From Part 10:“It’s none of my business,” Perry said, “but Lois, you might think about freshening up a bit before you go back out there. And Kent....” He reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a white handkerchief, which he handed to Clark. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy to go around wearing lipstick.”
“Uh, no, sir,” Clark said, wiping quickly at his mouth. “Thanks.”
“I’ll, um, see you later.” Lois edged past both men and out the door.
Perry waited until they heard an inner door close behind her before turning to Clark with raised eyebrows. “You still working for me?”
“For now,” Clark answered.
“Glad to hear it.” Perry clapped him on the shoulder. “Now if you’re done sparking, why don’t you get your butt back out there and listen to whatever it is Luthor has to say? We’re in the news business, Kent!”
Clark laughed. “Yes, sir.”
_____________________________
Part 11:Lois charged through Luthor’s sumptuous study and began opening doors as she came to them, searching frantically for a powder room. The fact that she was invading her host’s privacy concerned her not a whit; had she not been distracted by Clark, she’d have probably sneaked in there anyway, and for far less legitimate reasons. She found a conference room, a supply closet, and then, finally, a short hallway off of which there was an enormous bathroom, complete with a massive sunken tub. It was hardly the kind of bathroom she’d expect to find adjoining someone’s office, and the oddness of it penetrated her consciousness, even though her mind was still full of Clark and everything that had transpired between them.
What kind of meetings does this guy have, anyway? she thought, glancing around distractedly.
Lex Luthor was quickly forgotten, however, as she caught sight of herself in the mirror and sucked in a sharp breath. Her carefully applied makeup had melted down her face with her tears, and she quickly grabbed some tissues and began trying to repair the damage as best she could. She was short on supplies but was at least able to remove the streaks from her cheeks and reapply her lipstick. She smoothed her hair with her hands, turning this way and that before the mirror to make sure there were no snagged spots in the back. When she was finished, she still didn’t look quite as put together as she had when she arrived, but she thought it was unlikely anyone would notice in the dim light of the ballroom.
She made her way back through the darkened office toward the muffled sounds of the party and stood for a moment at the door, poised to make her second entrance of the evening. She took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves, reminding herself that she was Lois Lane, that she was working, and that this was no place for her to be acting like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. In spite of her little lecture, however, the thought that she was about to walk back into that ballroom and see Clark again made her go weak in the knees.
He had seen her behave as badly as she’d ever behaved in her life, and he still wanted to know her – to be her friend, he’d said. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been extended such grace. She felt humbled and excited and a little bit suspicious, all at the same time. The suspicion was inevitable, a part of who she was, but for the first time in years she thought she might be able to conquer it. For the first time since Claude, she was willing to give a man a chance. Maybe Clark Kent was the one man who wouldn’t let her down.
She didn’t know exactly why she thought this might be so. She couldn’t tell if some instinct was telling her that she could trust Clark, or whether it was just that her hormones had run amok, making her reckless and willing to take a chance. Only time would tell, she supposed. He would either let her down or he wouldn’t. She would either run from him or she wouldn’t. She had trouble imagining anything lasting forever, that being a scenario she’d stopped believing in many years before, but even a few months of happiness with Clark might be nice. It would be more than she’d had with any man since college.
She screwed up her courage and twisted the doorknob, peeking out into the ballroom. After the quiet of Luthor’s study, the noise of the party was like an assault, and she took a moment to acclimate herself to it before crossing the threshold, her head held high. She glanced around the room, telling herself that she was looking for Perry, for Jimmy, for Mitchell – for anyone she knew – when the truth was that she needed to see Clark Kent, needed to catch his eye to make sure that she hadn’t dreamed what had happened between them on the balcony. She made her way into the crowd, smiling and nodding each time she saw an acquaintance, but always, her eyes were darting around in search of Clark. She could do that now, could look for him and even smile a little if she happened to catch his eye, and it was all right – even expected. They had an understanding, of sorts, even if she wasn’t quite sure what it was they understood. But she was pretty sure that the understanding conveyed the freedom to glance at one another across a crowded room. That would be OK.
“There you are!” Mitchell suddenly appeared at her side, sounding mildly annoyed. “Where have you been?”
“Did you need me for something?” she asked, dodging his question.
