Well, here's part 3. Hope you all like it! Part 4 will be here on Monday.
Note: I've just realized that this seems to be taking place the same day as the earlier conversation with the Friends at the Central Perk coffeehouse. However, this is really the next day *g*. I'm going to put a line to that effect in the last section somewhere.
*****
From Part 2:
Clark left Bloomingdale's with several bags of new clothes. It had made a sizeable dent in his savings, but if things went as he hoped, he'd get an advance on his manuscript this afternoon.
He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering back to the lovely young lady who had helped him. Rachel was beautiful. There was no doubt about that. And she was certainly interested in him. But was he ready to move on?
Well, he knew his sizes, but he hadn't thought twice about letting her take his measurements. And holding her when she fell *had* been kind of nice.
Maybe he'd take the chance. If he saw her again, maybe he'd ask her out.
*****
Part 3
*****
Rachel practically ran into Central Perk. "Monica," she started, slightly out of breath as she tossed her bag on the table. "You will *never* guess who came in today!" Monica jerked her head towards the tables as Rachel jabbered on. "Hot shorts guy! He came in and wanted to buy clothes. And guess who got to help him?" Monica jerked her head again. "ME! His name is Clark and he's a writer." Rachel swooned, her head falling against the back of the couch momentarily. "He is so incredibly nice. He didn’t just want me to help him pick out some clothes, he wanted to get to know me. He asked questions about me. He listened to the answers..." She sat up and shook her hair just a bit. "And what is wrong with your head?"
Monica answered through clenched teeth. "He's over there." She jerked her head towards the table behind them.
"Oh no!" Rachel slid down the couch until only the top of her head would be visible from behind. "Did he hear me?" she whispered.
Monica tossed a sly glance towards the dark-haired man. "I don't think so."
"Oh, good." She turned to peak over the back cushion. "Oh my God! It's him! I helped him pick out that suit."
"Monica! Rachel!" Phoebe sat on the couch next them, slumping down herself. "What are we hiding from?"
Rachel motioned backwards with her head. "It's hot shorts guy!"
"Oh! Where? Where?" Monica and Rachel immediately shushed her. "Oh. Sorry." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Where? Where?"
"Right behind us, at the table, in the suit."
"Oh! Oh! It's hot shorts guy!"
"I know! I helped him pick out that suit!"
Phoebe looked it up and down approvingly. "Nice."
"Thank you."
"You have impeccable taste, Rachel."
Rachel grinned. "I know."
"So is he going to ask you out?"
"I don't know, Phoebs." She sank back into the couch. "I hope so, but I'd have to talk to him again."
Monica chimed in. "He's right there!"
"I can't!"
"Go for it!"
"You think?" Rachel's doubt showed on her face.
"Sure, Rach! Go!"
Rachel took a deep breath and stood up. "Here goes." She smoothed her skirt and walked over to the table where Clark sat. "That's a nice suit."
He turned and looked at her, a broad smile crossing his face. "Rachel! Hi."
Rachel spun around momentarily, her eyes raised to the ceiling as her friends watched. "Hi, Clark." She fingered the button on the sleeve of his suit coat. "You know, someone had great taste when he helped pick out that suit."
Clark grinned again. "What makes you think it was a he?"
Rachel sat on the stool across from him. "Oh, it was a she?"
"Yep."
"Was she... cute?"
Clark laughed. "Yes, she was cute."
"Aw. Would you..." Rachel played with the napkin sitting on the table. "... ask her out sometime?"
Another laugh came out of his gorgeous face. "Maybe."
"For tomorrow?"
"Well, I would but my parents are going to be in town."
"Oh." Rachel looked a bit sad.
"But I'm not doing anything tonight."
"Really?" Rachel brightened up.
"Nope."
"Well, you want to... maybe... go out for dinner? I know this great Chinese rest..."
Clark leaned in just a bit, flirting with her. "If you want great Chinese, I know the best place. Not too far from here either."
"Oh. You know great Chinese? And you haven't even lived here very long." Rachel was impressed.
"I make it my business to know good restaurants where ever I live."
"Oh? Oh and how many places have you lived, Mr. Kent?" Rachel tossed her hair just a bit.
"All over the world."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"Paris?"
"Just outside."
"London?"
"A couple hours away."
"Milan?"
"Yep."
Rachel thought, sure she could stump him. "Tokyo?"
"For a few months."
"Moscow?"
"Yes."
"Budapest?"
"Yes."
"Cape Town?"
"All over Africa. Spent almost a year traveling."
"Cairo?"
"Spent several months there."
"How many languages can you speak?"
"347."
"You're kidding!"
Clark laughed. "Well, some better than others."
Rachel laughed with him. "Beijing?"
"Actually, no."
"Ah ha! Gotcha!" She felt rather than saw Phoebe trying to eavesdrop and waved her away with a hand, grateful when Phoebe went to get another cup of coffee.
Clark grinned. "I actually lived in a little village along the Yangtze River."
"Drat!" Rachel smiled coyly. "So you could order dinner for us tonight in Chinese?"
"Sure can. Tell you what..." Clark checked his watch. "I have a couple things to do, but I could pick you up in about three hours?"
Rachel eeped to herself. It wouldn't do for Clark to know she lived within viewing distance of him. "Actually, I have a few things to do myself. How about we meet back here at..." She checked her own watch. "...quarter to eight?"
Clark grinned at her as he stood and pulled a couple bills out of his wallet. He tossed them on the table. "Sounds great to me. I'll see you then."
