SHEIKH'S SURPRISE BABY: A Sheikh Romance

by Knight, Kylie

  Where do you see yourself in five years? She'd asked. Shawna had returned the smile and let her ideas linger, like she was running her fingertips slowly through silk. Graduating top of her department meant that she'd land a fantastic marketing job at almost any company she wanted, and her relationship with Ben had been going strong for almost five years now. The answer had been simple.

  Ben and I just got married, and I'm working a good paying job I love, and so is he. We have a house we're paying off in a good neighborhood, and maybe we've got a dog. We travel when we want to, and we see the world. We have fun and have friends, and maybe we take a language class together to help with our traveling. Do you think I'm dreaming too little? That's all I really want, but I'm afraid it's not ambitious enough.

  Her mother had shaken her head, the knowing smile still on her face.

  I think you've got it just right, sweetheart. Ambition is good, but sometimes the best lives are the simplest ones. Just listen to your heart and it won't steer you wrong.

  And yet here she was, five years later and no better off for it. The dreams that had seemed so simple in her college days had proved much more complicated to achieve in real life. Ben hadn't proposed, although they'd been talking about getting married for the last three years seriously enough that she knew it would only be a matter of time. They hadn't left the United States, not even to visit Canada, and the traveling they did in-country was mostly for business. When Ben got back to their tiny apartment around six, he locked himself in the spare room he used as an office to network and spread his name. Shawna had been snatched up by a company that paid her a fair salary, and that she enjoyed working for, but she was making nowhere near what she'd thought she would. One night she'd asked Ben about finally applying for a mortgage and moving into a house, but he'd been quick to dismiss her.

  We need more money set aside to make a sizable down payment. The more we pay up front will save us thousands of dollars in the long run, and when we're old and grey you'll appreciate that we waited. We're still young; we can still make an apartment work.

  But an apartment wasn't working for Shawna. Not anymore. Ben was still in her life, and one day they would get married, but the rest of her vision of the future had crumbled to dust. All she could do was run to escape it, and most nights after work, that was exactly what she found herself doing. When Ben clocked in those three extra hours in his home office, Shawna found shelter from her disappointments at the gym near their apartment.

  Every evening she ran on the same treadmill for at least an hour, the miles disappearing behind her. Shawna had always been slender and willowy, but had never enjoyed running before it had become an escape. Now she found herself craving the release that only a run could give her, and longed for the rush of endorphins that accompanied a hard run. Sometimes she ran to music from her MP3 player, but sometimes she ran in silence, listening to the conversations of others around her. The times when she listened, sometimes she felt better about her own situation. There had been stories of fortunes lost, of friendships destroyed, and of promises broken. In comparison to the tales she heard every now and then, Shawna considered herself lucky. Crushed dreams weren't all that big a deal when they were padding their bank account to afford the things they wanted later in life, after all. In those times she felt grateful.

  But tonight, sweat beading her brow and throat dry, the story Shawna heard did not leave her with a sense of peace — but not even the gentle scraping of the track against the treadmill or the pounding of her sneakers could distract her enough to lose sense of what was being said.

  "I rode down to Vegas last week," the man said. His face was new around here, but he was talking with the regular Shawna had labeled as Mr. Muscles as though they were old buddies. "I stayed for three days, but I got bored. Not enough money left to gamble and make my way home, and definitely not enough money to afford any high quality snatch. Girls there, they're crazy. You can't find a girl for free if you try — not even the tourists. I mean, the city of sin, and yet no one's looking to indulge a little? What horseshit. So I left. Took off to Cali and drove along the coast, did some work under the table at a shop to pay my passage back home, then got the hell out and came back here. Girls in Cali, you don't have to buy them, but they're air headed and they all want commitment. So I think I'm going to take off again in a few months and head to Canada or something. I hear the girls there get really cold and lonely during the fall, and they'll do just about anything. Worth checking out, right?"

