With Every Breath (Sea Swept #2) (12 page)

Yasmin wheels away to the entrance of the tourist shop, where roped necklaces dangle on a little stand with a mirror on top. She cranes her neck to inspect the damage.

“Dammit, West!”

“I got a little carried away.” Am I a jerk for feeling sort of pleased? Maybe Yasmin wishes the whole thing never happened, but those marks prove it did. God, I want to give her more.

I recoil from the thought. Not only because Yasmin basically said I was a mistake, but I’m in the running for a corporate job in Miami and now I’ve slept with an employee? That’s not going to impress my boss. And continuing to sleep with Yasmin would look even worse. So if Yasmin doesn’t want this to be anything more than a one-time blip, then fine. Works for me.
 

“This doesn’t have to change anything,” I say, and Yasmin glances over. “We can forget the bell tower ever happened. No one knows but us. Okay?”

Yasmin’s dark eyes flash before she lowers them. Her fingers trail over her bruises.
 

“They’ll know if they see my hickies,” she says.

Crap, she’s right. “They won’t know I’m the one who gave them to you,” I point out. She raises a brow.

“So I’m supposed to have made out with a random stranger in Portales?”

“Apparently that’s not so farfetched,” I shoot back. She gives me a narrow-eyed look, then turns back to the mirror.

“I can hide them,” she says. “I’ll wear a scarf, and makeup will help.”

“A scarf?” In this heat?

“A light one. For fashion, not warmth.” In the mirror’s reflection, she notices the doubt on my face and gives an airy wave. “Don’t worry, I can carry it off.”

My lips tighten.
 

“I guess this is a tactic you’ve used before?” I say sourly.

Yasmin pauses, then turns to me and crosses her arms.

“If you’re trying to call me a slut, just come out and say it,” she says softly. Her dark eyes cut me, and I sigh.
 

“No. Sorry. I obviously don’t have the right to say anything.” I take a deep breath, and exhale slowly, trying to find words that won’t make things worse. “I … I handled all of this really badly.”

“Let’s never mention it again, okay?” Yasmin mutters.

That hurts, but I shrug. “Okay by me.” I can be professional. If this is how she wants it, fine. We’ll never talk outside of work. I won’t think about her. I won’t touch her. Even if my body rebels at the thought of not feeling her skin beneath my hands or her tongue grazing my neck. Or her back arching as I …
 

Jesus. I need to forget that.
 

“And you don’t have to help me with my Sofia project,” Yasmin adds.
 

I find myself shaking my head.
 

“I’ll still help. If you want me to.” What am I saying? She gave me an out. I should take it and keep my distance, but I can’t bring myself to retract my offer.

“Thanks, but no,” she says curtly. “I’ll be fine on my own.” An awkward silence falls between us. The shop owner bustles over to ask Yasmin if she’d like to see more necklaces inside. Yasmin shakes her head and moves past the shop entrance. Not knowing what else to do, I follow.
 

“We’ll pretend the bell tower never happened,” she says to me as we walk through the market. “Everything will go back to normal.”
 

Normal? Ha. Nothing’s been normal since Yasmin boarded the ship.
 

“Okay,” I say anyway.
 

“Friends?” she asks after a moment. I meet Yasmin’s gaze, a little surprised. After the way I’ve mangled everything today, why would she want to be friends with me? But her gorgeous dark eyes are filled with shadows, and she manages to seem both vulnerable and annoyed at the same time.

“Friends,” I say, not at all sure what that means right now.

We start heading back to the
Radiant Star,
both of us silent. I realize that we never did get the photo Yasmin wanted, but it’s too late now. I glance over as we walk side by side through the dusty street, the colors of market blurring behind her.
 

All I have to do is forget the last half hour ever happened. I can do that.
 

~ ~ ~

Except, it turns out, I can’t.
 

Oh, I manage to keep my hands off of Yasmin over the next few weeks, but my thoughts are another matter. Ever since our bell tower interlude, I haven’t had a single night where I didn’t stare sleeplessly at the ceiling, imagining Yasmin with her head thrown back, moaning, as I thrust into her. I’ve tried to focus on numbers and revenues and who among my staff I should fire to appease Randall, but none of it works. I’m lucky to get a few hours of rest before another day begins and I have to avoid Yasmin all over again.
 

