The Last Man on Earth by Tracy Anne Warren Page A

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