The Last Man on Earth (5 page)

“Yes, it’s fine.”

Nell shrugged. “Specials are clam chowder and tuna melt on whole wheat. Be back with that coffee in a jiff.”

Madelyn waited until she’d gone, then turned on Zack. “That was incredibly rude. Are you always like this when you’re in a bad mood?”

“Only saving you the misery of lukewarm water and a stale tea bag. I’ve seen that fancy loose-leaf stuff you drink. Believe me, you’re better off with the coffee, especially since I noticed the waitress putting on a fresh pot when we came in. I’d steer clear of the specials as well.” He turned her hand over to stroke the soft skin on her palm.

“Sorry if I was overbearing.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to its center, raising his eyes to hers. “Forgive me?”

A funny little flutter rose inside her, her palm tingling where he’d touched it. Slowly she drew her hand from his, curling her fingers over the spot as if to hold on to his kiss. “I . . . uh . . . I suppose we should look at the menu.”

He smiled. “Sure, let’s look.”

They both ordered hamburgers, although Zack predicted dire consequences for the health of their digestive tracks. While they waited for their food to arrive, he brought up the subject on both their minds.

“When should we meet? Friday?”

“No, Friday’s no good,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m trying to finish up the TV spot for Kincaid Brothers this week, and it’s going to be a race to get it done. By the time this weekend arrives, the only thing I’ll want to do is go to bed.”

She caught the look in his eyes.

“Alone,”
she added. “And of course you’re still working on Takamuri.”

An edge had crept into her voice that Zack couldn’t help but notice.

“Madelyn, about that account—”

She showed him the flat of her hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. Apologizing now won’t make things better.”

“Good, since I have nothing to apologize for. But to set the record straight, I didn’t want that account. Fielding insisted I take it.”

“Oh, of course, Fielding insisted. No doubt while the two of you were swapping fish stories and making deals over lunch in the executive dining room. You’ll remember I didn’t receive an invitation to that particular event.”

Zack reached for her hand again, refusing to let go when she tried to twist it away. “I know you wanted that account, and between the two of us you should have gotten it. You did a lot of work, good work that deserved to be recognized. I argued with Fielding about it, tried to convince him to give you the nod instead, but he wouldn’t budge.”

“And why should I believe that extraordinarily creative line of bull?”

“Because it’s the truth. And old man Takamuri’s the one who didn’t want you, not Fielding or anyone else in management. You were slated to head the account. As I understand it, everything was green-lighted. Then Takamuri called Fielding, said he wanted someone else, said he wanted a man. I’m sorry, Madelyn.”

Her face fell as his words sank in. “But Mr. Takamuri told me he liked my ideas. He seemed pleased with the concept, the budget, everything. I don’t understand.”

“He’s old-school—traditional and very Japanese. From what Fielding said, he doesn’t believe a woman has the skills required to make important leadership decisions. He said you’re very bright but he couldn’t entrust you with that sort of responsibility.”

Affront heated her cheeks. “Doesn’t have the skill? Can’t entrust me with that sort of responsibility? What an idiotic, sexist pile of . . . Fielding should have told him he was wrong and given the account to me anyway. I would have done a wonderful job and made everyone a huge bundle of money.”

“No doubt you’re right. But to give Fielding his due, I think he did try to keep you. At first. They threatened to pull the account, Madelyn. It was simply too much money to risk.”

Her eyes sparkled a touch too brightly.

“Well, it looks like I’m the one who owes you an apology this time,” she said.

“That’s not—”

“Not necessary? I think it is. I assumed you’d deliberately gone behind my back to steal that account. I considered you an evil, devious, blackhearted creep, one of the lowest forms of life to ever crawl on the planet.”

“All that? It’s a wonder I can look at myself in the mirror to shave in the morning.”

“Apparently I misjudged you. I’m sorry. Usually I’m much better at assessing people’s characters.”

“Well, don’t make my halo too big. We’re still prime competitors and I’m not one to let an opportunity pass. Not even for you.”

“I’d never have thought otherwise.”

“So how about Saturday?”

“Saturday?”

“To meet. You can sleep a couple extra hours, then meet me in the afternoon.”