"Bye." Rachel watched his retreating back. As soon as he was out the door, she stood and walked dreamily towards the couch, sighing as she sat next to Monica. "I have a date with hot shorts guy." She sat straight up. The tone of her voice changed dramatically. "I have a date with hot shorts guy in *less than three hours*!"
Monica's face grew very serious as she stood and grabbed Rachel's hand. "Crisis date mode. Let's go." She yanked Rachel off the couch and practically ran out the door.
Rachel called as she was pulled behind. "Phoebe, grab my purse. Come on!"
Phoebe set down her cup of coffee, grabbed Rachel's bag, and took off after them. "Wait for me! Wait for me!"
*****
Clark fidgeted as he waited for Rachel to reenter Central Perk. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to agree to go out with her. Sure, she'd been really nice to him, what with the discount and all, and he'd made the deal with himself to ask her out if he ever saw her again, but still. He wasn't over *her* yet and he knew that. If Rachel was half as intuitive as she seemed, she knew it too.
She must have been okay with it then because she was the one who asked him out. Even with his stomach of steel, nerves were still doing a number on him. He could only imagine what it was like for a human male.
A hand placed softly on his arm broke him out of his reverie. "Clark? Are you okay?"
He turned and smiled. She looked beautiful. "Hi, Rachel. Yes, I'm fine. I was just... thinking."
"So," He watched as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Where is this Chinese place you know?"
"Actually, I was thinking... how about Italian? I'm dying to have some bucatini all'amatriciana."
She looked at him and blinked. "Excuse me?"
He laughed. "It's a dish with spaghetti-like pasta with holes in it, kinda like long, skinny spaghetti, and a tomato, pancetta, onion and chili pepper sauce."
"That sounds incredible. But, um, what's pancetta?"
He laughed again. "Bacon."
"Oh, I like bacon."
"So what do you think?"
"Sure." Rachel smiled impishly at him. "I bet you know a great Italian restaurant too."
"Sure do. Trust me?" Clark smiled back at her, surprised to find himself enjoying the flirting. He'd never really enjoyed flirting before except with... He shook his head – he couldn't let himself think about *her*.
She looked at him, a bit of caution in her eyes. "That depends. You're not taking me to Italy are you?"
He couldn't help but laugh again. He hadn't laughed this much in a long time. A sudden thought sobered him up. She couldn't know, could she? That he was Superman? No, of course not. He smiled at her. "No. Just a restaurant I know near here."
"Well, let's go then."
Clark offered her his arm, surprised by the tingle he felt from the contact. "Let's go."
*****
"Alessandro's?" Rachel couldn't believe it as she stepped out of the cab.
Clark looked a bit surprised as he helped her out. "Yes, you know it?"
"My best friend is the head chef here. Monica will be *thrilled* to know you count it as one of the top Italian restaurants in the area."
"You know Monica?"
"She's my roommate."
"Really?"
"Yes." They walked in the front door. "How do you know Monica?"
Clark shrugged. "I asked if I could meet her one time. I wanted to compliment her on her orecchiette alle cime di rapa."
"And *what* exactly is that?"
Clark laughed and squeezed gently on the hand that rested in the crook of his elbow. "It's short pasta with turnip-tops, anchovies and olive oil."
"And why hasn't she ever made this for me?"
Clark chuckled. "You'd have to ask her that."
The maitre d' looked quizzically at them. "Can I help you?"
"Kent, party of two."
He looked down at his reservation book. "Certainly, Mr. Kent. Follow me please."
Clark stepped back slightly and allowed Rachel to go ahead of him, his hand resting gently on the small of her back. He held her chair for her and then sat down himself.
"Can I interest either one of you in a glass of wine?"
Clark looked questioningly at Rachel who nodded slightly. "Can we have a fiasco of the house Chianti please?"
"Certainly, sir." The maitre d' handed them both menus. "Enjoy your meal."
Rachel leaned in slightly. "Um, Clark. I don't know how wine affects you, but a *fiasco* of Chianti?"
Clark laughed again. "A fiasco is a type of bottle. We're getting a bottle of Chianti."
Rachel laughed with him. "That's okay then."
A waiter appeared carrying their Chianti. He poured a little bit for Clark to try. Clark nodded his approval and the waiter filled both of their glasses.
"Have you decided?"
Clark looked at Rachel. "Are you ready?"
"Yes. I want that oreo-thingamabob you mentioned earlier."
Clark grinned. "Orecchiette alle cime di rapa, for the lady and I'll have bucatini all'amatriciana."
"Very well." The waiter made a couple of notes on his pad and left the two alone.
"So, Clark, how did the meeting with your publisher go?"
Clark took a sip of wine. "Very well. He's pleased with the progress I’m making on my novel and gave me a very nice advance."
"Good. Can you tell me what it's about?"
Clark shrugged. "I don't think it's a secret. It's about a newspaper reporter who travels around the world."
She grinned and took a piece of bread out of the basket the waiter had brought. "A bit auto-biographical?"
Clark smiled back at her. "A bit. Though I did freelance writing when I traveled, not for a specific paper. I never settled in one place until..." His voice trailed off and he stared into his glass of wine.
"Until...?" Rachel prompted.
"Until I moved to Metropolis. I worked for the Daily Planet for a couple of years." He finished the rest of his glass in one big gulp, trying to erase the memories that threatened to surface.
"THAT'S where I know you from! They keep a copy of the Daily Planet in the break room at work. I KNEW your name was familiar." She snapped her fingers trying to think. "You wrote with someone else a lot. Lisa... Lori..."
Clark poured himself some more wine, wishing desperately that it would have an effect on him. "Lois. Lois Lane. Best reporter I ever knew."
*****
TBC
