Chapter 2:
“What do you mean, Detective Burke isn't in yet?”
The young officer manning the information desk flinched at Lois’ outburst. He wasn’t the only one. Though the precinct was still quiet in the wee hours of the morning, Lois felt several pairs of eyes in the back of her neck. She shifted her weight, trying to ignore the sense of unease creeping up on her.
“I'm sorry, Miss.” The officer squared his shoulders and did his best not to appear intimidated in front of his colleagues. “It's not even six o’clock. His shift doesn't start until eight.”
“But–” Lois clamped her lips shut before she could yell at the poor man again.
None of this was his fault. Not that she’d woken up on one of her love seats, stiff and achy from lack of sleep. Not that she’d pulled out every single card in her Rolodex in vain while trying to find that one person who could get her into the hotel on such a short notice. And he certainly wasn't responsible for Burke’s deference to sleep over work.
She’d thought a threat against assistant DA Mayson Drake warranted an all-night shift. But the kid in front of her looked like he was just out of police school. What was he supposed to know?
If only Clark were here. Though Lois was loath to admit it, his people skills often made the difference between quick success and a tiresome investigation. He’d probably walk out of here with a complete list of possible suspects and Burke’s private address to boot, all gathered in a bit of effortless smalltalk.
She could do this, Lois reminded herself. Three Kerth Awards to her name proved she didn’t need Clark Kent’s help to get the story. Lois took a deep breath, uncurled her fists and took the time to read the kid’s name badge.
Mindful of her tone, she continued in a lower voice. “Look, Officer Miller, I don't want to make a scene. But it’s important that I speak to the detective.”
“Then I'm afraid you'll have to wait, Miss.” He pointed toward wooden benches across the room.
A middle-aged man with unkempt, greasy hair, a stained shirt, his belly half exposed, was snoring there soundly. A cloud of cold tobacco, sweat and beer surrounded him. On the other end of the bench, a scarcely dressed woman waited for something or someone. Her cheek sported a huge bruise under a thick layer of make-up. She stared at Lois with blood-shot eyes, her split lip curled in contempt.
Lois wasn’t keen on keeping these people company for however long Burke would take to show up. She was wasting her time. Obviously she wouldn’t find any answers here, not regarding Intergang’s plans for Mayson and certainly not regarding Clark.
Who in this moment was probably pulling Mayson a little closer in his sleep or rolling over to kiss her shoulder and wake her up for another round of gentle lovemaking. Lois squeezed her eyes shut to rid herself of the mental images.
What she needed was fresh air. And a huge cup of coffee. Something stronger, actually. But it was way too early for alcohol. Besides, she'd promised herself to never start drinking because of a man.
Clark wasn’t going to turn her into a sobbing wreck! He certainly wasn’t.
She glanced at her watch. It was still too early to ask Jimmy to work his magic with the internet or go on another round of bothering her contacts.
Ready to cry out in frustration, Lois balled both hands into tight fists and stormed toward the exit. Before she could head out, though, the door swung open. With a jerk backward she narrowly avoided a broken nose.
“Hey, watch it, buster,” Lois yelled. “There is–”
She cut herself off when she recognized the lean man who dragged his feet through
the door. His salt and pepper hair stood on end and his tinted glasses couldn't hide the bags under his eyes.
“Henderson!” At least
he was working, though probably not on Mayson's case.
After all, she wasn’t dead yet.
Or so Lois hoped.
The man in question raised his head and a groan escaped him. “Lane? What are you doing here at this ungodly hour? It’s a bit early to get an official statement, don’t you think? Or…” When Henderson’s gaze drifted across her, his expression shifted from annoyed to worried. “Did anything happen to you?”
“No, I’m fine,” she brushed off his concern. “Henderson, I need to know what is going on at the hotel. Were there any signs of activity? Is there something… anything I can do to help you catch Intergang?”
The Inspector blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about? Intergang? And what hotel?”
