Enemy Mine (Unseen Enemy Book 3) (6 page)

This
is what choice with a man is all about, Jenny. Doing what feels good, when you’re ready to do it. You’ve forgotten this ability to choose; you had yours taken away, but it wasn’t taken away forever. You have it back now
.

Now she just had to decide what the hell she was going to do with it.

**

Helen Carrow glanced up as Emma entered her office. Helen blinked at the short hair – Emma had always had the thickest, most gorgeous dark curls – and then she sat back in her chair and braced herself. If Emma was here in person, it was bound to be bad news. It would also involve more work for Helen, she was sure.

Goddammit. I just can’t deal with any of this woman’s drama today.

Emma smiled at Helen, determined to be polite. The woman was a grade-A bitch almost all of the time, to almost everyone, but she was an HR wiz, and she knew the ins and outs of the healthcare system better than anyone. If Emma wanted to have a prayer of successfully navigating the bewildering world of medical insurance, she’d do well to have Helen on her side.

OK, be nice, now. Even if it kills you.

“Hi, Helen,” she said. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Emma paused.
Yeah, I’m fine too, thanks for asking
. “Have you got a moment? I’d like to ask for your help with something.”

Helen nodded stiffly. “Of course.”

Emma sat down, looked at Helen’s body language. Closed, tight. As always. She looked at the woman’s face, and she wondered how it would look if Helen produced a genuine smile, one that reached those cold blue eyes. Emma had seen Helen turn up the corners of her mouth, but she’d never seen the woman
smile
.

Emma reached in to her purse. “I got this bill from the hospital yesterday.” She handed it over to Helen. “And I was wondering if it was accurate.”

Helen glanced over the itemized list of services, her face impassive, almost disinterested. “Did you have all these procedures and treatments?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Helen set down the papers on her immaculate desk.

“I’m just wondering if any of them are covered by my insurance here at work.”

Helen raised her almost non-existent eyebrows. “Why would
we
cover them?”

That stopped Emma. “Well, when I first told Ned about being sick, he told me to take as much time as I needed, and he said I shouldn’t worry anything… that I have amazing medical insurance here.”

“Doctor Granger was correct.” Helen had worked for Ned Granger for seven years, and she had yet to call him by his first name. “You
do
have amazing insurance. If you didn’t, I can tell you that this bill would be easily double what it is.”

Emma stared at her. “But… so… this is the correct amount due?”

Helen shrugged. “I’ll call and ask for you. But I can tell you that for what you’ve received in terms of treatment, five hundred thousand dollars looks conservative to me. That tells me that a large portion of your treatment over the past eight months has indeed been covered, and this is the residual amount.”

“I see.” Emma took a deep breath. “And what about future treatment?”

“What are you still having done?”

“Chemo once a month, for sure. Oral tablets, weekly blood tests. That’s what I know about, but there may be more.”

Helen shrugged again. “Well, your chemo will be covered once every two months, as usual. Your tablets will be partially covered, but not fully. And blood tests are covered up to a certain amount. I can check what it is.”

“Thank you.” Emma forced herself to smile. “I appreciate your help, Helen.”

“It’s my job.”

“Yes, well. Thanks anyway.” Emma got to her feet and headed for the door.

“Your bill?” Helen said.

“Oh, no. That’s a copy,” Emma said. “I have the originals, if you need them.”

“This is fine.”

“OK, thanks. I’ll wait to hear from you then.”

“Uh-huh. Bye.”

Emma made her way through the office, warmly greeting her former colleagues and a few of her former patients. She desperately missed working for the mental health clinic, and she was hoping to come back to work in about six months. She and Dean had talked about her slowly taking on a few hours a week – maybe twelve – and working her way back up to a full-time schedule in about a year.

But if she was really on the hook for half-a-million dollars, with more to come, then she’d definitely have to rethink things. She may have to get back to work sooner, start earning again. She’d been living off her savings since she’d gotten too sick to work, and she was still OK. Not great, but fine. Enough for her mortgage and food, and that was the extent of her needs, really.

But fuck me. If I have to find close to a million dollars, I’d better get my ass back here
ASAP.