He arched one blonde eyebrow, letting her know without words that he hadn’t missed her evasion. “I was speaking with Councilman Wall. I thought you might want to know that he’s had enough to drink that you might be able to get something out of him about that sewer debacle.”
The sewers. She was supposed to care about the sewers, wasn’t she? Only just then, she couldn’t muster up a shred of interest. It was happening already: one kiss on the balcony (well, one big one and a couple of little ones, if you were counting, which she certainly wasn’t, since that would be adolescent and undignified) and already she was going soft. Mad Dog Lane was being replaced by Fuzzy Kitten Lane or maybe Fluffy Bunny Lane, since everyone knew that bunnies spent all their time thinking about making more bunnies, and Clark Kent pretty much sent her mind racing down that same path. Except without the bunnies, of course.
She had a sudden mental image of herself pushing a baby carriage full of little bunny rabbits and couldn’t suppress a giggle.
“Is there something funny about the Southside sewer problems?” Mitchell asked. “Because if there is, I confess it’s escaped me.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just thinking about...never mind. Um, I think I’m going to let Councilman Wall off the hook for tonight. But thank you.”
Mitchell peered at her more closely, arranging his picture-perfect features into a look of concern that might even have been genuine. “Lois, are you all right? Have you been
crying?”
Well, so much for hoping no one would notice.
“Uh, just got something in my eye. You know how that is. I’m fine.” She patted his arm, her eyes scanning the crowd again.
“Luthor’s supposed to be making some sort of big announcement. You know anything about that?”
“Nope,” Lois said absently. She’d just spotted Clark, who had managed to pick up a barnacle in gold lame. Cat Grant had one arm around his neck and was plastered to his side, her other hand caressing his cheek. For a moment, Lois was tempted to be jealous, even angry, but the look of utter desperation on Clark’s face put paid to that. Even Lois, who had raised jumping to conclusions to an art form, could see that Clark was miserable and in need of rescuing.
“Excuse me,” she said to Mitchell, never taking her eyes from Clark.
“Isn’t that the guy you were dancing with earlier?” Mitchell asked, following the line of her gaze.
“Clark Kent,” she confirmed. “He’s new at the
Planet.”
“Oh, Lois.” Mitchell laughed. “Say it isn’t so.”
“What?” she asked, dragging her eyes away from Clark and Cat with an effort. “Say what isn’t so?”
“I wondered when I saw you dancing with him. The way you looked...it wasn’t you, Lois. This isn’t you.”
“
What isn’t me?”
“Getting all soft and sentimental over a man isn’t you. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Who says I’m soft and sentimental?” she demanded, glaring at him. “And even if I were, what would be so wrong with that?”
“It’s just not you, Lois. That guy has house-in-the-suburbs written all over him. He’ll have you knocked up and knitting little things before you can say Stepford.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped, but she felt the doubt worming its way into her heart. “You don’t even know him. He’s a journalist, too. He understands what’s important to me.”
“Right,” Mitchell said. “So introduce me. Let me meet this paragon of understanding.”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“I just hate to see you throw your career away on a fling with a co-worker. Think about it: If it works out, you’ll wind up on the mommy-track, trying to juggle the hunky hubby and a litter of brown-haired moppets with a job that doesn’t leave room for either of those things. If it doesn’t work out, you’ll wind up having to work with your ex. I’ve been there and done that, and I don’t recommend it.”
“I’ve been there, too,” Lois murmured.
But Clark’s different, her heart insisted.
He said he wasn’t like other men. Oh, how she wanted to believe that. But Mitchell wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t thought herself a hundred times.
“See? Nightmare. Take my advice, Lois, and don’t go there.”
“Is it really enough for you?” Lois asked. “Living and breathing your work, calling me up when you need someone on your arm? Is that all you want?”
“Of course not. I’m not made of stone, you know. When I get an itch, there are discreet ways to see to it that it gets scratched.”
“Oh very nice, Mitchell,” she snapped.
“Hey, if you want poetry and flowers, go talk to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Nearsighted over there. I’m just telling it like it is.”
“No, you’re telling it like it is for
you, and you’re assuming that I feel the same way. Maybe I want more than that.” She snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a fortifying sip.
