A Fine Line

by Sue Horsford

  The address he gave me was about fifteen minutes away, so I told him I’d be there in forty-five minutes, which would give me plenty of time to get ready.

  I wasn’t in the habit of spending hours titivating myself before leaving the house. I wore makeup to work and I made an effort on nights out, but I wouldn’t dream of having my eyebrows threaded or spending a week’s wages on a face cream that promised to take ten years off me. I was confident in myself and that was all that mattered. Telling myself this usually worked. After all, what the hell did it matter what anyone else thought? But something about the prospect of seeing Gabriel again made me unsure of myself.

  I stood in front of the mirror and frowned at my reflection. I was only thirty-three. I shouldn’t appear middle-aged, yet I seemed to have drifted into it effortlessly.

  I rifled through my wardrobe. Surely I could find something that would make me look good without giving Gabriel the idea that I’d made a special effort. Why was there nothing halfway decent in there? When did I become so staid? A person’s clothes were supposed to say something about them, weren’t they? If mine said anything about me, it was probably something bitchy behind my back.

  Despite last night’s storm, heat still hung listless and heavy in the air, so, in the end, I chose a simple navy and white sundress and white sandals. I put on as much makeup as I could get away with for a Sunday morning and sprayed on some Avon body spray. That would just have to do. No matter what I did, I was always going to be a frump beside Ginny anyway.

  I’d learned to live with that. After all, I’d had almost my whole life to get used to it. Family photos showed two little girls. One, a beautiful fairy child, with a sweet little heart-shaped face, wide violet-blue eyes and a shining crown of coppery hair, the other, awkward and lanky with frizzy orange hair and an anxious face. It didn’t seem to matter where in the picture Ginny was positioned. She always appeared to be the one the camera was focusing on while I skulked in the background like a ghost that had only appeared after the picture was developed. This was hardly surprising as it was usually my father behind the camera. After all, the lens only saw what he saw.

  Thinking about my father always gave me a tight feeling in my chest and I shoved these thoughts away and picked up Gabriel’s sunglasses.

  The road where Gabriel lived was a pleasant tree-lined avenue of tall Victorian houses with sprawling gardens. Number thirty-six was halfway along. A graveled drive snaked up to a front door painted a glossy racing green, and crouched in the driveway was a red Alfa Romeo Spider. It was easy to picture Gabriel behind the wheel. It suited him perfectly, sleek, sexy and powerful.

  I pushed open the gate and as I was halfway up the path, the front door opened and there he stood, barefoot in a pair of faded blue jeans with a white T-shirt.

  “Faye. Thanks so much for coming.” Then his hands were on my shoulders and his lips were brushing my cheek. His skin smelled of cedarwood soap, and his hair was still damp where it curled over his ear.

  Just like last night, all my senses sharpened around him, leaving me lightheaded. Maybe I should have brought smelling salts. Gabriel made me feel like a Victorian heroine having an attack of the vapors.

  He ushered me into a hallway with a polished wooden floor and stark white walls hung with framed black-and-white photographs.

  “Is this your work?” I asked him. I’d made up my mind to show him I could behave like a civilized human being.

  “Yes, my studio’s upstairs so my hallway’s my shopfront, so to speak. Coffee?”

  “I don’t want to keep you,” I told him as I followed him into his front room. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait,” he said. “How do you like your coffee?”

  “White, no sugar.”

  “Okay, I won’t be long, so just make yourself at home.” He smiled a warm, disarming smile, and I found myself relaxing a little.

  I gazed about the room, wondering what it would tell me about the man who lived here. Unlike the pristine whiteness of the hallway, this room was warm and vibrant with ochre-painted walls and huge comfy-looking leather sofas heaped with mismatched cushions. None of Gabriel’s photographs had made it onto these walls, but the room was full of artwork which was presumably his—oil paintings, watercolors and drawings in pencil and ink.

  In one corner stood an upright piano, and I pictured him playing in the evening, his long fingers caressing the yellowing keys. Then the picture widened and I imagined Ginny curled up on one of the leather sofas with a glass of wine in her hand. Had she spent the night here or had they gone back to her flat? I should have rung her before I left. I should have found out what had happened last night.

  At right angles to the piano was a wall that was entirely bookshelves, and curious to see what sort of books interested Gabriel, I wandered over to have a peek.

  Books on geography, history, art, philosophy, religion, music and science competed for space on the shelves and I thought of Ginny’s one bookshelf, which held a couple of celebrity biographies, a book on horoscopes and the cat book I’d bought her. She and Gabriel weren’t in the least bit suited. Then again, they were both gorgeous and no doubt the sex would be amazing, but what would be left when the initial shine wore off?

  I didn’t hear Gabriel come in with the coffee, so I jumped when he said, “One of my many vices.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The thought of sex had planted an image in my mind of Gabriel naked and horny, and I pushed it away from me before it could take root.

  “Books. I’m a bit of a hoarder, I’m afraid.” He put two mugs down on the coffee table and came to stand next to me. “They say you can tell a lot about someone by looking at their bookshelf, don’t they? I don’t know what that lot says about me.” He was standing so close to me our bare arms were almost touching, and the hairs on mine stood on end as if responding to an electric charge.

