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 him, 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. S
hawna 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 leg 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.
"Are you serious?" Shawna muttered to herself. Clark heard, and replied.
"Unless you want me to rip it down the side. Didn't think you'd like that solution too much, though."
"No," Shawna insisted. "You're not ripping my skirt. We're going like this. I'll just deal with it."
Casting a lingering glance at Clark to see if he was peeping, she swung her leg over the bike and settled in against his back. Both of her arms wrapped around his waist to hold herself steady, and he laughed, sensing how unfamiliar she was with riding.
"Hold on tight, blondie. Don't want you to fall off."
"My name's Shawna!" Shawna insisted, but Clark didn't seem to listen. The bike shot backward, and seconds later they'd sped from the parking lot of the gym, Shawna's gym bag rippling against the wind.
The roar of the engine and the drag of the tire so close to her legs was thrilling in a way Shawna had never believed. Her wet hair whipped against the wind, and the sticky leather across Clark's back clung to her chest and shirt. Shawna buried her head between his clothed shoulder blades to protect herself from the harsh cut of the night air, but she could not deny that feeling it against her arms and through the fabric of her slacks was a rush. As frightened as she was at the new experience, there was also wild joy. As Clark sped even faster, weaving his way between cars recklessly, Shawna cried out in delight. Motorists leaned on their horns as they darted in and out, but Shawna found she didn't care. As much danger as she was in, Clark's erratic driving made her feel alive.
"Where are we going?" Shawna shouted out against the shrill shriek of the wind and the traffic around them. Clark had said that he would take her out, but that they'd discuss it later. Neither of them had a chance to discuss anything — wherever he had in mind was his idea alone.
"S'a surprise," he shouted back. Without the ability to properly converse, Shawna had to leave it like that. Tonight Clark was going to take her out somewhere new, and she'd explore the city as she never had before. The stars had just risen, the moon was already bright, and the night was theirs to seize. They turned sharp corners that made the bike dip dangerously to the side, and Shawna's arms tightened around his waist to hold on for dear life. Clark's shrill laugh rang out against the night, and they rode on.
They sped down the inner city streets until they'd distanced themselves from the seediest commercial area to enter the low income, high volume residential area that Ben and Shawna had called home since they'd graduated from college. They could afford better, but every penny pinched meant a house that much sooner and that much cheaper. Had Clark found out her address from the front desk of the gym? Shawna had no other idea why he'd ever take her into her dreary neighborhood.
Now that they'd escape the buzz of main road traffic, Clark slowed. Although they still sped, they did not take the side streets with the same breakneck rapidity they had before. Shawna was both relieved and disappointed; as the danger died down, so did her excitement. Now that Shawna had a taste of it, she was hungry for more.
As Clark directed the bike down the street Shawna's apartment was on, he slowed, and for a moment Shawna thought they really would stop outside the doors. Instead, they turned down the corner before her block and dove deeper into the residential area. Finally they came to a stop outside a derelict apartment building. The upper units were darkened, and Shawna could make out broken window panes and boarded up windows. Some of the siding was crumbling, and amateur graffiti was scrawled across the non front facing walls. The lobby was lit up, and Shawna could see activity inside, although thick graffiti across the wide glass panes made it hard to see what it was.
Was this a drug den? From time to time Shawna heard that buildings in this area got busted for cooking or selling drugs. Taking a wild ride with a stranger was its own kind of rush, but she wasn't willing to get involved with activity that was so illegal it could put her behind bars.
"Is this a drug den?" Shawna whispered, concern obvious in her voice. Clark had killed the engine, and he turned his head to look at her. The laugh that burst from his chest was deep and unrestrained, and as striking as it was, it made Shawna feel a little self-conscious about her remark.
"You're a suburbs girl, aren't you? Take you away from the safety of a two story house and a white picket fence and you're seeing crack whores and rapists on every corner."
"Hey! No, it's—"
"Well, it's not a drug house,
" Clark said, turned at the waist to look back at her. "Now get off the bike so I can get off, too. It's hard to disembark when there's a girl clutching your waist who just won't let go."
It wasn't until Clark brought her attention to the fact that Shawna realized it. Even though they'd slowed and stopped, she hadn't stopped clutching him. The grip had loosened since they shot down the main avenues, but it had not fallen away as it should have. All at once Shawna yanked her arms back and awkwardly hopped from the bike, stumbling and probably flashing Clark a little more skin than she would have liked from how her skirt was hitched so high. As soon as she got her footing, Shawna yanked her folded skirt back to normal, the fabric riding high at the waist and ending at the knee.
"That's better," Clark said. He hopped down after her, tucking the key to his bike back in his pocket. "How was that for a first ride? Do you have the thirst for it, yet?"
The thirst. The cool thrill of the wind in her hair, and the feel of a strong body against her shielding her from the brunt of it. Trusting another with her life, and giving in to the thrill of the unknown. Shawna knew that it was what Clark had spoken about, but she refused to acknowledge it out loud. At least, not to the degree that she'd truly enjoyed it. After so long of having to lead a boring life bound to work and little else, a change was exciting.
The Sheikh's Secret Page 45
