Читать книгу The Last Man In Texas - Jan Freed - Страница 9

CAMERON STARED ACROSS Lizzy’s desk, his mind struggling to process her stunning revelation.

Did not compute.

He must, indeed, be going deaf. “You’re what?”

A fiery blush belied her frosty glare. “Is my getting married so impossible to fathom?”

Damnation, the woman had a talent for twisting his words! “Did I say that? No, I did not say that.”

“Then why are you so shocked? Because my social life is obviously more ‘active’ than you thought?”

Yes! “No. Will you stop answering your own questions and let me finish?”

She pursed her mouth and examined a short unpolished fingernail.

Now what? “Look, you can’t blame me for being surprised. You’ve never talked much about your personal life. But I figured if you ever got involved with someone, you’d at least tell me.”

Her gaze sliced up. “I figured if you ever got interested in my personal life, you’d at least ask questions once in a while.”

They exchanged a righteous wounded look.

Cameron rallied first. “I respected your privacy. Besides, I thought you were completely committed to your career at Malloy Marketing.”

“You know I was. But I also want more from life than a satisfying career. Most people do. At some point in their lives, they want to meet their soul mate, settle down and raise a family. And that includes men people, no matter what they say or others think.”

She’d found her soul mate?

“Your brother Travis is a perfect example,” she continued, warming to the subject. “He’s so excited about Kara’s pregnancy he’s like a little kid waiting to open a present. But when he was single, you told me he never wanted to remarry, much less have children.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And look how great your dad is doing? Not so long ago, you worried about him being lonely. You were convinced he would never marry again. Then he fell in love with both Nancy and her son, and now they’re a happy family.”

“True, but—”

“What about Rachel and Steven? Fifteen years, and they’re more in love than ever. You can’t deny that marriage has changed the lives of a lot of people who are close to you for the better.”

“No, but—”

“A husband and wife can form the greatest team of all, Cameron. Haven’t you ever wanted, even for a moment, to experience that kind of love and commitment yourself?”

He opened and closed his mouth.

She looked so hopeful, so wistful and innocent, her luminous brown gaze like a child’s wishing upon a star. Of course, she hadn’t witnessed Travis’s bitter divorce, long estrangement from Kara and bruising, bumpy road to remarriage. Or, for that matter, John Malloy’s twenty-year mourning period after Cameron’s mother lost her long battle with cancer. Their pain had been devastating. And devastatingly painful to watch.

But did he want the kind of blissful marriage his brother and father enjoyed now? Sure he did. He’d be a fool not to.

And a bigger fool not to wait until the odds on having one were stacked high in his favor.

He managed a credibly careless shrug. “I’m a realist, not an idealist.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that at my age, it’s hard enough to meet attractive and interesting single women. The chances of meeting my one perfect soul mate aren’t very good.”

Lizzy’s eyes dimmed.

He smoothed his tie, struck with the sense that he’d somehow failed her, or himself—or them both. Before he could analyze his reaction, her eyes rekindled with a mocking gleam.

“Poor Cameron. Having one foot in the grave must be a tough handicap to meeting women. Then, too, being one of Austin’s ten most eligible bachelors is such a turnoff.”

Jeez. “All I’m saying is that I don’t bet on long shots. It’s a documented fact that half of all marriages in this country end in divorce.”

“Documented?”

Uh-oh. She’d taken on the look of Seth’s bird dog sifting through multiple scents in the air.

Cameron saw the exact instant she pinpointed her covey of information, and braced himself for a flurry of facts.

“Actually, the fifty percent divorce rate quoted by the media is wrong. The Census Bureau calculated the marriages and divorces in one year without including the fifty-four million marriages already in existence, and—presto! A totally inaccurate, but highly quotable, divorce rate appeared in the hat like magic. Lazy journalists all over the country yanked it out with regularity. But when divorces are tracked by the year in which a couple married, the correct rate is closer to between eighteen and twenty-two percent. Not too terrible, really…and I can see that you’re fascinated.”

He blinked the glaze from his eyes and found hers narrowed. “What? I’m listening.”

“Good. Because you need to hear this. The chance of you finding your ideal soul mate would improve considerably if you took more time getting to know a woman. More than six dates’ worth of time, that is.”

Indignation prodded him fully alert. “I’ve dated women more than six times.”

“Cameron, you’ve dated women more times in the past year alone than the average man does in his entire bachelorhood. I was referring to spending time with one woman, not sharing your charms with a harem.”

Jeez. “You sound like my brothers.”

“Thank you, but flattery won’t change the fact that you’ve never made it to a seventh date with the same woman.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Dead sure,” he stated, ignoring the red flag waving madly in his brain. “I’ve been seeing Carol for at least three months.”

“Seeing her exclusively?”

Frowning, he backpedaled mentally through a succession of forgettable evenings, only five of which included a giggling blonde.

