The Last Man on Earth by Tracy Anne Warren Page B

that particular event.”
    Zack reached for her hand again, refusing to let go when she tried to twist it away. “I know you wanted that account, and between the two of us you should have gotten it. You did a lot of work, good work that deserved to be recognized. I argued with Fielding about it, tried to convince him to give you the nod instead, but he wouldn’t budge.”
    “And why should I believe that extraordinarily creative line of bull?”
    “Because it’s the truth. And old man Takamuri’s the one who didn’t want you, not Fielding or anyone else in management. You were slated to head the account. As I understand it, everything was green-lighted. Then Takamuri called Fielding, said he wanted someone else, said he wanted a man. I’m sorry, Madelyn.”
    Her face fell as his words sank in. “But Mr. Takamuri told me he liked my ideas. He seemed pleased with the concept, the budget, everything. I don’t understand.”
    “He’s old-school—traditional and very Japanese. From what Fielding said, he doesn’t believe a woman has the skills required to make important leadership decisions. He said you’re very bright but he couldn’t entrust you with that sort of responsibility.”
    Affront heated her cheeks. “Doesn’t have the skill? Can’t entrust me with that sort of responsibility? What an idiotic, sexist pile of . . . Fielding should have told him he was wrong and given the account to me anyway. I would have done a wonderful job and made everyone a huge bundle of money.”
    “No doubt you’re right. But to give Fielding his due, I think he did try to keep you. At first. They threatened to pull the account, Madelyn. It was simply too much money to risk.”
    Her eyes sparkled a touch too brightly.
    “Well, it looks like I’m the one who owes you an apology this time,” she said.
    “That’s not—”
    “Not necessary? I think it is. I assumed you’d deliberately gone behind my back to steal that account. I considered you an evil, devious, blackhearted creep, one of the lowest forms of life to ever crawl on the planet.”
    “All that? It’s a wonder I can look at myself in the mirror to shave in the morning.”
    “Apparently I misjudged you. I’m sorry. Usually I’m much better at assessing people’s characters.”
    “Well, don’t make my halo too big. We’re still prime competitors and I’m not one to let an opportunity pass. Not even for you.”
    “I’d never have thought otherwise.”
    “So how about Saturday?”
    “Saturday?”
    “To meet. You can sleep a couple extra hours, then meet me in the afternoon.”
    She considered his plan. “All right. Where?”
    “I’ll figure something out.”
    He creased the edge of his cheap paper placemat and tore off a piece of it. He slid the scrap toward her along with a pen. “Here, jot down your home phone number. I’ll give you a call.”
    She hesitated, her hand poised over the pen in a final moment of uncertainty; then she picked it up and began to write.

C HAPTER FIVE
    “P
hew
, what a week. Over at only”—Peg flicked a glance at the clock on the wall—“eight fifteen. I don’t know about you, but I need a drink, a meal, a hot bath, and a soft bed. Preferably with a big hunk of man in it.”
    She ran a set of flame-tipped nails through her artfully styled brunette curls, then shrugged out of the businesslike plaid jacket she’d put on that morning. One that concealed a seductive little black dress underneath.
    “Luckily for
me
,” she continued, “I’m about to get my wish since it’s Friday night and Bruno’s on his way over to pick me up.”
    “Bruno?” Madelyn crammed a handful of drawing pencils into an oversize mug on her office drafting table. “What about Eddy?”
    “Ancient history. I thought I told you we broke up. Well, never mind, Bruno’s my latest. Met him last week at a bar. He’s a bouncer there. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I admit, but one look and who cares? A very prime cut of beef,