French Silk(25)

"It's more serious than a cash crunch, Yasmine," Alister said reasonably. "You've been in financial straits for months."

When her contract with the cosmetics line expired, the company had decided against renewing Yasmine in favor of a "new look," a youthful, bouncy blond. Yasmine had pretended to be unfazed by their decision, but it had been a blow to her ego. She'd always known that the life span of a cover girl was short, but when that last major contract had expired, the bitter reality of being a has-been had caused her bouts of depression. At least she hadn't depended exclusively on that contract for her livelihood.

Neither had she taken into account just how lucrative it had been. She hadn't reduced her spending to compensate for the loss. In addition, some of her investments hadn't paid off as well as anticipated. Unreal as it seemed, Yasmine was now broke.

"The situation is temporary, Alister," she said with asperity. "My accountant and I are working out a solution. Things are already beginning to turn around. In any event, I won't take money from you. I'd feel like a whore. Don't offer again."

"What about Claire? She'd be glad to help you."

"It's no more her problem than it is yours. It's mine, and I'll work it out."

She sensed that he wanted to argue further and was glad that he didn't. Instead, he came back and playfully swatted her fanny. "Sassy and sexy. No wonder I love you so much." He whisked a kiss across her mouth. "See you Sunday."

* * *

Yasmine and Claire arrived at French Silk at the same time. Yasmine paid her taxi fare, then joined Claire at the door. "What are you doing out at this time of night?"

Claire unlocked the door and turned off the security alarm. "I could ask you the same question, but then I already know the answer, don't I?" After resetting the alarm, they crossed the warehouse toward the elevator.

"Don't be sarcastic," Yasmine said. "Where have you been?"

"Walking. And I wasn't being sarcastic."

"You went out walking alone at this hour? You could have been mugged."

"I know every crumbling brick of the French Quarter. I'm not afraid of it."

"Well, you should be," Yasmine said as they got into the elevator. "When you roam these streets at night alone, you're asking for trouble. The least you could do is carry an insurance policy with you."

"Insurance policy?" Claire looked down to where Yasmine was patting the side of her shoulder bag. "A gun? You bought another one?" They had discussed the revolver when Yasmine reported it missing.

"I didn't have to. The original wasn't lost after all."

"I wish it had been."

They emerged from the elevator on the third floor. Claire quickly checked Mary Catherine's room to make certain she was safely in bed. Claire hadn't been away for more than half an hour, but her mother had been known to disappear in much less time.

"Everything all right?" Yasmine asked when Claire joined her in the kitchen. "I'm surprised you left her alone."

"I had to get some air. I needed to think. I hoped you'd get back, but…" She shrugged.

Yasmine flung down the apple she'd taken from the fruit bowl on the counter. "Okay, that's two pricks in a row. Instead of throwing these little poison darts, why don't you come right out and spear me? Say that you disapprove of my affair."

"I disapprove of your affair."

The two women exchanged a hostile stare. Yasmine was the first to break it. She plopped down onto a barstool with a muttered, "Oh, hell," and began picking at the peel of the apple with her sharp fingernails.

Claire went to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of orange juice that Harry had squeezed fresh that morning. "I'm sorry, Yasmine. I had no right to say that to you. Who am I to approve or disapprove of your private life?"

"You're my best friend, that's who. That entitles you to an opinion."

"Which I should have kept to myself."

"Our friendship's based on candor."

"Oh? I always thought so too, but you haven't been candid. You've never even told me his name."

"If I could tell you about him, I would."

Claire studied her friend's tense facial muscles and red eyes. She'd been crying. Claire sat down on a stool next to Yasmine, removed the apple from her nervous hands, and clasped them between her own.

"I've been rude only because I'm worried. And I'm worried because you're miserable ninety percent of the time. That's why I disapprove of this affair. You're unhappy, Yasmine. Ideally, being in love is supposed to make people happy."

"The circumstances are hardly ideal. In fact it's the worse scenario you can imagine," she said with a bleak smile.

"He's married."

"Bingo."

Claire had been afraid of that, but knowing it for fact didn't make her feel better. "I couldn't see another reason for the secrecy. I'm sorry."

It was evident to Claire that Yasmine's suffering was genuine and deeply felt. This wasn't a capricious romantic adventure like so many of her previous love interests had been. When they had become friends, Yasmine was living a high-spirited social life. Her dates ranged from professional athletes to business tycoons to movie stars to foreign royalty.