The flag lowered to half-mast.

“I didn’t think so,” Lizzy said.

He reached up and yanked the knot of his necktie looser. “How’d we get so off track, anyway? We were talking about your love life, not mine.”

“You were talking. Whatever happened to respecting my privacy?”

He’d found out she had a love life, that’s what happened! She wasn’t bluffing about quitting. He was actually going to lose his second in command to some bozo he’d never met!

Shaken, he reached for an acceptable emotion and clung to outrage. “You’re a fine one to lecture me about keeping financial secrets, Lizzy. When were you planning to tell me you’re engaged, huh? After the wedding invitations were mailed?”

“Please lower your voice.”

“Or maybe you planned to wait and send me a birth announcement after Junior was born? You know, kill two birds with one postage stamp. Yeah, that sounds more like the Miss Cost-Efficiency I know.”

“If you can’t discuss this in a civil manner, kindly leave my office.”

“It’s not your office anymore, is it?”

Her nostrils pinched. She looked away, obviously seeking patience.

Following suit, Cameron focused on the large canvas dominating one wall. He’d paid the artist’s hefty asking price, not only to help out a talented student strapped for cash, but also because the garden scene reminded him of Lizzy. Her calming presence, that is. She was the eye of the storm in a swirl of agency activity that, more often than not, reached hurricane force. Not once had the painting’s vivid roses ever reminded him of Lizzy’s flushed complexion.

Until today.

“You’re right,” she said, drawing his attention to her icy dignity. “It’s not my office, anymore. Goodbye, Cameron. Have a nice life.”

“Wait!” he ordered, halting the backward roll of her chair. “Answer my question, first. Why would a woman who’s never peeped a single word about having a steady boyfriend suddenly announce she’s getting married?”

“Shh!” She flicked an embarrassed glance at the closed door.

But he couldn’t seem to control either his volume, or the territorial possessiveness goading him on, preventing him from letting her go with grace. “Why all the secrecy about your soul mate, Lizzy? What are you hiding? Tell me. And while you’re at it, explain how you can abandon the company that’s built your career just when it needs you most!”

She paled, but thrust out her chin. “How dare you try and make me feel guilty.”

“Pardon the hell out of me for thinking loyalty should still count for something these days.”

“You’re not being fair.”

“You think it’s fair to drop your little bombshell and leave me to rebuild the SkyHawk marketing plan from scratch? You could at least stay until the presentation. You owe me that much, damn it!”

Lush roses bloomed in her cheeks. “I don’t enjoy being manipulated, Cameron.”

“And I don’t enjoy being betrayed.”

“Oh, please. Who’s overreacting now? If anything, you betrayed me. I gave one hundred and ten percent of myself to you and this company for very little return on my investment. I needed…” Trailing off, she shook her head, rose from her chair and raised her palms. “Forget it. I don’t owe you a thing. Even an explanation.”

“Wait!” Desperation harshened his voice. “If this is about owning a piece of the company, let’s talk options. I’m willing to negotiate an agreement—”

The smack of her palms on the desk made him jump.

She braced her weight and leaned forward, her eyes spitting bullets. “I meant an emotional return on my investment. Don’t insult me with an equity offer at this late date. You can’t buy back my loyalty. You wouldn’t even want it back if you weren’t so obsessively competitive. No, don’t roll your eyes. Admit it. You can’t stand to lose, whether it’s a game of tennis, or a client’s account, or a vice president whose title is mere window dressing. You’ve fired plenty of employees over the past ten years, but I’m the first one who’s ever quit, aren’t I?”

“You tell me. You like to answer your own questions.”

The roses darkened a shade. “At least I ask questions! I’m not so self-centered I think the world revolves around my problems and needs. I don’t think everyone owes me their help. I don’t charm or manipulate or throw a tantrum to get it. I’ve worked damn hard for everything I’ve ever gotten.” Unlike you, her silent thought rang loud and clear, an echo of her earlier sentiment.

You aren’t the man you pretend to be. In other words, Cameron, you’re a fraud.

Grimacing, Cameron closed his eyes and massaged his temples. There was enough truth in her accusations to bring his headache back full force. She’d never pulled any punches with him, but he hadn’t realized she thought this poorly of him. The wonder was that she hadn’t resigned sooner.

Then again, she wasn’t a quitter by nature, like he was.

“I have some aspirin in my purse,” she said brusquely, unable to disguise the worry in her voice. “Why don’t you take two more?”

Ah, Lizzy. Sweet, tough Lizzy.

“Thanks,” he said without opening his eyes. “But I’ve already taken about six.”

She made a small sound of displeasure. “Last night it was champagne, today it’s aspirin…hey, I know. There’s some spray adhesive in the art supply closet. Wanna sniff that next?”

One corner of his mouth tipped up.

