The Sheik's Ruby

Inc.

Does your father know you’re asking me?

Hakim gazed over her shoulder and took a deep breath. He knows.

But he doesn’t want me to come, right?

I will bring a companion of my choice tomorrow. He locked his gaze onto Shelby’s and leaned toward her. "You are my choice. Will you please come?"

The Sheik apparently doesn’t buy into the whole guests are gifts from Allah idea. Of course, I would love to come. She smiled, but knew it didn’t appear convincing. She hated feeling like she was the source of their discord.

You are nervous. Please do not feel uncomfortable.

I’m worried I’ll say or do something stupid. She winced. I’m not exactly a refined debutante who knows how to act in formal situations. I don’t want to embarrass you, Hakim.

I do not want you to be a refined debutante. I have spent enough time with those people to know they are not what I want. Hakim maneuvered his horse until he faced Shelby and their legs were nearly touching. He leaned closer, his gaze earnest. What I want is you, Shelby Jo. He cupped her cheek in his hand.

Shelby felt her heart flutter and her nerve endings tingle as she lost herself in the deep brown pools of his eyes.

His thumb stroked her skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He slid his hand into her hair and drew her closer, his lips covering hers.

When she drew away, Shelby inhaled deeply and grinned. Hearing you put it that way, how could I possibly refuse?

Praise for Jennifer Moore

"What a fun read! THE SHEIK’S RUBY is a fabulous Cinderella story with both ancient and modern tones you don’t want to miss."

~Josi, award-winning author of the Sadie Hoffmiller Culinary Mystery series

~*~

"THE SHEIK’S RUBY is a perfect blend of romance and adventure, set in locales both familiar and exotic. When I finished, I wanted to start over and enjoy it again!"

~Nancy, award-winning author of the Faith Of Our Fathers Civil War series

The Sheik’s Ruby

by

Jennifer Moore

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

The Sheik’s Ruby

COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Jennifer Moore

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Sweetheart Rose Edition, 2015

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0132-7

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0133-4

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

For Josi and Nancy, my besties.

You always believe in me.

Acknowledgments

This is the first book I ever tried to write, and when I started six years ago, I had no idea what I was doing. I’m so thankful to the people who took the time to help me research, as well as improve my craft.

Thanks so much to the Harris family who let me come down to their branding weekend, to Brent Hardy for giving me a tour of his company jet. Thanks to my husband, Frank, for taking me to the Middle East where I completely fell in love with the culture and the people. To my dad for teaching me to ski, to Dr. Jeff Gardner for answering crazy medical questions.

And thank you to Gary for inviting me to join your critique group and for Angela, Chelsea, Chris, Cindy, Gaynelle, and Susan, for reading chapter after chapter and helping me get it just right. Josi Kilpack and Nancy Allen, I couldn't ask for better critique partners and friends. Thank you to Jacob Roundy for accepting the manuscript and helping with my preliminary edits. And so many thanks to Leanne Morgena for hours and hours and round after round of edits. You have been so patient with my questions and mistakes, and easy to talk to, and an absolute dream of an editor.

Mostly, thanks to my super supportive husband and sons for giving me the time to do what I love. It's a sacrifice for everyone whenever a mom takes time away from her family. And I love you for all the times you've pitched in around the house and never complained when dinner was cold cereal.

Chapter One

Shelby gazed at the fifty-foot drop below. Her exhilaration sent a thrill skittering over her skin, leaving tingles in its wake. She rode the ski lift alone, reveling in the freedom of flying through the frigid mountain air. Snow fell the night before, blanketing the Rocky Mountains of Colorado in a soft powder. Today, the sky shone clear and bright—the kind of day skiers called bluebird.

Her legs, heavy with their skis, swung back and forth, as the bright sun streamed on her face and cold bit her freckled cheeks. The smell of mountain snow carried on a frosty breeze awakened her senses and ramped up her impatience to get on the slopes while they were still pristine. Tourists usually slept in for a few more hours before swarming the slopes and churning the perfect powder.

She neared the summit. The runs had been groomed into neat corduroy lines, which Shelby planned to avoid as she stuck to the powder on the fringes. Moguls covered the first fifty or so yards—carved over time as skiers followed the paths, executing their turns. Skiing on moguls was especially difficult, even for the most experienced skiers, and Shelby smiled in anticipation of the challenge. Sliding off the chair, she strapped her poles to her wrists while she glided the fifteen yards to the crest.

When she arrived at the summit, she saw someone already there. A small pang of disappointment washed through her at not being the first one on the fresh powder.

A man crouched down on one knee, checking his bindings.

The idea of flying past him and beating him to the untouched snow flitted through her mind. She pursed her lips as her sense of fair play and skier etiquette squelched the thought. He did get here first.

