SHEIKH'S SURPRISE BABY: A Sheikh Romance (38 page)

"What are you coming to Canada to do?" she asked.

"For pleasure," Clark answered casually. "Taking a road trip."

"For how long?"

"Three weeks," Clark announced.

"Are you two married?"

"No."

"A couple?"

The intense line of questioning was making Shawna nervous. Why did it matter what they were, anyway?

"Yeah, she's my girl," Clark responded without hesitation. Shawna's cheeks flushed. Had he really just said that? Was it what he really thought?

"And you, ma'am," the officer said, directing her stony gaze to Shawna, "do you have anything to declare? Any expensive jewelry?"

"No."

"Have you ever visited Canada before?"

"No."

Had Shawna known that crossing the border was so tough, she might have been happy to live a boring life. For her own comfort, her arms tightened around Clark's waist just a little bit more. Were they going to get turned away? The woman didn't sound friendly in the least, and Shawna had a hard time gauging her reaction.

"Then make sure you enjoy yourself during your stay. Welcome to Canada."

The greeting issued, the officer handed back both of their passports and Clark rolled away from the kiosk, tucking himself into a parking space just short of the road so they could helmet up. The exchange had occurred in less than two minutes, but Shawna's heart raced for it. If she were honest with herself, she couldn't tell if it was from the interrogation or from what Clark had said about their relationship.

"I'm
your girl
?" she asked as Clark lifted his helmet to his head. Before sliding it on he paused, glanced over his shoulder at her, and arched a brow.

"Well, I admittedly came to Canada looking for some sweet Canadian tail, but if you're so eager to be my girl, I'm not going to say no. We're on vacation, blondie. Time to let go and have fun. I just might be what you're looking for up here in the Great White North."

Once more, Shawna wasn't able to tell if he was serious or if he was joking. The blush of her cheeks grew redder yet, and she huffed a frustrated sigh before putting her helmet back into place.

"Yeah, right," she breathed against his back. Clark laughed low and gravelly, and the sound shook her to the core. The near stranger had been under her skin since the day they'd met, encouraging her to do reckless things, and yet she couldn't get enough of him.

"Well, whatever. Welcome to Canada. Let's get going and find a place to crash for the night — I'm just about exhausted."

And so onwards they went. In the dark of the night Shawna couldn't distinguish any of the Canadian wilderness, but she knew come morning, everything would be fresh and exciting. For now, the whistle of the wind and Clark's skillful, but rash, driving was more than enough to keep her occupied. The thirst for driving on the open road that Clark had spoken so fondly of had infected her. Once upon a time, a motorcycle had been about as appealing to Shawna as an electric chair. Now, she craved the danger, craved the whip of the wind, craved him—

No.

For as much as she was determined to let go and live by her own rules, Shawna could not invest herself in another person so quickly after leaving her boyfriend of five years. Especially not when that ex was calling her, looking to make amends. Even for her new ways, such a decision was far too rash.

When they pulled over at a spooky little motel for the night, Clark told her they were heading for Victoria tomorrow, and then parted ways with her to buy his own room for the night. The keys they were given let into rooms that shared a wall, and as Shawna closed the door behind her, she couldn't help but think about how nearby the bad boy next door slept. Despite the late hour, she sent a text to her mother confirming her safety and that she was headed to Victoria in the morning, then tucked herself into bed.

Tomorrow was another day in a new country, and although her thoughts lingered in the past, Shawna knew that her happiness lay in the future. Now that there was so much potential laid out before her, she refused to risk jeopardizing it. First, a good night's sleep. Next, enlightenment.

Five long years and she was finally living her dream, but without the man she'd imagined herself standing next to while accomplishing it.

"So, here we are." Clark had freshly risen from the seat of his bike to gesture around the sprawling downtown area of Victoria, British Columbia. It was an island, Shawna had learned. A beautiful place. Water was integrated in with the old world elegance, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to walk the waterfront or lose herself to the charming shops and buildings of the city.