**

“Five hundred thousand dollars? With
more
to come?” Liv was thunderstruck. “What the hell, Em?”

“Yeah, I know, right?” Emma tried to smile, but her hands were shaky as she put her cup of tea to her lips. “Chemo and spinal taps and stem cell transplants aren’t cheap, huh?”

“And I imagine that five weeks in isolation post-transplant was expensive, right?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yeah. According to Helen Carrow, that’s what really racked up the numbers, actually. The isolation ward, the drugs afterwards, the twenty-four-hour care. But if I take in to account chemo for the next six to eight months for sure, just that alone will push me up well over seven hundred thousand. Forget about my drugs and blood tests, and anything unexpected.”

“Fuck.” Kat’s green eyes were glittering. “This is
bullshit
. You get sick through no fault of your own, and you go through hell, and now you’re going to be bankrupted?”

“Well,” Emma said. “I do have a plan.”

“What?” Liv asked. “You’d better not be going back to work, Em, I swear to God. I’ll have Dean barricade you in his house, I promise you.”

Emma smiled. “No, that’s not what I’m thinking, at all. You want to give me the number to your real estate agent, Liv?”

The women stared at her.

“You’re going to sell your apartment?” Kat said.

“It’s the best solution.” Emma tried to look positive. “I ran the numbers last night, and I figure that after I pay off the rest of the mortgage and the agent’s fees, I’ll be left with close to seven hundred thousand dollars. I may be able to start almost from zero, if I’m lucky.”

“No.” Jenny’s voice was clipped. “You’re not going to do that. I’ll give you the money before I see you homeless.”

“I’m not going to be
homeless
,” Emma said. “I can live with Dean. He’s been asking for a while, and I was thinking about it anyway.”

“Yeah?” Liv said, delighted.

“Yeah. I thought I’d rent out my own place, keep it as an investment. But if that’s not in the cards, that’s OK.”

“Oh, Emma.” Jenny sighed. “I hate this.”

“No, it’s OK. Really. I mean, if I had a choice between keeping my apartment or keeping my life, which one do you think I’d rather hang on to?”

“Yeah,” Kat said grudgingly. “But personally? I’d rather you kept both.”

Emma laughed. “I know… but that’s not how this works.”

“What does Dean say?” Liv asked.

“He’s furious. I mean, beside himself fucking
furious
, since he didn’t want me to move in like this. But he’s going to talk to Dallas about me, since the lease between them is only for one person. If Dallas says it’s OK, I guess we’ll start the selling and moving process.”

“Oh, my God.” Liv grinned. “We’ll be neighbors!”

“I know,” Emma said. “We can meet up for chats on the front porch in the morning.”

“No.” Liv shook her head. “That’s Dallas and Dean’s thing… I don’t want to interfere in that.”

“What?” Jenny asked.

“Yeah. The boys meet up most every morning for a chat over coffee. Dallas is on his porch, Dean’s on his, and they hang out in the pj’s and talk about who-knows-what.”

“That’s actually kind of cute,” Kat said.

“It is.” Emma giggled. “Some days, man, I’d love to be a fly on the wall.”

“Yeah, me too.” Liv reached for another cookie, enjoying the fact that she didn’t feel even one bit guilty about it being her fourth one. The best part of not being a model any more was actually being able to eat again, and the other women watched with approval as she took a big bite, obviously loving her newfound freedom around food.

“So – what?” Jenny said. “You’re really going to be OK with selling your home?”

Emma gazed at her friend. “I’ll make a new home, honey. One with Dean.” She took Jenny’s hand. “This doesn’t have to be a horrible thing, you know.”

“No, I guess not.” Jenny blinked away her tears. “You’re right.”

“Speaking of making a home with a man,” Kat said. “How’s it going with Chris? He’s been there for two weeks now, right?”

“Actually, not bad at all. I really like seeing him in the mornings before he goes to the gym, and I like knowing that someone’s coming home, you know?”

“And the touching?” Emma asked gently.

“Still just holding hands.” Jenny looked down. “I was thinking that I might almost be ready to try – to try him touching my face.”

“That’s very intimate, hon,” Emma said. “You sure?”

“No. But I want to give it a shot, anyway.”

