After the Interview Read online

  Zoe said, “That could be informative but I won’t promise to become a convert. As everyone knows, research can be skewed and tell any story the presenter wishes. Will I be allowed to include any of the data in my article?”

  “Of course, we’ll be glad to print items or forward research to you via email as long as it’s not related to our new R&D projects,” C J said. He was silently cursing his luck at having to deal with another liberal media member. Couldn’t this group just let him get his work done? C J did admit this journalist was a step out of the ordinary; she seemed intelligent and was businesslike. What intrigued him was the sensuality he was picking up on. She’s working hard to keep it bottled up. He quickly decided this would make dealing with her attitude much more appealing.

  Smiling, C J stood and said, “Shall we?”

  Walking to the elevators, C J asked Margie to call ahead and make sure he and Zoe would be expected in building E. Zoe asked C J about his grandfather as they rode downstairs to the lobby and he smiled warmly, showing how much he admired the man. This conversation continued as they headed outside and walked to building E. Zoe barely noticed the heat and humidity as C J laughed and told her a story about his sister, Logan, and her building projects as a child with his grandfather as her “assistant.” C J was obviously proud of his sister, who was a structural engineer building “dams, bridges and such,” as he put it. As they entered building E, the receptionist smiled brightly and told them Bill was expecting them on the 13th floor. Zoe got the feeling that C J always got bright smiles from the female employees at Marshall Petroleum, no matter who he was with.

  Zoe, a bit more relaxed in C J’s presence, laughed and said, “Having a floor thirteen is a bit unusual isn’t it? I guess oilmen aren’t superstitious.”

  “On the contrary, oilmen can be very superstitious, but having a 13th floor in our research building was all my grandfather. My grandmother was born on August 13th and she was a constant inspiration to my grandfather, so this is for her.” C J beamed as he said this.

  Zoe got the feeling that Texas oilmen, at least in this family, not only worked hard but loved hard: interesting thought for sure. Bill Sorrell introduced himself as the head of environmental research at Marshall Petroleum and led Zoe and C J into a room that felt like a command center. The walls were covered with a timeline showing research and corresponding numbers for files in a database. Another wall showed the tectonic plates in the world overlaid by pipeline routes and refinery sites while displaying up-to-the-minute data on activity. As Bill and C J discussed activity on the North American continent, Zoe watched. A sense of intrigue washed over her the moment C J turned his back to her, effectively blocking any chance she might have of over hearing the conversation.

  “Did you get a call from McGuire in North Dakota today?” Bill asked C J.

  “Not yet, but I did hear back from the other party’s attorney. They plan to overnight the contract with a new turnaround schedule. The timeframe on this deal’s shortened, and Burt wanted me to let him know when I sign off on it,” C J answered.

  “That’s unusual,” Bill said.

  “We’ll talk more about it after my phone conference, which is in fifteen minutes,” C J said quietly.

  C J turned, smiling, and apologized for excluding her from their conversation. He then asked her what information she wished sent to her for the interview. Zoe became alert and was able to name the subjects she was interested in. She had been mesmerized watching the two men’s conversation and had momentarily lost track of her list of questions. Get a grip, girl, she thought to herself. Zoe quickly remembered to ask for a timeline on the development of horizontal drilling by Marshall Petroleum and any data on the effects of fracking to groundwater reserves and wildlife. C J thought to himself, of course, the same old crap. Why did I expect this journalist to have a different angle?

  Bill Sorrell, asked in advance by C J to cooperate, said, “No problem, I will have my assistant send you more than you probably wish to wade through. How about a tour of a fracking rig set up, or at least a miniature version of one, Ms. Alden?”

  Zoe, thrilled at the chance to get this much information, was delighted, and she turned to follow Bill.

  “Zoe, I need to excuse myself but you’re in good hands with Bill, so I’ll head back to my office,” C J said.

  Zoe turned and felt deflated to see him leave, even though she knew it made perfect sense. “C J, thank you for your time. This is going to be a very interesting article to write. If I have more questions for you or Bill, will email be the best avenue of contact?” Zoe said with a smile.

  “Oh, you haven’t seen the last of me yet, Zoe. You can save any follow-up questions for me this evening. There’s a cocktail party and reception tonight at the Petroleum Club downtown before the symposium starts this weekend. I’ll pick you up and we can make the rounds. This will let you meet all of the big players before they get down to business tomorrow,” C J said with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  Zoe, a bit stunned, said, “Sure, what time?”

  “I’ll pick you up at 7:00. After the cocktail party we can grab a bite to eat and you can give me your impression of the group. You are staying at the Westin, right?” C J asked, knowing he was right.

  Zoe, stunned again, nodded her assent and watched C J punch the elevator button. She turned, following Bill, only half-hearing what he was saying. How in the hell did she just end up with her quiet night in the hotel turning into an evening in the company of C J Fairchild? Zoe wanted to smile but knew it would be out of place. She thought about a new angle to the story: the life of an oilman after business hours. Zoe’s tour of building E ended about five pm, which left her only two hours to get ready for the evening. Zoe thanked Bill for his help and the information he was sending her as she exited for the walk back to the parking garage. Damn, Zoe thought, if I get caught in traffic this is going to be tight. Good thing I brought something to wear for the occasion.