She considered his plan. “All right. Where?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

He creased the edge of his cheap paper placemat and tore off a piece of it. He slid the scrap toward her along with a pen. “Here, jot down your home phone number. I’ll give you a call.”

She hesitated, her hand poised over the pen in a final moment of uncertainty; then she picked it up and began to write.

“P
hew
, what a week. Over at only”—Peg flicked a glance at the clock on the wall—“eight fifteen. I don’t know about you, but I need a drink, a meal, a hot bath, and a soft bed. Preferably with a big hunk of man in it.”

She ran a set of flame-tipped nails through her artfully styled brunette curls, then shrugged out of the businesslike plaid jacket she’d put on that morning. One that concealed a seductive little black dress underneath.

“Luckily for
me
,” she continued, “I’m about to get my wish since it’s Friday night and Bruno’s on his way over to pick me up.”

“Bruno?” Madelyn crammed a handful of drawing pencils into an oversize mug on her office drafting table. “What about Eddy?”

“Ancient history. I thought I told you we broke up. Well, never mind, Bruno’s my latest. Met him last week at a bar. He’s a bouncer there. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I admit, but one look and who cares? A very prime cut of beef, if you know what I mean.”

Madelyn shook her head. “You are completely shameless.”

“Of course I am. It’s the only way to go.”

They shared a grin.

“I suppose there’s no point in my telling you to be careful?” Madelyn asked.

“Me?”
Feigning astonishment, Peg raised a hand to her fine display of cleavage. “I’m always careful. I just make sure it doesn’t interfere with my fun.”

There was a quiet movement in the hallway.

Madelyn swung her head toward the sound. “Todd? What are you still doing here?”

Todd March, a lanky, dark-haired young man who didn’t look old enough to have a paper route let alone a position as a copywriter, came to the doorway. His eyes moved instantly to Peg and riveted there like he was an adoring puppy.

The object of his adoration opened her purse, searched through it. Oblivious to her audience, she pulled out a lipstick and applied it to her lips, painting them a ripe cherry red. Smacking them together to set the stain, she checked the result with a compact mirror.

Madelyn repeated Todd’s name twice before he transferred his attention to her. She asked him again why he was still at work.

“W-wallet,” he said, finally finding his voice. “I f-forgot my wallet. And now I’ve missed my train.”

“Oh, how awful. Is there another one soon?” Madelyn asked.

“Not for a while. Thought I’d come back and hang around here for a couple of hours. I hate taking the bus.”

“Everyone hates taking the bus.” Peg snapped her purse closed. “Bruno and I were going to splurge on a cab. You’re welcome to share if you’re going that way. Where do you live?”

Stuttering only twice, Todd spit out the address.

“That’s perfect,” Peg said. “Come on, I’ve got to get out of here. You too, Colonel Grayson. Time for all the troops to head home, even those in charge.”

“I’ve just got a couple more—”

“You’ve always got a couple more.” Peg picked up Madelyn’s briefcase and purse and held them out to her. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Todd, lights out.”

Dutifully, he did as he was told.

It wasn’t until Madelyn was in her car driving home that she realized Peg had been right to hustle her out. Stalling—that’s what she’d been doing. Using work as an excuse to take her mind off what she was about to begin tomorrow with Zack Douglas. Or rather what she was about to continue, she amended, remembering New Year’s Eve.

What did she think she was doing getting involved in a torrid office affair? She, who had been with only two other men in her entire life.

Her first was in college, a guy named Brice. He’d been a self-centered creep who’d revealed his true colors after a handful of dates and one miserable night crushed under him in a narrow twin bed.

Her second was James, a caring and considerate lover. Sex with him had always been satisfying and sweet. Not the wild, mind-numbing tempest, the animal hunger, she’d shared with Zack.

She must be crazy. Crazy in lust, she decided ruefully.

Despite the path her hormones were practically shoving her down, she knew she should call off her rendezvous with him before she got in too deep.

As her mother was always pointing out, she wasn’t getting any younger. If she had any hope of finding her one right mate, the man who would complete her, body, mind, and soul, who would share her life and make a family with her to last all their days, shouldn’t she be out searching for him? Instead of wasting her time with Zack?

