her breakup with James and his absence from the festivities. For the first time ever, she’d used work as an excuse to leave early.

As she sipped champagne, she watched her brother and sister-in-law as they whirled by in the sea of dancers. Laughing, their eyes locked, they seemed aware of no one but each other, so very much in love. After almost ten years of marriage, they were as happy now as they’d been on the day they’d wed.

Crazy in love.

Was it so wrong of her to want that for herself? To crave more than friendship, however deep that friendship might run? Before she had time to ponder the question, a familiar figure stepped into view across the room.

Zack Douglas.

He had clearly just arrived, bits of melted snow glistening in his dark hair. She was used to seeing him in expensive, tailored suits at work. Tonight, though, he was wearing a black tuxedo with a satin cummerbund and a crisp bow tie.

He looked . . . amazing. For an instant, she felt a wave of pure, unadulterated feminine lust.

Then she came to her senses.

What in the hell is he doing here?
This wasn’t a business-related function.

She turned quickly on her heel and headed into the crowd, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was there.

•   •   •

Zack noticed Madelyn Grayson almost immediately, a flash of gold and red drawing his eye, the fiery glint of her hair unmistakable.

No doubt she’d arrived on the arm of her upper-crust boyfriend, a man you could tell at a glance came from privilege and wealth. Old money, they called it. Zack watched Madelyn weave her way through the thick clusters of people but saw no tall, golden-headed male waiting for her in the wings.

His own date had received an emergency page just as the two of them had been walking out the door for the party. Rather than cancel, Sheryl had told him to go on without her. She’d join him as soon as she was free. Well before midnight, she’d promised. This was her crowd, not his, and he’d figured he’d be bored until she arrived.

But now that he’d seen Madelyn Grayson, well, that changed everything.

•   •   •

Madelyn took refuge at the farthest corner of the room, near the canapé table. P.G. and Caroline were still dancing, so she didn’t want to return to their table and sit alone.

Deciding to take advantage of the party fare, she picked up a plate and helped herself to a selection of succulent-looking hors d’oeuvres, the better to blend in. She’d skipped dinner, and with the hour hand at half past ten, she was more than a bit hungry. Just as she was about to sample a mushroom cap topped with crab meat, she heard a familiar voice close behind her.

“Hello, Madelyn.”

She set the uneaten appetizer back on her plate.
So much for hiding in plain sight,
she thought. Resigned, she turned to meet Zack Douglas’s shrewd gaze. “Zack. What a surprise. I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight. Somehow this doesn’t strike me as your kind of party.”

“You’re right about that. All flash and little action. Slow, definitely slow.”

“Not slow. Dignified. But I can understand that this might not be the sort of entertainment you prefer.”

“And how would you know what sort of entertainment I prefer?”

Madelyn shrugged. “One hears things.”

How could she not? There was always some story circulating about him. Last New Year’s Eve, as one tale went, he’d attended a wild, raucous party at the home of a well-known rock star. The theme had been Old Morocco and the event had boasted, among other excesses, a mosaic-tiled fountain overflowing with champagne, exotic music, soft Persian rugs, lush pillow-strewn tents, and a bevy of half-naked dancing girls. Zack never admitted whether the rumors about him were true. He never bothered to deny any of them either.

“Listening to gossip? Shame on you, Madelyn.” He chose a toast point, spooning a healthy serving of two-hundred-dollar-an-ounce caviar on top.

“So what are you doing here, then?” she said. “Did one of F and S’s wealthier clients die and leave a grieving widow in desperate need of escort?”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “Actually, my date hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Oh, had one last set to finish at the strip club, did she?” She popped a canapé into her mouth.

“No, she was called in to perform emergency heart-bypass surgery. She’s an attending over at Mount Sinai.”

Madelyn choked.

He gave her a strong pat between the shoulder blades. “You okay?”

She nodded, tears stinging her eyes as she tried to draw a breath. She fell into a paroxysm of coughing, completely unable to speak.

“Here, try a little champagne. Just a sip.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, accepting the glass and taking a sip.

“Better?”

She nodded again.

“You need to be careful when you eat this rich, fancy stuff. Easy for it to go down the wrong way.”

She looked at him through her lashes and drank a little more champagne, trying to decide whether he was teasing her. Gradually, her breathing returned to normal. That’s when she became aware of his hand on her back, moving in gentle, soothing circles, his palm warm and large. She suppressed an urge to shiver with a kind of pure, almost feline pleasure. Slowly, she eased away.

His hand dropped to his side. “Where’s the Viking tonight?”

“Who?”

She watched him scan the throng of partygoers.

