Read Online The Last Man on Earth by Tracy Anne Warren - Free Book Online Page B

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