After the Interview (9 page)

“Stop it,” she said out loud, surprising the man sitting next to her.

Not in the mood to make small talk, Zoe just acted like nothing had happened. Crap, I have to put aside anything personal and be more professional, she thought to herself. Note to self: no more sex with interviewees!

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C J returned home starving and set out to make breakfast. He was a great cook and made an omelet stuffed with everything he could find. Too bad Zoe hadn’t stuck around to taste his other talents, he thought to himself. After eating he headed outside to read some of the literature from the petroleum symposium and then go for a swim. About two in the afternoon C J awoke with the sun on his face and the realization that Zoe was on a plane headed back to New York. Surprised that he felt the desire to have her here, he stripped out of his clothes and dove into the pool. As he swam naked, C J remembered how Zoe showed no inhibitions in her desire to please and arouse him this morning in the shower. Yes sir, first order of business was to look at his schedule and see when he was free to travel to New York.

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Jeff had predictably called Zoe on the cab ride home from the airport to her apartment. Welcome back to New York, she thought. No time to sit back and look at the stars tonight, even if she could see them. She had to admit the crisp autumn air felt refreshing after the humidity of Houston, but walking into her apartment she felt lonely. This, she thought, was why she had forsaken involvement in any type of long distance relationships. Zoe looked into her refrigerator and decided on an omelet for dinner. That would be fast, and after living in France for years she could whip up a great omelet.

Putting her plate in the sink, Zoe walked to her desk, glass of red wine still in hand. Her small corner office in the living room held nothing more than a table with space for the computer she took out of her carry-on bag. Zoe opened the interview of C J she had polished during the flight. As she started to conclude the work with a thank you to Jack Dupre and the Williams Company for their hospitality, she lifted her left leg into the chair, foot balanced on the seat, and rested her chin against her knee. Being with C J this morning seemed light years away. Zoe reminded herself to stay focused because she had an early start tomorrow, and the Russian ambassador would not be as accommodating and forthright as C J had been. Lifting her head and staring into the dark bedroom, Zoe willed herself to get out of the chair but she didn’t move. As she spun the chair around, one of Jean’s cameras on the bookshelf caught her gaze and Zoe’s eyes began to tear. How on earth did she think she could bring C J to this apartment without feeling she was letting someone get too close to her? I refuse to worry about that now, Zoe told herself, because he isn’t here and might not ever show up. Honestly, Zoe, she thought, that’s not what you are hoping will happen.

Shutting the computer, Zoe moved to deposit the empty wine glass in the kitchen sink and walked to her living room window. Her place might be small but she had a great view of Manhattan, and she saw the cityscape spread before her. Knowing she was prepared for tomorrow’s visit to the United Nations, Zoe relaxed a bit and leaned her head against the glass. There was no more work to distract her from thinking about C J. She smiled as she remembered that first night at the restaurant when her hand had landed on his thigh accidentally. She would never have imagined what was to come twenty-four hours later in C J’s home. Zoe had not experienced sexual arousal and satisfaction like this morning since Jean had made love to her last. Starting to pace back and forth in front of the window, Zoe reminded herself that she was used to being alone. She could manage without C J or any man for that matter. The question was, did she want to?

Zoe gave herself permission to not answer or contemplate that question and headed into the bathroom. No shower tonight, she decided. Taking a bath would be relaxing and less likely to revive memories of Jean or C J. While the water filled the bathtub, Zoe started putting away the items she had unpacked earlier this evening. I know what to do, she thought; think of something or someplace that fills me with delight. At least this had been the tactic her mother had taught her to use as a child when she was afraid or upset. Undressing and stepping into the bathtub, Zoe immediately thought of indulging in hot chocolate at Angelina’s on the Rue de Rivoli in Paris. Now that was pure ecstasy, she told herself, and possibly better than sex. Well, I took that train of thought in the wrong direction she mused as the word sex conjured up a vision of C J naked in his shower this morning with a hard on the size of… Ok, rewind back to Angelina’s and hot chocolate, Zoe admonished herself. Across the street are the Tuileries Gardens, which connect to the Louvre, housing a great collection of naked Greek statues, bringing me back once again to C J’s naked ass in the shower. Hopeless, Zoe mused as she closed her eyes and soaked. 

The bath had been relaxing, Zoe admitted as she slipped into her bed. No way was she going to think about no warm body next to her or the smell of C J‘s cologne on his skin. Aqua de Gio, that was it. Zoe knew she recognized his cologne but it had taken her this long to put the name to the fragrance. This line of thinking was definitely headed in the wrong direction and she knew it. Willing herself to fall asleep, Zoe started to relive her day backwards. With any luck she would be asleep by the cab ride if things occurred as usual. Unfortunately, Zoe made it back to Houston and realized that she was treading on dangerous territory. After all the day had started with sex in the shower with C J. Zoe did finally fall asleep but her last memory was of C J naked, water dripping down his body and his hands caressing her breasts.

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C J had trouble falling asleep that evening too. He had finished his swim, headed inside and gone online to check his calendar and determined he could rearrange meetings over the next few days. He then headed over to Matt’s for a dinner meeting. Caroline and Matt were considering some upgrades to the restaurant, which required C J’s input because of the financial implications. The moment C J walked in the office he knew Matt was thinking about more than restaurant business.

“So I have it on good authority that the crayfish boil was a rousing success last night,” Matt said, smiling while trying to look innocent.

“Yeah, I would say it was a good crowd and we enjoyed the food and company,” C J answered matter-of-factly.

“It seems you and Ms. Alden were tired and had to leave early. I have never known that to be your style,” Matt said.

“Well, Ms. Alden changed her plans and had a flight back to New York today, so she needed to make an early night of it,” C J answered, thinking he had the perfect excuse.