Lois wriggled on her toes, fighting her urge to wrestle an answer from Henderson. “Come on, I know the drill, pending investigation and so on. But isn't there at least something you can give me?
“Lane, please, would you stop talking in riddles?” He pulled off his glasses and wiped his face. “I had a short night after chasing shadows all day yesterday. I’m only here to file some reports before I try to find an actual lead on my suspect. I’d really appreciate it if you didn't keep me guessing.”
“Wait a moment, you really don't know about this?”
Henderson pursed his lips and growled. “Know about what?”
Lois gave him a quick recount of what Clark and she had learned from Bobby Bigmouth and what had happened since. “Burke said he’d organize a twenty-four-hour surveillance to keep Mayson Drake safe.”
While she'd talked, the signs of weariness vanished from the inspector’s eyes. Now he seemed wide awake, agitated even as his gaze darted back and forth between her and the men behind the counter.
His jaw ticked. “I would know if there was a security detail assigned to Ms. Drake. What was the hotel’s name again?”
Once she’d told him, Henderson strode right over to the counter. Lois felt sick to her stomach as she followed him. Could something this big really escape his notice?
Officer Miller sat straight when Henderson approached him.
“Hey, Jake, do you know if we have any people out at the New Troy Hotel?”
Miller shook his head. “Not that I know of. But Burt is tonight's dispatcher. If there is anything going on, he knows.” He turned his head and yelled. “Hey, Burt, do we have a car out at the New Troy Hotel?”
A muffled voice replied. “No, Jake, why should we?”
Lois’ stomach tightened into a knot. “But we talked to Burke! And he promised us –”
Henderson silenced her with a raised hand. “Where is Detective Burke?”
“He’s not in yet.” Officer Miller repeated what he already told Lois. “He’s usually coming in at half past seven. Oh, wait a moment. There's a note here. He went home sick last night.”
Arms akimbo, Lois turned to Henderson, now blistering with anger. “What the heck is going on here? Are you telling me Clark and Mayson are all alone in this hotel, with Intergang’s goons just breathing down their necks completely unbothered by Metropolis’ finest? Are you-”
The ringing of her cell phone cut her off mid-sentence. She fumbled with her pocket and pulled out the phone to take the call. “Lois Lane.”
“Hey, this is Sandra.” “Sandra, I didn’t expect to hear from you again. What have you got for me?”
”You’re lucky. There’s a sudden opening at the hotel you were asking about. They’ve been contacting me about a maid they need this morning. If you still want this job, it’s yours if you can be there at seven.” Lois looked at her watch. “I should be able to make that.”
“Okay. But keep in mind that my reputation hangs on this. If they learn I’m sending out reporters…I don’t want to hear any complaints.” “You won’t. Thank you so much, I owe you one.” She hung up and turned to Henderson, who raised his brows in question. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run. I just got a job at this hotel.”
“You what?” Henderson held her back. “Wait a moment, not so fast. Tell me again what exactly is going on here.”
She shook his hand off. “Henderson, I really need to go.”
“Oh, I'm sure you can spare another few minutes. Start at the beginning. And don't worry, I'll take care of any speeding tickets you might get on your way there.”
***
Clark sat in the dark, watching Mayson in her sleep. His gaze drifted over to the clock on her nightstand. It was still too early to get up. He rubbed his tired eyes and considered lying down again to catch a few z’s. He had two hours left. Perhaps he wouldn't float this time, perhaps…
Clark groaned inwardly. Instead of taking the couch, he should have insisted on separate rooms. That would be much easier. Less awkward, too. When he'd refused to share Mayson’s bed, she'd raised a mock brow, smiling at him as though she considered the gesture cute but also a little old-fashioned.
So far, she hadn’t pressed the matter.
Which didn't mean he was off the hook. Clark was painfully aware he was sending all sorts of mixed signals.
Fortunately, the night had been quiet. Clark got up and went toward the window, floating half an inch above the ground so he wouldn't disturb Mayson. He brushed the curtain aside. The cars in the parking lot were the same as the evening before.
