Towing the Line

by Nicola Marsh

  I need a new start. Anonymity. In a country where no one will know me, and the havoc I create.

  Not all the rumors about me are true. But I made one mistake too many in LA and attending an Australian college for a few semesters is the perfect solution.

  I plan on avoiding guys. But the part-time tutor and sexy Aussie artist Ashton? Has me re-evaluating the wisdom of being a reformed bad girl.

  Ash is aloof, dedicated, serious, and I must corrupt him. So I seduce him. Not expecting to fall in love for the first time. And the last.

  Because Ash has high standards and when he learns the truth about me, he’ll join the long list of people in my life pretending I don’t exist.

  Author’s note:

  Grammatically, ‘toeing the line’ is correct.

  But in Dani’s story, the mistakes of her past are holding her back. She feels like she’s dragging an invisible weight behind her, hence ‘towing the line’.

  TOWING THE LINE

  By

  Nicola Marsh

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © Nicola Marsh 2014

  Published by Nicola Marsh 2014

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They’re not distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all the incidents in the book are pure invention.

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in any form. The text or any part of the publication may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Discover other titles by USA TODAY bestselling author Nicola Marsh at

  http://www.nicolamarsh.com

  Recent titles by Nicola Marsh:

  Crossing the Line

  Before

  Brash

  Blush

  Crazy Love

  Lucky Love

  The Second Chance Guy

  Banish (YA)

  Scion of the Sun (YA)

  Wicked Heat

  Wanton Heat

  Not the Marrying Kind

  Busted in Bollywood

  Chapter 1

  DANI

  "Where’s Loverboy?"

  Not that I really cared where Mia’s boyfriend Kye was. I was enjoying having my BFF all to myself for a few hours before I boarded a plane to Australia to start my new life.

  "He’ll be here soon," Mia said, shoving the half-empty pizza box in my direction. "Said he had to see a man about a dog."

  I helped myself to another slice of pepperoni, even though I’d barely nibbled the first. "What the hell does that mean?"

  Mia shrugged. "Who knows? I just nod and smile when he comes out with those indecipherable Aussie-isms." Her eyes lit up. "Besides, who cares when he’s that cute?"

  "Fair enough," I said, eternally grateful we could actually talk like this considering I’d recently fucked up majorly by coming onto Kye with the intention of deliberately hurting Mia.

  I’d been acting like the attention-seeking idiot I was and thankfully, Mia and Kye had forgiven me.

  I’d told Mia the truth. Well, most of it.

  She knew about the baby, why I’d blown off college and why I’d spent the last three years drifting through a haze of partying to forget.

  But she didn’t know all of it.

  Nobody did.

  And I intended on keeping it that way.

  Sensing my sudden reticence, Mia pushed her plate away and placed a hand on my arm. "You okay?"

  I nodded, swallowing the unexpected lump of emotion in my throat. I never got sentimental. Ever. I’d given up being that vulnerable a long time ago. Because feelings led to pain and I never wanted to feel as bad as I did when that bitch of a nurse told me I’d ‘lost’ my baby.

  Like I’d lose anything so precious.

  "Guess the reality of leaving all this to attend college in Melbourne for a while has finally hit home." I gestured at the lavish lounge in my parents’ Beverly Hills mansion. "I mean, how will I live without the ten widescreens, daily fresh sushi and thousand-thread count toilet paper?"

  Mia laughed. "I hear they have two-thousand thread count in Australia." She winked. "How do you think Aussie guys have such hot asses?"

  I chuckled, relieved the urge to bawl had receded.

  "Talking about me?" Kye Sheldon strode into the room. Tall, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered, he was seriously hot and only had eyes for Mia as he made a beeline for his girlfriend and laid a hot, open-mouthed kiss on her right in front of me.

  "Get a room," I muttered, actually enjoying the sight of my best friend being cherished in the way she deserved.

  And Mia did deserve it. She’d always been good and why she’d hung out with me for the last fifteen years was beyond me. She was loyal, sweet and trusting. My voice of reason, I’d always called her. Which is why I hadn’t told her about the baby.

  Because when it came down to it, when I’d fallen pregnant at eighteen, I hadn’t wanted to hear all the logical reasons why I shouldn’t keep the baby. For the first time in my life, I would’ve had someone in my life to love me unconditionally. Someone to depend on me. Someone whose world revolved around me.

  I’d never had that before. My parents pretended like their only child didn’t exist. Too busy living an A-list Hollywood lifestyle in their suck-up job as agents to the stars.

  Friends? Non-existent, discounting Mia, who had lived next door until her dad quit professional tennis to open his teaching academy in Santa Monica, and they’d moved. Mia had been my rock for so long. And I’d almost lost her through my own stupidity.

  It had been the wake-up call I’d needed.

  Time to stop drifting through life filled with self-pity. Time to make a new start. Time to start living again.

  "Sorry," Kye drawled, not sounding sorry in the least as he sat next to Mia, his arm draped across her shoulders as she snuggled into him. "So Dani, ready to find a hot Aussie of your own Down Under?" He smirked. "Guys in Melbourne won’t know what hits them when they get a squiz at you."

