Enemy Mine (Unseen Enemy Book 3) (4 page)

“For now,” Emma piped up.

“Yes.” Jenny flushed. “For now.”

The other women looked at her, then at each other.

“What?” Jenny asked.

“Well,” Olivia said slowly. “I think it’s great what you and Chris are trying to do… but I can’t help but worry a bit. And I mean for both of you.”

“I know,” Jenny said. “It’s – it’s rough. And in a strange way, I almost feel like it’s going to be harder on him.”

Kat choked on her wine. “On
him
? Why?”

“Because he’s going to be doing things with no idea at all what my reaction’s going to be.” Jenny fidgeted with a dessert spoon. “He knows that I’m going to panic sometimes, and he’s going to have to deal with it somehow. And he’s going to think that he caused my freak-out, and he will have, but not really. I think it’ll be hard for him to see the difference: that I’ll be upset about something
he
did – but only because it reminds me of what
someone
else
did.”

The women nodded.

“And it’s weird, you know?” Jenny said. “This guy moving in with me, and he’ll be touching me, kissing me, and he’s not even my boyfriend.”

“You guys will need to talk about the lines in your relationship,” Emma said. “Especially since as things progress, you’ll start to develop feelings for each other. Romantic feelings.”

“I know.” Jenny sighed. “Zoe told me about the link between emotional and physical intimacy and closeness. She said that I’d almost definitely start to develop feelings for Chris, and he may think he has some for me.”

“OK, whoa,” Liv said. “Why will you develop
real
feelings, but he’ll
think
that he will? Why the distinction?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Jenny stood up. “More cake?”

“Hey, stop,” Kat said sharply. “Answer Liv’s question.”

“Nothing,” Jenny told them. “Just – a slip of the tongue.”

“No.” Emma’s voice was quiet. “It’s because you think that you’re unlovable. You think that it’s impossible for anyone to develop real feelings for you, because you’re not worthy of them. You think you’re broken and damaged, and you think that any sensible person would run screaming away from you.”

Jenny blinked at her.

“That’s part of what you and Chris are doing here, Jenny,” Emma said. “He’s not just retraining you to accept male touch. He’s going to show you that you’re desirable to a man. Sexy. Beautiful. Because you still don’t believe that. Do you?”

Jenny looked down. “No. Not even close.”

“Well, you’ll need to start to think of yourself as a woman that men want to touch and make love to, because I promise you that Chris sees you that way.”

“What?” Jenny stared at her and sat down again.

“Yeah.” Emma smiled. “One of the reasons he can do this is
because
he finds you attractive, right? If he found you repugnant, he’d never be able to even contemplate getting in to bed with you.”

Jenny looked horrified. “You think he finds me attractive?”

The women rolled their eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Jenny,” Liv said. “
Of course
he does. The way he looks at you, girl… he’s
always
been in to you, but he’s a gentle, careful man, and he knew not to push you. He knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“But – but… that will complicate things even more!”

“No.” Emma shook her head. “It will make it less clinical, sure, and that’s not a bad thing. I mean, one of the reasons you asked Chris to help you and not a professional sex surrogate is because you need that personal connection, that known quantity.”

“You’re safe with him, Jenny,” Kat said. “You know that, right? No matter what he may feel for you, he’ll never go faster than your pace… he’ll do what you ask, when you ask.”

“Yeah,” Jenny whispered. “I know.”

“Well, that’s a kind of love, sweetie,” Liv said. “At least a part of what it is – it’s sometimes about waiting until the other person is ready to accept that love.” She looked down. “Like what Dallas is doing right now with me. He’s waiting for me to take off my clothes and show him my scars so he can love me.”

The other women studied her. The long scar on her gorgeous face was still an angry pink, but Liv had stopped pulling her hair forward to cover it. She had shown them her chest and stomach, and they’d calmly regarded the dozens of scars there – all lengths and sizes, the raised skin red and rough – but they’d been badly shaken at the sight. They knew that Dallas would never reject her for not being the perfect supermodel any more, and Liv knew that too, mostly. She just needed some more time.

