Who was Clark Kent?
What was it about him that had shaken her barricades with his presence, carved chunks from her resistance with every smile, and melted the icecaps of her heart with the heat smouldering in those striking brown eyes?
He'd asked her for a date. He'd been quietly persistent until she'd bluntly informed him that she didn't date.
He'd accepted her refusal.
But he hadn't abandoned her. Hadn't walked away in a fit of pique. Hadn't resorted to nastiness.
She should have been relieved.
But it wasn't relief she was feeling. Surprise, maybe. And perhaps even a few flakes of disappointment.
Disappointment because she turned him down, or disappointment because he's turning out to be a gentleman instead of a jerk? (It's a whole lot easier to tell a jerk to get lost than a nice guy.)
"No," he said. "My folks live in Smallville, Kansas."
"Do you see them often?"
"Quite a bit."
"You fly over there? Or drive?"
"Fly, mostly."
Wouldn't Lois love to know how he flies?
But as bold and as foolish as it was, it was also a bit … just a little bit …
Inspiring.
Endearing.
Her eyes dropped before his did. They fell to the table. And his hands.
He even had perfect hands.
Strong. Lean. Masculine.
Gentle.
She couldn't imagine those hands ever lifted in anger. Or cruelty.
She's smitten, but she can't admit it.
Clark knew he'd been born to love her.
And he did.
From the moment he'd seen her, he'd loved her.
And his life would never be complete without her.
Beautiful.