  “Well,” I said, managing somehow to keep my voice steady, “I’d say either you have a wide range of interests, or you just like people to think you have.” I winced. Was I being rude again? Why couldn’t I seem to help myself?

  Gabriel only smiled. “Come and get your coffee.”

  What would have sounded like an invitation from anyone else sounded like a command from Gabriel, and I joined him on the couch and sipped my coffee like a good girl. I kept my gaze averted from his, yet I knew he was watching me the way a hungry cat watches a mouse.

  I cast about me for something innocuous to say. “Did you do these paintings?”

  “Some of them. The drawings are all mine.”

  “Ginny went out with an artist a couple of years ago,” I said. “He was always drawing her and painting her portrait. He said she was an ideal subject.” There. That wasn’t exactly subtle, but I had to work her into the conversation somehow. I had to know what had happened last night. If she’d slept with him, I would cease to find him attractive immediately. If not…well, there was nothing wrong with a little harmless flirtation.

  Gabriel smiled politely. “She’s certainly very pretty, but I wouldn’t say she was a good subject for an artist. There’s nothing interesting about flawless beauty. Whereas you”—he paused to take a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving mine—“you’d be a much more interesting subject.”

  My cheeks grew warm. “With all my flaws, you mean?”

  Gabriel looked suddenly stern and something tightened in my groin. “Did you seriously think I was insulting you, Faye, or are you just fishing for compliments?”

  I squirmed beneath the heat of his gaze and I forced myself to smile. “Sorry, I’m a bit defensive when people compare me to Ginny.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be. All I meant was Ginny’s too smooth. She has no edges. I’d guess she’s had quite an easy life, always had her own way. You, on the other hand”—he let his gaze run over me, as if he was trying to decide what made me tick—“you’re all spiky and angular, always ready for a fight.” He stopped and rega
rded me calmly, waiting for me to digest his summing-up of my character.

  What could I say? He was right. Since Ginny had been born, I’d always had to fight for my share.

  “Well, my dad spoiled her,” I said. “He brought her up to think she was the center of the universe and she’s so sure of that, I think everyone just goes along with it.”

  “Your husband certainly does,” said Gabriel.

  Something about the way he said ‘your husband’ made me think he didn’t really like Paul all that much. So much for Paul’s attempts to get all buddy-buddy with his client. To Gabriel, Paul was just the man who was designing a house for him.

  I didn’t know why, but that gave me a grim feeling of satisfaction. Then, to my horror, my eyes filled with tears. How absurd. It must have been the thought of my father. Some wounds never heal, no matter how long you leave them.

  I tried to blink the tears away. Maybe Gabriel wouldn’t notice.

  He leaned forward and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb, such an unexpectedly tender action that for a moment I was stunned.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  At the touch of his hand on my cheek, my whole body longed to respond, and suddenly I couldn’t think straight. What the hell was going on here? How could one person evoke so many different responses in me? And why was he doing this? Was he playing a game with me? Was he even aware of the effect he was having on me? How could he not know? How could his nearness make my skin tingle and he not notice?

  This was dangerous. I should be running away from him as fast as I could. Yet, here I was, Faye, the kamikaze moth just waiting to dive headfirst into Gabriel’s flame.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I said.

  “Whatever you like.” Gabriel grinned. “As you saw from my bookshelves, I’ve a wide range of interests.” He looked suddenly serious. “Can I draw you, Faye?”

  I frowned. “Why would you want to draw me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Without waiting for an answer, he jumped up and grabbed his sketchpad and pencil. “Do you mind if I just rearrange you a little?”

  He sat so close to me our legs were touching, then he leaned forward and lifted my hair so it was swept back from my face, his fingers brushing my neck in what felt like a caress. Was it accidental or deliberate? And could he feel how I trembled at his touch?

  He sat back at the other end of the couch facing me with one leg tucked underneath him. “Turn to your left a little,” he commanded.

  I sat quietly as he worked, not daring to move, not wanting to break the intensity of this moment. Why did it feel so good to obey him? Why did it feel so right that Gabriel should be the one in control?

  The atmosphere in the room throbbed with anticipation, the silence between us broken only by the sound of pencil on paper and by the sound of my breathing, every breath a secret gasp of pleasure as his gaze set my body alight.

  Gabriel’s expression became serious as he drew, and the longer I watched him, the more I thought he was quite possibly the handsomest man I’d ever seen.

  He lifted his head just then and caught me staring at him. A hot blush stung my cheeks, but Gabriel just smiled and went back to his sketching.

  “Can I talk?” I asked him.

  “For the moment.”

  “I just want to apologize for the way I behaved last night.”

  “Did you behave badly?” He didn’t look at me, but his tone of voice made me feel like I’d been summoned before the headmaster and his lips were compressed into a firm line of concentration that made him look quite severe.

  I fidgeted in my seat. “Paul seemed to think I should apologize to you,” I said, my voice trembling. “And I think I might have been a little rude to you.”