“And you think that guy is
more?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as a thought occurred to her. She knew she would probably do better to leave it unexpressed, but she couldn’t quite hold it in. “You know, Mitchell, if I didn’t know any better, I might think you were jealous.”
“Jealous?” He raised the one eyebrow again, his expression so supercilious that Lois wanted to slap it off his face. “No, Lois. You may count me among the few men in Metropolis who will never be falling at your feet. But I do consider you a friend, and I’ve always admired you – admired your professionalism and dedication to your work. I hate to see you throw that away.”
“You just hate to lose a convenient date.”
“That, too,” he admitted. He took a sip of his champagne and gave her a thoughtful look before sighing and shaking his head. “I can tell I’m wasting my breath - you’re too far gone already. Anyway, it’s your life. You can screw it up if you want to.”
“Thanks so much,” she said sarcastically.
“But when it all falls to pieces, I’m going to be first in line to say ‘I told you so.’”
“And when Clark and I live happily-ever-after, I’ll expect you to be first in line to admit you were wrong.”
Had she just said that? She didn’t
believe in happily-ever-after; she never had. Was she really starting to believe that things might work out? She wasn’t sure, but just saying ‘Clark’ and ‘happily-ever-after’ in the same breath was doing strange things to her insides.
“Happily-ever-after!” Mitchell threw back his head and laughed. “That’s a good one! So how many years are there in a happily-ever-after? Should we make it a bet?”
“A bet?”
“Tell you what – I’ll make it easy on you. If you and this
Clark are together a year from now, I’ll buy you both dinner, anywhere you want to go.”
She gave him a wary look. “And if we’re not?”
Mitchell shook his head. “If you’re not, you won’t owe me a thing. I expect in that case, you’ll have paid enough already.”
“Deal,” she said, and they touched their champagne glasses lightly to seal the agreement.
“So are you going to introduce me?” he asked, nodding toward Clark, who had managed to put a few inches distance between himself and Cat but was still looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Will you behave?”
“Of course,” he promised. “I’ll tell him that in my opinion, you would be a wonderful acquisition for any man. You exercise regularly, practice good dental hygiene, and come from healthy breeding stock. I won’t mention your cooking. Hopefully it won’t come up.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “I hate you. You know that, don’t you?”
“No you don’t. It’s my job to make guys like Loverboy over there look good,” he said with a grin.
“In that case,” she told him, “you deserve a raise.”
_______________________________________
Clark had spent ten uncomfortable minutes fending off Cat Grant, and his patience was wearing thin. It didn’t help that he could see Lois and a man who had to be her Ken doll smiling and laughing a few yards away. He tried to use his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on their conversation, but that presented difficulties. In the first place, the room was too noisy and it was difficult to filter out the sound of the crowd, and in the second place, he suspected that if he gave Cat anything less than his full attention, she might well move from fondling him to all-out sexual assault. He had declined a dance, a date, and a visit to her apartment in that order, and she didn’t show any sign of giving up and moving on to her next conquest. It was not in his nature to be rude to a woman, but he was beginning to think he’d have to make an exception for Cat Grant.
He had just removed her hand from his chest for the third time when he became aware that Lois and the Ken doll were coming his way. He wasn’t sure if he was more relieved that they might help free him from Cat or disturbed by the fact that he would be expected to make polite conversation with Lois’s date. Relief won out when Cat caught sight of Lois and took a step back, her eyes narrowing with displeasure at the intrusion.
“Using Clark as a scratching post, Cat?” Lois enquired sweetly.
“We were just getting to know one another better,” Cat drawled. “Right Clark?”
“Uh, right,” he said. “Getting to know one another. As
co-workers. Because we, uh, work at the same place...and it’s good to, um, know the people you work with...at work.” He was too busy trying to edge away from Cat to pay any attention to what he was saying.
Mitchell made a soft choking sound and then coughed into his hand, at which point Lois elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Clark, noticing, mentally replayed the words that had just come out of his mouth and fiddled nervously with his glasses, feeling like an idiot.
“Mitchell, this is Clark Kent,” Lois said, once Mitchell had gained control of himself and Clark had stopped twitching. “Clark, this is Mitchell Stephens.” As the two men shook hands she added, with obvious reluctance, “And you’ve met Cat, haven’t you Mitchell?”