It’s hard enough trying not to notice her when we’re working. The Star Heart company polo isn’t supposed to be sexy, but somehow it is on her. Every day I have to suppress a fantasy of stripping it off her in the shop’s storeroom and taking her between boxes of glossy paper. Maybe on top of them.
 

If work is difficult, though, it’s nothing compared to when we’re not working. I’m helping Yasmin with her sister’s collage after all. I hadn’t planned to, but one morning I ran into Yasmin at the gym. Staff is allowed to use the passenger gym, as long as it’s not full. It’s way nicer than the one reserved for crew, so I like to grab workouts early in the morning, before passengers begin to rise.
 

Apparently so does Yasmin, and we got to talking while lifting weights. She mentioned her project, and I offered again to help. I guess she’s forgiven me for the way I handled our hookup, because before I knew it we were agreeing to meet up later to work on the collage.
 

Now, a few times a week Yasmin and I meet in neutral territory, a public lounge or the photo shop, to work on her project. She showed me the images that her sister took before she passed, and I have to admit I’m impressed. Sofia had real talent.
 

Though she gets teary sometimes, Yasmin’s face lights up whenever she talks about her sister, and I can almost picture Sofia from the stories she tells. In turn, Yasmin gets me talking about my mom, which is something I almost never do.

As the marks on her neck faded, we’ve actually turned into friends. But I can’t help wondering if, when Yasmin’s alone in her bunk bed, she thinks of me too. I wonder what she wears to sleep. I wonder what she’d look like naked next to me, her curves pressed against my body. I can’t stop thinking about how she felt, legs wrapped around my hips.

I’ve tried to compensate by talking to her as little as possible while on the job, and never scheduling us to work together. Aside from our time working on the art project or taking photographs during port days, I steer clear of her after hours.
 

Unfortunately, I need to have a private chat with her today, and it won’t be a fun conversation.
 

“Yasmin, can you come over here?” I say after our group meeting at the start of a new cruise. Charlie won the weekly competition, with Paolo and Camelia in second and third. No surprise there; they’re my most consistent earners. Their positions are safe, but I can’t say the same for the rest of the staff. Just yesterday, Randall asked me if I had a general idea of who I wanted to let go. I’d been half-hoping that he’d reconsider his order and I wouldn’t have to fire anyone, so I could only tack on a smile and tell him I was taking the decision seriously and would give him an answer by the deadline.
 

The rest of the staff head off to their tasks as Yasmin steps over to where I’m sitting at one of the cashier computers.

“What’s up, boss? You’ve reconsidered making me suit up as Kippy?” Shadows lurk in her dark eyes, but Yasmin gives me a quick smile, one that usually makes me smile back. This time, I draw my features into a stern managerial expression.
 

“What’s up is that your numbers were low last week,” I say.

Yasmin shrugs.

“I’m still getting the hang of things, I guess.”

“They were low the week before, too,” I continue. “You’re not trying.”

“I’m working as hard as I can,” she says, but I shake my head.

“Yasmin, I see you.” Ever since the bell tower, I’ve been hyper-aware of everything she does—from when she dons the Señorita Star Heart outfit to when she chats up a family visiting from London. “You talk with passengers more than you take pictures of them. And you never try to up-sell them when they’re buying a package.”
 

“I guess I don’t want to be pushy.” She frowns as if annoyed, glancing at her watch impatiently. She’s probably eager to grab lunch before our new wave of passengers hits.
 

Well, too bad.

“We had this same talk last week,” I point out. “You promised you’d improve. You didn’t.”

Yasmin’s eyes flash.
 

“Sweet Jesus, West, can you give me a break? I said I’d try harder.”

If she were any other member of my team, I’d be writing up a formal reprimand by now. Not for sassing me, but for low numbers. She doesn’t even realize how much of a break I’m already giving her.
 

“I’m trying to help you, Yasmin,” I say through my teeth, holding on to my temper by a thread.

“Help yourself, you mean.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re only worried about your precious Miami job.”