  "Squiz?" I wrinkled my nose. "I’m hoping that’s a good thing."

  He chuckled. "Means a look at you."

  Mia tweaked his nose. "Isn’t he adorable?"

  I rolled my eyes. "You two are pathetic."

  "It’s luuuurv," Kye said, holding Mia tighter. "So how about it? Ready to take Melbourne by storm?"

  "Academically, maybe." Because that was my number one priority. To make the most of the six months exchange program I’d been offered at the prestigious Melbourne University and start an Arts major. Thanks to Kye’s dad pulling strings at the university, I had a chance at a new life. I wouldn’t screw it up this time. "I can’t thank your dad enough for this opportunity."

  "He’s the best." The visible pride in Kye’s eyes made me well up again. Wish I had parents who cared enough about me to want to help my friends. "If you need anything while you’re in Oz, don’t hesitate to ring him."

  I nodded. "That’s what he told me when I Skyped him to say thanks for doing all this."

  "He’s a good guy." Kye’s grin alerted me to another of his typical teasing barbs. "Speaking of guys—"

  "Not interested." I held up my hand. "Even if you’re personally acquainted with Jesse Spencer, Josh Helman and Ryan Kwanten, I don’t care." I placed a hand over my heart. "I’m swearing off guys, even hot Aussie ones, for the next six months."

  Mia gazed adoringly at Kye. "Never say never, sweetie." She pecked Kye on the cheek. "Trust me, there’s something about Aussie guys that is irresistible."r />
  "I’ll take your word for it," I said, meaning it.

  I’d spent the last three years hanging out with the wrong guys, sleeping with some of them, getting wasted, doing whatever it took to forget my fucked up life.

  The next six months in Australia? My own personal detox program.

  No partying, no drinking, no drugs and no men.

  Mia, ever perceptive, must’ve picked up on something in my expression, because she turned to Kye and said, "I’d love an orange soda."

  "Coming right up." He stood and glanced at me. "Anything for you, Dani?"

  I shook my head. "No thanks, I’m fine."

  Biggest lie ever.

  "No worries, back in a sec." He strolled toward the monstrous kitchen that included a breakfast nook complete with the latest video game consoles my dad loved. Kye would be a while. Last time he’d been here and volunteered to get us sodas, we’d found him playing some warrior shoot-out game an hour later.

  The moment he left the room, Mia fixed me with a narrow-eyed stare. "You’re in a funk and it’s more than just living overseas for six months."

  I sighed, wishing I could fob her off, but so tired of living a lie let alone telling another. "I’m terrified that even after doing all this, nothing will change and I’ll still be the same screwed-up little girl screaming for attention."

  Voicing my greatest fear didn’t make me feel better. It made me feel sick to my stomach.

  Because it was true. What if after all this I couldn’t change? I couldn’t forget? I couldn’t learn to live with the mistakes of my past?

  "Oh honey." Mia leaped off the sofa to come sit beside me on the floor. "You’re the bravest person I know."

  She took both my hands and wouldn’t let go when I tried to extricate them. "It takes real guts to do what you’re doing. Moving halfway across the world, making a start on a college degree, changing your lifestyle."

  She squeezed my hands. "You’ve been through hell and you’ve made it through. This is your chance. And I have no doubt whatsoever you’ll make the most of every exciting new minute."

  "Will you be resurrecting your old pom-poms to go with that cheerleading routine?"

  She laughed at my droll response. "You’re going to be fine. Better than fine." She released my hands to pull me into a hug. "You’re going to kick some serious Aussie ass."

  Wish I had half her confidence because the way I was feeling now? Like I was standing on a precipice, about to go over the edge, with no safety net in sight.

  Chapter 2

  ASHTON

  I knew Mum was having a bad day the moment I neared her room and heard her grunts of frustration.

  She’d always loved crossword puzzles but the more her brain deteriorated, the harder it became for her to do the simplest tasks, let alone find a three letter word for an Australian native bird.

  I’d almost reached the end of the long corridor when a nurse laid a hand on my shoulder.

  "Got a minute, Ashton?"

  I stopped, turned and held my breath. Whenever one of the nurses wanted to talk before I visited Mum, it wasn’t good.

  "Hey Pam. How are you?"

  "Good, thanks." The fifty-something redhead had the kindest eyes I’d ever seen. Pale blue eyes that were currently filled with concern. "But I wanted to have a quick word with you today."

  The inevitable tension built in my temples and I quashed the urge to rub them. "Mum’s okay?"

  A pointless, dumb-arse question, considering Mum hadn’t been okay in a long time. Not since I’d checked her into this special accommodation home two years earlier because it had become untenable to care for her at home.

  The official diagnosis? Early onset dementia courtesy of a long-term alcohol abuse problem.

  My diagnosis? She’d partied too hard, done too many drugs and drunk her life into oblivion to obscure whatever demons dogged her as a washed-up B-grade actress.