“They’re both good men, “Jenny said. “Dallas and Chris. I know he’ll wait… I know he’ll only do what I ask.”

“And you have to let him develop feelings for you,” Emma said. “Later, what you two decide to do with your feelings for each other is between you.”

“Why would we do anything?” Jenny asked, genuinely perplexed. “They wouldn’t be
real
feelings, would they? They’d just be a – a natural result of a weird set of circumstances. Right?”

Emma smiled gently. “That’s a conversation for a later time, OK? For now, just get used to having Chris living with you. Hold his hand. Let him hold you, touch your hair. One thing at a time, Jenny. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, relieved. “Baby steps.”

**

The next morning, Chris pulled up in front of Jenny’s house. He climbed out, grabbed his bags from the back seat. He straightened up, saw Mrs. Patterson in her window, avidly watching him. He waved at her, and she actually waved back this time.

Huh. Maybe she’s welcoming me to the neighborhood?

Jenny had been sitting in her living room for hours, watching for him. She had woken up at five o’clock, scared to death at the idea that in about four hours, a man was moving in to her home. A huge, strong man, a man who had been trained as a Ranger, a dangerous, violent man. A man who also just happened to be the only man in six years who didn’t terrify her.

She’d changed her mind a hundred times that morning. She thought about calling Chris, telling him thank you but let’s just forget the whole thing. Then she reminded herself that if she didn’t do this with him, then she wasn’t going to do it at all. Then she almost backed out again, before talking herself in to it again. Back and forth, for hours. But in the end, she stayed in her chair, watching out the window for him.

She studied him now as he walked up to her house, really took in the whole man. Handsome, tall, muscled. Short blond hair, gray eyes that could look as hard as steel or as soft as cotton wool. She loved the way he looked at her, she had to admit: his eyes were so gentle and warm, and she always got the feeling that Chris saw her at her best. He saw her as she could be, as she desperately wanted to be. And that was why he was here, standing on her front stoop, knocking on her door.

OK, girl. Here we go. Be brave, now.

Jenny got to her feet and took a deep breath. She opened the door wide, looked at Chris. He gazed back at her, those gray eyes calm.

“Hey, Jenny,” he said. “How you doing?”

“Good,” she said and stepped aside. “Better, now that you’re here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and he stared at her, knowing that it was a real smile. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” He stepped in, closed the door behind him. He stood there between her and the door, taking his coat off, watching her closely. She bit her lip as she realized that her escape route was blocked, and she took a few breaths.

Oh, God… I can’t get out. He’s right in my way. Fuck. OK, calm down. It’s OK
.

“You want me to move away from the door?” he asked quietly.

“N – no.” She crossed her arms, trying to contain her shaking. “No. I trust you. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Never.”

She nodded, determined to stay in place, trying to not make a mad dash for the side door.

Chris took off his boots, watching her face the whole time. She was pale and a bit unsteady on her feet, but she was still standing there. And he was still between her and escape.

He picked up his bags, took a step closer to her. She stepped back automatically, then cursed.

“I’m sorry, Chris.”

“It’s OK. One thing at a time.” He smiled. “I’ll take these to my room, yeah?”

“OK. And maybe you want some coffee and croissants?”

“Fresh-baked, I bet.”

Jenny relaxed. “Yeah. This morning. With chocolate or without.”

“Hmmm. Tough one. Maybe one of each?”

“No problem.” She moved in to the kitchen, aware of where his body was even with her back turned. She heard him cross the living room, heard him go upstairs to the bedrooms. She exhaled, hard, when she heard his footsteps overhead. It felt odd to have someone else in her space, but it felt good, too. Nice.

Chris started to unpack, relaxing in to his new space. Even the guest room smelled of cinnamon and sugar, and he realized that he was actually directly above the kitchen. He smiled, liking the idea of being right over Jenny when she was happiest and felt safest. It gave him a sense of security, knowing that he’d be able to hear her moving around down there, and that he’d know when she was cooking or baking.

He washed his hands in the attached bathroom and headed back downstairs. Jenny turned when she heard him, and they stared at each other for a few seconds, adjusting to the new reality.

Oh, my God. We live together now. Holy fuck
.