  “I didn’t notice if you were rude to me,” he said. “I was too busy wondering what was going on between you and your husband.”

  Those words again, as if I was the one who mattered, and Paul, simply the man I was married to. I didn’t know what to say and Gabriel looked up from his drawing and grimaced.

  “I’m sorry. Now I’m being rude. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s just…” Why did I feel as if I wanted to tell Gabriel everything about my life? Why did I feel he could fix everything that was broken? “We’ve been married for ten years,” I said lightly, “so we’re bound to bicker now and then. I really am sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable. That wasn’t very hospitable.”

  “I knew there was a reason I never married,” said Gabriel.

  “You’re a confirmed bachelor, then?”

  “Never been married, engaged or even in love,” he answered, then grinned. “I’m not a womanizer. I quite like having a regular partner. But I’ve just never fancied the whole being in love thing.”

  I shook my head. “Love’s not something you choose to do. It just happens to you. It’s like a thunderbolt.”

  “Is that how it was with Paul, then?”

  I paused for the briefest of moments.

  Gabriel smiled. “Do you know what most women think when a man tells her he’s never been in love?” he asked.

  “She thinks she’s going to be the one to change him.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  I considered this. “I think we have a natural impulse to reform our men. Maybe it has something to do with the mothering instinct, you know, taking raw material and molding it into what you want it to be. And there’s all that stuff about there being someone for everyone, isn’t there? I think most women feel that a man who has never experienced love just hasn’t met the right woman yet.”

  Gabriel laughed softly. “Anyone who thinks that about me is just wasting their time.”

  “So, has there never been anyone you’ve really cared about?”

  He kept his gaze fixed on his sketchpad for a long moment. “There was one girl, Danielle. I was with her for a year.” He paused. “Exactly a year, actually. That was what broke us up.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, everything was great for a while. She was smart, funny, had a great sense of adventure. We had an amazing sex life.” He paused for a split second, as if remembering, and a sudden searing flash of jealousy shot through me. “I said I didn’t want anything serious and she said she didn’t, either. Then one night she came round with this present for me, said it was for our anniversary, said we’d been together for a year. She was a bit upset that I hadn’t remembered. So I said anniversaries didn’t mean anything if we were only having a bit of fun.”

  He glanced up and gave me a rueful smile. “And that’s when she told me things had changed for her. She had fallen in love and was really hurt when I told her I didn’t feel the same. We broke up that night.” The smile vanished and he looked down at his sketchpad again.

  I asked him, “Do you ever miss her?”

  “I missed her company at first and thought of calling her sometimes, but it always seemed kinder just to leave her alone.”

  What would Ginny think if he’d told her what he’d just told me? Knowing Ginny, she’d see him as a challenge. It would be inconceivable to her that someone might not fall in love with her. She was always the adored and never the adorer. She might find the tables turned if she tried to toy with Gabriel, though. Should I warn her off him or would that only make her want him more?

  “A penny for them.”

  “Sorry?” I said, flustered.

  “You’ve been staring at me vacantly for about a minute.”

  “Oh!” I recovered myself quickly. “I was thinking about Ginny. I always used to think she was so beautiful that she was bound to have a perfect life, but life’s not like that, is it?”

  “Physical beauty is vastly overrated,” he said. “My last girlfriend was Brazilian, really something to look at, but she had an ugly temper, and she seemed to think she was entitled to special treatment just because she happened to inherit really good genes
.”

  “What happened to her?” I asked.

  “Oh, I told her one night she was a spoiled brat and she needed to grow up.”

  “I bet that went down well.”

  Gabriel laughed. “She gave me one hell of a slap across the face.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, intrigued. I couldn’t begin to imagine what his reaction would have been.

  “I told her, if she ever raised a hand to me again, I’d take her across my knee and give her a spanking she’d never forget.” He grinned. “That was when she stormed out.”

  “I’d have slapped you again for saying that,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Really? Now why would you do that? Would it be to call my bluff?” He paused and gave me such a penetrating look I forgot to breathe. “Or because, secretly, you wanted me to spank you?”

  Breathe.

  “Neither,” I said. “I’d slap you because you’d thrown down the gauntlet.”

  “And you can’t help but pick it up, no matter what the consequences?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that. The conversation had slipped away from me and was straying into very dangerous territory.

  Gabriel saved me from answering. “I need you to stop talking now.”

  Obediently, I fell silent.

  Paul had tried to spank me once to add a little variety to our sex life, and it had just felt awkward and silly, as if we were playing a game we knew nothing about. But I had a feeling Gabriel would be an expert player. He’d know all the rules and he’d play to win.

  I pictured his strong fingers grasping my wrist and hauling me across his lap. I imagined wriggling and kicking my legs, but being powerless against his superior strength, my dress riding up in the struggle, the warmth of denim against my bare legs and Gabriel yanking my underwear down to my knees.

  “Are you all right, Faye? You’re a bit flushed.”

  I managed to nod. I didn’t dare speak. I had a feeling my voice would come out as a squeak.