From part 18:
“Mr. St. John? It’s Marnie. You sent me to the Daily Planet this week to check up on Lois Lane.”
“Yes, Marnie. I trust you have something to report.”
“Yes, sir. Lois Lane definitely has a new boyfriend. I’ve seen him myself, and he matches the description you gave me.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Yes, sir. Caleb Knight. They have a dinner date tonight.”
“Thank you, Marnie. That will do nicely for now. You will inform me of any further developments.” He hung up without waiting for a reply.
****Part 19****
When Lois answered the door that night, Caleb held up one finger, took two steps into her apartment, and did a slow 180 degree turn. It took Lois a moment to realize that he was scanning her apartment—for bugs, she assumed.
Apparently satisfied, he relaxed and gave her a proper welcoming kiss before exclaiming, “Lois! Wow! You look…just wow!” He handed her a bouquet of red and white roses, his eyes still drinking in the sight of her.
“Thank you. You look pretty terrific yourself. Is this why you wanted to stay in Metropolis tonight? So we could dress up without worrying about flying in our best clothes?”
“That, and I’ve heard that jazz night at the Lawrence is some of the best dancing on the planet. Metropolis’s restaurants can compete with the best in the world—there’s no need to go anywhere else.”
“You’ll still take me flying later if we want to, won’t you? Just for fun?”
“Of course. Any time. You might want to change first, though. That’s an awful lot of skin to expose to the open elements.” His eyes travelled slowly from her nearly bare shoulders to the daringly low plunging neckline of her deep green satin dress to the deceptively long skirt which hugged her hips and the slit which emphasized the tantalizing lines of her long legs. He made no effort to hide his attraction.
“Wait till you see the back,” she grinned, turning to take the roses to the kitchen.
His only response was a low whistle.
“What was that bit when you first came in?” she asked over the sound of water running into a vase. “Do I have another spy downstairs?”
“You did,” he said, removing his charcoal grey suit coat and hanging it over the back of a kitchen chair. The movement caused the light to glint off of his gold cuff links. Lois wondered if he even realized how few men could actually afford gold cuff links. They looked good, though, so she wasn’t complaining.
“Did? You mean we don’t have to bother ditching him tonight?” she said hopefully. “It was fun once, but it’s going to get old quickly.”
“That was my thought, too. This time I zapped his earpiece with my heat vision. Not only did it short out, it also singed some of his hair in the process. Luckily for him, he took off before I started zapping other parts of him.”
“Caleb! You’re awful!” she laughed.
“Hey! He started it! We’re not going to put up with Luthor’s goons trailing after us every time we want to go out.”
Lois set the vase of roses down in the middle of the table, then turned to face Caleb with a determined set to her jaw. “No, we’re not. First thing in the morning I’m getting on the phone to Inspector Henderson.”
“Are you sure you want to tip your hand? It might be easier to investigate Luthor if he doesn’t know we’re on to him.”
“Who said anything about Luthor? As far as Inspector Henderson is concerned, I’m being harassed by some unknown party. I’m an investigative reporter; the list of people who might want to spy on me is pretty long. Henderson can at least make sure that my home is off limits. That’s what police are for.”
Caleb smiled in admiration. “Do you always meet trouble head-on like this?”
“What other way is there to meet it? Ask anyone—subtlety is not my strong suit.”
“Subtlety is overrated,” Caleb declared, scooping her into a warm embrace and landing a kiss on the side of her neck.
Lois ducked away and gave him a playful slap on one arm. “Maybe so, farm boy, but dinner at the Lawrence is not. What time is our reservation?”
Accepting her rebuke with good humor, he glanced at his watch. “In twenty minutes. We’d better get going.”
***
Dinner and dancing with Caleb wasn’t as fun as Lois had anticipated. There wasn’t anything wrong with Caleb. He looked devastatingly handsome in his suit. He was a perfect gentleman, not only in the way he treated her, opening doors for her and holding her chair for her as she sat—even helping her in and out of her coat—but also in the respectful way he addressed everyone they saw that night, from the taxi driver to the maitre-d’ to the waitress who served them. He chose the perfect wine from the restaurant’s extensive list. He guided her around the dance floor with an easy grace that was a delight to follow. He held her in his arms and gazed into her eyes with undisguised adoration.
The trouble was Clark. Dressed up like this, eating gourmet food and dancing to the live jazz quartet, Lois’s mind kept going back to the first time she’d ever seen him at Luthor’s White Orchid Ball. He just didn’t look like Caleb tonight. He looked like Clark Kent in his element. She kept having to stop herself from calling him by his true name or mentioning how the dancing was bringing back memories of their first meeting. How the sensation of being in his arms had felt like coming home and she’d put up an all-business front to cover her consternation at being instantly attracted to the world’s biggest skirt-chaser. She caught herself wondering how many women—more sophisticated and beautiful than her—he’d dined with and danced with the same way. How plebian she must seem in comparison to the debutantes and social queen bees Clark had at his beck and call.
