The Last Man In Texas. Jan Freed

His brows lifted. “You’re nobody’s doormat. But I did steamroll over you back there in my office. I’m really sorry.”

      “Yes, you are. A sorry SOB.”

      He looked startled, but recovered quickly. “You’re right. I deserved that, and more. I was a total jerk. A complete ass. A stupid idiot…you name it. In the past ten minutes, I’ve run out of foul things to call myself.”

      “Insensitive moron? Immature hothead? Controlling dictator? Let’s not forget compulsive liar—”

      “Liar?”

      Ah, finally. She couldn’t have held out much longer against humbleness. “What else would you call a business owner who, for months, hides his company’s true financial status from its highest ranking officer?”

      “How about ‘thoughtful’?”

      She could only gape.

      “That’s right, thoughtful. You have a ton of pressure on you to develop SkyHawk’s marketing plan. I didn’t want to add worry to your full plate.”

      “Bull. You didn’t think I could handle more stress. After all, I might’ve jumped out the window of my nice safe office.”

      He smoothed his tie, a habit signaling either uneasiness or a grope for patience. “Would you please forget the lousy things I said? We’re a team. A pretty damn great one, in case you’ve forgotten what’s really important.”

      She reached for her computer keyboard and pressed a button with flourish. “My letter of resignation is printing out now in the copy room. By noon, the whole agency will know I’ve quit.”

      “Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy. You’re overreacting.” His sigh fanned the embers of her anger.

      “No. I’m simply acting on what my instincts have told me for years. It’s time for me to explore new options and accept new challenges, before I stagnate completely.”

      His humoring expression grew strained. “Then help Malloy Marketing climb out of debt. That’s a hell of a new challenge. I promise you won’t be bored.”

      “I’m sorry, but that’s not in my job description even if I still worked here.”

      “Je-e-ez,” he said on a groan, looking away.

      Presented with a view of his heartbreaker profile, Elizabeth quickly followed his gaze to the large oil painting he’d purchased for her office. A garden landscape. Peaceful and lovely. So skillfully rendered one could almost smell the lush summer blooms, hear busy insects hum, feel the heat radiate from a wrought iron table and two fan-back chairs in the midday sun. The bucolic scene usually calmed her nerves. Today, it only frayed them more.

      Cameron never should’ve bought the painting, good cause be damned!

      Last month he’d passed a UT art student beside Town Lake peddling canvases and a hard-luck story, then wound up funding the kid’s books and tuition for the next semester. Thoughtless generosity. Charity should begin at home. Most of his thirty-six loyal employees had families to support, and losing their jobs would be devastating.

      “Lizzy?”

      She met his gaze and steeled herself when it softened persuasively.

      “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt your feelings. I don’t know what else to say, except that, deep down in your heart, you know I’ve always understood and appreciated how important you are to Malloy Marketing.”

      “And how would I know that, Cameron? I’m not telepathic.”

      “Telepathic?”

      “During the ten years I’ve worked for you, did you ever once tell me I was vital to the agency’s success?”

      He stiffened. “Of course I did.”

      She could see he believed his claim. Somehow that made her feel worse.

      “Besides,” he continued in a wounded tone, “I would think your compensation package speaks for itself.”

      God, she’d been such a fool. “I rest my case.”

      “Case?”

      “That’s right, case. As in, evidence submitted and reviewed.”

      “Pardon me if I didn’t realize I was on trial.”

      “Actually, the trial is over. I’ve already reached a verdict.” She switched off her computer and leaned back in her chair. “Guilty.”

      “Guilty?”

      “You heard me.”

      His face might’ve been carved from granite, but for the telltale tic of a muscle in one cheek. “Mind if I ask of what charge?”

      “False advertising.”

      “What?”

      The old Elizabeth would’ve scrambled to defuse his rising temper. “You really should get your hearing checked,” the new Elizabeth said.

      “Try speaking in English instead of riddles this time.”

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

      He turned chalky beneath his tan. A dramatic response to her theatrical pronouncement, but not the one she’d expected. Was that fear clouding his eyes?

      She studied him closer.

      Good grief, it was fear! Shockingly vulnerable. Desperately defiant. Why on earth did Cameron feel so threatened? Elizabeth wondered, shaken at her lack of knowledge. She’d never seen the wolf backed into a corner before.

      His upper lip curled in a near snarl. “You want to translate that into plain English this time?”

      She struggled to collect her thoughts. “You’ve purposely deceived me since college, when you talked me into ‘joining’ the start-up of a new business on the ground floor level. When it suits your purpose, you’re big on the concept of teamwork, and delegating responsibility to the employee trained for the task, and rewarding staff through stock options as well as promotions. The sad thing is, I fell for the whole spiel. I even believed I could one day own a piece of the company, like you implied.

      “But that won’t ever happen, will it, Cameron? Because in the real world, you can’t tolerate sitting back and giving me, or any other staff member, autonomy to make decisions that might affect the future of Malloy Marketing. My title of vice president is mere window dressing.”

      His relief was obvious, dismissive and insulting. “That’s ridiculous. You’re the best analytical marketing mind in the business.”

      “Forgive me if I doubt your sincerity, since you won’t let me analyze this company’s financial data.”

      “So analyze it! Hell, review the accounting reports until you go cross-eyed, if that’ll make you stop this nonsense about resigning.”

      Unbelievable. “It won’t. I’ve made my decision. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

      He eyed her warily for a long, tense moment. “But…you can’t quit.”

      “Watch me.”

      A thunderous scowl rolled onto his face and gathered force. “Who will finish the SkyHawk marketing plan?”

      And there, at long last, was her true net worth to Cameron. “Farm it out,” she said in a dull tone.

      “With the final selection meeting four weeks away? Jeez, it would take that long just to get someone else up to speed on the research! You know Ad Ventures will pull out all the stops during their presentation.”

      “Just like I know you will, Cameron. And the selection committee will be dazzled.” Unlike some agencies, Malloy Marketing only sent one person to represent the account team in final presentations. Cameron needed