The Last Man on Earth (8 page)

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 she 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.

W
inter 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.

She received a kiss in return, plus a squeeze that lifted her straight off the ground. Once she was back on her feet, she smiled into his mischievous eyes. He still looked boyishly young, his hair as red as hers with only a few scattered threads of white hinting at his age.

“You’re not old, Dad.”

“You won’t be saying that when the youngest of your four children turns fifteen.”

She laid a hand on her chest and rolled her eyes. “That’ll be the day.”

She opened her car trunk to take out her overnight bag.

Her father shouldered her gently out of the way and lifted the luggage out for her. “How are you doing, Peanut? The world treating you okay?”

“Depends on what section of the world you’re talking about, but yeah, in general, I’m great.”

“Good. Everybody’s inside. Before we go in I wanted to mention . . . James is here. You all right with that?”

“I’m fine with that. I’d already figured he might be here. After all, Ivy would be crushed if he didn’t come to her party. He’s always been her favorite, and she shouldn’t have to miss out just because things have been tense between him and me lately.” She caught the look in her father’s eyes. “Really, don’t worry. It’s not a problem.”

Reassured, Philip Grayson relaxed. “Then prepare to meet the ravenous hordes. I swear, I think Laura let Ivy invite her entire high school class. Half of them teenage boys.” He said it with such disdain, Madelyn laughed.

“They’ve already gone through a whole roast beef and an entire ham,” he continued, “and the party’s barely started. They’ve taken over the indoor pool and the billiards room too. I’m praying none of them get sick.”

“You mean like Bobby Metzger did at my party when I turned sixteen?”

He shut his eyes. “Please, don’t remind me.”

“Philip, what are you doing with that girl? I’ve been waiting ten minutes already for you to bring her inside. You two will surely catch your death of cold if you stay out there much longer.”

“We’ve been talking, dear,” he indulgently told his wife.

“Well, you can talk inside where it’s warm.” She scolded with a gentle smile before turning toward her daughter. “How was your drive, sweetheart?”

Madelyn walked up the steps to exchange hugs and kisses with her mother, who’d come out onto the front stoop without a coat, trim and pretty in a peach-colored cotton-knit sweater set. “My drive was fine.”

“The roads all clear? I wasn’t sure they would be after that last storm.”

“Perfectly scraped and salted. So where’s the birthday girl?”

“Chatting with some of her friends the last time I saw her.”

Philip whistled for the dogs, who came bounding across the snowy yard.

Inside the house, the party was indeed in full swing, with plenty of adult company—a smattering of family and friends who’d been invited as a defense against the unruly teenage horde.

Madelyn spent a few minutes visiting with her mother, until the older woman was drawn away to deal with some minor crisis brewing in the kitchen. Momentarily alone, Madelyn crossed to pour herself a soft drink from the beverage table.

“Hey, sis, how’s it going?” A long male arm snaked around her waist and hauled her into an embrace.

“Hi, P.G.” She returned his hug, then stepped back to look up at her brother.

“Where were you last night? We missed you. Even Brie, our frequently too-busy-to-make-it sister, made it down,” he said.

“Long week, you know how it is.”

In spite of a bit of guilt, she decided to keep the truth to herself—that she’d spent the night in bed with Zack after he’d sneaked over to her apartment. Somehow she didn’t think her brother really wanted to hear about her love life.

P.G. poured a few ounces of ginger ale into a glass.

“Since when do you drink soda?” she asked him.

“It’s not for me. It’s for Caroline.”

“Since when does Caroline drink soda?” Her sister-in-law usually preferred a simple glass of wine at get-togethers like this one.

A huge grin spread over his face. “Since we found out she’s pregnant again.”

“Oh, P.G., that’s wonderful!” She set down her glass and gave him a second hug. “How long have you known?”

“A few weeks, but we wanted to wait until she was into her second trimester before we told anybody. Go over and talk to her. She’ll be thrilled to fill you in on all the details.”

“And I’m dying to hear them. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. First I need to track down Ivy to wish her a happy birthday. Have you seen her?”

“Not for the past few minutes. She’s been drifting in and out, mingling with her friends like a good little hostess. Mom’s taught her well.”

Too well, Madelyn sometimes thought. As a late last child, Ivy had always been mature for her years and took her responsibilities seriously, like Madelyn herself. It wasn’t something anyone had pushed on Ivy; it was just the way she was. But Madelyn knew her little sister had only a few more years of her childhood left and believed she should make the most of them by being as carefree and frivolous as she possibly could.

“I’m going to look for her; then I’ll be back to hear all the exciting news.”

P.G. poured himself a beer and raised the glass in agreement.

Madelyn made her way through the house, stopping several times to exchange greetings with clusters of her parents’ neighbors and friends as well as an assortment of relatives. With relief, she finally reached the quiet, book-lined interior of the study and discovered the person she’d been looking for, plus the one she’d been dreading to see.

James and Ivy were standing in front of the row of windows, their two blond heads bent close in conversation.

Ivy was the first to notice Madelyn’s entrance, breaking off whatever she’d been saying to rush across the room. “Malynn, you’re here. You came.” She threw a pair of scrawny arms around her sister’s neck and hugged her.

