A Fine Line Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Fine Line

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-091-4

  ©Copyright Sue Horsford 2016

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright October 2016

  Edited by Faith Bicknell-Brown

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2016 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 3.

  A FINE LINE

  Sue Horsford

  No one would understand that my submission empowered me, that I felt stronger kneeling at Gabriel’s feet than I ever had standing at Paul’s side.

  Faye Austin seems to have it all—a fulfilling career, a successful husband, a beautiful home. But appearances can be deceptive and sometimes Faye can’t help thinking she’s living the wrong life. A lifetime of being compared to her beautiful younger sister, Ginny, has left her feeling second best, and a chance discovery while looking at her husband’s laptop has led her to realize that her marriage is not all it seems.

  Then she meets the handsome Gabriel Scott, a man who likes to play sexual games of power and control, and suddenly everything makes sense. Gabriel’s natural dominance is so compelling that Faye feels her own submissiveness awakening in response, a reaction that both horrifies and excites her. She works with victims of domestic abuse and is adamant that no man will ever tell her what to do. But there’s something about Gabriel that draws her in and gives her a glimpse of who she really wants to be.

  Can Gabriel give her what she needs? Or will Ginny get there first?

  Dedication

  To my wonderful husband John, for all your support and encouragement.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

  Google: Google, Inc.

  Ken and Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  Stereophonics: Stylus Records, MapleMusic Recordings,

  The X Factor: Simco Limited

  The Pied Piper: Public Domain

  Ray-Ban: Luxottica Group S.P.A.

  Avon: Avon NA IP LLC

  Alfa Romeo Spider: Alfa Romeo S.P.A.

  Sleeping Beauty: Disney Enterprises

  Parker Knoll: Sofa Brands International

  John Lewis: John Lewis PLC

  Groundhog Day: Columbia Pictures

  Liverpool End of Season: Fenway Sports Group

  Dove Body Wash: Conopco Inc.

  Age Concern: Age UK Group

  Holland & Barrett: Holland & Barrett Ltd.

  The Stepford Wives: Ira Levin; Random House

  Fiat: FIAT GROUP MARKETING & CORPORATE COMMUNICATION S.P.A.

  Peroni: SABMiller International Brands Limited

  Fox’s (biscuits/cookies tin): Northern Foods Grocery Group Limited

  Febreze: The Proctor & Gamble Company

  Tony Soprano: HBO Television

  Stilton: The Stilton Cheese Makers Association

  Sky: 21st Century Fox

  Levi’s: Levi Strauss & Co.

  The Eagles: Asylum; Geffen; Polydor; Lost Highway; Capitol

  Kindle: Amazon Technologies, Inc.

  Boots: Garan Services, Corp.

  Ann Summers: Ann Summers, Ltd.

  Prosecco: VINTALIA WEINHANDELS GMBH & CO. KG

  The Gruffalo: Julia Donaldson; Alex Scheffler; MacMillan

  Peppa Pig: Astley Baker Davies Limited

  Swarovski: SWAROVSKI AKTIENGESELLSCHAFT

  Power and Control: Peter Cohn

  Oh, My Beloved Father: Hallmark

  Sainsbury’s: J. Sainsbury PLC

  Prologue

  A careless click of the mouse and there she was. Ginny, her mouth turned up at the corners like a just-fed cat, a glint of mischief in her beautiful blue eyes. Click. Ginny on holiday in Ibiza, showing off her bronzed body in a tiny yellow bikini. Click. Ginny in fancy dress as a schoolgirl with a white blouse knotted above her toned midriff and her red hair in jaunty pigtails. Click. Click. Click. Each click like a paper cut, but still I pressed my finger down on the mouse again and again as I stared at my perfect little sister, her beauty just as enchanting on the screen as in the flesh.

  I’d seen these photos before. They were on Facebook for anyone to see. But why was Paul keeping them on his laptop in a folder named ‘fishing photos’? He must have thought I’d never be tempted to look. Just the word ‘fishing’ made me yawn, but, still, how careless to leave them where I might find them. Or maybe he just didn’t give a damn.

  I stared at the screen and tried to figure out what this meant for my marriage. I’d found pictures, hundreds of pictures, of my sister on my husband’s laptop, yet now that the initial shock had passed, there was only detachment and a strange kind of stillness, as if someone had just pressed pause and I’d stepped out of myself to watch from outside. I tried to squeeze out tears. Perhaps somewhere inside me there was a woman who was still in love with her husband, who was devastated by his betrayal. But my eyes stayed dry. Had that woman gone away, slipped out during ten years of marriage and had she never been missed till now? When did that happen? Why hadn’t I noticed?