Looking for a good line? Shelby raised her voice to avoid catching him off guard. Based on the way he started, he hadn’t heard her approach. Since she hadn’t seen him riding the lift, she figured he arrived via the lodge lifts connecting to the network of slopes crisscrossing the resort.

He stood and motioned with his pole toward a more gradual incline to their left. I’ll traverse the summit and start down farther that way. The slope is a little less steep over there.

She noticed as he rose that he was close to six feet tall and had a slight accent she couldn’t place. Shelby let her gaze dart over him as she assessed his expensive equipment and all-black designer ski clothes—probably the self-heating kind. His perfect posture, tan skin, and strong cheekbones made him look like a model from a ski catalog. Wintersports, the magazine she worked for, had done a story about that apparel line a few years back. I’ll bet that jacket costs more than all my equipment put together.

She had seen plenty of these guys, completely obsessed with their image, but never as talented as they appeared. Shelby employed every ounce of her self-control to keep from rolling her eyes. She couldn’t wait to breeze past him in a shower of powder. Yes, that should be easier for you. With an arched brow, she studied the path he indicated.

Easier? He lowered his chin and raised his brows.

Yeah, and if you started over there, I’d have all this sweet powder on the moguls to myself. She gave him a mischievous smile. Unless you beat me to it.

When he saw her expression, the stranger grinned. His teeth shined white against his cinnamon-colored skin.

Shelby’s heart skipped when she saw his smile, but she credited it to the waiting powder.

You’re looking for a race then? He lifted his chin in the direction of the run.

Oh no, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you. She flipped a braid over her shoulder to show she was teasing.

Hmmm… The stranger tapped his gloved forefinger on his chin and widened his smile. I accept your challenge. He slid his expensive goggles down over his eyes, turning her way and tipping his head toward the slope.

I’ll wait for you at the bottom. Shelby pulled on her own goggles and adjusted her ski cap.

Simultaneously, they pushed off over the edge and began carving parallel paths through the moguls. Shelby couldn’t help but grin as she flew through the bumpy mounds, leaving behind a spray of snow. Adrenaline spiked through her veins as she pushed herself even faster. She darted a glance at her companion. She could tell he wasn’t accustomed to skiing at such a break-neck speed. One bad judgment or delayed reaction would cause him to over-correct and lose his balance. She smirked. No way would she let this pretty-boy with his fancy gear and perfect teeth beat her down the mountain.

To his credit, he skied pretty well. But this was her home territory. She’d been skiing these mountains since she was a little girl, and he didn’t stand a chance. Shelby could feel him watching. Keeping her upper body stationary, leaning forward, while her knees moved to the right and left, Shelby rode over the bumps in the snow with a blinding speed. Each movement appeared fluid and effortless, and she knew it.

Shelby caught a glimpse of her companion and saw his lips were pressed together into a tight line, as if he were concentrating.

Their gazes met for an instant. The quick glance lasted just a split second too long, and the tip of his right ski veered the smallest bit off course. This mistake cost him, and he was forced to lean into the mountain to catch himself. Sliding twenty feet on his right side, he managed to stop and re-align his skis, and then pushed himself up.

Are you all right? she called from where she stopped farther down the slope. Her breath came in quick gasps that sent out mist clouds.

Yes, he yelled back, shaking his head. I am just trying to make you overconfident.

I guess you’ve had enough, then? The concern in Shelby’s voice was replaced by teasing. She bent forward, ready to set off again down the slope, and looked over her shoulder.

Hardly. He brushed the snow off his jacket, snatched up his poles, and pushed off.

This early in the morning, the run was nearly empty. Shelby noticed only one other skier on the entire slope. Near the bottom of the hill, additional trails merged together. The pair adopted a more leisurely pace as they passed more skiers.

At the bottom of the run, Shelby spun to a stop, sending out a spray of snow with her skis. Who shall we declare the winner?

Hmmm. He tapped his finger on his lips. A rematch is the only fair option.

She considered for a minute. He assumed a lot. Should she do another run? He was charming and handsome, but more than that, he was intriguing—unlike the typical ski guys she usually met on the slopes. Maybe I’ll let this play out a little longer—see what happens. After a moment, she gave a nod. Agreed. Tugging off her right glove, she held out her hand. By the way, my name’s Shelby Walker.

I am Hakim Khalid. It’s nice to meet you, Shelby Walker.

The warmth in his dark eyes surprised Shelby. When they shook hands, she was very aware of his skin on hers. In spite of the cool air, heat rushed into her cheeks. She pulled away her hand and occupied herself with replacing her glove.

They chose another run, this time a double black diamond trail, and headed to the chair lift for the north face of the mountain. The chair scooped them up and carried them toward the borders of the resort. Although more skiers arrived as the day progressed, this lift line was one of the least crowded. Shelby knew the run was quite challenging, even for expert skiers, and they had the quad chair to themselves.