“I have,” he said. “Miss Grant, it’s nice to see you again.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.” Cat offered her hand and gave Mitchell a sultry look, which he returned with a dimpled and flirtatious look of his own before turning his attention back to Clark.
“Lois tells me you’re new at the
Planet. How are you liking it so far?”
“It’s been...hectic, these first few days, but things are improving,” Clark answered, glancing at Lois. “I think I’m going to like it there a lot.”
“Are you new to Metropolis?” Mitchell asked.
Clark nodded. “I’m originally from Kansas, but I’ve spent the last few years traveling and doing free-lance work. I’m hoping to settle down here.”
Mitchell spent some few minutes drawing Clark out on the subject of his travels, occasionally sharing an anecdote of his own, and Clark found, to his surprise, that he was unable to hate Mitchell. He wasn’t even able to feel jealous of him. Yes, the man did look remarkably like a Ken doll – blonde and tanned with a smile that was a triumph of orthodontia. He looked like he’d come out of the womb wearing a tuxedo and had worn one every day of his life since, and every word, every gesture, bespoke ease and confidence.
Physically, Mitchell Stephens was everything Clark had dreaded he would be, but it appeared that whatever Lois Lane was looking for in a man, Mitchell wasn’t it. Mitchell might have been the one to arrive with Lois, but he hadn’t been the one she’d been kissing on the balcony, and he wasn’t the one to whom her eyes kept wandering. Clark could feel it every time Lois glanced at him and wondered at the fact that the touch of her eyes was more seductive than the touch of Cat Grant’s hands, that standing two feet away from Lois was more electrifying than having Cat draped all over him. The chemistry between them was simply unlike anything he’d ever experienced; it made it difficult to attend to Mitchell’s small talk.
When Mitchell began to advise Clark on Metropolis real estate, launching into a lengthy disquisition on the appeal of various parts of town, Cat Grant finally conceded defeat. It was bad enough that she’d made so little headway with Clark, but being utterly ignored by
two men was apparently more than she could stand. Clark might not even have noticed when she left their little group and went back on the prowl had it not been for the small smile of satisfaction that touched Lois’s lips at the sight of Cat tossing her hair and walking away. He caught Lois’s eye and smiled, too, and a sweet tension spun out between them. Whatever Mitchell was saying about the newly renovated lofts near Centennial Park was lost as they shared a moment of silent understanding. Mitchell seemed to realize that his presence had suddenly become intrusive, and he smirked a little in Lois’s direction.
“I see Judge Diggs over there, Lois. I should go speak to her.”
“Uh, fine,” Lois said, tearing her eyes from Clark’s. “I’ll…catch up with you later.” She made a vague motion with her hands.
“Right.” He turned to Clark. “Clark, it was good to meet you. Don’t ever let her cook for you, and you should survive Metropolis just fine.”
Lois’s eyes went wide, but Mitchell just laughed and gave Clark a friendly clap on the shoulder before heading off in search of Judge Diggs.
They had wanted nothing more than to be alone – or as alone as they could be standing in the middle of hundreds of people – but now that they were, Clark felt shy and unsure of himself, and a glance at Lois made him suspect she was feeling the same way. “So what was that about your cooking?” Clark asked.
“Uh, nothing. He was just…I’m sorry about that…if it was awkward.”
Clark shook his head. “He seems like a nice guy, actually.” He lowered his voice. “And he got Cat off of me, which makes me like him even more.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Why couldn’t
you get Cat off of you?”
“I tried,” he insisted. “I tried everything short of having her surgically removed. She’s very…determined.”
“Most guys would love it,” she said.
“Ah, but as we’ve already discussed, I’m not like...”
“...most guys,” she finished for him. “Yes, I may be starting to believe that.”
“Good, because I intend to keep proving it to you.” He looked down at her, willing her to believe him, and was once again caught by the expression in her wide brown eyes. He saw hope there, and fear, and the same thrill of excitement that had been thrumming through him ever since she’d thrown herself into his arms. Would he ever get used to how completely bewitching he found her? Would the day ever come when their eyes met and he didn’t feel as though he were drowning in her gaze?
