After the Interview (5 page)

Watching the car pull onto the street, Zoe was surprised at the fact that C J was so sure they would see each other the next day. Then she glanced down and realized why. The oldest trick in the book; she was still wearing his jacket. Zoe turned to head into the hotel lobby, and the concierge noticed the huge smile on her face as she headed to the bank of elevators. He nodded his head in greeting, but she was so absorbed she didn’t even notice. Zoe was as happy about this turn of events as anyone.

Chapter Three

Zoe opened the door to her room and immediately felt the weight of its emptiness. She could be with C J Fairchild, wrapped in more than his coat for the evening, and no one would have known. Plenty of journalists she knew not only had affairs with the people they interviewed but they often had sex with people to get interviews. What Zoe wrestled with was whether or not crossing that line fit her professional ideals. It didn’t matter now, she thought, because she had just blown the moment. She knew all too well that timing could be everything. The interview was over, and Zoe knew she never would have let an evening with C J Fairchild color how she wrote her story, so why was she arguing with herself? The answer was personal and not professional. Life usually felt black and white to her, but right now C J Fairchild had created a gray area. Zoe had a decision to make. If she had sex with C J, could she easily walk away with no regrets? Why was she asking this question? Had she changed, or was this man so different from the others?

Even her routine was out of sync. Evenings after interviews were usually spent alone in a hotel room, banging out the story to be refined the next day. Banging, now there was a strange choice of verbs. Zoe couldn’t believe how her train of thought had strayed and realized she had to pull it together immediately. As she walked to her suitcase to grab her t-shirt, Zoe laid C J’s jacket on the back of the chair. She opted to not take a shower and instead got in bed with the scent of C J’s cologne still lingering on her. What is that f’ing cologne called? She knew the scent was familiar but the name just wasn’t coming to her. Zoe started to play the evening over in her mind but she was truly exhausted and fell asleep thinking about the feel of C J’s hand gently laid on the small of her back.

ℓ

C J got home in record time and did not feel exhausted at all. He was anxious and wondered if he had been wrong to let Zoe head up to her room alone. He felt her drawn to him, but he also knew Zoe was the type of woman who could easily use logic to distance herself from him. Women, C J thought, shaking his head. I know how to handle them, so what’s the problem with Ms. Alden? His decision to let her go to her room alone made him fell doubly annoyed in hindsight. C J was not used to putting this much thought into what sparked his attraction to a woman and what to do about it. Dinner after the cocktail party had seemed like a good idea because C J told himself he didn’t want this journalist to leave Houston with the impression that Texas oilmen today were unworldly and had no consciences. Enjoying Zoe’s company wasn’t the half of it. C J admitted there was a strong physical attraction to Zoe Alden and he wanted the opportunity to see how it would feel to have her touching his thigh in earnest. He knew he would see her again and have a chance to test how potent the mutual attraction really was. For now, he needed activity to wear him out and bleed the hormone surge he was still feeling in his body. Stepping outside, C J was glad the air was cool and crisp. Nothing he liked better than running at night to take the edge off; well he could think of something he liked better but that was not happening. He remembered glimpsing the look on Zoe’s face when Caroline had first hugged him, and he remembered too well the feel of her hand on his thigh. Fuck, he thought as he started to grow hard again, I really have to run. He started jogging down the street, slowly at first.

ℓ

Zoe woke early the next morning and felt great. It was several hours until the symposium was to start, and it did not matter what time Zoe arrived. She had no set appointments and could walk the circuit in the convention center, talking to the different company representatives at will. Zoe had to admit, attending the cocktail party last night was a great way to be introduced to the who’s who of the event. Glancing at the chair and seeing C J’s jacket, Zoe smiled. He thinks he has the upper hand, but I’m ready and will play the game my way. Heading to the gym for a nice run on the treadmill felt like a good idea, and Zoe was glad to see the place was almost deserted. The exercise bikes were taken, but the guys didn’t look like they were good for more than ten or fifteen more minutes. By the time her run was finished, Zoe was hungry and her body was energized. She thought about seeing C J again and wondered what his first move would be. Entering her room, she decided to shower and call room service to deliver breakfast. This would allow her time to sit down and start working on the first draft of the interview before she headed out.

Zoe stepped into the shower and instantly felt the hot water not only start to wash away the sweat she had worked up but also any traces of C J’s cologne. The feel of his hand on her arm and placed softly in the small of her back came to mind, and what was with the kiss to wake her up last night? Maybe C J was just a gallant southern gentleman bent on keeping Zoe entertained and happy. Was she letting her imagination get the best of her just because she found him physically attractive? Zoe stepped out of the shower and started to dry off before she realized she had not thought of Jean, but then she hadn’t felt alone in the shower this morning. C J had been there, occupying her thoughts, and that felt enticing. Breakfast arrived before Zoe could dress, so she ate in the hotel robe and sat in bed cross-legged, engrossed in the first draft of her interview. Zoe’s phone rang, and her heart lurched a bit until she saw it was Jeff, her boss.

“Hey Jeff, how are you today?” Zoe answered the phone.

“Fine, Zoe, and you?” Jeff answered her.

“Just working on the interview draft before I head over to the symposium this morning. Are you checking to make sure I’m working?” Zoe asked, jesting.

“No, as a matter of fact I need you to wrap it up today and head out tomorrow instead of Monday. The Russian ambassador to the UN has agreed to an interview Monday morning prior to the assembly meeting and I need to know you can arrive with your interview questions outlined. Ann has moved your flight to one tomorrow afternoon and is emailing you the itinerary now,” he said.

