Blurred Lines (Behind Closed Doors Book 2) by Erin Cawood

charcoaled meat is unpleasant and tainted with the bitter aftertaste of my husband comparing me to Ashleigh. Come on! How can I ever stand up to one of television’s notorious bad girls?
    “Precious?” At the sound of Wayne’s voice I brush away the dampness in my eyes. I don’t want him to know how much he’s upset me because I’m probably over reacting. “Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says, taking my shoulders in his hands and forcing me to turn around until I face him. “Isn’t it better that you hear something like that from me than read some pretentious style columnist in some fashion magazine refer to you as Krystal’s frumpy friend and so-called stylist?”
    He’s right. I’d hate that. But it doesn’t mean I have to like that he’s just called me fat, frumpy and talentless because I’m a ‘so-called stylist.’ Not a real one. Obviously.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Ten
     
    November 2006
     
    Ashleigh leans across the corner of the table and hisses into my ear, “What the hell is wrong with you?” I stop pushing the champagne cream filled profiteroles around my plate and look up. “Are you sick?”
    “I’m fine,” I tell Ashleigh.
    “What’s gotten into you?” It’s not like Ashleigh to be discreet about anything but she’s so quiet I can hardly hear her. “I’m serious, Jules, you’ve hardly eaten all night.”
    “Nothing,” I reply.
    We’re celebrating my birthday at a restaurant which Ashleigh says is LA’s best kept secret. And so far I’d have to agree, despite pushing my food around my plate most of the night. The thing is, I’ve lost my appetite since the dinner conversation traveled towards children, naturally.
    Wayne’s three brothers and their wives have four children between them and another on the way. But he’s kept his relatives in the dark as much as possible about the attack last year. So when they asked about our intended family his response was that I am always at work and too busy shopping and getting pampered to start a family. It was intended as a joke, I know it was but… it was at my expense and he’s just blamed me for our delay in producing offspring. Does he think it’s my fault we don’t have children? Maybe I’m just being too sensitive over this.
    But I'm not always at work. He won't let me be at work all the time. He hounds me until Liv tells me I'd better go home. And sometimes he drives to Ashleigh's house, where Liv and I work mainly from, and he waits for me to finish work.
    As for getting pampered, I can't believe he's still pissed Ashleigh took me to a beauty salon and spa three weeks ago for a girly pamper day. By way of an apology for something she did that caused a few arguments between Wayne and me. It’s the same place Ashleigh has been primped and polished weekly since she returned to LA and where the stylist who’s been styling her hair for twenty years is based. He’s fabulous, told me I should go blonde too, so I did. But Wayne is pissed and I don’t think he likes it.
    You know, I think Wayne's forgotten Ashleigh is also my best friend as well as my boss. Shouldn't I get time with her outside of work too?
    “I’m just watching my weight, that’s all.” I fake a smile for the benefit of the others around the table. It’s only half a lie. I’ve been on a strict calories controlled diet since March and there must be my daily calorific intake in one of these tasty little babies and after a rich mushroom soup made with mascarpone cheese and cream, and then steak with a creamy peppercorn sauce, I really don’t want to indulge in more than one of these chef’s secret recipe profiteroles, which I’m certain from the two half eaten profiterole pyramids in the center of our table is the only reason Ashleigh decided on this restaurant for my birthday. She’s eaten at least a dozen and still helping herself to more.
    “Are you serious?” She grips my thigh under the table, which forces me to look