He closed his eyes and reached out, listening for any small sounds that might give away a looming threat. A choir of soft snoring attorneys mixed with dripping sinks and creaking beds. A few rooms down the hall a couple was caught in the throes of ecstasy.
If any of Burke's men were close they were really good at going unnoticed. Or Clark had been right about his bad feeling, more so than even he had anticipated. He hadn't noticed anything odd about Burke's behavior the other day. But then, his mind had been elsewhere, thousands of miles away.
A sigh escaped Mayson as she rolled over in her sleep. Clark glanced at her and bit his lip. She didn't deserve this. Not his deceit and certainly not the spot on Intergangs assassination list. Maybe there was still time to convince her to leave. But why would she listen to him now? He couldn't tell her how he knew that the police weren't here.
But he'd keep Mayson safe, regardless.
That was why
he was here.
“Trouble sleeping?” Mayson’s voice disrupted the quiet.
Clark turned toward her startled. “I'm sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, I'm just an early bird.” She switched on the light on her nightstand.
“Uh, huh. Pretty early.”
Mayson laughed. “I've always been a morning person. I love watching the sunrise while doing my workout. It's a great way to start the day.”
“Yes, it is,” Clark muttered, remembering the many times he’d seen the sun rise above the fields when he'd still lived and worked on the farm.
These spectacular sunrises were what he missed most about home, it was what he’d been hoping to share with someone, someday. But Lois was grumpy until she’d had her first cup of coffee and he couldn’t imagine her getting up with the chickens just to watch the display of colors on a cloudless sky.
Mayson jumped out of bed, her satin nightgown gently flowing around her slender frame, hugging her in all the right places. Clark’s heart involuntarily skipped a beat. There was no denying how beautiful Mayson was. Clark felt his eyes wander, drawn by her creamy skin underneath the fabric. He dragged them back up to her face, berating himself for ogling her.
He really shouldn’t do that, not when there was zero chance this was ever going anywhere.
His being here was business, whatever Mayson might think.
A sly smile played around her lips as she watched him. “Like what you see?”
“I…I…” Clark fought for words.
Of course he liked what he saw. After all, he wasn’t dead. But he also didn't want to give her any ideas.
She grinned at his stammering reply. “Did you know that you’re cute when you’re flustered?”
Clark wasn’t sure he liked the way Mayson looked at him. As if there was anything honorable about playing with her heart like this. A heavy weight settled deep in his stomach.
“How about we go for a swim before breakfast? I saw the spa area opens early. Come on,” she winked at him. “Last one in their swim suit has to buy dinner.”
She dashed toward her suitcase, picked a bikini and vanished in the bathroom. Clark watched her bemused. Apparently, Mayson was just as competitive as Lois, which was probably the reason the two women didn’t get along.
Clark heaved a sigh and went to fetch his own swimming trunks. Under different circumstances, a holiday with Mayson might actually be fun. During his stakeouts with Lois, she’d never let her guard down like that. She’d never so unreservedly enjoyed herself, not when there might be another story looming around the next corner. Even during a relaxing weekend at the Lexor, Lois had found a lead.
Mayson returned in a bathrobe. “Ready?”
Clark nodded. “Give me a minute. But, tell me, aren't you the least bit worried about Intergang?”
She shrugged. “Do you think they're not going to come for me as long as we stay in this room?”
“No, but–”
Mayson silenced him by placing her finger on his lips. “Then I don't see why we shouldn't have fun while we're here.”
***
Lois’ jaw worked as she folded the toilet paper’s edges to a neat triangle. This was beginning to seriously tick her off. Who needed folded toilet paper when the first sheet would be ripped off as soon as the guests returned from breakfast? When she got to her feet, she looked around the bathroom, checking if everything was up to standard. A stack of fresh towels lay next to the sink, as they were supposed to. The shower was clean, not a single drop of water left on the glass.
She nodded, satisfied.
