The Last Man on Earth Page 5

  A lot more, he promised himself.

  He laid the thin scrap of pink on the nightstand, then rolled over. Eyes closed, he drifted back to sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Madelyn dropped a thick set of layout sketches and photographs onto the already overflowing top of her desk. Generally she managed to keep her work better organized, divided into neat stacks designed to make everything easy for her to locate.

  But today had been a bear—as first days back after a holiday usually were—what with back-to-back meetings and barely enough time for a bathroom break in between. Lunch had been a chicken sandwich eaten on the run.

  She glanced at her wristwatch. Five thirty p.m.

  Rush hour would be at its unpleasant worst. Rather than sit idling in traffic, she decided to stay and make another attempt at scaling the Everest-high mountain of work looming on her horizon.

  She was standing at her drafting table ten minutes later, flipping through a stack of storyboards, when a broad pair of hands slid around her waist from behind. Warm lips settled against a highly sensitive spot behind her ear.

  She jumped, nerves tingling with surprise as she collided with a wall of solid male flesh.

  “I thought this day would never end,” Zack said. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to do this since I got in this morning.”

  He reached inside her suit jacket and palmed one of her breasts, his gifted fingers rubbing her through the delicate silk of her blouse.

  A pleasured shiver raced through her. She closed her eyes to steady herself. “I’ve been busy,” she told him.

  “We’ve both been busy.” He feathered kisses over her cheek, along the curve of her jaw. “How about we knock off and grab some dinner?”

  “I can’t.” She forced herself not to react to his touch. “I have work to do.”

  “All right,” he said. “Why don’t I bring back some carryout? How about that great new Chinese place a couple blocks over?”

  She crossed to her desk. “I . . . um . . . I know the one you mean. But not tonight.”

  “You have to eat,” he countered.

  “I’ll eat later.”

  “All right, tomorrow, then?”

  “No, sorry, I have plans.” She picked up a report and leafed through the first few pages, seeing none of the words and graphics printed there.

  Zack crossed his arms. “Um-hmm. And the night after? Do you have plans then too?”

  She refused to meet his eyes, kept her tone deliberately cool. “Actually, my schedule is pretty full right now. I hope you’ll understand.”

  “Oh, I understand completely.” His voice was cool now as well, but laced with irony.

  “If I can’t interest you in dinner,” he continued, “perhaps I can tempt you with something else?”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him reach into his trousers’ pocket, pull out a swatch of pink silk and lace. She felt her face flush as he dangled the familiar scrap of lingerie from the end of one finger.

  “Give me those.”

  She made a grab for the panties and missed.

  Zack lifted them well out of her reach.

  “Uh-uh,” he scolded. “Not until you tell me why you ran out on me yesterday morning.”

  “I didn’t run out.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I needed to get home. You were sleeping. I didn’t see any reason to wake you up.”

  “You should have gotten me up anyway. We could have shared breakfast.”

  “I wasn’t hungry.” She straightened her shoulders and looked into his face, determined to be firm. “Look, Zack, what happened between us . . . it was . . . well . . . it was a mistake. That night should never have happened.”

  His look darkened. “But it did. Seems to me we had a good time. A very good time.”

  “Yes, well, maybe we did, but it’s over now.”

  “It doesn’t have to be over.”

  “Yes. It does.” She held out her hand. “Now, give me back my underwear.”

  He grinned and tucked the lacy scrap into his pocket. “I’m trying to remember the last time I heard those words,” he mused. “High school, I think. Or was it college?”

  Infuriating bastard.

  She made an attempt to grab the panties out of his pocket, moving fast.

  But Zack was faster.

  He grabbed her wrist. “I want you, Madelyn. And whatever this is between us, it isn’t over.”

  “What about your lady surgeon? The one you’ve been dating?”

  “What about her?”

  “Well, I can’t help but wonder if you’re planning to see both of us at the same time.”

  He frowned as if he hadn’t considered that point. “If it bothers you, I’ll drop her. But I expect you to do the same and give what’s his name—Jeff?—the old heave-ho.”