"It's gorgeous."

"It's Canada," Clark said dryly. "Everything is nice here. Too nice, most times. Could use a little grittiness to add spice, as far as I'm concerned."

But Shawna liked it just the way it was.

"I'm going to go do my thing. Meet me back here at nine unless you call to arrange otherwise, and we'll head back to the rooms to negotiate what's happening tomorrow. I'm thinking I'll want to bounce — this place seems too clean for my tastes. I want to go some place with some filth."

Negotiate was right — Shawna felt like she could stay there forever. It was the vacation speaking, she told herself. The fresh sense of adventure that made everything she saw much more attractive than it really was. Did she really have to leave so soon?

"Sure. I'm going to wander around and get lost. I'll meet you back—" But Clark had already hopped back on his bike at her dismissal, revved the engine, and backed with irresponsible speed onto the street behind him. A hand lifted in quick parting, and he sped away. Shawna was alone in the heart of a foreign city. It was time to embrace the spontaneous part of herself that she'd held back for so long. It was time to truly live.

Without Clark to laugh at her choices or Ben to hold her back, Shawna worked her way through the beautiful downtown core. A little past mid afternoon, there were still plenty of hours to burn before she had to report back to meet Clark. Shawna spent them exploring art and natural history museums to get a better feel for the place, and when six o'clock approached, she saw herself into a cafe to have a snack, anticipating a late dinner.

White chocolate mocha with whip served in a broad porcelain cup was her choice, and when it was served, Shawna sat herself at a small table by the window to watch the world go by. Canada wasn't all that different from America, but there were small inconsistencies that reminded her that she was far from home. Although professional and motivated, the people here seemed more relaxed. The ocean air lit the senses and rejuvenated the soul, and she imagined that the island had much to do with its inhabitants happiness. The people who loitered in the cafe over steaming cups of coffee and polite conversation also seemed more laid back. If Clark was looking for a low maintenance girl, Shawna assumed he'd come to the right place — Canadians were about as easy going as could be.

But one conversation cut above the others, the tone different. Business. Shawna had worked long enough in the corporate world to recognize the sound of a meeting by now. Although she did not turn her head towards the table, she listened. When it was used for innocent intentions, eavesdropping wasn't bad.

"—surprised we connected through JobIn. To be honest, we weren't considering an American hire, or bringing in an additional set of hands, but having spoken with you so intimately over the past few weeks, I've put in a good word with the company and they've begun to change their minds. I want to thank you for coming all the way to Canada just to interview with us — I know what a pain it is to take time off work to travel, but I hope you'll find it well worth your while. For the both of you." It was a woman who spoke, professional and yet chipper, likely no older than her mid thirties. Shawna imagined her face — a tiny button nose and a warm smile. Eyes with the beginnings of wrinkles in their corners. Wavy brown hair she let down. The face became real, and she clung to the image. Seeing how close she was to the mark when she turned to leave would be fun.

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to be here speaking to you face to face. Video chat doesn't quite cut it for me, and I appreciate your invitation."

The voice that replied sent chills down her spine. In another country, far away from anyone she knew, Shawna had not expected to be gripped by familiarity. Yet here she was, hearing words spoken by a voice she knew too well.

Ben.

"Your wife — was it Shawna?" the woman asked.

"Yes, Shawna," Ben replied smoothly. Surreal pinpricks ran down her spine. Ben hadn't corrected the woman when she'd called her his wife. What was happening?

"We're very impressed with her work. Very impressed. Had you not sent us her portfolio, I have a feeling we would have settled for someone unable to bring out vision to life. Every single one of us in the office agrees that Shawna is the right choice for Nescalo, and that's high praise! If she were to join us, we would offer you a position as well, since you would be relocating together. You can tell that we're very serious in our offer — you don't get offered a second salary for your spouse on a whim. It's such a shame that Shawna couldn't be with us today. When she gets her passport sorted out, we'll fly her up here asap and get that work visa going for the both of you. We've had a lawyer look into the process, and he's assured us it'll go off without a hitch. You'll both be here in no time."

