Ultimate Warriors (26 page)

     
"The
doctor gave me a shot," Clark was saying. "It’ll take a few hours to
work." He gave a half laugh. "I don’t think I’ll get much sleep
tonight."

     
"I’m
a night owl myself," Blossom said. "You know..." She stopped
herself, suddenly uncertain.

     
Just
friends, she reminded herself.

     
"What?"
he asked.

     
Why did
it seem so hard to breathe all of a sudden? "As long as we’re both going
to be up," she said, "I was thinking maybe you’d like to come back to
my place. We could..." She hesitated. No guy she’d ever dated had wanted
to do what she was about to propose. Would Clark be shocked? Dismayed? Worse,
would he laugh?

     
She drew
a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.

     
"...watch
some 1950s Superman TV episodes. I have a pretty big collection on video."

     
"Cool,"
said Clark without
hesitating
a beat. "Do you
have the one where an asteroid gives Superman amnesia?"

     
Blossom’s
heart gave a funny little jump.
"Episode #38.
Panic in the Sky. Yep, I have it."

     
"Great,"
said Clark. "That’s my favorite."

* * * *

     
Saturday, 5:59 a.m.

     
Eighteen
hours, one minute, and counting...

     
Clark
woke up slowly, every muscle protesting. Somehow he’d twisted himself into a
pretzel on a couch that was way too soft to offer much support to his back. He
blinked up at the wall and frowned at the four-color hammered tin image of a
vintage Superman, chest muscles bulging as he tore apart a heavy chain with his
bare hands.

     
Where
the hell was he?

     
Oh yeah.
Blossom’s living room.

     
They’d
had a great night, despite the residual itching from the calamari. They’d
watched episode after episode of classic Superman, laughing over the cheesy
special effects, but loving the stories all the same. Blossom had changed from
her dress into a comfortable oversized T-shirt and men’s boxers. She’d made
popcorn and poured soda, and they stayed up until four a.m.

     
But he
hadn’t touched her once.

     
Groaning,
Clark rolled over and eyed the door to her bedroom.
The
firmly closed door to her bedroom.
Bruce would have been in there by
now, he reflected bleakly. Bruce’s physique would have blinded Blossom to his
less-than-superheroic emotional traits, providing him quick and easy access to
her bed. And once there, Bruce would have wasted no time in plying his
legendary bedroom skills to give Blossom the sexual fulfillment she needed to
trigger her own powers.

     
Still,
things could be worse. At least he and Blossom shared the basics for a good
friendship. They liked the same jokes, and she loved superheroes and everything
about them. Plus, she seemed to be comfortable around him.

     
He
grimaced. As long as she didn’t look at him, that is. But he had spent the
night at her apartment. She could have kicked him out, but she hadn’t. That
counted for something, right? Given enough time...

     
Except he didn’t have enough time.

     
Shit.

     
He
should have been expecting Captain Marvelous’ wake-up call, but the cell phone
chirp still took him by surprise.

     
He
grabbed his glasses with one hand and his laptop case with the other. He tore
open the Velcro and pulled out his cell.
"Kendall
here."

     
"What’s
the report, Clark? Are you in yet?"

     
Clark
winced at the Captain’s choice of words.
"Uh, not
exactly, sir."

     
"Not
good enough, Clark, you know that. Time’s running out."

     
Clark
gave a surreptitious glance toward Blossom’s door. "I’m working on it. I
spent the night in her apartment."

     
The
Captain perked up.
"In her bedroom?"

     
"Uh,
no," Clark said.
"On the couch."

     
A brief
silence ensued,
then
the Captain heaved a sigh.
"Clark, much as I hate to admit it, I’m beginning to think I made a
mistake sending you to Megalopolis."

     
Clark
struggled to right himself on the understuffed couch cushion.
"Not at all, Captain.
I can do this. I just need a
little more time."

     
"Unfortunately,
that’s something I don’t have to give," the Captain said. "Lex’s bomb
is set to go off in..."

     
"...seventeen
hours and fifty-eight minutes," Clark finished for him. "Believe me,
I know."

     
"Then
you understand I’ve got no choice, son. I’m sending in backup."

     
Clark’s
stomach abruptly knotted.
"Who?"

     
"Why,
Bruce Wynn, of course.
Who else?"

* * * *

     
Saturday, 6:15 a.m.

     
Seventeen
hours, forty-five minutes, and counting...

     
Blossom
was dressing when she heard Clark’s phone ring. Who would call him at this
hour?

     
A girlfriend?

     
The
thought made her stomach lurch, though she couldn’t quite imagine why. It’s not
like she wanted him for herself or anything. Even though she’d had more fun
last night in ... heck, she didn’t know how long. Clark was really the nicest
guy. She revised her theory about the girlfriend caller. It just didn’t seem in
Clark’s character to cheat on an unsuspecting significant other. Not that any
cheating had gone on, mind you. The whole night had been totally innocent.