  Mr. Muscles had laughed hard and clapped the newcomer on the back. Although the regular was ready for a run, his new friend hadn't changed into anything gym appropriate just yet, as though he'd just come in to talk. Shawna couldn't help but stare. No one came into the workout room wearing a thick leather jacket and combat boots; the newbie stuck out amongst all the other fitness junkies she was so used to looking at.

  "So you came back from Cali and came right from the gym to share your stories, is that it? Sometimes I don't believe you, Clark. Don't you have to get things settled with your new apartment?"

  The man in leather, Clark, ran his thumb over his lips and grinned a wolfish grin. Shawna caught the glint of something mischievously playful in his eyes, and found she couldn't look away. It did look like he'd come in from a long travel — his stubble was turning into whiskers, unkempt and unruly, there was a sun kissed gleam to his skin that suggested long hours on the road, and the leather he wore was much more evocative of the road than it was a gym. A pair of dark jeans, dipped at the knee and dirty with grease around the inner calves, hinted that it hadn't been a car he'd taken down to California.

  "I got it all handled. One of my old buds from school owns a shitty little low rent complex and he's got me a space for cheap. There's no mold and no mushrooms growing in the bathtub, so it's good enough for me. Still got a position at the shop waitin' for me, so I'm not stressed about money. I've got enough to make ends meet, and that's all I really need."

  The treadmill beeped as her pace began to slow, indicating that she was dropping below her desired pace. At long last Shawna tore her eyes away from the stranger to look at the electronic display before her. It had been a long time since she'd run this slowly, and there was no excuse. There were plenty of attractive men at the gym, and she'd never let them distract her before. After all, at the end of the day she was going home to Ben, so there was no need to look. Yet the stranger — Clark — had caught her eye, and there was something about him that felt so contrary to every inch of her. Shawna romanticized the lives of other gym patrons, but never had she explored a history that felt so foreign. Clark lived a life she'd never dreamed of, and delving into his depths was a thrill.

  Eyes back on the reader, her pace increased and leveled back to normal. To try to distract herself further, Shawna increased the incline. It was natural to be attracted to other men, and as long as she didn't act on her desires, there was nothing wrong with it. But something about Clark thrilled her and made her feel weak, and she knew that if she let herself indulge too much, it might not end well.

  But Shawna had no choice in the matter. When she looked up from her readings, the man in leather had his arms crossed upon one of the stabilizing bars of her treadmill, and he was grinning at her with the same wolfish grin he'd offered his friend when speaking about his living arrangements.

  Shawna's heart rate meter went crazy, and her hands flew back from the sensor bars to further protestation. For a moment she was sure that the moving track was going to shoot her back and off the treadmill, but a quick slap of her palm against the power button saw the machine slow to a stop. Clark hitched a brow at her and bit back a laugh.

  "Hey, blondie," he cooed. "You weren't even being subtle about staring, so I thought I'd make my way over. What's a good girl like you doing looking at someone as haggard looking as me? I'm not used to cardio bunnies batting their eyelashes at me."

  The encounter was terrifying. Shawna certainly hadn't been batting her eyelashes at h
im, and apart from giving him a look over that was perhaps a little too thorough, she hadn't been paying him all that much attention. Had she?

  Up close he smelled of hours spent outside beneath the sun and the leather jacket he wore. The long stubble along his jaw and chin and over his lips was in need of a shave, but she'd been able to tell that even from across the room. But what she hadn't seen were the sparkling blues of his eyes. Like the clear summer sky in Italy, they possessed color she never believe possible in nature. Pools of crystalline water in the untouched north. Rows of cornflowers spread across a field. The hues all played within his gaze, and for the moment it was all hers.

  "I-I wasn't," she stuttered. "Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. It's not like that. I'm—"

  "Stunning?" Clark cut in for her. "A stickler for fitness? A tease?"

