The Last Man on Earth Read online

  “About the same,” he said. “Too many meetings.”

  She paused. “The movie ticket surprised me. How’d you manage to slip it into my pocket with no one seeing, including me?”

  “Handy skill I acquired in my youth.”

  She decided it wisest not to probe further, knowing what she now did of his past. Instead she ate a few more kernels of popcorn.

  Silence settled between them, filled by the voices of the actors on the screen. “So are you going to tell me why we’re here?” she asked.

  “To watch the movie.”

  She studied him in the screen glare for a long moment. He seemed tense, uneasy, troubled. “That’s not why we’re here.”

  “No, I suppose it isn’t.” He sighed and rubbed a hand across one thigh. “I wanted to talk and not on the phone. Since the office was obviously out of the question, I chose this.”

  A woman two rows ahead turned and shushed them.

  Madelyn waited a minute, then lowered her voice as much as she could. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

  “Last night.” He paused as if he were trying to find the right words. “I wanted to say . . . well . . . to tell you . . . that I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “For being too rough. I didn’t hurt you, did I? Is that why you left so quickly this morning?”

  She turned to him, reaching for his hand. “No. How could you think that? I left because I needed to go home and change clothes for work. You didn’t hurt me. You couldn’t.”

  But he could. Very easily, he thought. Didn’t she realize? She was a strong woman. Yet even strong women had fragile bones.

  Soft bodies.

  Tender hearts.

  “I was angry,” he said. “I didn’t give you much choice.”

  “We were both angry. If I’d really wanted you to stop, you would have stopped.”

  “You’re so certain?”

  “I am. Besides, I’m not a doormat. If you’d hurt me, Zack, I wouldn’t be here with you now. I’d never accept something like that from a man. Not any man.”

  He considered her statement and recognized the truth of it. Madelyn wasn’t a woman who backed down or kept silent about things she believed needed to be said.

  She laid a hand against his cheek, already grown rough with evening whiskers. “Making love is always good with you. Each time, it only gets better.”

  He wrapped a hand around her wrist to press a kiss into her palm. “You told me you needed time apart. Do you still?”

  “And if I said yes?”

  He looked into her eyes. “I wouldn’t like it, but I’d give it to you anyway. If it’s what you really want.”

  Something warm and waxen seemed to pool inside her, spreading through her body all the way to her heart.

  And in that instant she knew. She just knew. He was the man for her.

  Improbable as it might seem, she was in love.

  With Zack Douglas.

  She met his eyes in the flickering light from the screen, shook her head. “No. I only want to be with you.”

  He set the popcorn aside to draw her close—as close as he could manage with the armrest in the way—then pressed his mouth to her own, gently, tenderly.

  “Do you want to stay for the movie?” he asked.

  “What movie?” she whispered.

  He laughed.

  Other patrons joined the first woman in another round of shushing.

  “I don’t think we’re very popular tonight,” Madelyn said sotto voce.

  “I don’t think so either. Maybe we should leave.” He linked his fingers with hers. “I’m not ready to say good night yet.”

  “Me either.” Madelyn considered their options, the possible consequences. “We could go to my place.”

  “That’s against the rules. Under no circumstances,” he quoted, “are we to meet at either of our apartments.”

  “And we won’t, not after tonight. But it’s dark and cold and if you don’t mind parking a few blocks away, you can come around to the back entrance. No one will see you. Do you have a hat?”

  “A hat?”

  “You know, the thing that fits over your head to protect it from the weather. A few people wear them as fashion statements.”

  “I would not be one of those people. No, I don’t have a hat.”

  “Then keep your head down and walk fast. I’ll buzz you in.”

  “No doorman?”

  “Just electronic security.”

  “All right. You ready?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think we should leave together. You stay here, then follow me out in a few minutes.”

  “No one’s going to see us here in Brooklyn.”

  “You never know.”

  “Unlikely, but all right. Let’s switch our departure schedule around, though. What do you say I go out first and wait? Then you leave a few minutes later. That way I can make sure you get to your car safely.”

  “You’ll wait at a distance?”

  “Of course.”

  He kissed her again, then slid past into the aisle.

  Alone in the dark, she watched the movie, or tried to. But she’d missed too much of the story to understand what was happening up on the screen.

  Her own life felt a little like that right now, she realized.

  Confusing.

  Out of control.

  She wondered what in the hell she was going to do about it.

  • • •

  “Did anyone see you?”

  Zack shrugged out of his coat. “No. No one saw me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be without running a police sweep of the neighborhood.”

  “Sorry, I just—”

  “Don’t want anyone to know,” he finished. “After all, it might sully your pristine reputation.”

  “Pristine? Is that how people think of me?”

  “In certain circles, you’re considered quite . . . wholesome.”

  She turned away to hang up his coat. “And do you share that opinion?”

  He came up behind and wrapped her in his arms, feathering kisses over her cheek before nuzzling a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. “How could I? The past few weeks have taught me what a wicked woman you really are. So, do you want to be wicked out here or in your bedroom?”