Another room done. Only a whole floor to go. Lois heaved a frustrated sigh and balled her hands into fist. Two hours into her shift she wasn’t making any progress. Neither had she found Clark nor were there any signs of Intergang or whatever they may be planning.
And honestly, what had she been expecting? Lois bent down and picked up another pile of dirty towels and a trashbag. If Intergang’s assassin was hiding somewhere between all these attorneys, she certainly wouldn’t find evidence between strands of dental floss and cotton pads. But she couldn't break her promise to Sandra who’d risked her reputation to get her this job.
Suddenly, Clark’s suggestion to stay at the Planet and do her research from outside didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. Lois bit her lip and gritted her teeth. Oh, no, she’d prove to him that he couldn’t just sideline her whenever he pleased. She’d see to it that Clark learned just how important it was to have her on his team.
Her, not this blonde menace in high-heels and a chip on her shoulder the size of Metropolis.
Lois wiped sweat from her brow and adjusted the uncomfortable maid’s uniform she’d been forced to wear. Before she left the hotel room, she gave it a thorough once-over. The bedspread lay without wrinkles, and the cushions sat on the bed in exactly the right manner.
Satisfied, Lois closed the door behind her and threw the dirty laundry into one bag, the trash into the other.
On to the next room.
Pushing the cart further down the corridor, she tried not to despair of the endless row of doors awaiting her attention. What was she doing up here while Clark was downstairs somewhere sharing breakfast with Mayson who was feeding him pastries for all she knew? The man had a sweet tooth almost worse than her own. And the way to a man’s heart was always through his stomach.
And all the while, the time was ticking down for Lois. At this rate, Clark and Mayson would be married before she’d managed to finish this corridor. And the Pulitzer price for extraordinary investigation would be sitting on Clark’s shelf instead of her own.
Cursing her stupid uniform, Lois once more pulled the skirt down and vowed to herself that she was going to do an expose on whoever had designed this piece of clothing.
The next door sported a ‘Do not disturb’ sign, which at least meant one room less to clean. Or maybe that was exactly the door behind which she’d find Clark and Mayson, limbs entangled and kissing each other senseless. And with her current job, she'd never even know!
Leaving the cart in front of the next door, Lois tiptoed back to the room that was off limits for her if she didn’t want to disappoint her friend. She pressed her ear at the wooden door and listened.
All she heard was her own heartbeat.
Damn. Involuntarily, she started fumbling for the keycard. One click and the door would be open. If Intergang’s assassin were here, they certainly wouldn’t want anyone to walk in on them. Maybe the evidence she so desperately needed was waiting behind that door. Or Clark, entangled in sheets, kissing Mayson and making passionate love to her.
Lois’ heart hammered in her chest as she moved the card toward the lock. Just a quick look to check if there was a sniper’s rifle on the bed or anything really that would spell a quick end to this ridiculous investigation.
If she walked in on a complete stranger, her little charade would be over.
And her career.
Not to mention Sarah’s.
Lois eyed the keycard in her hand and wrestled with her conscience. How likely was she going to find anything of significance? Intergang was too clever to just drop evidence into her lap like that. They’d proven that over and over again. So what was she really doing here?
Find Intergang? Or prove to herself that Clark was another one of these unreliable guys who stopped thinking with their brains while women were involved.
Her heart twisted in her chest, but she slipped the card back into her pocket.
Some investigative reporter she was.
When had she turned into such a pitiful, jealous mess? Nothing about eavesdropping at the door of a stranger would bring her closer to Intergang.
Lois stepped away from the door and went back to the next room on her long list. She'd finish her work as quickly as possible, so she could move on to the real investigation. The past two hours had clearly shown she wouldn’t find the next front-page story between dirty laundry.
After a quick swipe of her key card, the door clicked and Lois went inside.
An overpowering floral scent lingered in the air, vaguely familiar in a way that unsettled her. A large king-size bed took up most of the room. One side of the bed looked untouched, just the pillow was missing. It lay on the couch, next to a neatly folded blanket. A charcoal suit jacket was draped across the back of a chair with a tie hanging above it.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She recognized the tie with its garish pattern that looked like a cry for help rather than a piece of clothing. The hairs in the back of her neck rose. She’d smelled the perfume before, usually in the wake of one Mayson Drake.