  ℓ

  At five thirty, C J decided he had no time to head home before picking up Zoe Alden. This meant a quick shower in his office suite before changing for the evening ahead. C J had not decided how to play this night. He wanted to think Zoe was smart and fair enough to listen to what she heard, backed up by the data Marshall Petroleum was presenting to her, but he didn’t know if she could get past her biases. If necessary, he would gladly use his looks and body to sway her opinion. C J wasn’t stupid and he had seen the affect he had on her, but he also knew if he rushed the situation it could backfire and be disastrous. He decided to see how the evening progressed and then determine how adventurous Ms. Alden proved to be. Stepping out of the shower, he looked in the mirror and saw his reflection. Who was the last woman to tell him no? Grinning, he knew he could persuade Ms. Alden to soften her point of view and enjoy the evening if presented with an opportunity.

  ℓ

  Driving back to the hotel, Zoe started to have major misgivings about going to this party and then having dinner with C J Fairchild. What had made her say yes? It was not only unprofessional, but it was also very dangerous. However, she could justify it by mingling with the other oilmen in town to gather more information for her story. Was C J Fairchild just being nice, or did he have an ulterior motive? Zoe did not know the answer and, even worse, she felt any ulterior motives this man might dream up would be welcome. Knowing she felt this way shocked her and left her feeling somewhat naughty. Zoe knew men were attracted to her physically, but she wanted that rare man who could handle her brains and drive to succeed. Jean had loved it all, and Zoe had thrived while they were married. Wow, Zoe thought, am I really behaving like this? You would think I was back in high school and had just gotten asked to prom by the hottest guy in the class. Fuck it! It’s ok to feel good and want more out of life, but Zoe also knew she had better be careful what she wished for.

  Chapter Two

  As Zoe entered her hotel room, she saw the clock by the bed read 5:45. That gave her an hour and fiftee
n minutes to take a shower, dress and get in cocktail party mode. She should probably eat a bit too; hitting this party on an empty stomach could be a bad idea. Picking up information while meeting the oil boom barons was going to require concentration, especially with C J as her escort. Her second shower of the day was quick, providing time to dry her hair and get through her minimal makeup routine. Zoe also took about fifteen minutes to jot down some notes from the interview and send an email to Jeff, her editor, letting him know the interview had gone well and she was headed out for more work this evening.

  About to close her laptop, Zoe had a sudden idea she couldn’t resist. Within seconds she had located C J Fairchild’s life in the gossip pages of the local newspaper. He didn’t seem to miss a social function. One headline called him the most eligible and unattainable bachelor in the city. From the photos it looked like he had “dated” women from all over the globe. When did this man find time to work? A grin lit up Zoe’s face. C J Fairchild might be just what she needed right now.

  Walking to the closet, Zoe looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered why this man interested her so much. Oh face it, he excites you physically and that has not happened in a long time, she thought. Pulling the tight fitting emerald green dress over her chest and hips, Zoe couldn’t help thinking about what it would feel like to have C J run his hands over those same curves.

  “Stop this insanity,” Zoe said out loud, much to her amazement.

  Shoes, she thought, should be her focus at the moment because one of her black slingbacks was missing. Ah, there it was under the chair. The bedside phone rang and startled Zoe. 7:05. Fashionably late, Mr. Fairchild, she thought.

  “Zoe, it’s C J. I’m in the lobby and ready to head out when you are,” he said.

  “Be there in five,” Zoe said and hung up the phone, not waiting for a reply.

  On the way out the door, she grabbed her phone and purse. Don’t act so eager, she thought; collect yourself and be cool and calm. That thought vanished the minute Zoe stepped into the lobby and saw C J. He was standing with his back to her but she would have known him anywhere. Why? Because his black suit was impeccable and spoke of elegance, and no less than three other women in the lobby were openly staring his way. Turning as Zoe stepped out of the elevator, C J broke into an almost conspiratorial grin when he saw her approaching. His eyes openly traveled the length of her body, making Zoe feel like she had been caressed.

  “My guess is you plan to single-handedly take the cocktail party by storm and derail any business talk this evening, Ms. Alden, because you are stunning.”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Fairchild,” was all Zoe could manage to say in return.

  She wanted to tell him he was a drop dead gorgeous hunk of man but that would not do. Plus she was relieved her exit from the elevator to meet C J had gone much smoother than this afternoon in his office. He seemed to not only unnerve her but also make her practically fall into his arms. This idea brought a smile to Zoe’s face. Seeing this, C J extended his arm and guided her to the exit and his waiting car.