  “James,” she corrected, suddenly aware that she hadn’t thought of him once, not since she’d seen Zack the other night.

  “Right. James. Tell him it’s finished between the two of you.” He traced a thumb over her lower lip. “I don’t share.”

  She knocked his hand aside. “I don’t give a flying flip whether you share or not, since you and I are over.”

  His eyes turned glacial. “No. We aren’t.”

  “Let me go. Someone might come in.”

  “Most everybody’s already left for the evening, or they’re on their way out. But you’re right, we should make sure we’re not disturbed.

  He released her and went to lock the door.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said.

  He came back, walking toward her with an athletic grace.

  She took a couple of steps back, stopped when her hips bumped up against her desk. She gripped the edge hard with both hands.

  “Honestly, Zack, I’d think you’d be relieved. No recriminations, no messy, tearful scenes, no responsibilities. Just a night of dancing and drinking and great sex.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “The sex was great. I want some more. Don’t you?” He lowered his head, angling his face close to the curve of her neck. “Have I mentioned how fantastic you smell? Been sampling some new fragrance products?”

  “No, and stop distracting me.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?” His breath whispered against her cheek. “Distracting you?”

  “Yes, and it’s not going to work. I’ve told you I’m not interested in seeing you again. Please respect that.”

  “Who said anything about seeing each other? Maybe sex is all I want.”

  “And maybe it’s not what I want.”

  “Shall we put it to a test?”

  She lifted her hands to push him away, but before she could, he captured her mouth in a hard, blatantly sexual kiss that left her in no doubt of his wishes. Madelyn groaned, partly in protest, partly from desire, and made one last try to stop him.

  But even as her hands closed over his shoulders to shove him away, she found herself pulling him closer instead, opening her mouth wider to take more of his kiss, to seek out more of his tongue.

  What was it about him that made her want him so much? She didn’t understand this crazy attraction between them. It made absolutely no sense. Yet the pleasure was almost mind-blowing, so intense she couldn’t seem to help herself, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted any man before.

  Glad now that he had locked the door, she began undoing the buttons on his shirt, practically tearing them off in her haste to find and feel his bare skin against her own.

  Zack was busy too as he lifted her up onto her desk, shoving her skirt high as he ran his hands up the length of her thighs. Spreading her legs wide, he stepped between and fit himself against her, then reached up to open her blouse.

  He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, gave a gentle nip that made her shu
dder. He released her breasts from her bra, then bent his head to work his magic on them.

  She moaned and dug her fingers into his hair, urging him on.

  The telephone rang.

  The pair of them startled apart.

  Madelyn stared blankly at the phone, offering a silent prayer of thanks when her voice mail picked up. Body throbbing, she made a vague attempt to straighten her clothes.

  “Let me down,” she demanded.

  “All right, after you tell me whose apartment we’re going to. Yours or mine?”

  “Neither. We’re not doing this.”

  “We just about did it, right here on your desk. I’d be happy to continue.” He pressed himself to her again. “More than happy.”

  “Get off me.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Madelyn?”

  “What’s wrong with you? Do you really expect me to put out whenever you like? I won’t be just another one of your conquests.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “My conquests? You make it sound as if I’m assembling a harem.”

  This time she shoved at him in earnest, pushed him aside, and climbed down off the desk.

  “You might as well be.” She tugged her skirt into place, fastened her bra, buttoned her shirt. “Everyone knows the way you flit from woman to woman like some bee on a mission to pollinate the earth. My God, you can’t pass by anything with a pair of breasts without taking a second look. Or a third.”

  “Phyllis Schrenk has breasts and I never look at her.”

  “Phyllis Schrenk must be at least eighty years old.” She smoothed her hair. “If I start sleeping with you, it will be the talk of the office. I refuse to be fodder for the rumor mill.”

  She poked a finger his way. “An affair between us could put my career in serious jeopardy. I won’t take the chance for a few meaningless nights. And if you say one word about New Year’s Eve, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

  “You’ll what?”

  “I’ll deny it. I’ll tell everyone you made it up to spite me.”

  “You could. Of course, the damage would already have been done, the seeds of suspicion planted. I have an alternate suggestion.”