It took a moment to sink in. Lois had found their room, and just when she’d been ready to admit defeat. Her gaze drifted across it all, the pillow and blanket, the satin nightgown on the bed. It looked like Clark had kept his word and slept on a couch that was several inches too small for him, both in length and width. With a twinge of guilt she imagined him tossing and turning in a desperate attempt to get at least somewhat comfortable.
Like he’d been forced to do during their stay at the Honeymoon suite or while they’d been camping out at the marina for an all-night stakeout.
Clark had kept his word.
And she was spying on him because she hadn’t believed him.
Now that she was here, she almost wanted to run as fast as she could. What was she even doing? If Clark found her here, he’d probably never talk to her again.
As if slamming the door in his face hadn’t been bad enough.
Suddenly all Lois wanted was to get out. Out of this hotel and as far away from this embarrassing endeavour as she possibly could. Perhaps if she worked from outside and helped Clark stop Intergang, she could set things right again. Like they had been before she’d so stupidly shied away from a kiss.
Lois pressed down the handle when she remembered her obligation toward Sandra. It wouldn’t do to leave a room unfinished.
Even this one.
Her feet seemed heavier than usual as Lois turned back and went to work at the bed. She pulled the sheets off and changed them, straightened the bedspread and fluffed up the pillows. While she folded Mayson’s nightgown, her mind wandered back to the last night she’d spent with Clark in a condo at the marina. She remembered the look he’d given her when she’d walked out of the bedroom after changing into something more comfortable. How his gaze had lovingly drifted over the exposed skin of her arms.
Had he looked at Mayson the same way?
Lois closed her eyes as she placed the nightgown on the blanket and turned away from the offending item. She still had towels to change, a dustbin to clean and a shower to rinse and wipe dry. This was not the time to torture herself.
When she was done and gave the room one last look, she realized Clark's pillow was still on the couch. If she left it there, the room wouldn’t pass inspection. There was a chance no one would notice, there was a chance her supervisor would skip this room.
But what if she didn’t?
With a heavy sigh, Lois returned to the couch and fetched the missing pillow. She fluffed it up and placed it on the other side of the bed. Her gut twisted and the lump in her throat very much felt like she’d just invited Clark to share Mayson’s bed.
So far he’d stuck to his promise.
So far.
Lois shook her head to get rid of the unwanted thoughts. Clark was here with Mayson in a desperate attempt to keep her safe from the people who wanted to kill her.
But didn't he realize he was risking his life? Wasn't he the one who usually chastised her for jumping in without checking the water level? How many times had he told her they were better together than each of them on their own? Why couldn't he listen to his own advice just this once?
Yesterday, she’d been meaning to tell him that they had a better chance at solving this case if they worked together. She’d been meaning to tell him a lot of things.
That she was sorry for slamming the door in his face.
That her life was so much better since he’d stepped into it.
That she loved him.
What if she lost him now because of one single, stupid mistake?
Tears pricked in her eyes as Lois picked up the pile of dirty laundry and the trash bag. She blinked them back, reaching for the door handle, when she suddenly heard a noise outside. Something banged against the door, there was the shuffling of feet, muffled voices, one of them high-pitched, the other one a warm, deep rumble.
Clark and Mayson!
They were about to enter the room and find her spying on them!
Looking around frantically, Lois found a solid base underneath the bed, curtains that wouldn't hide her and a built-in closet with panel doors. She darted toward it and slid inside just when she heard the clicking sound of the key card being accepted. Just in time she managed to close the doors and pressed herself against the back of the closet, careful not to jangle the holders.
***
The door clicked as Mayson removed the key card and pressed down the handle.
“I thought Ben was never going to stop talking.” She slipped out of her jacket and kicked off her shoes.