“OK.” Emma nodded. “You talked to Zoe about it?”

“Yeah, yesterday.”

“So… I hope you enjoy it, Jenny.” Liv’s dark eyes were serious. “Having a man touch you gently on your face is beautiful, really moving. I hope you can experience that again.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jenny tried to look confident, but she was scared to death. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

**

Chris glanced up when he heard the front door open and then close.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”

Jenny looked over at him, amazed. “Are you –
cooking
?”

“Yeah.” He stirred the sauce. “Nothing fancy, and nothing that’ll impress you, Ms. Chef. But you’ve cooked for me since I moved in here, and all you do all day is cook for other people… I thought maybe you’d enjoy being fed, for a change.”

“Oh, Chris. That’s so great. Thank you.”

“Sure,” he said. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes, so if you want to get cleaned up and relax a bit, I can call you.”

“Perfect.”

Jenny stripped off her clothes, stretched a bit against the tightness in her shoulders. With a sigh, she stepped in to the shower and just stood there for a few minutes, letting the hot water wash away the stress and craziness of the day.

When she washed her face, she suddenly noticed her hands on her skin. She ran her fingers across her forehead, her cheekbones, her chin. She touched her lips, then moved down her throat. She tried to imagine Chris’ fingers – strong, hard – tracing this path, and she shivered.

Was that fear? Or something else?

Emma was right: there
was
something incredibly intimate about asking Chris to touch her face. She knew he’d be gentle, careful. But still – it felt like crossing a major line of some kind. It felt like she’d be lowering a major protective barrier; she knew she’d have to show trust in him that she hadn’t had in anyone for a long, long time. Maybe even before the rapes.

Jenny quickly towelled dry and put on some jeans and a loose blouse. She pulled her long hair back, and dug around until she found a nice thick pair of socks. Chris had lit the fireplace in the living room, but the wooden floors were still chilly sometimes.

Chris was just draining the pasta when she came in to the kitchen. He grinned at her.

“You look beautiful, Jenny. All pink and gold. Gorgeous.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at her, happy that she had finally accepted a compliment without protest, or looking uncomfortable.

Well, that’s a first
.
Maybe she’s starting to see herself the way that I do?

They sat at the kitchen table, eating and talking. Chris regaled her with a story about the scary biker who’d shown up that day with a bullet hole in his bike, and Jenny told him a far tamer story about dropping an entire platter of raw fish in to the batter for a wedding cake.

After, they washed the dishes, standing side-by-side at the sink, Jenny washing and Chris drying. Then they settled on to the sofa in front of the fire and Chris reached for the remote.

“What do you want to watch tonight?” he asked as he took her hand in his. “Your turn to choose.”

“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Actually… I wanted to… to try something new. For you to – to touch me. Differently.”

Chris looked up, totally alert. “OK. How?”

“My – my face.” She blushed.

Oh, my God. I’d love to touch her face… I’ve dreamed about it
.

“OK.” He took a deep breath. “Where exactly?”

“I – I don’t know.” She thought about it for a minute. “Maybe just my cheek? One cheek?”

“Alright, sweetheart.” He moved a bit closer, watching her closely. “You ready?”

She nodded, trying to remember to breathe.

Slowly, Chris reached out with his right hand and skimmed the tips of his fingers over her face. She froze, her breath catching.

He dropped his hand. “Jenny?”

“Yeah. I’m OK.”

“OK.”

He stroked her cheek again, applying a bit more pressure. She closed her eyes, trying to push down the anxiety. His fingers stilled, stayed in place. He waited. When she didn’t panic or pull away, he cupped the side of her face in his palm. He longed to run his thumb along her jaw and down her throat, but he didn’t budge. He just cradled her sweet face and hoped for the best.

Jenny opened her eyes to see him gazing at her seriously and despite her fear, she smiled.

“It’s OK, Chris.” She reached up and set her hand on top of his. “It feels good.”

“Is this enough?” he asked softly. “Or do you want me to touch the other side too?”

“No!” She recoiled at the thought of being trapped like that, of being held in place, hands gripping her face. Memory washed over her and she felt her breath coming faster, tighter.