When Matt leaned forward, a mock-innocent look on his face, C J knew he was in for it. “Oh, I guess that’s why you two were seen leaving your house late this morning with Ms. Alden carrying half of her clothing. Shit, C J, it’s me you’re talking to. No need to make up some story. As if you care about your reputation,” Matt shot back.

“Who the fuck saw us leaving my house this morning,” C J asked quickly?

“Don’t get so upset. It was just Logan. She had planned to see if you wanted to get breakfast but just kept driving. She and Caroline were talking about the situation with Jack earlier today, and the subject of you and Ms. Alden made it into the conversation.”

Despite Matt’s best efforts to pry over the next hour, C J did not divulge any information on the evening and morning spent with Zoe. C J was not one to talk about his sexual exploits, and he felt doubly protective of Zoe. For some reason he had sensed that their sexual encounter was not business as usual for her. C J was glad the restaurant was busy and Matt became distracted. This let him sit quietly at the bar and eat. When he left the restaurant, C J felt mentally tired. Matt’s efforts to get the “scoop” on the situation, as he put it, had been exhausting. C J called Logan from his car, but all he heard over the speaker was the sound of the phone ringing, meaning he would have to catch her later and make sure this story went no further. Feeling the need to protect Zoe from gossip was a surprising idea to C J, but he was adamant about it. After all, she was a well-known business journalist, and tarnishing her reputation on the verge of his interview being published was not good for her or Marshall Petroleum.

Son of a bitch, C J thought to himself, walking into his house. This was going to make him rethink the plan to head to New York next week. It might look better to wait a few weeks and have the visit appear to be a business trip after all. He was a direct person and the fact that he was going against his instinct, which was to be with Zoe ASAP, made him edgy. C J tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and felt annoyed. As he headed past the living room and into his office, he sat down, turned on Sunday Night Football for noise and then pulled up his calendar again. Before C J knew it he had immersed himself in several hours of work reading contracts. Now, heading down the hall to his bedroom, he felt exhausted and frustrated.

“Just let it go,” he said as he pulled his clothes off and left them in a heap on the floor.

Damn it all, he thought a few minutes later as he stepped out of the shower, briefly rubbing a towel over his body. Naked and hair dripping wet, C J reached his bed and fell into it. His last thoughts were of Zoe’s naked body astride him that morning and the feel of his hands caressing her breasts.

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Monday morning, Zoe stood in front of her mirror and turned, checking her appearance. The suit was blue and she wore cream silk with it but was the look too austere, even for her? Zoe thought, to hell with it, and opted for austere but at the last minute grabbed a long paisley scarf to wrap around her neck in case the morning was still cold. Ambassador Rostanov did not often give interviews, so Zoe knew he had an ulterior motive. Stay cool and don’t blow this, she admonished herself. Grabbing her leather bag and securing it over her shoulder, Zoe stepped out of her apartment and searched for her keys. She noticed the light blinking on her phone, and her heart lurched a bit thinking it might be C J. Nope it was just the magazine’s driver texting her that he was outside waiting for her. You’re being ridiculous, Zoe chided herself with another reminder to pull it together and get to work.

“Morning, Joe,” Zoe said as she got into the back seat of the car, and it took off down the street, squeezing between two honking cabs.

“Morning, Zoe,” Joe said. “How was your trip to Houston?”

“It went well. These two interviews back-to-back are keeping me busy and should create a buzz for the magazine.”

Joe started to answer but his attention was drawn by a bicycle messenger darting in and out of traffic. Instinctively, Zoe reached for the cup of coffee in its holder and noticed that Joe had included a bagel in case she was hungry. She sipped the hot coffee and felt its warmth run down her throat. Caffeine should help me focus. As she took a bite of the bagel, Zoe waved it in the air in a gesture that she knew Joe would understand as a thank you. He smiled, nodded his head and then fixed his eyes on the snarl of traffic ahead of them.

Zoe arrived at the United Nations with no more than twenty minutes to check in, pass through security and find her way to the conference room set aside for the interview. A press pass was no ticket to fast entry in this building; reporters and journalists practically camped out here. The security guard just stared at her dully as he asked her to empty the contents of her bag into the plastic bin and to remove her shoes before they slid through the scanner. No southern gallantry in sight at this establishment, she mused. As she walked through the security scanner, she stepped on something sharp. It was all Zoe could do not to scream out in pain or have her eyes register any emotion. Not a good idea here, she thought to herself as she limped up to the conveyer belt and started putting her belongings back in her bag. Leaning against the wall to put her shoes on, Zoe found a small rock embedded in her left heel. Flicking it off, she noticed the security detail staring at her to see why she was loitering in their area. Crap, what a way to start my f’ing day.

As it turned out, the conference room was within the offices of the Russian delegation, which was at the end of the hall when Zoe exited the elevator. Walking slowly down the hall in an effort to keep pressure off of her sore heel made her feel like a target. The huge guard at the delegation door followed her every step. This same guard showed Zoe to the conference room a few minutes later, where she waited for the ambassador to arrive. Ambassador Rostanov, a stern faced older man in a black suit, spoke English well but with no inflection. By the time the interview was over Zoe would have loved to pinch him to make sure he wasn’t a cyborg. That would have been a great twist to the interview, which, in Zoe’s mind, had been nothing but a shout-out to the world to stop battering Russia’s oil industry and choice of allies. Anytime she had injected a question about another subject to broaden the interview the ambassador had deftly stonewalled her, but Zoe wasn’t surprised. Riding down in the elevator, she couldn’t help but wonder what C J would have to say about Russian oil interests. What had he said to her? “Global politics are a big part of the oil industry.”  Zoe started to brighten as she thought of a possible connection between the two interviews.