     
Blossom
zipped up her jeans and wriggled into a green and gold MPI tee shirt. She and
Clark had watched TV for hours, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her again. She felt
a little conflicted about that. On one hand, he’d had plenty of opportunity.
She should be insulted he hadn’t taken advantage of it. On the other hand, who
could blame him if he hadn’t? When he’d tried it the first time, she’d decked
him.

     
She
eased open the door. "Clark? Are you up?" She wouldn’t want him to
think she was eavesdropping.

     
He
snapped his phone closed and shoved it into his laptop case. "Yeah,"
he said, getting to his feet.

     
His
white pants were a bit rumpled, but at least his black shirt was all the way
unbuttoned now, and hanging loose. His feet were bare. Somehow, that seemed
unsettling.

     
She made
it halfway across the room before her legs refused to take her any further.
"Your chest looks a lot better," she said.
Inanely.
"I
mean,
the hives and all."

     
"The
itching’s gone," he replied, not moving.

     
She
changed direction, heading for the kitchen. "Want some coffee? I usually
pick it up on my way to the lab, but I can--"

     
"No
thanks," he said. "Let’s go out to breakfast."

     
"Can’t.
I have a meeting with my Ph.D. advisor at
seven."

     
"On a Saturday morning?"

     
"Yeah.
Graduate students don’t exactly keep corporate
hours."

     
"Meet
me after, then."

     
"I
have a ton of work to do."

     
His tone
turned desperate. "Lunch, then. You have to eat, right?"

     
"I
guess. How ’bout the Burger Shack?
It’s
a couple
blocks down the street, on Main. At eleven forty-five?"

     
"It’ll
have to do," said Clark. "See you then."

* * * *

     
Saturday, 8:48 a.m.

     
Fifteen
hours, twelve minutes, and counting...

     
Clark
leaned on the stand up counter at the local coffeehouse and took a bracing gulp
of his caramel latte. He had to do something about Blossom. The "just
friends" thing was all very well and good, but with time ticking by
like--well, like a neutron bomb ready to explode--he couldn’t afford to kick
back and wait for favorable developments. He had to come up with a viable plan
for her seduction. One that would take Blossom’s mind off her narrow visual
focus and let her
concentrate
on her feelings. He knew
she liked him a little. If she harbored even one one-hundredth of the
attraction he felt for her, he would succeed.

     
After
years of fantasizing about Diana Price, it was odd he should feel this way.
Diana was every man’s dream. The kind of woman you saw in a centerfold.
Tall.
Voluptuous.
Gorgeous.
Self-confident.
Hot. And
if Diana had a brain, it wasn’t immediately apparent.

     
Blossom
couldn’t begin to compete. Sure, she was cute, especially with all those
freckles on her upturned nose, but no one would have handed her first place in
a beauty contest. Her breasts were barely a B cup, and her legs weren’t long
and shapely. Her hair frizzed a little. But she was smart. And fun, once you
got past her I-hate-geeks façade. She had a great sense of humor, and to Clark,
that counted for a lot.

     
She was
a little unsure of herself, in an endearing kind of way. Maybe that was why she
obsessed so much about Superman. Maybe subconsciously, she wanted to set her
standard so high no man could reach it. So she wouldn’t get hurt.

     
I
wouldn’t hurt her, Clark thought. If she wanted him, he’d be hers in three
seconds flat. After he triggered Blossom’s superpowers and saved the world,
they could hook up for good. He took a long sip of coffee, spinning that
fantasy for a while. They could get married, buy a house in the suburbs not too
far from HI headquarters,
have
two-point-three kids
and a dog...

     
But he
had to get her into bed first.
Before Bruce arrived on the
scene.
When that happened, Blossom would take one look at Bruce’s
steroid-enhanced pectorals and melt into a gooey puddle on the sidewalk. All
the women did.

     
A hot
rush of anger surged through him. No way could he let Bruce Wynn, Superjerk,
hurt Blossom. Clark would face down a whole freezer full of calamari before
he’d let that happen.

     
If only
he could get Blossom’s mind off the visual...

     
He
straightened abruptly. That was it. Get Blossom’s mind off the visual.

     
Could he
do it?

     
Saturday, 12:15 p.m.

     
Eleven
hours, forty-five minutes, and counting...

     
Blossom
dumped three packs of sugar into her iced tea, all the while keeping one eye on
the door. Clark was late. He wouldn’t stand her up, would he? A little twitch
of fear wiggled in her stomach. Maybe he’d decided she was too geeky for him.
He wouldn’t be the first guy to decide that.

     
"Hey, babe.
Got a minute?"

     
The
speaker was a man.
A beautiful man.
Blossom looked
behind her, but she didn’t see anyone he might have been speaking to.

     
She
turned back. "You mean me?"

     
"Yeah, babe.
You."

     
She
drank him in.
Over six feet tall, with dark hair, dark eyes,
and chiseled features.
And dressed all in delicious
black.
A T-shirt stretched so tight across his unbelievable chest it was
in danger of coming apart at the seams. Leather pants hugged lean hips and long
muscular legs with just the right amount of loving cling. Blossom’s eyes
widened. The incredible bulge between his thighs was definitely superhero
material.