  Madelyn chuckled softly. “Why don’t we let a little anticipation build and decide after we’ve eaten dinner?” She stepped out of his arms. “All I ate for lunch was a quick salad and I’m starving.”

  He sighed and trailed her into the small, square kitchen. “If you insist. What’s on the menu?”

  “I don’t know.” She pulled open the refrigerator door to peer inside. “I usually fix something simple during the week. A sandwich or soup, maybe some leftovers from a meal I cooked on the weekend. For some odd reason, though,” she added tongue in cheek, “I haven’t had much time lately for cooking on the weekends.”

  Or for going to the grocery store either, she realized, casting a doleful eye over the meager contents on the shelves in front of her. She didn’t need to open the freezer to know it had even fewer items inside. Inspiration struck when she saw the bottle of maple syrup. “How about pancakes?”

  “For dinner?”

  “Yes. Or are you one of those people who believes breakfast should only be eaten in the morning?”

  “Not at all. I practically lived on pizza during college. Cold for breakfast, hot for dinner, and whichever I had time for at noon. Pancakes sound great. Want some help?”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ve got it covered.” Madelyn stocked the counter with eggs and milk and pancake mix.

  Zack relaxed in a straight-backed kitchen chair to watch her work. That was when he noticed the
pair of walnut-shaped green eyes observing him from beneath the table. He stretched down a hand, letting it hang unthreateningly at his hip.

  A full minute later the inquisitive feline approached and gave his fingers a cautious sniff. Deciding she approved of the stranger in her house, the cat inched closer, allowing him to run his hand over the velvety length of her gray-and-white-striped fur. Then with a high, whisper-soft meow, she leapt onto his lap and began to purr, kneading her paws like tiny pistons against his thigh.

  He petted her in leisurely strokes from head to tail. She lowered her eyes to pleasured half slits and increased the volume of her purrs.

  “Who’s this little motorboat?” he asked.

  Madelyn turned from the counter where she was beating eggs and milk together in a large bowl. The fork in her hand fell still as she took in the scene. “Would you look at that. Millie never makes up to strangers. She usually hides until they’re gone.”

  Zack rubbed a finger beneath the cat’s grateful chin. “Sounds like a smart cat. She must know I’m not really a stranger. Don’t you, sweetheart? You know I’m not a stranger,” he murmured to the adoring animal.

  Millie head butted his hand, then moved closer and leaned her body against his chest.

  “That’s incredible. Even my cat can’t resist you.”

  He looked up and grinned. “Women adore me; what can I say?”

  Madelyn snorted and turned her back on him. She picked up the mixing bowl and began whisking the egg and milk mixture into the pancake mix.

  Of course he was right, she thought. And she was the worst one of all, in love with a man who drew women to him like bees to clover. But she’d known that going in, hadn’t she? It was just that she hadn’t counted on the game turning so serious—at least for her.

  She set a skillet on the stove burner with a tad too much force. The bang startled Millie, who jumped off Zack’s lap and disappeared into the other room.

  He raised an eyebrow as he dusted a few cat hairs off his pants. “Something wrong?”

  “No, not at all.” She turned on the heat under the pan. “Just thinking about—”

  Yes, what could she say she’d been thinking about other than him?

  “Work and the account I’ve gotten saddled with.”

  “Which one is that?”

  She slanted him a look, grateful he hadn’t seemed to notice her earlier hesitation. “The neon-colored chips from hell.”

  “Oh, that account.”

  “Yes. And don’t you dare grin. It isn’t funny.”

  Zack sobered. “You’re right; it isn’t. Is the product really as awful as rumor would have it?”

  “Worse. Far, far worse.” Pancake batter sizzled gently as she poured two circles of it into the buttered skillet. “Which means there’s no easy road out.”

  “It won’t be pretty, I agree. Have you decided on your strategy?”

  “Something other than quitting or fleeing the country?”

  He looked amused.

  Madelyn sighed. “Not really, and Peg’s no help. She’s been joking that we should suggest a new marketing campaign aimed at dogs. Apparently her current love interest has a beagle and Fido thinks they’re fantastic.”

  “It’s Carmichael Foods, right? Who’s the account exec on that? Have you talked it over with him?”

  She flipped the pancakes over to brown on the other side. “Yeah, I’ve talked it over. It’s Phil Novena, and you know what he’s like. He told me in that officious voice of his to remember that taste is a subjective thing. Just because I don’t like the product doesn’t mean other people won’t love it. So I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut and be creative. But how can I, Zack? No matter how great a job my team does, when these chips hit the shelves they’re going to tank.”

  “Phil Novena’s a horse’s ass and everybody at F and S knows it. Of course, he’s a devious horse’s ass. Most likely the reason he’s risen as far as he has. Do you want me to see if there’s anything I can do?”

  “No,” she told him firmly. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have to deal with this on my own, however unpleasant it might be.” She opened the oven door and slid the finished pancakes onto a plate warming inside. She straightened to pour another round of batter into the skillet.