Shelby leaned back in her seat, gazing up at the majestic view above the Colorado Rocky Mountains. The updates the resort had made improved the ski experience, and she was excited to try all the new runs. So, where did you learn to ski like that?

Various places. New South Wales, Austria, Oslo. He shrugged. I have skied since I was young. We also have an indoor ski resort near my home.

Indoor skiing? She jerked her head around and faced him with widened eyes. Where is home? If he’d skied in all those places, he wasn’t as inexperienced as she’d thought. And indoor skiing? That would be an excellent angle for an article. Hakim might just be someone she wanted to get to know better—for his ski experience, not his dark eyes and white smile.

Khali-dar. You have probably never heard of my small country.

Again, she detected the slightest hint of an accent. Something about the way he pronounced "h from the back of his throat. Shelby nodded once. On the Arabian Peninsula near Qatar and the United Arab Emirates. I have heard of it."

His eyebrows arched. I have spoken with few Americans who knew of my country.

I’m not like most people. I really like geography. When I was a kid, I spent hours poring over my dad’s atlas. Shelby glanced at her companion. She estimated he was not much older than she, although discerning his age was difficult with his ski hat. Thick lashes ringed his deep brown eyes. He had a thin mustache. A well-trimmed beard just covered the tip of his chin, and a small triangle of whiskers sat right below his bottom lip. Like a goatee with no sides. But what drew her gaze were his straight, white teeth. When he smiled, his top teeth overlapped his bottom teeth perfectly. Hakim Khalid? Shelby broke the silence. That’s not your full name, is it?

He studied her for a moment, squinting. My proper name is Hakim Abdal-Salam bin Rashid Al Khalid. In my experience, Americans tend to shorten names. But, as we have established, you are not like most people.

So, your father’s name is Rashid?

From where does this knowledge of foreign name dissection derive? A smile quirked at the edges of his mouth.

I took a Middle-Eastern culture class in college.

"Is Shelby Walker your full name?"

I guess my proper name is Shelby Jo Walker, she mimicked his manner.

And your mother is named Jo?

No, my mom is Debbie. Jo is short for Josephine. That’s my grandma. Shelby slid her poles beneath her knee to hold them in place on the swinging lift chair and pressed down between her fingers to push her gloves on tightly.

Where is your home, Shelby Jo Walker? He shifted in the seat, holding on to the bar over his head.

I’m from a small town in Southern Colorado called Culver Springs. You’ve probably never heard of it.

No, I have not, he admitted.

It’s about a five hour drive from here. I still consider it home even though I don’t live there now. I moved to Denver for college and stayed.

The conversation tapered off as they neared the top of the lift. They each busied themselves adjusting gloves and pole straps until the time came to slide off the quad chair.

Unlike the first run, this one was not a wide, open track, but a series of chutes—trails leading through trees and around rocks. Knowing how difficult chute skiing was, Shelby didn’t mention a rematch. She set a fast but not deadly pace, free-styling through the trees, rocks, and powder on the steep, un-groomed trails. Glancing back from a parallel trail, she noticed his eyes were squinted, and she smiled. He was a pretty good sport. Again, Shelby saw only one other skier on the hill. The new runs had certainly cut down on the crowds. She’d have to remember that for her article.

A cat track sloped at a gentler incline, linking them to another run. The two slowed their pace and moved to the lift line.

What is indoor skiing like? How is it even possible? Shelby pushed up her goggles. This could be a perfect angle for my next story.

Hakim slid forward on his skis as the line moved. The runs are rather limited, obviously. The snow is man-made. A ski-lift conveys you to the top of a slope inside a giant, refrigerated dome. The ceiling is the stage for a fantastic lightshow. The major advantage, of course, is that the weather is not a factor. No snow falls in Khali-dar, but one can ski any day of the year.

That’s amazing! Shelby made a mental note to look up indoor ski slopes on the internet when she got home. How did anyone ever dream up that idea? Let alone afford it?

Khali-dar is an amazing place, he answered.

For the next few hours, they took turns choosing different runs. Shelby picked a lift that led to another, higher up the mountain. Weaving back and forth over the network of trails, the run took much longer than the others. By the time they reached the bottom, the time was nearly noon, and Shelby’s stomach rumbled. Can I buy you a cup of chili? she asked, when they stopped in front of the snack shop.

That is not necessary.

Are you just saying that to be polite, or do you hate chili? Or do you have other plans for lunch? She stepped out of her ski binding.

Hakim’s silence stretched for several long seconds. He rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved hand, his brows furrowed.

Hey, don’t worry about it. Shelby knelt and pretended to adjust her other ski to conceal the color spreading over her cheeks.