  Mr. Muscles had disappeared, leaving her on her own to fend off Clark's advances. Typically a man who was so brash in his flirtations set off her creep detectors, but there was something about Clark that was genuine. Maybe it was his sense of adventure and lust for life, or maybe it was the sparkle of sincerity in his eyes, but there was nothing creepy about what he said.

  "I'm taken," she completed. "So I'm sorry if you got those vibes from me. I've got a man waiting at home."

  "Well, a man waiting at home isn't a man at the gym." Clark offered her a little shrug, the leather lifting with his shoulder to reveal the fitted white shirt he wore beneath. "This is a tough neighborhood, and I'm thinking I don't feel comfortable letting someone cute as you walk your way home alone at night. Don't know what kind of a man would let you walk through this neck of the woods, but that man isn't me."

  What was happening? Had she not had a tighter control on herself, Shawna was sure her mouth would have fallen agape. What kind of man talked like that these days? It was like someone had drawn Clark straight out of the fifties, then saw him styled like a modern bad boy. Shawna wasn't sure how to shoot him down.

  "I've been doing it for a good year now," she mumbled. There was still another forty minutes she'd intended to spend at the gym, and she wasn't going to cut her time out short because a stranger wanted to be a white knight. Or was he a black knight? Shawna couldn't tell if his intentions were pure, or if they were sinful. "So far I haven't had a problem."

  "Just 'cause you've never had a problem doesn't mean you never will. That's like saying you've never had a heart attack even though you eat cheeseburgers three times a day, so you never will. I'd rather go to sleep tonight knowing a beautiful woman got home to her man safe than knowing I might've let her wander into harm."

  It had been a good while since she'd stopped running, but still her heart pounded in her chest. A small, wicked voice inside of Shawna whispered that she should let him take her home just so she could enjoy his company that much longer. Her relationship with Ben had long since fallen into the humdrum that was complacency, and he complimented her rarely. There was no doubt that they'd built a life together and depended upon each other, but the spark had disappeared. Each compliment Clark shot her way struck her hard and stuck, and Shawna realized how much she missed being fawned over.

  Maybe tonight she could indulge a little.

  "I'm not supposed to be home for another hour, at least," she said. Clark picked himself up from the treadmill, his eyes fixed on her. There was a sly look to face, and she wondered if she was reading too much into it. Back in college Shawna had hung out with guys just as friends, and nothing had ever happened. She could trust herself.

  "Then why don't you let me take you out for a little? Running at the gym is fun, but nothing beats seeing the sights."

  Shawna snatched up her gym towel from over the bar and mopped it across her forehead. For years she hadn't been able indulge in the excitement of life like she'd wanted. Stuck at home, unable to travel as she'd wished, life had become stale. If Clark was a friend of Mr. Muscles, then he couldn't be bad news. Taking off with a stranger wasn't something she'd typically do, but now it seemed the only way she could get her fill of escape.

  "You know," she murmured, "I think maybe it would do me some good. I don't get out a lot. Why don't you let me shower quickly and change, and then we'll talk some more."

  Clark hitched a brow one last time and took a few steps back.

  "You got it. I'll be waiting in the lobby for you to be done. Don't keep me waiting."

  Without waiting for a reply, Clark turned his back on her and exited the equipment room. The way he walked left her feeling like if she ditched him, he'd shrug it off and continue on his way. Even though he was the one who'd requested her company, whether she acquiesced to join him or not was no skin off of his back. Clark went with the flow, and didn't let life get him down — and it was exactly the kind of attitude Shawna needed in her life.

  Down the stairs in the locker room, Shawna showered quickly. Hair rinsed free of sweat and body lathered and perfumed, she changed back into her work clothes and hefted her gym bag over her shoulder. To save money, she'd sold her little compact car and had been commuting to work every day. Ben had run the figures, and paying for gas and car repairs and insurance rang up much higher than buying a monthly bus and train pass. Grocery shopping had gone from a leisurely pleasure to an annoyance — navigating public transit with overflowing bags was never fun. Very few things felt fun anymore.