By the time dessert was served, Caleb could no longer pretend that all was well. Before he lifted the first bite of chocolate cappuccino cake to his mouth, he bent his head to catch her gaze and inquired gently, “Lois? What’s wrong? Have I done something to offend you?”
It was a good thing she was an experienced liar. “No, Caleb. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distracted. I guess I’m still a little upset about Luthor’s spies. It’s pretty disconcerting to think he’s that interested in me just because I wouldn’t go out with him.”
“If you don’t think Henderson can handle it, or if you want somewhere else to stay until it’s taken care of…” Caleb began.
“No. I’m sure Bill will rid Carter Avenue of lurking pests. And I refuse to be intimidated out of my own home.”
“You know I’m only one loud scream away. Or I could keep watch from above, just for tonight.” She knew he was only half-kidding about the scream. And not kidding at all about keeping watch.
“Caleb, I’ll be fine, really.” Searching for way to reassure him, she added, “I think I know how to stop it, anyway.”
“Besides the police?”
“Maybe. Look at it this way: The first spy showed up right after I turned Luthor down last weekend. It’s probably just his bruised ego that’s got him so curious. He just can’t imagine what—or who—could be more important than an interview with Lex Luthor. So, I’ll give him what he wants. I had planned to interview him this week, but then the whole invisible man story broke and I didn’t get around to it. I think I’m going to make a point of doing it next week. I won’t get anything out of it, but maybe he’ll feel like I’ve paid enough attention to him that he’ll leave me alone. ”
“What makes you think you won’t get anything out of it?”
Lois rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious. “Because it will be just like my Clark Kent interview—very charming, pleasant conversation revealing absolutely nothing of any significance. Men of that social standing are experts at talking without saying anything. Lex Luthor has plenty to hide, and he’ll do it by pretending not to hide anything at all. And I won’t challenge him on it because I don’t want him to know that I’m wise to him until I’m ready to pounce.”
Clark wasn’t really focusing on long-term investigative strategy at the moment. His mind had gone straight to a connection that Lois hadn’t really meant to imply. She’d mentioned Lex Luthor and Clark Kent in the same breath. That said a lot, Clark thought, about her opinion of Clark Kent. All the more reason to keep his true identity secret for a while longer. It looked like he had even more hurdles to leap that he had originally thought.
He should change the subject. He really should. But when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “You think Clark Kent has something to hide?”
Lois pierced him with an intense look, the meaning of which he couldn’t discern. All she said was, “I’m sure of it.”
The look of panic in his eyes made Lois realize how her behavior must look to him. He had no way of knowing—because she certainly wasn’t going to tell him—what had really been bothering her all night. And, as much as she might wish that he would come clean with her, she wasn’t making it any easier for him by comparing Clark Kent to Lex Luthor. In fact, she’d probably just shot herself in the foot. If he’d been reluctant to ‘fess up before, he was obviously terrified now. Her brain went into high gear in an attempt to repair the damage she’d done.
“But not anything like what Luthor is hiding,” she said, picking up where she’d left off. “Clark’s no criminal, I’m certain of that. In fact, he’s probably a pretty good guy. I know he’s a terrific writer. You might not notice if you only watched the movies, but if you actually read his books you’d see how much he cares about people. He likes to pretend that he’s some shallow play-boy, but I’m not buying the act. There’s more to Clark Kent than meets the eye. I don’t know why he’s afraid to let it show.”
You can tell me. I’d love you no matter what your name was. The words formed in her mind, but something kept her from saying them out loud. Some part of her wanted him to tell her himself, because he trusted her, not because she’d figured it out and left him no choice.
“Maybe he’s like Superman,” Caleb suggested tentatively, “projecting a public image that isn’t really who he is inside.”
“I’m guessing that’s the case. I just don’t know why. It must get pretty lonely for him.” Almost there. Come on. Just tell me.
Clark knew this was his golden opportunity. He couldn’t have asked for a better lead-in. All it would take would be three little words. ‘I’m Clark Kent.’ That’s all he would have to say. On a good night he might have had the courage. But this hadn’t been a good night. This had been a really confusing night. He felt completely unbalanced, and he didn’t know if he had the emotional resources to handle whatever Lois’s reaction might be. He wanted to tell her. He really did. Just not tonight.
Lois could see the battle going on in Caleb’s head. She was sending him every sympathetic vibe she could, but he had no way of knowing that her sympathy was aimed at Clark as well as Caleb. In the end, she decided to let him off the hook, at least for tonight.
“What are we worrying about Clark Kent for?” she said, maybe just a little too brightly. “For all we know, he’s got his own inner circle who knows him for who he really is, just like our friend in blue does. You know what we need? We need to forget about Luthor’s goons and Clark’s image, and just enjoy the rest of our evening.”