When the moment threatened to become too intense and he was sure he couldn’t go another minute without kissing her, he dragged his eyes from hers and contented himself with admiring the rest of her. She had repaired the damage to her face and touched up her coiffure, and once again, that distracting strand of dark hair trailed down one ivory cheek, occasionally brushing against the corner of her mouth. He knew she had arranged it that way deliberately; it was one of those mystifying things women did, and if its purpose was draw men’s attention, it was succeeding admirably. His hand itched to rearrange it, to tuck it back behind her ear just for the pleasure of letting his fingers brush against her smooth skin. He didn’t dare, however. Not in the middle of a ballroom, with half of Metropolis watching. This fresh start was too new, too fragile, and he had the feeling that a single misstep might send her running from him. So he simply looked at her, all the while marveling over the fact that she was standing there next to him of her own free will.
“You’re staring,” she blurted suddenly, startling him out of his reverie. “I look awful, don’t I - all I had was my lipstick - and it’s kind of your fault for making me cry in the first place, though I guess that’s really my fault for being such a basket case. And now I look awful, and there’s nothing I can do about it, so you might as well stop staring at me.”
She sounded annoyed, almost angry, and he hastened to reassure her, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and alarmed. “Lois...I’m not staring because you look awful. You
don’t... you don’t look awful. You look beautiful. I don’t know why every man in the room isn’t staring at you.”
“Oh.” She blinked at him, appearing completely nonplussed by his answer. “I’m sorry. I did it again, didn’t I? Why do I always say the wrong thing to you?”
“Because you don’t know me yet, and I don’t know you,” he said. “But we will. Just give us time, Lois. That’s all I ask.”
She nodded and appeared on the verge of some response when they were interrupted by Jimmy, who bounded into their midst like a Labrador Retriever puppy.
“Hey, guys! Where did you two get off to? One minute you were dancing, and the next - poof! - it was like you disappeared. I just was over by the bar, and I heard someone saying that Luthor is about to make his big announcement. What do you think it’s about?” Jimmy finally ran out of breath, and Clark exchanged an amused look with Lois.
“I have no idea, Jimmy,” Lois answered. “But I see Luthor coming this way, so I guess we’re all about to find out.”
At the sound of a drum roll, Lois gravitated toward what was apparently the staging area for the big announcement, and Clark and Jimmy trailed along in her wake. Clark, watching Luthor’s approach, felt the same instinctive distrust he’d felt earlier in the evening. He was in the news business, though, as Perry White had rightly pointed out, and Lex Luthor was news, however little Clark might like it.
A hush fell over the room as Luthor took his place before them. “Honored guests,” he began, “we're here tonight for a good cause. Thanks to your generosity, Luthor House for Homeless Children will soon be a reality. As you know, I have dedicated my life to improving the quality of the lives of the citizens of Metropolis. Tonight, I'd like to go further. It is my sad understanding that due, in part, to the terrible tragedy befell the Messenger last week, the Congress of Nations intends to cancel Space Station Prometheus.”
Clark felt Lois tense next to him and heard her slight hiss of indrawn breath. He looked down and saw that she’d undergone a subtle transformation the minute Luthor had mentioned the Messenger explosion. It was difficult to believe that an hour before she’d been weeping in his arms; now, she was every inch the investigative reporter. The Messenger was her story, and anything that related to it, however tangentially, would receive her undivided attention.
Far from being offended by her distraction, Clark admired her focus and professionalism. This was why she was the best, he realized – because even at a formal ball, while poised on the cusp of a new relationship, she was able to block out everything but her story. It might make her difficult at times, but it also made her brilliant. Watching her, he wished he dared to suggest that they work together, but after what she’d confided to him about Claude, he knew it was out of the question. Perhaps later, once their relationship was on some sort of firm footing, she would trust him enough to let him work with her. He had a feeling they could make a good team, and he was certain he could learn a lot from her.
Clark dragged his attention away from Lois with an effort and listened as Luthor set forth plans for a privately owned space laboratory that would undertake the same scientific and humanitarian works originally planned for Space Station Prometheus. His speech culminated in the display of a dazzling rendering of the proposed
Space Station Luthor.“Aw, cool!” Jimmy exclaimed, and judging by the collective gasp of the crowd, he wasn’t the only one impressed. Lois, too, was beaming and clapping alongside everyone else, and as he saw her eyeing Lex Luthor with obvious admiration, Clark felt the same jolt of jealousy and distrust that had propelled him onto the dance floor earlier in the evening.