  And what should I do now? Confront him? Throw the laptop at him? Demand an explanation? But where would that end?

  There was nothing going on between them. Paul was hardly in Ginny’s league. And was it really any worse than me lusting over pictures of Ryan Gosling on Google images? Well, perhaps fantasizing about my sister was a bit closer to home. But was it worth breaking up my marriage over?

  I looked around at the home we’d made together and imagined myself starting again, living w
ith a cat and dating unsuitable men. My gaze fell upon the art deco writing bureau we’d restored. Hours of hard work and sweat had turned it from a junk shop find into a thing of beauty. Who’d get that if we went our separate ways? Was I making a big deal out of nothing? Besides, plenty of people played at marriage, didn’t they? They carried on with a charade for years after the spark had gone. Sometimes it was the easiest thing to do.

  I closed the file and shut down the laptop. There would be no drama, not yet, anyway. I needed time to think. The last thing I wanted was to let Paul force my hand. If my marriage was going to end, it would be on my terms.

  Chapter One

  If I’d known it was going to be so hot, I wouldn’t have agreed to cook dinner in the first place. I should have been sitting in the shade with a cold drink and a good book, not cooped up in a stuffy kitchen, cooking pasta, and, besides, I didn’t feel very well. My forehead and cheeks were radiating heat and my stomach kept flipping over as if something awful was about to happen.

  Paul came into the kitchen wearing shorts and a too tight Liverpool shirt. I tried not to notice the sweat patches under his arms and the way his shirt clung to the beginnings of a paunch.

  He frowned at me and pressed a hand to my forehead. “You don’t look well, Faye. Do you want me to phone Gabriel and rearrange?” He was trying to play the part of the concerned husband, but there was a faint undertone of impatience in his voice. There was nothing he wanted less than to cancel this evening.

  Gabriel was Paul’s new client. He’d bought a derelict farmhouse and was planning to rip everything out and start again and he wanted Paul to help him with the design, draw up the plans and oversee the whole project. With the economy in a slump, Paul hadn’t had a major project for over two years and he was bored with drawing up plans for kitchen extensions and loft conversions, so Gabriel was his new best friend.

  I shook my head, and Paul shrugged as if he didn’t care either way. He poured himself a beer and went out into the garden with the paper, while I chopped onions and tried to distract myself from my feelings of impending doom by wondering whether Gabriel would be Ginny’s type.

  The men she went out with never lasted very long, but I’d met quite a few of them. They all seemed to have come from the same mold, like an assembly line of Ken dolls, young, blandly good-looking and all smitten with Ginny, their very own Barbie. Paul had told me that Gabriel was forty so she’d probably think he was a bit old for her, but, on the other hand, he had money, which was bound to be a point in his favor.

  I’d been annoyed when Paul had suggested we invite her. It was as if he was using her as bait, something extra to sweeten the deal, and I didn’t relish the thought of sitting there with two men slavering over my sister, especially when one of them was my husband.

  “It’s still too hot in here,” Paul complained when I asked him to set the table. “I don’t know how we’re going to manage.”

  “Well, we’ll eat in the garden, then.” I tried to hide the irritation that came so easily nowadays. I’d spent the whole day cleaning the house and making dinner. Did I have to make all the decisions, too?

  We set up a table and chairs outside, then Ginny arrived, so I left her and Paul to put out hurricane lamps and candles while I had a cool shower. The cold water refreshed me, but I still had that vague feeling of nausea that had been hanging over me all day. Maybe I was just nervous about tonight.

  It had been a long time since I’d hosted a dinner for one of Paul’s clients, and, although the contract had already been agreed upon, I couldn’t help but feel I was going to mess it up in some way. My confidence had taken a bit of a knock since finding those photos and I was painfully aware that Paul would much rather it was Ginny he was introducing to clients as his wife.

  Her voice drifted up the stairs as she chattered away to him. What would she think if she knew he was stalking her on Facebook, collecting images of her to drool over while I was in bed?

  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe and I went over to the bedroom window and leaned out just in time to see a tall, dark-haired man striding up the path. I turned and rushed out of the room, almost falling down the stairs in my haste to get to the front door. I was the lady of the house, so I should be the one to greet our guest. I couldn’t bear the indignity of him meeting Ginny first and thinking she was Paul’s wife.

  I reached the door and threw it open and my heart lurched in my chest as if I could tell straight away that he was going to turn my world upside down.

  Gabriel was what my mother would call a fine-looking man, tan and athletic without seeming like he tried too hard, and his face with its strong jaw line and high cheekbones was strikingly handsome.

