Read Online With Every Breath (Sea Swept #2) by Valerie Chase - Free Book Online Page B

blood is dry, and I have to rub at it with wet paper towels to clean it.
    I grip his arm near the elbow to keep him still, and though I keep my focus on the injury, my hand is noticing the hard muscle under my fingertips. My gaze flicks to his chest of its own volition.
    Don’t , I tell myself. I don’t want any distractions during my contract on board, especially not a guy who cares more about sales figures than people. And it’s not like he’s impressed with me either: Diva. Ship life is going to eat you alive.  
    “What do you think?” West asks. I glance up and see him watching me. My cheeks heat. Oh no, did he catch me checking him out? But then I realize he must be talking about his arm.
    “It looks okay,” I say, “but you should really get a doctor to look at it.”
    West shakes his head. “No time. If we lose money on this cruise …”
    “Is that really more important than your health?”
    “Than a couple bruises and a scratch or two? Yes.”
    I snort. “It’s just money.”
    “Spoken, I’m guessing, by a girl who’s never wanted for it.” West’s voice has gone dry, and I glance up with a frown.
    “My family’s not super-rich or anything.” Especially not after all of Sofia’s medical bills. Health insurance only goes so far.
    “But you haven’t been super-poor either.”
    “And you have?” I retort. West’s face tightens, and I pause. I don’t know much about him at all, I realize. Maybe he was poor, and I should shut my mouth.
    “Are you done yet?” West asks impatiently. Passengers are starting to trickle through the hallway, chattering excitedly about the rogue wave as they head to the dining room.
    “One sec.” I keep my eyes off West’s pecs and on his hurt bicep, and soon I’ve cleaned and bound it in gauze.
    “Thanks,” West says, and stands to face me. He studies me, then raises his hand to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes my face, and then his expression clears. “Just a smudge, not a bruise.”
    His touch shouldn’t stun me into speechlessness. Neither should his lack of a shirt. Thanks to the Greek system at college, I’ve been around lots of shirtless frat guys, guys who were in great shape and not afraid to flaunt it. They were eye candy—this is something different. West’s nearness, the heat from his skin, makes me aware of every inch of him, and how solid his body felt on top of mine. I suddenly feel almost shy.  
    West drops his hand.
    “Let’s get back to work,” he says curtly, and walks back over to our studio set-up. Even with two injuries, his bare torso is really distracting. “Come on. We’ve wasted enough time,” he barks, and that snaps me out of my daze. This is West, my jerk of a boss, and I am not lusting after him. I chalk my momentary lapse up to feeling shaky after the rogue wave.
    I help West set everything up again. “Thankfully, I was more hurt than the lights,” he says happily. “If they’d broken, our profit margins would have been shot by the repair cost. We got lucky.”
    I shake my head. I don’t understand why he ranks the company’s equipment above his own safety. “You can’t wear your polo,” I say. “You’re covered in blood, and so am I.”
    West glances at the bundle of his clothing. Extracting his undershirt, he shrugs it on with a wince. The t-shirt is black, so it barely shows the blood.
    “I’ll wear this for now,” he says. “Go change into a new polo, then stop by my cabin and grab me one too.” He hands me his room card and tells me the cabin number, then eyes me doubtfully. “Do you know how to get to your room?”
    I give him as haughty a glance as I can manage. “Of course.” And I do, thanks to Elise. Last night she drew a map of the crew levels for me, and I’ve kept it in my pocket all day, along with the map of passenger areas that I picked up from the purser’s office.  
    Dashing quickly to my cabin, I throw on a new polo shirt and fix my hair, then find my way to West’s room. I