After they ate he spent a couple of hours out in the common area, relaxing. Jarrett sometimes glanced over at the systems alcove, thinking about his new computer access. A mad fear that the computer b***h would suddenly denounce him and report how he’d spent half the night fiddling with her most intimate parts hovered around his brain. He kept it at bay and tried to concentrate on Marc, on flirting with him. Flirting didn’t come naturally to Jarrett. He’d never learned how to do it. The only flirting you did in battle was with death—and you always hoped he didn’t put out.
He was also, to be frank, not even close to being at the top of his game sexiness-wise. His hair was a mess. He wore a hospital gown that fitted like a sack, and of course, his battered and maybe disfigured legs stuck ou