This time, however, those feelings were met with a dose of self-reproach. Luthor was prepared to commit a substantial amount of money - more than Clark could even wrap his mind around - to building a space laboratory dedicated to the fight against crippling diseases. His only sin that evening had been in having the good taste to dance with Lois. Clark didn’t know why Luthor made him uneasy, but he was determined not to condemn the man without evidence, and certainly not on the basis of something as petty as jealousy. He couldn’t bring himself to like Lex Luthor, but he would at least attempt to keep an open mind about him.
That resolution lasted only as long as it took Lois to mutter, “I’m going to get that interview if it’s the last thing I do,” before disappearing from his side. He watched as she threaded her way through the crowd until she reached the billionaire and, for the second time that evening, commanded his attention. Clark felt something inside him clench as Lois presented Lex Luthor with her megawatt smile, and Luthor, in response, bent and whispered something into her ear. Clark had to force himself to remain in place when every instinct was telling him to streak to Lois’s side and forcibly rip Luthor away from her. He held himself in check, however, until Luthor was finally pulled away by someone else.
Lois shot him a look of triumph, and Clark arranged his face into what he hoped was a supportive smile.
“I got it!” she said, once she was again close enough to speak to him. “He wants to have dinner. He’s going to call tomorrow to set it up.”
“Congratulations,” Clark said weakly. “Do you, uh, normally have dinner with people you’re interviewing?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Clark, this is Lex Luthor we’re talking about! He hasn’t granted a personal interview in five years. If he wants us to do this hanging upside down from the ceiling like bats, you can bet I’ll do it.”
“Anything for the story, huh?” He had meant the question to sound lighthearted, but it fell short of that, even to his own ears.
She seemed to catch the drift of his questions, then, and stiffened slightly. “Don’t go there, Clark.”
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry. It’s an incredible opportunity, Lois. I’m excited for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, softening a little. She glanced up at him. “Lex is business,” she added.
It was generous of her, under the circumstances, and he admitted as much. “I know. And even if he weren’t, I know we’re not...I mean, we haven’t made any promises or anything. I shouldn’t have….”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed quietly. “Because Lex is
business. He’s a story – a big one – and I don’t back away from stories, Clark.”
He heard the implicit warning and nodded his understanding. “I wouldn’t ask you to,” he promised.
But privately, he wondered if it was a promise he’d be able to keep. He knew that Luthor was hoping for more from his dinner with Lois than just an interview, even if Lois didn’t. Or maybe she did know it and just trusted that she’d be able to manage the situation. Either way, it made Clark uneasy, but he didn’t dare say another word about it. He had the feeling that he’d just navigated a minefield, and that it wouldn’t be the last one he faced if he chose to pursue a relationship with Lois Lane.
But there was no ‘if’ - not anymore. He had already handed her his heart, despite the fact that a more risky proposition could hardly be imagined. He barely knew her, he had no reason to trust her, and if he read her correctly, her feelings about him were ambivalent at best. But he couldn’t walk away. At some point that evening, Clark had passed the point of no return.
“The evening will be ending soon,” he said. “And as I recall, we didn’t get to finish our second dance.”
He was warmed by the smile that spread across her face. “I did promise you two whole dances, didn’t I?”
He nodded and offered her his arm to escort her to the dance floor. “You did. And I know you wouldn’t break a promise.”
She laughed and tucked her hand through his arm. “Not about dancing, anyway.”
This was about so much more than dancing, but he didn’t press her - not then. For the moment, he would just enjoy having her in his arms again.
______________________________________
A/N: Sorry this post was a little longer in coming than previous ones. Real life has been even busier than usual lately, thanks to weekend company and sick kids and a number of other things I won’t bore you with. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review, and to those of you who came back and gave me a nudge and let me know you were waiting for more. You keep me writing, even when it has to be done in fits and starts, as it has these past couple of weeks! I hope you continue to enjoy the story 