Clark chuckled, remembering the way the man had inched closer to Mayson while trying to tell her something. “Well, he sure seemed smitten with you.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Believe me, he’s not.”
Clark grinned. Considering the circumstances, he’d enjoyed the morning with her. Swimming a few rounds in the pool had chased away the lethargy of the past few days, particularly since the pool area was facing east and the rising sun had soaked him in its soothing light. Afterwards they’d gotten dressed for breakfast. Mayson’s friends from law school had easily accepted him into their group, finding ways to include him into their conversation.
He’d managed to scan most guests for weapons and during a supposed bathroom break, he'd done a quick search of the hotel. He hadn't found any signs of trouble, save for the police still seeming noticeably absent. Maybe they were just cautious, staying in the background for fear of alerting Intergang to their presence before they could do anything incriminating.
Like killing Mayson.
Clark clenched his hands into fists. He wouldn't let things go that far. This time he'd be fast enough.
He went over to the window and looked outside, finding more cars in the parking lot than a few hours earlier. Tipping down his glasses, he scanned the new arrivals. None of them looked like they belonged to assassins. Just the regular assortment of luggage expected for a two day trip to a luxurious spa hotel.
Chewing on his bottom lip, he turned and almost ran into Mayson who had appeared right behind him. She studied him with her blue eyes, a tiny sparkle in them that unsettled him.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she said, her voice sultry in a way that went beyond simple teasing.
“I’m not,” Clark said roughly.
He moved past her, feeling the need to bring some distance between them. After the morning’s friendly banter, he’d hoped the conference day would keep them both occupied. But apparently, Mayson had her mind set on something else.
Already, he felt her hand on his shoulder. “Clark.”
He closed his eyes, suppressing a sigh, before he turned toward her.
“You do know I only have eyes for you, don’t you?” she whispered. “I think it’s time we stopped beating around the bush.”
She got on her toes and before Clark could react, she kissed him hard. Her tongue darted forward, hungry, eager - finding a way between his lips, exploring, teasing her way into his mouth. Her hands roamed his chest and as he tried to pull back, she followed him, mistaking his attempt to break the kiss as an invitation to take things further. They stumbled toward the bed. Clark reached for her shoulders, struggling to fend her off without hurting her.
“Mayson, no.” He managed to turn her as she lost her balance and fell onto the bed while he remained upright. “This is not what I came here for.”
“It’s not?” The haze of lust vanished from her eyes and her smile crumpled.
Her cheeks looked flushed as she sat back up. She didn’t look at him as she pulled down her skirt that had slipped up her leg and straightened her blouse with shaky hands. She balled them into fists and her jaw worked as she raised her eyes at him again. A deep frown marred her features.
“I thought we were on the same page,” she said through clenched teeth. “I thought you were just too shy to move things further. And don’t you dare tell me you don’t find me attractive! I’ve seen the way you look at me. Are you telling me that you don’t have feelings for me?”
Clark looked at her, registering the bitter lines around her mouth. “I do find you attractive,” he relented. “And I do have feelings for you. But not like this - ” He averted his eyes before quietly adding. “...not in the romantic sense.”
“Then why did you come here?”
He threw up his hands. “To protect you? I thought that much was obvious!”
With as much dignity as she could muster, she stood and folded her arms in front of her chest. Tears glistened in her eyes and she gritted her teeth to keep them from spilling.
“So that is all there is to it?” she managed. “Your hero complex at work? That's ridiculous and you know it! You're a reporter, Clark. No trained security guard, no police officer with a bullet proof vest and a gun in his hand. What did you think you could accomplish here?”
Plenty. But he couldn’t tell her that. And even if he did, it wouldn’t change anything.
She’d still be looking at him like he was a particularly nasty insect.
Clark’s heart tightened in his chest. He’d never meant to hurt her. All he’d wanted was to keep her safe. He couldn’t be responsible for another life lost. But Mayson would never understand that, would she?
He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants, not quite able to face her as he said, “I just can't stand by and do nothing while a friend is in danger.”
