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

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