was happening to her?
CHAPTER FOUR
CHLOE FINISHED STACKING the folders into neat piles. She’d already dusted her computer, rearranged her pencil cup and answered all her messages. Even the boring ones. Still, the busywork wasn’t enough to keep her mind from scurrying around like a frantic chicken, scuttling from place to place, or in her case, subject to subject.
She’d tried lecturing herself on the importance of being professional. She’d scanned a couple of articles on maintaining one’s cool during interviews. She’d taken countless deep breaths, tried a bit of stretching in the ladies’ room and had even sworn off coffee.
It wasn’t helping. The truth was she was scared.
Something strange was happening to her. She didn’t want it to be true, but she could no longer ignore the obvious. Fact number one. Before yesterday, she’d never met Arizona Smith. She didn’t think she’d even seen a picture of him or known who he was. Fact number two. Night before last she’d had a long, detailed, highly erotic dream about Arizona. A dream so intense just thinking about it sent a quiver of excitement through her belly. Fact number three. In said dream, she’d pictured Arizona naked. She knew what the man looked like naked. That was fine. All men sort of looked the same without their clothes. The basic working parts had a lot in common. But it was more than that. She knew about his scars. The one on his knee and the one on his forearm. Fact number four. That very morning she’d had confirmation that her dream had some basis in reality. After all, the scar had been exactly as she remembered it.
Fact number five. Maybe she was going crazy.
Chloe folded her arms on her desk and let her head sink down to her hands. She refused to consider insanity as an explanation to her problem. It had to be something else. Something logical. Maybe along with seeing his picture and not remembering it, she’d also read an article that mentioned his scars.
Or maybe the nightgown was real.
That last thought made her shudder, but in a whole different way than when she thought about making love with Arizona. Anything mystic was just too weird for her. She didn’t want the nightgown to be real. She didn’t want to know her destiny and she sure didn’t want to have to get involved with a man like Arizona Smith. He had a woman in every port. He didn’t even believe in love.
She straightened in her chair. He was wrong about love. It did exist. Unfortunately it wasn’t worth the pain it brought along, but it was definitely real.
“I don’t want this,” she murmured to herself. “I want my life to be normal, like everyone else’s.”
She suddenly remembered she was in the office. Talking to herself in the car was one thing, but in front of others, especially coworkers, was quite another.
This has gone on too long, she told herself firmly and silently. She had to pull herself together. She reached for the pad of paper she always kept by her phone and then grabbed a pen. She would make a list. List making always helped.
First, she would pretend the dream never happened. Every time she thought about it, she would push it to the back of her mind. Eventually she would forget. Second, she was going to act like the professional she was. No more personal conversations, no more freaking out because she saw a scar. She didn’t even want to imagine what Arizona must think of her.
“Professional,” she muttered. It was time to work on her article.
She glanced at the list she’d made, figured she could remember both items on her own and tossed the paper into the trash. Next, she reviewed the background material Nancy had left her. There were a couple of points that hadn’t been clear. Chloe picked up the phone and dialed the reporter’s home number.
When Nancy answered, Chloe introduced herself and politely asked about her pregnancy. They talked about work for a few minutes, then Nancy mentioned Arizona.
“I’ve been seeing the man everywhere on the local news. Is he as impressive in person?”
Chloe thought about her own reaction to Arizona and bit back a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”
The two women laughed.
“Gee, Mark and I have wanted children for a long time, but now I’m feeling a little left out of it. I’m getting stretch marks and a daily afternoon backache while you’re out playing with the new guy in town. It’s not fair.”
“But in a couple of months you’re going to have a baby, and all I’ll be left with is a story.” And a broken heart.
The last thought came without warning and Chloe firmly ignored it. She was not going to get involved enough to get her heart broken. In fact she wasn’t going to get involved at all.
“Speaking of the story,” she said. “I have a few questions on a couple of your sources.”
“I figured you would. My system of taking notes is tough for people to follow. You’d think after all this time I’d be more organized, but I’m not.”
Chloe went through her questions and wrote down Nancy’s replies. When they were finished she said, “From what I can tell you were angling your story toward telling about the man and his myths.”
“Right, but I was never happy with that. Have you thought of something better?”
“I don’t know if it’s better, but I have another idea. I’d like to write about the man behind the myths. Arizona has traveled all over the world. He has a strong belief in the mystical and spiritual. From what I’ve seen he has an image the media loves. But who is the man underneath? How does he decide what he’s going to pursue? What are his influences now and what were they in the past?”
“I like that,” Nancy said. “I think the readers will like it, too. Arizona is getting tons of media attention so there’s no point in rehashing old material. Everyone will be tired of it by then. But this is new and fresh. Have you run it by Jerry?”
Chloe glanced at her watch. “I have a meeting with him in a couple of hours.”
“He’s going to think it’s great.” She laughed. “Actually what you’re going to hear is a noncommittal grunt, which means he thinks it’s great. If he hates it, he tells you to your face.”
“I know that one firsthand. Okay, Nancy. Thanks for your help.” They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Chloe turned on her computer and prepared to type up her notes. Usually she could focus on her work, but today there was a voice nagging in the back of her mind.
“This is too ridiculous,” she said softly. “I won’t get a moment’s peace until I fix this.”
With that, she picked up the phone again, consulted a pad of paper and dialed.
“Room 308,” she told the receptionist. “The guest’s name is Arizona Smith.”
She waited while the call was connected. It was possible that he hadn’t gone back to the hotel yet. He might be out all day. If that was the case, she would leave him voice mail asking him to get in touch with her. No matter how long it took, she was going to have to talk to him and apologize for her behavior that morning. There was no point in trying to explain—she wasn’t