  “I’m not interested in any of your suggestions.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Obviously we both want each other, at least for now. I propose we keep what’s between us out of the office. We’ll see each other in secret. No one will have to know but us.”

  “That will never work. One of us will slip up and word will get out. Nobody can keep a secret around this place.”

  “I can. I have.”

  “You’ve done this before? Seen someone in the office without anyone finding out?

  “I didn’t have an affair, no. Contrary to your poor estimation of my character and taste, I generally prefer to see women I don’t work with. The secret involved a completely different matter. No one has ever known but me and the person I shared it with.”

  “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you aren’t lying?”

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You don’t.”

  She watched him fight aside his irritation.

  “It’s late,” he said. “You must be hungry. Why don’t we meet somewhere, your choice, and talk this over.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I don’t think I can do it . . . fool people.”

  “Of course you can.” He smiled reassuringly. “Just glare at me like you always do; ignore me the rest of the time. It won’t be so difficult.” He stroked a thumb along the curve of her cheek. “You know you want to say yes,” he coaxed.

  Damn him. He was right. She did.

  A longing more dangerous than any she’d ever known before rose inside her. As unlikely as it seemed, she was actually considering his plan. “I don’t understand this, any of it. I don’t even like you,” she said, not sure who she was more exasperated with—him or herself.

  “But you want me.” He slid his hand around the back of her neck and caressed her, drawing a shiver. “That’s the only thing that matters, Madelyn. That’s what really counts.”

  • • •

  They met at a bowling alley a few miles outside Paramus, New Jersey.

  The smell of sweaty shoes, disinfectant, and beer greeted them as they walked through the entrance’s smeary double glass doors. The alley stood at partial capacity, busy for a weekday.

  Half a dozen lanes had been appropriated by an amateur bowling league, players in starched shirts chatting in good-natured competition as they swung at pins and shared insulting remarks about the team they were due to crush that Friday night.

  Other couples, some seemingly dating, some apparently married, dotted the landscape, racking up gutter balls and pitiful scores, while a handful of juveniles in danger of earning curfew violations roamed in unruly packs, hoping to relieve their boredom with trash talk and video games.

  The steady thunder of rolling balls and falling pins diminished as Madelyn preceded Zack into the alley’s restaurant. An occasional victory shout drifted upward from the lanes.

  She chose a booth and slid onto one of the worn red vinyl seats, the scent of sizzling hamburger heavy in the air.

  Disapproval plain, Zack hesitated for a long moment before he took the seat across from her.

  “I hope I don’t ruin my clothes in this grease pit,” he said. “Of all the places we could have gone, what on earth made you pick this one?”

  “It’s the only spot I could think of where I could be sure I wouldn’t meet anyone I know.”

  “No chance of that.”

  The restaurant was nearly deserted, only two of the dozen available booths occupied, one by a bushy-browed old man who looked as if he might pass out in his soup any second. In the other sat a middle-aged salesman, his sample case open in the center of the table, a cell phone attached to his ear.

  Madelyn planted her forearms on the scarred Formica tabletop and leaned forward. “I’d never have pegged you for a snob.”

  “I’m not a snob,” he denied. “Just far too knowing.” Places like this reminded him uncomfortably of his youth, how he’d spent it and where. “Next time, I’m doing the choosing,” he told her. “Your pick of rendezvous spots leaves something to be desired.”

  “Shh, the waitress is coming. And I haven’t decided for sure if there is going to be a next time.”

  He reached across the table and clasped her hand. “Of course you have or you wouldn’t be here with me now.”

  With a sinking sense of resignation, she realized he was right.

  “Evening, folks. Name’s Nell and I’ll be your server.” The gray-haired waitress slapped two flexible plastic menus onto the center of the table. “You both want somethin’ to drink?”

  “Hmm, yes, I’ll have tea. What varieties do you—”

  “We’ll both have coffee,” Zack interrupted. “Cream and sugar for the lady.”

  Nell eyed the pair of them, then turned to Madelyn, the older woman’s chin set in a stubborn square. “That okay with you, sweetie?”

  “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.”