“I figured he’d have been over here like a shot. What with you choking and all.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

“Your boyfriend. The big blond who couldn’t be pried away from your side at the company picnic last summer.”

Surprised, she realized he meant James. Just barely, she kept herself from rolling her eyes. Even people who didn’t know James asked after him. Although Zack’s interest didn’t sound terribly friendly. “He . . . uh . . . he isn’t here. Business overseas.”

She figured her excuse wasn’t a total lie. As an international financier, James often had business overseas. He very well might be ringing in the New Year in another part of the world. She didn’t know.

“You’re here alone, then?”

Her back straightened. “No, I came with my brother and sister-in-law. Something wrong with that?”

Zack set down his empty plate. “Not at all. Most women would have stayed home, or else found themselves another date. Your loyalty is commendable.”

She considered telling him the truth, but she’d had more than enough conversation on the subject already. She was tired of cross-examinations. Besides, it really wasn’t any of his business.

“Considering that my date hasn’t arrived yet and you don’t have one for tonight, how about a dance?” He held out his hand, palm up in invitation.

“With you?”

He made a show of glancing around. “I don’t see anyone else asking, do you? Come on, it’s only a dance. I don’t think one dance would compromise company rules about fraternization.”

That would be a first, she thought, Zack Douglas concerned about policies on fraternization. “Be that as it may—”

“Unless you’re chicken. Is that it, Red? Afraid to dance with me?”

She gritted her teeth.

Annoying SOB.

“You want to dance, Douglas?” she said. “Then let’s dance.”

She stalked ahead of him onto the dance floor.

He followed.

Turning, she slapped her hand into his. “And don’t call me Red. You got it?”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I got it. Red.” He winked and swept her into motion, making several extravagant turns that revved her pulse into high gear.

The pace of the music soon slowed, the beat growing throaty, sultry, with a bluesy sort of jazz. Zack tucked her close, pressing her palm against the flat expanse of his chest. Warmed by his body heat, the expensive fabric of his dress shirt smelled faintly of starch and clean, healthy male. He wore no cologne. He didn’t need to. Zack Douglas unembellished was better than any fragrance could ever hope to be.

Wait, where had that thought come from? Zack Douglas was the enemy. Her chief rival and archnemesis. Beating her out of clients and accounts. Cheating her at every turn.

Too much champagne—that must be it. Well, she wouldn’t drink another drop, she assured herself, not a bit more tonight. And as soon as this dance was over, she’d ditch him and forget he was even in the room.

She slipped her hand from beneath his, curling it into a fist to wedge a tiny space between them. “So . . . um . . . when is your date supposed to arrive?”

There was an intent look in his eyes, almost smoldering.

Green fire.

She couldn’t remember ever seeing that particular expression on his face before.

“She wasn’t sure,” he murmured absently. “I told her if she hadn’t made it by eleven, I’d call.”

“It must be getting close to that now.”

“Hmm, I suppose.”

The music ended. The two of them moved apart, along with the other couples on the dance floor, to applaud the band, whose leader announced there would be a fifteen-minute intermission while he and his fellow musicians took a break.

Madelyn traced a seam on her gown. “I’d better get back to my table. My brother and sister-in-law will be wondering what’s become of me.”

He slid a hand beneath her elbow. “I’ll walk you back.”

“That’s okay.” She moved out of his reach. “Go phone your date.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks for the dance, Madelyn.”

“Sure. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year. See you at work on Tuesday.”

She made her way across the ballroom and was relieved to find P.G. and Caroline there, sharing a plate heaped with an array of desserts.

“Who was that?” Caroline asked as Madelyn took a seat. Her sister-in-law looked sweet and pretty in an aquamarine silk dress that went perfectly with her fair skin and tawny hair.

Madelyn picked up a fork and nipped the end off a piece of chocolate cake. “Who?”

“That man. The one you were dancing with.”

“Oh, an acquaintance from the office. No one important.”

•   •   •

Half an hour later the band was in full swing once more, the dance floor packed with couples whirling away the final minutes of December. Madelyn watched them, wishing she hadn’t sworn off the bubbly. It wasn’t as if she were driving home. And since the dance with Zack Douglas, she hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the man. His date must have shown up. They were probably out there somewhere right now having a fabulous time. She sighed, wishing she were doing the same.

She was debating whether to indulge in her own personal tour of the dessert table—something sweet to go with that glass of champagne she just might change her mind about—when her brother appeared at her elbow.

“Madelyn, I’m sorry, but we’ve got to leave. Caroline just called home to check on Brian, and he’s sick, running a fever. It’s probably nothing serious, but we should go.”