She snorted, pursing her lips. “So you intend to do what? Catch a bullet for me? Like you did for Lois?”
“If that’s what it takes,” he mumbled.
Mayson gasped. She wasn't the only one.
Clark blinked, not sure he'd heard correctly. As he turned his head to listen, Mayson spoke again.
“And yet you tell me that you don't have feelings for me?”
“Mayson, I…”
Again, he heard something, a jangle and - could that be breathing? Over the rim of his glasses he spotted someone hiding in the closet.
Lois.
He groaned inwardly. What on earth was she doing here? Hadn't he told her to stay put? If Burke didn't come, the last thing he wanted was one more person to worry about.
Mayson’s voice pulled him from his momentary distraction. “For someone who just wants to be friends you’re sending very mixed signals.”
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. How could he ever explain to her that for him there was nothing heroic about catching a bullet. Her whole image of Clark was based on a lie. He hadn’t been risking anything giving his statement to the police after the attack on Mike Lane’s café.
Clark hung his head. “Look, I’m sorry, but-”
“Liar!” Mayson cried. With a jerk forward she started to pummel her fists against his chest. “You don’t offer to sacrifice your life for someone you don’t love, not if there’s a bunch of people far better qualified than you are.”
Clark caught Mayson’s hands to keep her from hitting him. “That's not…” He shook his head and heaved a sigh. “It's complicated.”
Mayson let her fists sink. “Isn't it always? Clark, why don’t you just tell me what’s going on. I’m sure between the two of us we could work it out.” The frown on her face softened and a teary smile tugged at her lips as she reached out and lifted his chin with her index finger. “You're in love with me and I am in love with you. Tell me what’s so complicated about that.”
She smiled at him, all sweet and innocent, ignoring what he was trying to tell her. When he’d first met her, he’d thought that he’d never have a chance with Lois, that perhaps he should consider moving on. The truth was that he still didn’t know exactly where he stood with her, but even if he had to move on, he was sure now that it wouldn’t be with Mayson. He couldn’t imagine telling her who he was.
“I’m not in love with you,” Clark said quietly. “And even if I were, there’d be no future for us. There are things about me you don’t know; that you may never know. Things you wouldn’t be able to accept. It wouldn’t…” He swallowed hard. “It wouldn’t work.”
Mayson narrowed her eyes on him. “You can’t know that!”
“Yes, I can, I…” He turned his back on her and started pacing through the room.
Did they really have to talk about that now?
“You know, Clark, don’t you think you should talk to me before deciding single-handedly that we just won’t work together?”
“Mayson, you don’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t. What is it?” Mayson seethed. “Are you a criminal? A murderer?”
Clark turned back to her, appalled. “Of course not!”
“Then I doubt you’re hiding anything so bad it would throw me off.” Mayson stuck out her chin in defiance. “Don’t you think I already know you and Lois sometimes stray from the legal path to get a story? I’m not stupid! And I respect you for your work. I believe in the press as the fourth estate in a democracy.”
Clark stopped dead. “That’s not what I’m talking about!”
Mayson pursed her lips. “Then tell me.”
He hesitated. There was something he could tell Mayson - a part of the truth. But he’d said it before and it had blown up in his face. He wasn’t sure he was ready to say it a second time, while Lois was listening. But Mayson stood before him, tapping her foot, demanding answers he’d never be able to give. At least half a truth was better than lying.
“I’m in love with Lois,” Clark said quietly.
“And what about her?” Mayson croaked. “Is she in love with you?”
Clark sank onto the bed. “I’m not sure.”
“But you don’t want me to be your consolation prize,” Mayson deadpanned.
“Something like that, yeah.”
“How very thoughtful of you,” Mayson remarked bitterly. “You should have considered that before you decided to lead me on. Make me hope that there was something between us. I always thought you were different. But you’re just a coward like all the others.”
She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. The door fell shut behind her with a resounding bang. Clark buried his face in his hands and heaved a deep sigh.
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