  He smiled and I opened my mouth to say something, but then my eyes met his and the words went right out of my head. His eyes were beautiful, a deep, warm brown shot through with flecks of gold so that in the evening sun they were almost amber, and the way they gazed into mine, intimate, inviting, piercingly intense, held me captive and refused to let me go.

  It was as if I was standing before him naked, all my weaknesses and insecurities stripped bare for his scrutiny, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. Yet the feeling was not unpleasant. There was something about him that inspired absolute trust, which made me want to put myself in his hands. I’d always scoffed at those romantic novels with their blushing maidens and masterful heroes, but suddenly I longed to be seized in a pair of strong arms and ravished by a tall, dark handsome hero with amber eyes. Gabriel made every man I’d ever met seem like a boy in comparison.

  I was saved from throwing myself at his feet by the arrival of Paul. “Gabriel, come in.” He threw me an irritated glance, no doubt wondering why I was keeping our guest waiting on the doorstep.

  “Thank you,” Gabriel said. He spoke softly with the merest hint of a Scottish accent and I thrilled at the sound.

  I noticed for the first time that he was holding a bunch of flowers, and as if he’d only just remembered, he held them out to me.

  “These are for you.”

  “Oh, thank you.” My voice was rusty, as if I hadn’t used it before and I cleared my throat. “They’re lovely. I’ll just go and put them in water.”

  In the safety of the kitchen, I tried to collect my thoughts. What was I thinking, letting him affect me like that? Masterful hero, indeed!

  I took a glass vase from the cupboard and started arranging the flowers. They were beautiful—fat, white camellias and pale pink peonies. I bent my face to inhale their scent. It was so intense I was overwhelmed and I stepped back. Suddenly I was trembling, my forehead damp with sweat, and the sickness that had been niggling at me all day threatened to overwhelm me. I grabbed the side of the worktop, breathing deeply and willing the feeling to pass, just as Ginny came into the kitchen.

  “Oh, my God, he’s gorgeous,” she said, letting her mouth fall open. Obviously the fourteen-year age gap wasn’t going to be a problem.

  I turned and stared at her. She was talking, but I couldn’t take in what she was saying. A hissing sound drowned out her words and beads of cold sweat gathered on my burning forehead.

  I caught hold of her arm. “Help me into the living room. I need to sit down for a minute.”

  I barely made it through the living room door before my knees began to give way.

  Paul was on the other side of the room putting on a Stereophonics CD, but Gabriel immediately rushed forward, and the last thing I was aware of as I tumbled into oblivion was the warm, unfamiliar smell of his body as he caught me easily in his arms.

  I opened my eyes to find I was lying on the couch with Paul and Ginny leaning over me. Gabriel was sitting in an armchair to my left, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

  “Are you all right, Faye?” Paul said. He seemed genuinely worried and I felt mean for thinking his earlier concern had been pretense.

  I struggled to sit up. I was still a bit shaky but at least the nausea had passed. “I’m okay.”

  “Shou
ld I call a doctor?”

  “No, I’m feeling much better now. It was probably just the heat.”

  “Well, you’d better stay there while I finish dinner. I’m sorry about this, Gabriel. Can you make sure she stays put? Ginny, will you give me a hand?” He went off into the kitchen, Ginny dawdling after him, loath to be dragged away from ogling Gabriel.

  Left alone with Gabriel, I was mortified. What on earth must he think of me? Not content with gazing into his eyes like some love-struck teenager, I had then literally fainted at his feet. This was not the image I wanted to portray as the capable wife of a successful architect. On the other hand, if I was trying to come across as a total imbecile, then I was doing a sterling job. I couldn’t think of anything to say, and the silence seemed to stretch out between us until I felt that anything I said would come across as forced and unnatural.

  “I think I’d better just go and make sure they don’t burn down the kitchen,” I joked, starting to swing my legs around to stand up, desperate to escape.

  “No, you don’t,” Gabriel answered. He shifted forward in his chair, as if he was about to push me back down. “I have my orders to keep you here.” He smiled and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “If you don’t do as you’re told, I may have to restrain you.”

  I froze for a second, then I forced myself to smile back. He was joking of course. Surely he wouldn’t say something like that if he realized the effect his words would have on me.

  I lay back and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him. What made him think he could talk to me like that? And why had I just let him tell me what to do? I tried to shut him out, but even with my eyes closed, I was painfully aware of him and I was sure he was looking at me. Every sense seemed to come alive in his presence and my awareness of everything was heightened, the warm air caressing my skin, the stickiness of the leather beneath my bare legs and a trickle of sweat which was making its way lazily down my cleavage.