A goal she clearly doesn’t respect, even though I’ve told her how important it is to me. My eyes narrow. Time to play hardball.
 

“Until your numbers go up, you’re not getting off the ship,” I tell her. “Not even for port days.”
 

Yasmin’s eyes widen.

“What about our hikes?”

We’ve taken to spending an hour or two roaming together and taking pictures at each port of call. It was awkward at first, but as we proved we could hang out without winding up all over each other, it’s gotten easier. I’ve shown her some ISO techniques, and she’s found a few items on Sofia’s list. Cutting Yasmin off from that will undoubtedly hurt her, and I feel like a jerk for doing so. But she’s got to take this job seriously.
 

“I guess I’ll be going alone,” I say stonily. She stares at me for a moment.

“I thought we were friends.”

“This isn’t West your friend talking,” I tell her. “It’s West,
your boss
. There’s a difference.”

“In that one’s an asshole?” Yasmin says, then snaps her mouth shut, as if realizing she’s gone too far.
 

Holding her gaze, I make my voice very even.

“Insubordination like that usually gets someone fired. The
only
reason I’m not kicking you off the ship right now is that we’re friends. If you push me again, we won’t be anymore.” Her stubborn look fades, and I can tell she realizes I mean it. I’m not letting her get in the way of this promotion, even if I can’t get her out of my head. “Are we clear?”

“Clear,” Yasmin says after a couple seconds. Her voice is subdued, her expression remote. “Sorry, boss.” She drops her gaze. “Can I go to lunch now?”

Now that she’s backed down, my anger dissipates, and I wonder in dismay if I have ruined our friendship already. I wish I could undo the whole conversation. Is the corporate job really worth it? Worth this?
 

But I’ve busted my ass, and I can’t stop now, not when I’m so close. Overall our numbers were up on the last cruise, but if Yasmin’s numbers keep coming in last, I’m going to have to choose her as the team member Randall wants me to fire. And as tough as this conversation is, it’d be tougher not to see her every day. Thinking about Yasmin leaving the ship makes something inside me tighten. And not in a good way.
 

Yasmin’s still waiting, not looking at me.
 

“Sure, you can go,” I mutter, and she wastes no time gathering up her camera. I wish I could think of something to say, but I can’t. Unhappily, I watch her leave.

Chapter 12

Yasmin

“He won’t let me leave the ship until my numbers are up,” I complain to Camelia in our shoebox of a room as she preps for a night at the crew bar. I lay sprawled on the lower bunk, clad in my evening wear for tonight: a camisole and pajama pants. So very glamorous.
 

Standing before the mirror on our cabin door, Camelia tries not to laugh as she sweeps a peach-colored blush across her cheek. “West grounded you? Like a teenager?”

“It’s not funny.”

She throws a stray sock at me. “It’s pretty funny.”

“He’s such a tight-ass.”

“Mmmm, I know. Tight ass.” Camelia strokes on mascara and smiles, while my own mouth curves downward. I don’t want Camelia—or anyone else—suspecting that something happened between West and me.
 

“I mean that he’s a jerk, not that he’s hot,” I correct her.
 

“Maybe you should sleep with him.”
 

That makes me sit up on my elbows. “
What
?”

“He would be nicer to you.” She slides me a glance in the mirror. “I am not blind. I have seen how you look at him.”

Uh oh.
I’d thought I’d kept my ongoing lust for West a secret. The bell tower interlude, instead of scratching an itch, only made it stronger. Although right now, I’d rather smack him than tear his clothes off. Our conversation from earlier today left me in a bad mood—worse than when I got up this morning and remembered the date. Maybe I do need to work on my sales numbers, but barring me from stepping foot off the
Radiant Star
seems extreme.
 

“I’m not sleeping with him so he’ll be nicer to me.” I say sourly.
 

Camelia shrugs. “He might not be interested anyway. He turned me down, after all.”

“He did?” I ask, even though that’s what West told me. Camelia doesn’t seem to remember me putting her to bed that night, and I don’t really know Camelia well enough to pry, so I never asked for confirmation from her about what did or didn’t happen. Now that I have it, I tell myself I don’t care. It only sort of works.