After that, Lois consciously took her mind off her own misgivings and set about making sure that the evening ended on a better note. Strangely enough, the awkward conversation seemed to have made Caleb seem less Kent-like and more like the Caleb she had come to know and love. By the time they were half-way through dessert she was finally enjoying herself.
As they approached her apartment door, Lois sighed and leaned on Caleb’s arm. “I love dancing with you, but I can’t wait to get out of these shoes,” she said. Pulling her keys from her purse, she began making her way down the row of locks on automatic pilot. She had kicked the offending footwear into a corner and was half-way to her kitchen before she realized that Caleb was still standing in the doorway.
“Well? Aren’t you coming in for coffee?” she asked.
His smile smacked of relief, as if he hadn’t been certain he’d be welcome. “I’d love to. I just didn’t want to assume.”
Although he’d tried to relax and enjoy the rest of their date like Lois had suggested, Clark hadn’t entirely succeeded. He loved being with her, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he should have told her the truth when he had the chance. He knew the moment had passed for tonight, and he wasn’t sure when the time would be right again. His mother’s warning about not waiting too long had been niggling at the back of his mind.
Crossing back to take him by the hand, Lois tugged him unceremoniously inside and shut the door behind them. “Don’t mind my moods. I should learn to leave my work at the office when we’re on a date. I guess I was a little nervous, too.”
Clark gave himself a mental shake. He’d been so busy second-guessing his own actions that he hadn’t focused enough on how Lois might be feeling. It was time to stop worrying about himself and show her how much he cared about her. She must never be left in doubt about that.
“Why on Earth would you be nervous with me?” He pulled out the milk and sugar while she started the coffee machine.
“It’s silly, isn’t it? But tonight—being so dressed up and taking a cab to dinner like ordinary people instead of flying off somewhere—I guess it felt more like an official date. I haven’t been out with a man like that in a very long time.”
Clark remembered the hint she’d dropped the previous evening. The one about the romance gone bad. Maybe that was the real reason she’d been skittish earlier. She was feeling a little gun-shy.
“And the last time didn’t end very well?” he gently prodded.
She gave a disgusted snort. “No. Not unless you call seducing me in order to steal my first award-winning story ending well. Only he won the award, the jerk!”
“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry.” All thoughts of his own problems evaporated in the warmth of his concern for her. He pulled her into a tight hug. “I better not ever catch that guy in a blind alley,” he growled. She just squeezed him harder. For long minutes there was no sound but the two of them breathing and the coffee dripping into the pot.
It was strange how what had started out as a convenient lie to cover her earlier distraction had somehow turned into true confessions. She’d planned to tell him about Claude—in a vague, someday kind of way. She just hadn’t meant to do it tonight. Yet, here she was, feeling far less upset by the memory than she had imagined she would. It was hard to be really upset about anything while Caleb had his arms around her. At that moment she didn’t think she could ever be out of sorts with him again.
As if to prove her right, he pulled back and said, “I’ve got an idea. You go get changed into your favorite, comfiest pajamas and I’ll get it ready.”
“What’s the idea?” Her tone held a combination of teasing skepticism and child-like curiosity.
“Nothing improper, I assure you. Your virtue is safe with me. Change into blue jeans if you like—it just seems silly to change twice if you don’t have to. Now shoo. I’ve got things to do out here.” Lois wasn’t sure she wanted her virtue to be too safe, but she complied nonetheless.
When she came out, dressed not in her comfiest pajamas, but rather in her silkiest long nightgown and matching lacy robe, she found her apartment transformed. Every electric light was dark. Every candle she owned—and a few she was pretty sure were new—was lit, flooding her home in a warm, flickering glow. Frank Sinatra crooned from her CD player. Her loveseats and coffee table had been moved to one side of the room, leaving a make-shift dance floor in the middle. And standing in front of her was her Caleb, every trace of Clark Kent eliminated, in faded blue jeans, a soft, cranberry-colored sweater, and stocking feet.
“Come here,” he smiled, holding out one hand in invitation. Slowly she approached him, savoring the view. She placed her right hand in his left. He raised his right arm to grasp her waist. “Dance with me?” he asked, already moving them to the first strains of ‘Fly Me to the Moon.’ “They’re playing our song,” he cajoled.
“We’ve been dancing all evening,” she said, not really in protest. Quickly she relaxed into the rhythm of his movements, relishing the feel of his hand through the thin material of her nightdress.
“Not like this,” he said. As he spoke, their feet left the ground and he twirled them around the room, drawing her close until her head was tucked under this chin, their joined hands resting against his shoulder. “I’ve never danced with anyone like this,” he whispered in her ear. “Until I met you, I never wanted to.”