He opened his eyes. “Nah. I spotted a pan of Rachel’s to-die-for blintzes in the coffee room. Figured I’d try to OD on five or six of those rich suckers in a little while.” Why French fries would clog his arteries, according to Rachel, but rolled crepes filled with cream cheese wouldn’t, only she knew. “Wanna join me?”

Lizzy pressed a hand to her stomach. “Just the thought of two makes me feel queasy. But you go right ahead. I wouldn’t want to spoil your food hangover.”

Despite the encouraging hint of her smile, she did look a little green at the gills. For the first time, he noticed how physically exhausted she seemed. Those bruised half-moons under her eyes hadn’t developed overnight. She’d either been losing sleep consistently, or she’d been ill, or…

A disturbing possibility jarred him.

“Are you pregnant?” he blurted.

Her eyes widened.

A half-dozen emotions bombarded him. His usual glibness fled. “If you are, well…that’s great, honey.” The careless bozo should be horsewhipped “I mean, there’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You’re getting married, right?”

A choked sputter escaped her throat.

He scowled. “You are getting married?”

Her yelp of laughter turned into a string of violent coughs, punctuated by a final chuckle. “Relax, Pa, I’m not pregnant. You can put away your shotgun now.”

Wiping a thumb over water-spiked lashes, she met his gaze. Whatever she saw in his expression killed the last trace of merriment in hers. “I’m sorry for laughing at your concern, Cameron. I’m a little punchy. I haven’t been getting much sleep, lately. I’ve been staying with Mom off and on the past couple of weeks. She has insomnia. The divorce has been pretty rough on her.”

“Sounds like it’s been no picnic for you, either.”

Lizzy shrugged, as if it went without saying any daughter would sacrifice her own sleep in order to comfort her mother.

Humbled, he studied her a long moment. “You’re something else. I’m way too late in offering, but is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Yes. Please don’t make it harder for me to leave the company than it already is. I care about what happens to Malloy Marketing. You can’t possibly doubt that. And I’ll complete as much of the SkyHawk marketing plan as possible in the next two weeks. But my priorities have shifted. I want to have a baby. Several babies, if I’m lucky.”

Warmth stirred in his heart and groin simultaneously. Jeez. She wasn’t the only one who was punchy.

“I always envied other children who had siblings,” she confessed. “Being an only child is a drag.”

He made a face. “Being one of four brothers can be a real pain in the ass, too.”

“Maybe. But most of the time it’s fun. No, I want a big family. And I am thirty-one years old. The sooner I get started trying, the better. So…do we have a deal?”

God, he would miss her.

“Deal. I hope your fiancé knows how lucky he is. When do I get to meet him?”

Her gaze veered off to land somewhere over his shoulder. “Um…soon, I hope. You know, if I’m going to cram four weeks of work into two, I’d better get cracking.”

The red flag in his brain slowly rose. “A few more minutes won’t make a difference. What’s his name?”

“Whose name?”

The flag fluttered. “The man who’ll father all those babies you want. The one who offered you ‘the most exciting and challenging career any woman with no previous experience can have.’ That man’s name.”

“Oh, you mean Larry.” She grabbed the ceramic mug sitting next to a folded newspaper, then drew it to her breast like a waif begging for coins. “I need more coffee.”

“Larry,” he repeated.

“That’s right. Larry. Have you tried to OD on caffeine, yet? Beats aspirin, hands down. Want me to bring you a cup?”

“Does he have a last name? Or is he just Larry? Like Fabio, or Sting?”

She stood. “I’m headed that way. It’s really no trouble—”

“Goddamn it, Lizzy! Do I have to buy a vowel to fill in the blanks about this guy?” Her cheeks matched the red flag flapping like hell in Cameron’s brain.

“His name is Larry Sanderson. He’s brilliant. He’s kind. And he never yells.” After a pointed look, she marched toward the door in a huff.

Larry Sanderson, Larry Sanderson…Cameron stiffened.

His gaze zeroed in on the folded newspaper, then flew to the furious woman nearing the door.

“Lizzy, wait!”

She grasped the doorknob and sighed. “What now?”

“You can’t marry the dimwit.”

Two heartbeats passed.

The stare she directed over her shoulder could’ve shriveled a grape into a raisin. “Don’t worry. There’s only one dimwit I can claim to know personally. And I wouldn’t marry you, Cameron Malloy, if you were the last man in Texas!” With a toss of her dark curls, she flung open the door.

Mitch, Pete and Rachel staggered forward into the room, their heads twisted in identical awkward positions.

Lizzy growled in disgust, shoved her way through the flame-faced group and disappeared from sight.

Cameron leaned back and tapped his chin thoughtfully. He’d been called a lot of things he deserved in his life, but dimwit wasn’t one of them.

Something funny was going on. Something besides the Three Stooges currently backing out the door. If his suspicions were true, then his deal with Lizzy was off.

Which meant he still had a chance not to fail.