The Last Man on Earth by Tracy Anne Warren Page B

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