“Malynn” was Ivy’s special name for Madelyn. As a toddler, she hadn’t been able to pronounce Madelyn’s name correctly. By the time she could, the nickname had been used so long it never went away.

Madelyn gave her a hard hug in return. “Of course I came. I wouldn’t miss your birthday.”

“I know. I’m just glad to see you.”

Ivy stepped back. She looked splendid in a pink-and-green-striped retro-style skirt and blouse—a combination no one past the age of eighteen could carry off.

Tall and willowy, Ivy had a figure others would one day come to envy. Right now she was still growing into her looks, caught in her gangly, awkward teens, unaware how lovely she was with her straight, pale hair and soft blue eyes.

“Look what James gave me,” Ivy exclaimed. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin to show off the lustrous strand of pale pink pearls around her neck. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

Madelyn leaned in for a closer look. First quality, rare, and extremely expensive. “Magnificent.”

Ivy beamed, reaching up to caress the necklace with a reverent touch.

“I thought you were opening your presents later,” Madelyn said.

James stepped forward. “It’s my fault. I asked her to open my gift now.”

“James has to leave in a little while.” Ivy sighed. “He has an important business meeting overseas.”

“Ah, well, that explains it, then.” Madelyn gave him a pointed look.

Picking up on the tension between them, Ivy said, “I think I’ll go show these to Sarah Witherspoon. She’ll just die when she sees them.”

Madelyn smiled. “And turn three shades of green.”

They shared a laugh at the image.

Ivy spun back toward James. “Thank you again for the pearls. They’re so incredibly beautiful. I know I’ll love them forever.”

“I’m glad you like them, Pumpkin. Happy birthday.”

Ivy stretched up on her tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

James leaned down to receive it.

“Come and say good-bye to me before you leave,” she warned him in a soft, serious voice.

His blue eyes sparkled with affection. “Don’t worry, I will.”

Madelyn waited until her sister left the room before she spoke. “That was an awfully extravagant gift to give a fifteen-year-old girl.”

He brushed it off. “You know I don’t have a sister; I like spoiling her. Besides, the necklace wasn’t all that expensive, and it makes me happy seeing her happy. So I figure it was worth every penny.”

Maybe it wasn’t that expensive to him, Madelyn thought. But then, James had been born to wealth, able to afford the best and most expensive of whatever the world had to offer.

“And next year when she turns sixteen,” she asked. “How are you going to top it?”

“With a pair of matching earrings, of course.”

She couldn’t help smiling. Knowing James, he’d probably already purchased the jewels and had them safely tucked away in his wall safe at home.

He slipped his hands into his pants pockets, something he did only when he felt tense. “How have you been, Madelyn?”

“Fine. And you?”

“Not bad. Traveling a lot, working hard.”

He always worked hard, she knew, often too hard. Her mother had let it slip that he’d been pushing himself even harder over the last few months.

“And you’ve been healthy?” she questioned.

Last year he’d come down with a terrible bout of the flu that had left all of them worried over him for weeks.

“Yes, very healthy. I got my flu shot this year. And you?”

“Not even a sniffle.”

This is terrible,
she thought. They’d been friends for nearly sixteen years—best friends, and for a time much more than that—yet now they barely knew what to say to each other.

“You don’t need to leave early on my account, you know,” she said. “Ivy would be thrilled if you were suddenly able to take a later flight.”

“Ivy has a whole contingent of friends her own age here to keep her entertained. And just what makes you think I don’t need to catch a flight right away?”

“Maybe because it’s Saturday and you own your own jet.”

His lips curled derisively. “How do you know my meeting isn’t in Papua New Guinea, over the international date line? It’s Sunday there, you know.”

“Do you have business holdings in Papua New Guinea?”

“No,” he admitted with a guilty half laugh. “But I’ll be sure I do before I see you again.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“Why haven’t you called, Madelyn?”

His question sobered her instantly. She searched for the right way to answer him. “I thought it might be best to give things time to settle, let some of the hurt mend.”

“And it takes four months to do that?” he said on a bitter note. “Wounds usually heal in a few weeks; after that they have a nasty habit of turning septic.”

She met his eyes, nearly as blue as her own. “I didn’t know what to say and I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from me. I’m sorry, James.”

The starch came out of his indignation. He expelled a heavy sigh. “I’ve missed you, Meg.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said, heartened by his use of her old nickname. Not long after they’d first met as teenagers, he’d decided she needed a moniker and had settled on Meg—the initials for Madelyn Elizabeth Grayson. “I’ve missed our talks. It’s hard to lose your best friend.”

“Isn’t it, though? I can’t tell you the number of times I almost picked up the phone to share something with you, to ask your advice or laugh over some ridiculous thing I’d seen or heard during the day,” he confided.

“But you didn’t because you’re too stubborn.”

“Don’t talk to me about being stubborn. You could win a prize in that category.”

“Are you trying to make me angry?”

“No, and I don’t want to be either, not anymore. Friends?” He offered a hand.

Relieved, she took it. “Yes, friends.”

For a long moment they grinned at each other like a pair of idiots.

James held on, pulling her hand against his chest. His expression turned serious. “Just one more thing, to clear the air. Obviously you weren’t receptive to my proposal of marriage—”

Her eyes clouded and she tried to pull away.