Zoe, knowing Jeff counted on her to roll with this opportunity, assured him there would be no issues with the change in plans and ended the call. Before she saved her work and headed to get dressed, Zoe signed into her email to verify her flight time tomorrow. Seeing the flight was at one fifteen and on the same airline she had flown in on, Zoe started to sign off. Then she noticed a new email from Marshall Petroleum with an attachment. Funny, she thought, she had already opened everything Bill Sorrell had emailed her, so she quickly opened the email to save it to the research folder. This was not research but a forwarded invitation to a crayfish boil tonight. The event was sponsored by the Williams Company, the oil rig supplier. The message with the forward was:

See you tonight. Dress is casual, so I hope you brought jeans. We can talk later about logistics.

C J

So this was the surprise he had alluded to last night. Zoe felt equal to whatever C J had in mind tonight, but first she had work to do. She had no jeans with her but knew she could solve that problem easily before the day was over. Smiling, she headed to the closet to get dressed and make a lasting impression on at least one person at the symposium. A suit did not seem right for this event, so Zoe picked beige loose-fitting pants and a red silk blouse. Knowing this city, the convention center would be air conditioned to the max. Feeling a bit adventurous, she added an animal print belt and slipped on a pair of flats. Not interested in working with her hair, Zoe pulled its shoulder length back in a loose ponytail and added some plain gold earrings. Grabbing her oversized leather bag, she started to head out the door and realized she had forgotten a very important item, the jacket. As Zoe lifted the jacket from the back of the chair, she was amazed a trace of CJ’s cologne still lingered. Nice she thought, very nice.

Saturday morning in Houston meant quiet freeways and hassle-free driving until Zoe hit the one-way streets near the convention center and forgot which one led to the parking garage entrance. Too bad a certain Cadillac driven by a certain hunk is not available to ferry me around today. Oh I’ve got this, she thought as she pulled into the parking structure and wound her way up to a free space. From the looks of this place, the symposium must already be busy. Riding the elevator down to the covered walkway, Zoe went through her mental checklist of people to talk to and subjects to cover, as well as a jacket to be returned. That would be the first stop, the Marshall Petroleum booth, to drop off the jacket. The last thing she needed to do was walk around the symposium with C J’s jacket either over her shoulder or draped on top of her bag. As Zoe approached the entrance, she unzipped the pocket of her bag to pull out her media credentials and heard her name called.

“Zoe, Zoe Alden, I didn’t know you were in town,” Rob Scott of Reuters said, walking over to her.

Oh crap, thought Zoe, of all people, Rob Scott, one of the most egotistic reporters on the planet. “Hello, Rob and how are you?” Zoe asked.

“Great, just great,” he said. “I have an interview lined up with the South American delegation today. They are none too happy with the current state of oil prices, as to be expected. What’s your angle? I thought you dealt more in politics.”

“Well, as you know, oil and politics are one in the same, Rob, and I interviewed a company exec yesterday whose firm is heavily involved in the fracking movement. Just decided to visit the symposium before I left town to see what else I could learn,” Zoe answered.

“Would you like some introductions?” Rob asked smugly.

“No, I’ve met the major players here today, so I think I’ll head out and get busy,” Zoe answered.

Not even pausing as she turned to head in the opposite direction of wherever Rob was going, Zoe heard him say, “Nice suit jacket; I guess it does get a bit chilly in these places.”

“What a fucking dick,” Zoe muttered, not caring if he heard.

Once Zoe rounded the corner out of Rob Scott’s sightline, she decided to consult the symposium layout she had been handed at check-in. Ok, I am here and the Marshall Petroleum booth is…great, at the opposite end of the building, Zoe thought to herself. No problem, I will head to the middle aisle and check out the flashiest industry displays on the way to my jacket drop-off target. Whatever sites look the most interesting, I will revisit. Zoe doubted she was going to get near any industry CEOs today like she had at the cocktail party last night; thank you very much for that C J. She wanted to talk to some company reps anyway, just to compare their attention to environmental concerns versus what she had seen at Marshall Petroleum. This would probably take up most of her day at the symposium; good thing she had bought those jeans on the way to the convention center.

As Zoe walked the middle aisle, she was a bit awed to see the extent these companies had gone to with their displays. These were not mere booths with brochures but elaborate displays of everything from rig designs to actual working drill bits and pumps. It was like being at the Las Vegas strip of the oil industry.  She spotted the name Williams Company and stopped to watch the display, which included a mockup of an offshore rig with a miniature helicopter actually delivering supplies and tools.

“Welcome to the Williams Company, the largest supplier of offshore rig needs. What can I interest you in today, mademoiselle?” an accented voice said.

Zoe looked up to see gorgeous green eyes, blonde hair and one of the most attractive men she had ever met staring at her. Clearly, the accent spoke of Louisiana, but his demeanor did not make her think “born on the bayou” by any means.

Intrigued, Zoe answered, “Your display is definitely getting my attention but I admit I recognized your company name.”

“Ah you work in the industry then. I’m Jack Dupre, but I don’t think we’ve met before?” he said.

“No, I definitely don’t work in the industry. Zoe Alden, the
Business Journal
,” she replied.

Jack stepped back, tilted his head to the right and looked Zoe up and down, as if trying to assess the truth of what she said, and then beamed. “If all business journalists looked like you I would make an effort to be more newsworthy. So tell me, how you know about the Williams Company, Ms. Alden?” Jack asked.

“She knows you exist because Ms. Alden is accompanying me to the crayfish boil you’re hosting tonight,” Zoe heard a familiar voice say at the same time she felt a hand touch the small of her back.