  I resented her lifestyle. I resented every shitty thing that resulted in her being here at the age of sixty-three.

  "Judy had a rough night." Pam hesitated, before fixing me with a pitying stare. "She may not know you today."

  Fuck.

  We’d reached this stage already?

  I’d been warned there’d be more days like this. That as the dementia progressed, Mum’s memory would deteriorate to the point she’d consider me a stranger.

  I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon and no way in hell I was prepared to handle it.

  "Okay, thanks," I said, hoping Pam didn’t hear the hitch in my voice.

  Not for the first time since Mum had been diagnosed, I wanted to crumple in a heap on the floor and cry like a baby. But considering I’d been the only man in this family for a long time, losing my shit wasn’t an option.

  I had to stand tall and do what had to be done. And that included ensuring I made enough money to pay for Mum’s bills. Something that was becoming increasingly difficult to do as my commissions dried up.

  I needed to keep painting. I needed to keep tutoring at the university. And I needed to stop feeling like I was an automaton, oblivious to everything but getting through each day.

  It was affecting my art, this emptiness inside me. But I needed to quash emotions and stay cold inside because if I started to feel again, I’d break down for sure.

  Despite her lifestyle and her failings, Mum had always done right by me. I had to do the same for her.

  "You’re a good son." Pam squeezed my arm. "Come find me later if you have any questions or just want to talk, okay?"

  "Thanks."

  I knew I wouldn’t take Pam up on her offer. I could barely hold my shit together when I left here after my bi-weekly visits. No way could I face Pam’s kindness, especially if Mum was as bad as expected today.

  I took several deep breaths to clear the buzzing in my head and waited until I could muster a halfway normal expression, before knocking on Mum’s door and entering.

  "How’s the crossword coming along?"

  My heart twisted as her head lifted and our gazes locked. Mine deliberately upbeat. Hers eerily blank.

  "Who the fuck are you?"

  And with those five words, I almost lost it.

  My hands shook so I stuffed them into my jacket pockets as I cautiously crossed the room to sit in an armchair opposite hers.

  Keep it simple, the nurses had warned if this happened. Don’t startle her or press her to remember. Be casual. As for the swearing, aggression was a common reaction in progressive dementia. But to hear the F bomb tumble from Mum’s lips was as foreign to me as seeing her sitting in a pink toweling bathrobe at five in the afternoon.

  She’d always been glamorous, dressed to the nines with perfect make-up from the time she rose to the time she came home from whatever party she’d attended. Even as a kid, I had memories of Mum’s vivid red lipstick and strawberry-scented shampoo as she kissed me goodbye before heading to an audition, her high heels clacking on our wooden floorboards as she left me in the care of the teenager next door.

  That glamorous woman was nowhere to be seen now. Her blonde hair had faded to a washed out yellowy-grey. Her brown eyes were ringed with lines and underscored by dark circles. Her shoulders were shrunken, her back curved, her muscles flaccid from lack of use.

  My beautiful, exceptional mother was broken. An empty shell.

  And it killed me a little bit more every time I visited.

  "I’m Ashton," I said, wishing I could elaborate, wishing I could yell, ‘I’m your son. The one who wiped the vomit off your face more times than I can count. Who found you passed out on the floor and carried you to bed countless times over the years. Who would do anything to have you back.’

  But I said none of those things. Instead, I swallowed my resentment—at the lifestyle that had put her here—and forced a smile. "I see you’re a fan of crosswords."

  "Stupid bloody things." She picked up the pen she’d discarded and tapped it against the magazine. "Can you think of a five letter word
for a boy’s building toy?"

  "Block," I said, remembering the toy sets she used to buy me when she scored a role.

  I’d treasured every single one, taking my time constructing the blocks into elaborate houses or fire-stations or castles, knowing it could be a long time between jobs for Mum.

  Not that she didn’t try hard but she never quite cracked it for a starring role. She’d got by with TV commercials and bit parts in anything from soap operas to local feature films.

  Having me at forty had changed her life.

  Roles were scarce for aging actresses, especially pregnant ones. I often wondered if that had been the start of her downward spiral. If she blamed me for ruining her life.

  If she did, she never showed it. Mum adored me, loving me to the point of smothering. And even as she deteriorated, partying harder to forget the fact she wasn’t working much, I always came home to dinner on the table.

  "Thanks." She scrawled the letters into the boxes, her hand shaky. "Could you help me do the rest?"

  "Sure," I said, taking care not to startle her as I cautiously edged my chair next to hers. "I like crosswords."

  Knowing I was pushing my luck, I added, "I used to do them with my Mum."

  I waited, held my breath, hoping for some sign she knew who I was.

  "She must be a lucky lady to have a son like you," she said, her smile wobbly as she glanced at me with those blank eyes that broke my heart.

  "I’m the lucky one," I said, as I settled in to spend some time with my Mum, hoping I had the strength to do this.

  Because the way I was feeling now? As brittle as tinder-dry bark, ready to snap and fly away on the slightest breeze.

  I had to be stronger. Strong enough for the both of us.