He sat down to stunned silence. And then tumultuous applause. He did not take his eyes off Zoe’s face.
Afterwards he was surrounded. The international delegates could hardly bear to leave him alone, it seemed. Four of them even insisted on accompanying Jay and Zoe back to the airport. In fact it was fortunate that they only had carry-on luggage or they would have missed the plane.
They whipped through formalities at top speed and were the last on the plane.
‘What did you think of my talk?’ said Jay.
But the noise of take-off was too great for easy conversation. And by the time they were airborne Zoe had thought better of saying, I thought you were talking only to me.
So she said lightly, ‘It was great. You should have called it the death of spin.’
Her response did not please him.
‘You and I,’ said Jay grimly, ‘are due a long talk.’
But the plane was not the place for it. Nor was the baggage hall. And when they got through customs and came out onto the crowded concourse the first person they saw was Molly di Paretti.
She blinked when she saw Zoe with Jay. But that did not stop her rushing over.
‘Jay, bit of a crisis. We tried to get a message to the conference but you’d left. Barbara Lessiter has told a tabloid about your affair with Carla Donner. Banana is claiming that Carla only got her programme picked up by Sonnet Television because you’re a director of Sonnet.’
Zoe stopped dead. His affair with Carla Donner? What affair?
She had never thought to ask about his private life. She had told him all about her own, spilled it out like the overgrown adolescent he clearly thought she was. It had not occurred to her that he might already be committed. He didn’t feel committed.
But he wasn’t saying, I’m not having an affair with Carla Donner. He was saying, exasperated, ‘Banana Lessiter is a pain in the butt. Her eyelashes are bigger than her IQ.’
‘We can’t tell them that,’ said Molly, walking rapidly beside him. She handed him a couple of sheets of closely typed paper. ‘Sonnet are worried. An accusation like that could hold up their bid for American cable. They’ve got a press presentation tonight on the autumn schedules. We’ve planted a question. But you’ll have to get a move on to make it. Car’s here.’
‘Good work,’ said Jay, running hard eyes down Molly’s list. ‘Where’s the presentation? No, don’t bother. Better go straight there.’
They stormed through the concourse, talking hard. Zoe fell behind. Then slowed.
Finally she stopped.
Molly had talked about it as if everyone knew. Slowly Zoe accepted it. Jay was involved with Carla Donner! He probably thought Zoe already knew. Heaven help her, she would have already known, if she had had the wit to ask.
There had been plenty of rumours about his affairs in the office. Only she had never heard a name mentioned before. Now she had—Carla Donner was gorgeous and knowledgeable and as sophisticated as himself. Carla was the sort of woman he should have taken to Venice.
How stupid to think that Jay had been talking to her from the conference podium, thought Zoe. It was probably just another of his clever manipulative tricks. Find someone impressionable in the audience and play upon their feelings so they gave you all the feedback you needed.
‘Zoe?’
She looked up.
Jay had come back for her. His eyes were still glittering with the light of anticipated battle and he looked harassed. But he was too well mannered just to walk off and leave her there, she thought.
‘Are you coming?’
She swallowed, but her chin came up to the detonation angle.
‘No, I don’t think so. You’ve got a crisis to sort out. And I’m all dealt with, thank you,’ she said clearly.
He looked astounded. ‘Are you saying that’s it? Thank you and goodnight?’
He sounded outraged, thought Zoe. She was pleased. That was the only thing that kept her from collapsing in the middle of Heathrow Terminal Two and bawling like an idiot.
‘That’s right. Thank you and goodnight,’ she said, her eyes glittering as brilliantly as his own.
And before he could say a word she turned and bolted into the crowd.
Jay started to run after her. But he was just that half-second too late in setting off. The concourse was too crowded. He lost her before he had even taken a step.