He wandered in to the kitchen, watched as she didn’t move away. “You need a hand?”

“Uh, sure. You want to take the coffee to the living room?”

“OK.” He took the cups from the island and set them on the low table, sat down on the sofa. He watched as she placed the plates of croissants next to the coffee and then joined him. She hesitated, then moved a bit closer to him, froze, moved again.

They sat and ate together, chatting. Chris watched the tension leave her beautiful face as time passed, and he wondered what they were going to do that day.

“So,” he said. “I have the day off work – are you going to the restaurant?”

“No.” She looked down. “I took the day off too. I thought I’d need a bit of time to – to get used to all of this.”

He nodded.

She took a deep breath, forced herself to meet his eyes. “Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we try – to hold hands?”

“You sure? You feel ready?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But that’s the thing: I’ll never feel ready. I have to just jump in and push all the lines and just hang on if it gets bad.”

He leaned back. “And what do I do if it gets bad? If you panic?”

“Don’t let go.”

Chris paused. “What?” He ran his huge hands through his hair. “Shouldn’t I
let
you go if you’re scared?”

“No. Hang on to me, OK? If you let me go, I’ll just run upstairs and hide in my bedroom and never come out. You need to… to keep me here. I need to face it and get through it.”

“Jenny.” He was pale. “I’m not going to hold you down if you’re panicking. I’m not going to force you to stay where you’re scared to be.”

“It won’t be like that. The best way to retrain me that men are safe is for you to comfort me and make me feel secure when I’m afraid… you need to show me that a man’s touch can soothe.” She held his eyes. “Can you do that?”

He swallowed hard and then nodded.

“OK.” She moved a bit closer. “So, let’s try.”

He placed his hand on the sofa, palm-up. She stared at it for a few seconds, imagining its heat, its strength. Her own hand made a fist, and she forced herself to open it up, to loosen her fingers.

“Jenny. Baby, give me your hand.”

“OK,” she whispered, but she still didn’t move.

Jesus Christ, Jenny. Just take the man’s hand. Children hold hands on the playground for fuck’s sake… it’s easy and simple and totally non-threatening. Just take his hand. Now
.

She reached out and gently placed her small hand in his big one, just set it down, barely touching him. She froze at the contact, made a fist again.

“Open up to me, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Just open your hand, OK? I’m not going to close mine, not going to take your hand. Just – just touch me.”

Jenny extended her fingers again, placed her palm down on his. His heat surprised her, and she felt his strength even as his hand sat immobile under hers. His hand had rough spots, from working on the bikes, she assumed, and she found that she quite liked them: they gave her something to focus on, besides her own rising panic. She took a shuddering breath, felt her heartbeat pounding out of control. Her tongue felt huge in her mouth and she couldn’t talk… but she stayed where she was.

Chris couldn’t believe that he was actually touching Jenny for the first time, after months of wanting to do exactly this. Her hand was small and soft in his, and he watched her face closely, trying to read her thoughts.

They sat like that for a minute, Jenny shaking a bit.

“You OK?” Chris asked, his voice low.

“I think so.” She moved her hand a bit on his, curled her fingers around his lower palm, resting them lightly on his wrist. She felt his pulse now, slow and steady. “Yeah. I am.”

“So,” he said. “This isn’t so bad, huh?”

Jenny looked up at him, saw the strain around his mouth. “No. Not so bad.” She hesitated. “Can you – can you close your hand on mine? Hold it properly?”

“OK.”

Slowly, Chris curled his own fingers around hers, pressed his fingertips against the back of her hand. She made a sound in her throat – a sob, a sigh – and he stopped.

“Jenny?”

“Yeah. I’m OK.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Don’t let go.”

He nodded and held on. Her breath was coming faster now and she closed her eyes, trying to slow it down. He sat and watched her, not moving even one inch. He didn’t hold on tighter, but he didn’t move away, either. He just turned to stone and waited for her to tell him what to do.

Minutes passed, and Jenny calmed. Her eyes opened and met his.

“How you doing, baby?”

“OK.” She ran her index finger over his wrist slowly. “I’m OK.”