Jan Freed - The Last Man In Texas

“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?”