  ℓ

  The Petroleum Club was the epitome of old-moneyed elegance. Nothing was overstated and gaudy, but walking into the foyer made you feel like you had entered the realm of royalty. After all, oil was money, and there was plenty of it in Houston, especially tonight. The staircase, white marble with sculpted metal balustrades, led up from the marble floored entry and split into two branches then curved elegantly toward the second floor. An art deco statue sparkled as the light from an enormous Murano glass chandelier reflected onto it. Zoe caught the faint sounds of conversation and a woman’s laugh intermingled with musicians playing softly, when she noticed a gentleman in formal attire approach them from an alcove.

  C J nodded to the gentleman who acknowledged their presence with, “Welcome Mr. Fairchild, and who is your guest this evening?”

  “Mr. James, this is Ms. Zoe Alden of the Business Journal from New York. She’s in town visiting the petroleum symposium and voicing her opinion on the oil industry of this generation.”

  “We’re pleased to welcome you this evening and hope your stay in Houston will be pleasant,” Mr. James said. “The party is in the Green Room upstairs.”

  Heading up the right branch of the stairway, Zoe couldn’t help but think this establishment was the rival of any old money gathering place in New York.

  As if reading her thoughts, C J said, “The old ways and formalities still hold in this establishment. Many partnerships and fortunes were cemented when this was a men’s-only club and cigar smoke filled the rooms.”

  “You sound a bit nostalgic about that,” Zoe said.

  “No, I just like to be reminded now and then of the men who were the real pioneers in this industry. They did not start out as elegantly as they finished and many of them stayed a bit rough around the edges. I admire honesty and hard work, that’s all,” C J said as they entered the party.

  Glances became heads turned as they entered the room. It seems we make a very striking and unexpected couple, Zoe immediately thought. She started to scan the room for any familiar faces, a habit that came with the job, but no one she was dying to talk to or wished to avoid was in the room. C J pushed through the crowd with Zoe still on his arm until they stopped in front of an attractive older man.

  “Zoe, meet my uncle, Burt Marshall, the CEO of Marshall Petroleum and, to his left, Bob Parks of Exxon and Hughes Crosby of BP Petroleum.”

  This was like being presented to royalty at Buckingham Palace, Zoe thought. C J was certainly right about meeting the movers and shakers of the industry this evening. “Zoe Alden of the Business Journal,” she said, introducing herself before C J had a chance.

  C J’s hand slid from her arm to her back and it was all Zoe could do not to relax into the feel of his hand. It felt natural to her and not like a gesture of possessiveness. Collecting herself, she thanked Burt Marshall for allowing her to visit Marshall Petroleum, conduct the interview and gather research on the fracking industry.

  Burt smiled and said, “The thanks goes to C J. He is our engineering face to the world, and I know he was pleased to share our story with you and your upcoming readers.”

  “I am still not sold on the industry’s move to fracking but your company’s diligence and environmental research efforts are impressive, Mr. Marshall,” Zoe stated, not wanting to sound like a pushover.

  The other executives in the circle started to pepper her with questions on her viewpoint, and then the discussion took off as each man adamantly expressed his thoughts on the industry, where it was headed and why it was an important mainstay in the nation. Zoe, thrilled to have access to the top executives in the industry, was only hoping she could remember enough of the conversation to keep it straight later when she made her notes.

  As the party progressed, C J left Zoe’s side to talk to people he knew, but she always felt he knew where she was and to whom she was talking. More than once, Zoe spotted women in the room working hard to attract C J’s undivided attention. He was always pleasant but managed to keep moving and work through the room, not missing anyone he knew and wanted to speak with. Zoe was impressed with his ability to make no person feel the least bit slighted.

  Shortly after eight, Zoe felt C J standing beside her and then he said, “How about exiting and getting that dinner I promised you. This is what I call hard work and I’m famished.”

  Zoe nodded her assent and they headed for the room’s exit. It took them fifteen minutes to make it twenty feet out of the room. Twins named Cynthia and Olivia had made a point to stop C J and remind him they were hosting a party at the polo match this Sunday in Memorial Park. Holy shit, this man’s stamina must be legendary, Zoe thought.

  “I knew getting out of that room would take time but that was ridiculous,” C J said as they walked down the stairs to the front door.

  Mr. James called for C J’s car, and as they waited for it Zoe could not help but think that she had received many glares from the fe
males in the room wondering who she was and how she had arrived in the company of C J Fairchild. Driving out of downtown, Zoe was amazed to see stars through the car’s moon roof. Seeing her gaze, C J hit a button and the glass slid back, letting surprisingly cool air slip in the car while giving Zoe an unimpeded view of the sky. She had initially been surprised at C J’s car choice, even if it was a sporty Cadillac.

  “Do you drive a Cadillac because it’s an American made car? I pictured you in a sportier European model.” Zoe said as they pulled onto a street lined with huge trees that blocked the sky.

  Zoe tilted her head back and rolled her eyes. What is it about this man that makes me think and say such stupid things? I’m a professional focused on exposing the errors of big oil, not a tabloid writer getting the scoop on the lifestyles of rich oilmen in Houston.