He cleared his throat. Shelby, I do not wish to offend you—

Oh, no, I understand. Not a big deal. Shelby tried to keep the embarrassment out of her voice and turned to leave.

He touched her shoulder. Wait, please let me explain myself. Where I come from, gender roles are much more…traditional. For a woman to initiate something like this would be almost forbidden. I was just surprised for a moment and unsure how to respond. Please allow me to try again. Taking a deep breath, he smiled. Shelby Walker, I would love to have lunch with you. His gaze held hers. I apologize for acting rudely.

Relief washed over her. You weren’t rude. That’s something I should have remembered from my college class. But, just so you know, things are a little different here. And I don’t really go for the ‘gender role’ thing. She saw the sincerity in his face, and her smile returned then she picked up her skis and poles.

They deposited their equipment on the outside rack and made their way toward the crowded restaurant.

Stuffing her gloves into her pocket, Shelby turned to Hakim. How about since I asked you to lunch, I’ll get the food, and you get us a table? She spoke with a light tone, but her gaze searched his expression for any sign of discomfort.

He nodded and turned to scan the room.

Waiting in the line, Shelby gazed around the little snack shop. She liked the rustic log cabin look. The decor was much nicer than the snack shops at most resorts. Filling the air was the familiar noise of conversation and ski boots clomping around on the rubber floor mats. The line was long, but fast moving.

Shelby put two bowls of chili on her tray and grabbed some breadsticks and bottled water. She carried their lunch toward the cashier. While she waited, she turned her thoughts to Hakim. Was he spending the day with her because he couldn’t think of a polite way to get out of doing so?

Throughout the years, she had met plenty of skiers. Hanging out with a stranger for a run or two was not unusual, but she even surprised herself with the amount of time she was spending with this man. She felt such a comfortable easiness while they were together. Maybe because he was an out-of-towner, she knew no pressure existed to make a friendly day of skiing into anything more. But that did little to explain the way her heart thumped every time he smiled.

Shelby slid her tray in front of the cashier, pulled her wallet out of an inside coat pocket, and paid for the meal. Once she spotted Hakim on the other side of the crowded dining room, she picked up the tray and clomped toward him in her stiff ski boots. As she got closer, she realized he spoke with another man. With all the noise in the snack shack, she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but by the cadence of their voices, she could tell they weren’t speaking English.

When Hakim saw her, he waved and both men stood. Shelby, I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Nasir. He gestured to the man next to him.

Shelby recognized him as the other skier she had seen on the slopes that morning. Nasir was a goliath. Hakim stood close to six feet tall, but Nasir loomed above him—at least a head taller. Large muscles bulged under his ski parka. He sported a dark goatee and piercing eyes that didn’t quite look directly at her.

Nasir, may I present Shelby Jo Walker?

Shelby resisted the urge to cringe from the large man and extended her hand.

Nasir put his hands together and inclined his head. "Ahlan wa sahlan."

Nasir says he is pleased to meet you, Hakim translated.

Yeah, right. Nasir’s stony expression did not change, and his gaze was severe. Pleased looked like the farthest thing from the man’s mind, but Shelby put her hands together anyway and gave a little bow, "Ahlan wa sahlan, Nasir." She hoped her pronunciation sounded even close to correct.

He tipped his head forward, his gaze focused on something above her head.

Shelby wondered if he spoke English, but she didn’t like the idea of engaging this intimidating hulk in conversation. Instead, she turned and spoke to Hakim. I’m sorry…I didn’t realize you were here with a friend. Here, you two eat these, and I’ll run and grab another bowl of chili.

Thank you, but no, Nasir stated in a heavy accent. I will leave now.

The two men spoke for a moment in what Shelby assumed was Arabic.

Then, Nasir again put his hands together and bowed in her direction. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Shelby Jo Walker. I hope your day is enjoyable.

Nice to meet you, too, Nasir. Shelby smiled.

Once more, Nasir glanced around the dining room, and then strode out the door, turning heads as he passed.

He was obviously accustomed to the attention his size attracted. Wow. He didn’t spare any of the gawkers a single glance.

Hakim held the back of the wobbly metal chair and waited for Shelby to be seated before he sat on the other side of the small table.

Hakim, I’m sorry. Shelby set their meals and utensils in front of them. I didn’t know you were here with someone. Am I keeping you from your friend?

Please do not apologize. Nasir prefers to ski alone.

"What about you? Am I monopolizing your time today? Would you rather ski alone?" She chewed on her lip and stirred her chili.

Hakim unwrapped the plastic spoon, and then set it down next to his foam chili bowl. He lifted his gaze and met Shelby’s. Today, I prefer to ski with you.

Oh. Her heart skipped a beat, and her ears got