  “Whichever way you go,” Zack told her, “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”

  If only she had his confidence, his determination, how much easier things would be. Almost as easy as flipping pancakes. With a wry smile, she slid her spatula under one and sent it winging into the air.

  • • •

  Zack awakened her with a kiss just before daybreak. “I’d better get going. I set the alarm clock for you, so go back to sleep.”

  She forced her eyes open, her body warm and drowsy. “Hmm, okay.”

  He chuckled and brushed his lips over her cheek. “Looks like I wore you out. We’ll sleep in late tomorrow. Do you have the directions to the B and B?”

  “Umm-hmm.” She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his. His beard was scratchy. “You need a shave.”

  “I didn’t think I should risk my face on your ladies’ razor.”

  She leaned back and smiled sleepily into his eyes. “No. It’s much too pretty to cut.”

  “Pretty, huh?”

  “Yeah, you’re a real-life Prince Charming.”

  “Well, Sleeping Beauty, get some more rest and I’ll see you at work.”

  “I’ll make sure to give you the evil eye if we pass each other in the hall.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. Oh, and thanks again for the pancakes. They were delicious.”

  “My pleasure. Thanks again for the sex. It was delicious too.”

  He laughed. “You’re right, it was.” He joined his lips to hers for a warm, penetrating kiss that left both of them aching and hungry. “Too bad,” he murmured, “that we don’t have time to indulge in one more helping.”

  “We could,” she invited.

  He shook his head and moved away. “Nine o’clock meeting and I can’t afford to be late.”

  “All right, party pooper.” She rolled away from him onto her side.

  He smiled and gave her bottom a harmless smack through the thick comforter.

  She listened with half an ear as he let himself out of the apartment. When silence descended once more, she snuggled deeper under the covers and breathed in the scent of him lingering on the sheets.

  Sex. That’s what she’d called it, no more than a basic physical instinct. The coupling of two bodies, one male, one female. But last night, she’d sensed a change in those long, dark hours together, as if some invisible barrier between them had come crashing down.

  An accomplished lover, Zack made sure her needs were well met, her pleasure reached. But last night he’d taken special care, tender in a way she’d never known him to be. Unhurried, almost reverent, lingering over her with an unexpected measure of gentleness. One that had made her tremble and tumble for him even harder than she already had.

  As she huddled now beneath the bedclothes, knowing she ought to sleep, she couldn’t keep her heart from filling with a foolish, fragile hope. A wish she dared not allow herself to have.

  He was a hardened playboy. A man who would never commit himself to just one woman. Who would never appreciate the quiet domesticity of home and hearth. Yet in the weeks they’d been together, she knew there had been no other woman in his life except her. His passion for her seemed only to have increased. Ripening with the intensity that familiarity could sometimes bring, as they learned more about each other, took more from each other, and shared more with each other as well.

  She hadn’t loved him when this whirlwind affair had begun; she hadn’t believed such an emotion was even possible given their relationship. Yet here she was, filled to bursting with love. And if sh
e felt that way, was it possible he might someday feel the same for her?

  Clutching her hands to her chest, she closed her eyes and let herself dream.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Winter clung to the naked branches of the trees and to the ground, broad patches of white from an early March snow spread along both sides of the highway like peaks of cold, creamy icing.

  Inside her car, Madelyn was warm and comfortable; her trip was an easy one. Yet it felt odd knowing Zack would not be waiting for her at the end of today’s journey. For only the second time in nearly two months, they would be spending their weekend apart. But it was her sister Ivy’s fifteenth birthday, and she wasn’t going to miss it, not even for him.

  When she arrived at her parents’ home, she found the long, tree-lined driveway that led up to their impressive Tudor-style house lined with cars. On the front lawn a pair of dogs played tug-o’-war with a thick length of rope.

  One of them spotted her as she exited her car, his great golden head arching up in excitement. Dropping the rope, he bounded forward, tail waving like a flag while his equally golden companion followed only a split second behind. The two of them skidded to an exuberant halt, rubbing dog hairs on the skirt of her emerald green woolen coat as they weaved around her with canine glee.

  She reached down to greet them both with pats and hugs, receiving a warm, wet hand washing in return.

  “I see you’ve been met by our resident welcoming committee.”

  Madelyn smiled at her father as he came down the front steps. “Kit and Caboodle are always glad to see me,” she said.

  “Not to burst your bubble, but those two are glad to see anyone. Your mother told me to let them out to run off some of their excess doggie energy. They were barking at the caterers.” He lowered his voice as he exposed their crime.

  “And where’s Chipper?”

  As spoiled as any true descendant of royalty might expect to be, Chipper was her mother’s pedigreed King Charles spaniel.

  “Inside the house, of course, hiding under one of the buffet tables hoping for a handout, or at least a convenient spill.” He arched a ginger eyebrow. “So, have you got a hug for your old man?”

  “You know I do.” She turned and wrapped her arms around him, bussing him on the cheek.