  The clack of her kitten heels saw her up the stairs and into the lobby of the gym. Clark, in all his leather, was sprawled across one of the couches there. As she approached he lifted his head and let his eyes trace down her body. Her business outfit was nothing fancy or particularly revealing, but in that instant Shawna felt worth looking at. A tight taupe pencil skirt hugged her modest hips, met by a blazer of the same color. A white blouse was tucked into the high waist of the skirt and accented by a necklace with thick black cylindrical beads and wide silver circles. At her wrist was a watch whose strap was decorated with similar black beads to those on her necklace. Shawna liked the outfit because it masked her small breasts and brought attention instead to the pleasing curve of her hips and ass and the shape of her legs. From where Clark's eyes lingered, she knew it was doing its job.

  "Never would have recognized you if I wasn't waitin' for you. I didn't realize that a little gym bunny like you had an important office job. Well, now I'm really wondering what you might want to be doing with a guy like me."

  Each of his feet planted themselves firmly on the floor, and he stood. The pleather couch crinkled as he parted from it, and Shawna's eyes moved between it and his body. Gorgeous. Maybe he came on a little strong, but she wasn't sure why he'd had such a hard time finding a girl. Who didn't want some excitement in their lives? It was all she'd ever craved.

  "I don't want anything," Shawna assured him, still feeling somewhat timid. "You're the one who insists he'll follow me around and take me out. I just happen to be a girl who can't say no."

  "You should learn," Clark said with a laugh. "That kind of attitude is going to get you exactly into the kind of trouble I like."

  A blush crept through her cheeks as Shawna caught his meaning. She definitely hadn't meant it like that, but Clark was bringing out a side of her she'd suppressed out of necessity. Maybe some of that college flirtatiousness was emerging as well.

  "I didn't mean it like that," she mumbled. "You know what I mean... I-I was serious about that boyfriend, you know. He's waiting for me back home, and I really don't mean anything..."

  "Yeah, yeah," Clark said. "I'm used to it. Now come on. Let's go out and enjoy the night a little bit. The temperature's nice compared to what I've gotten used to."

  Together they left the gym, Shawna's gym back weighing against her shoulders. Clark had dug his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, and from them he dug a set of keys. They crossed the parking lot and stopped at the far end. Clark approached the passenger side of a sedan, and Shawna hesitated. Was he going to open the door for her? But instead of fit the key into the lock of the sedan, he kicked a le
g up and straddled the motorcycle parked beside it. The key fit into the ignition, and Clark turned the engine and brought it to life.

  "Let's ride," he told her. The thick back tire turned slowly as he reversed, retracting so that they were side by side. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now."

  What would Ben say if he knew about this? Shawna's eyes swept from Clark to the bike, inspecting it. It seemed sturdy enough. Glossy black casing was meticulously cared for and hand detailed, although speckled with dirt and other signs of wear. The seat was worn in and generous, with enough space to accommodate a passenger. But was it right?

  Well, if Ben wasn't interested in doing anything exciting, maybe it was best if Shawna got her fix elsewhere to get it out of her system. Doing this didn't weaken their relationship any. If anything, it would help make it stronger. If she came to resent Ben for never wanting to go out, eventually their relationship would sour — if it hadn't started to already.

  "No. No, I'm not. I just don't know how I'm going to ride with a skirt like this."

  The skirt came down to her knees and clung tight. Clark looked it over, ran his tongue across his cheek thoughtfully, then shrugged.

  "Only one feasible solution I can think of." And without asking permission, his thick fingers found their way against the hem of her skirt and rolled it up until it barely covered her at all. Shawna felt her cheeks grow red as he exposed her creamy thighs and the nude stockings that covered them. Like this it was almost as though she wore short shorts, and she hadn't done that since she'd been a freshman.