On the other hand, maybe it was time to borrow a page or two out of Peg’s book, learn to walk on the wild side. Simply live and enjoy herself for once in her life.

She’d never been given to impulse, content to do her chores and her studies. Satisfied to accept responsibility, driven to prove herself and succeed, both as a child and as an adult. Her parents hadn’t insisted; it had been all her. A quirk of her nature. Doing things strictly for fun had never been one of her priorities.

No doubt about it, having an affair with Zack Douglas would be fun. But temporary. She had no illusions their interlude would last beyond a few meetings. Why not grab hold of the reins and enjoy the thrill ride while she could?

When she let herself into her apartment half an hour later, she was still waffling. Her indecision continued through dinner—a quick bowl of oatmeal with hot milk and honey—and through the washing up.

Afterward, she took a shower, then climbed into bed to watch a few minutes of television. She was just about to switch off the light and go to sleep when the telephone rang. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

With just that one simple word, spoken in Zack’s low, sexy rumble, she knew who it was.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked.

“No, I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Then you’re in bed. Me too.”

An image popped into her mind of him stretched out, as long and sleek as a panther, sprawled between a set of snowy white sheets, his skin and muscle golden in the dim glow of a bedroom lamp.

“Which means you must be dressed for bed,” he continued. “So what are you wearing? Something sexy, I hope?”

“Sexy enough, if flannel turns you on.”

He barked out a laugh. “I suppose it’s one of those granny gowns? Heavy as a tent and twice as big.”

“How’d you know?”

He laughed again. “Does it keep you warm?”

“Yes, it’s very cozy.”

“Well, you won’t need it tomorrow since I’ll be keeping you plenty warm myself.”

Her heart rate hurried faster. “So . . . um . . .” She cleared her throat. “Why are you calling? I thought we’d agreed to meet at the hotel.”

“We did. I wanted to make sure you weren’t having second thoughts. You will be there tomorrow, won’t you?”

Here was her opportunity to tell him. Yes, she would say, as a matter of fact she was having second thoughts. And third ones and even fourth ones, and since that was the case she’d decided to back out after all, before it was too late. He wouldn’t like it. He might argue with her, try to coax her into changing her mind, but in the end he would have to respect her decision. And that would be that.

But when she opened her mouth to say the words, something entirely different tumbled out. “Of course I’ll be there.”

Of course
I’ll be there
? Had she really just said that?

“Good. I was all but certain you were going to renege, and I’d be forced to spend half the night convincing you to change your mind. I was even prepared to come over and help change it for you in person.”

“You’d better not come over here,” she warned. “We agreed we wouldn’t meet at our apartments in case someone we know should happen to drop by.”

“A rather unlikely possibility, especially at this time of the night. But seeing as it’s not an emergency, it’s okay.”

“An emergency? My not showing up would be an emergency?”

“Damn right it would. I’ve been waiting all week to get my hands on you again. Seeing you here and there around the office, not being allowed to touch, it’s been driving me insane.”

She knew the feeling but wasn’t about to admit it. Then another thought occurred.

“How do you know where I live?”

“I did a little research. It’s extraordinary what you can find out on the Internet these days.”

“But I’m unlisted.”

“I wasn’t looking in the online white pages. Remind me to show you a couple tricks for keeping your vital statistics private.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that.”

A natural lull surfaced between them, easy and companionable. Nice enough that the novelty of it came as a surprise and a pleasure.

“Well, it’s getting late,” she said. “I suppose we should go.”

“Yes, I suppose we should.” His voice deepened to a velvety growl. “Or I could break the rules and come over there now. Fifteen minutes and we could get started on our weekend.”

He was smooth, very smooth, like a warm glass of brandy on a raw night. Madelyn’s toes curled beneath the sheets, his tempting offer stirring her blood as she imagined him slipping into her bed and then, a breathless time later, into her. But no, she cautioned, one misstep and the news would be out, her reputation and credibility shattered along with it.

“We’ll start on it tomorrow,” she told him firmly. “I need my sleep.”

“You will. I plan to keep you very, very busy. Sweet dreams, Red.”

“Don’t call me Red.”

He chuckled, hung up.