The full story was lost on her, but Shawna wasn't stupid. The pieces were beginning to fall into place. Ben had called her the other day to try to fix what had gone wrong not because he truly missed her and cared about her, but because he had been using her talents and success to network with other businesses by pretending they were married. Without her consent he had gathered a portfolio of her work, likely created a profile for her, linked it to his own, and had sent twin spider webs out to form a network of professionals he had no right connecting with on his own. And now, to get himself a new, likely more profitable job, he had told the woman at the table that they were married and that if she wanted Shawna to work for them, they'd have to bring Ben on, too.

The revelation was sickening. How long had this been going on for? How many people had Ben spoken to as her? How many people had he told they were married? The appetite Shawna had been building for her late dinner vanished all at once, and even as the strength left her limbs, she found herself rising on autopilot to turn and face the table. The woman, a brunette with a short, stylish bob and facial angles to match, sat facing her direction. Ben's back was to her, and that was fine by Shawna. If anything, it gave her more courage.

Her legs should have wobbled, but instead they were stiff. A tremor ran through Shawna's body, and her hands were shaking almost to the point of uselessness. The fighting and lying was supposed to have been left behind in the States, but here Ben was in Canada, in the same cafe she'd selected on a whim, ruining what fun she was supposed to have. Ruining her life with how scummy and deceitful he was.

The last of her precision saw the passport pulled from her jacket pocket, and Shawna opened it to the info page as she approached the table. The woman looked up at her, looked back to Ben, then did a double take. Shawna stopped just short of his chair and fixed her with a stare.

"Excuse me," Shawna said, "but I'm the Shawna Ben's been telling you all about."

Ben jumped and turned all at once, his eyes wide. Panic had clouded his gaze and tightened his lips, and Shawna was glad for it. After what he'd done, he deserved to be put on the spot.

"Sh-Shawna," Ben gasped as Shawna held her passport towards the woman so she could check the credentials.

"I just want to tell you that this man is a liar. I've never spoken to you once, nor have I authorized my work be used in a portfolio for any online job searches. In fact, I'm happy with where I'm working now. And in case you haven't noticed," bitterness stung her words, "there is no ring on my left ring finger. Ben and I were never married — hell, we were never even engaged. We broke up two weeks ago, and just yesterday he called with a sob story about how he'd wanted to propose and how we should give things another shot. Now I understand why — because he wanted to play both of us. So do yourself a favor, and don't fall for his lies. Don't hire him. Don't give him a visa. Cut contact. A man like that isn't worth your time."

"I... This is... I don't believe it," the woman stumbled. She looked up from the passport to Shawna, then to Ben. "Is this true?"

Ben was stuttering and stumbling over his words. Seeing him so taken aback was satisfaction enough. Shawna tucked her passport back into her coat and then shoved her hands into either outside pocket, fingers tracing the contours of her cellphone.

"And you, Ben," she told him. "If you thought there was a chance that I'd ever get back with you, you're delusional. I never want to see you again. I can't believe that you did this. I can't believe you would think that using me and my skills as leverage for your own is okay. I don't know you at all anymore, and I don't want to know this new you. Don't contact me again."

It was all she had to say. Shawna turned from the table and stormed from the cafe, both incensed and near tears with vulnerability. A man she had known for so long and trusted so deeply had used her like a bargaining piece to get a better bit in life for himself. She would never respect Ben again for what he had done.

Unable to make it back to the motel room on foot, Shawna made haste down the street to separate herself from the scenario. Shook up, emotionally devastated, she needed to go somewhere private to recover. There was no choice but to call Clark and beg him to take her back to the motel early. He had told her even before they were out the door of the apartment that he wouldn't hold her hand, but these circumstances were extreme. Surely he had to understand.

Shawna pulled her phone from her pocket and called as she wandered forward. The phone was one ring away from voicemail before Clark picked up.