Slowly, Madelyn returned the receiver to its cradle, then clicked off the light. Sliding farther beneath the covers, her body tingling, she wondered how she’d ever be able to sleep. Rolling over, she hugged her pillow, closed her eyes, and willed herself to relax. A few short minutes later she found oblivion.

•   •   •

Madelyn awakened amazingly well rested the next morning for her drive north to the Hudson River Valley.

Zack had booked a room for them at a quaint historic inn that boasted original heart pine plank floors and a working fireplace in each one of its thirty-odd guest rooms. Highway traffic was surprisingly light and she made good time, zipping along the roads in her shiny BMW like a little blue bullet.

She arrived only a few minutes past two p.m. check-in time. Shouldering her small leather overnight bag, she forced down the flutters in her stomach and walked into the lobby.

For a long, nervous moment she didn’t see him. Then he climbed to his feet, unfolding himself from the recesses of a comfortable-looking upholstered wing chair.

Powerful, masculine, he had movie-star appeal in a chocolate brown, long-sleeve merino wool sweater, form-fitting black jeans, and black winter boots. She so rarely saw him in casual clothes, the sight of him robbed half the breath from her lungs.

Zack stole the rest as he stepped forward, bending to claim her mouth in a hearty kiss of welcome. “You made it.”

“Didn’t you think I would?” she murmured once she was capable, her lips tingling.

“You could still have changed your mind. I’ve learned never to count on something until the deal’s closed. Lock, stock, and barrel.”

“What an amazingly cynical attitude.”

“No, just realistic.” He lifted her bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’re all checked in. Shall we go to the room?”

She nodded, suddenly feeling a little shy.

He grabbed his own suitcase and led the way.

The room was charmingly old-fashioned, with a large four-poster bed, matching cherry end tables, and a tall two-door chest. Deep armchairs flanked a fireplace neatly laid with wood, the mantel above decorated by a pair of gleaming brass candlesticks and a delicate porcelain shepherdess herding her flock of two. On the floor lay a huge braided rug in a rainbow of colors, sunlight streaming across it through a set of sheer-covered, double-sashed windows.

“Oh, how lovely.” She sighed.

He put down the luggage and shut the door. “You approve, then?”

She spun to face him. “Yes, very much. It’s wonderful.”

“I hoped you’d like it. Although when it comes to ambiance, it can’t hold a candle to the bowling alley. Lacks a certain je ne sais quoi, don’t you think? No burger grease or cheap perfume hovering in the air.”

“Very funny.”

Zack wandered over to the bed and sat down, bouncing once. “Comfortable.”

“Is it? I . . . I think I’ll go freshen up.”

He leaned back onto his elbows, his sweater pulling taut across his chest. “Sure. Take your time.”

Madelyn disappeared into the small connecting bath, breathed deeply in hopes of releasing some of the tension collected in her shoulders and neck. She was as jittery as a bride on her wedding night, and it was only—she glanced at her watch—2:35 in the afternoon. If she couldn’t get through the first hour, how was she ever going to make it through the rest of the weekend?

Why was she so nervous to start with? It wasn’t as if it was their first time. Maybe that was the problem. Their first time had been so spontaneous, so uncontrolled, without the need for thought or reason. Only action and reaction and pure, unfettered desire. Everything here was agreed upon and planned, structured.

Perhaps the solution was to simply unstructure it.

Before she gave herself too much time to think, Madelyn began to strip off her clothes. She was down to her underwear and bra before the nerves set in again.

What was she doing? Was she really going to walk back out there naked? What would Zack think? Somehow she didn’t imagine he’d mind a full-fledged peep show, but she couldn’t go all the way. Appearing in her skivvies was as daring as Madelyn Grayson got.

She took a few minutes more to use the commode, wash her hands and face, and drink a glass of cool water. She finger combed her hair, leaving it loose the way he’d asked her to.

Spine straight, shoulders back, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Zack stood at the window, looking out. The click of the lock drew his attention. “You want to get a late lunch?” He turned and froze, eyes growing wide, lips parted in genuine astonishment. “I guess you don’t.”

Despite her lingering shyness, his reaction gave her a nice boost of confidence, a feeling of genuine feminine power. She could tell she’d surprised him, and he wasn’t the sort of man who surprised easily or often.