Allegiance(54)
Yet Melissa had been jealous last night, annoyed at how verklempt Cage had been around Robin. The woman had been amused, yes, but also jealous. Robin got the impression she’d staged all that “showering together” trash talk just to make Cage more uncomfortable and punish him for paying attention to Robin.
Still, however they started out, Robin thought Cage and his curvy companion were probably just friends now. Maybe friends who cared a lot about each other, but not in love, or love as Robin thought of it, the capital-L kind that meant forever and exclusive.
She’d never experienced it, but she knew how it should go. Racing hearts, violent passion, blinding love so fierce it was on the borderline of insanity. People who couldn’t live without each other. Consuming.
That’s how it should be, anyway. It was too late for Robin; when she’d killed a man and gone on the run, she’d ruined any hope of settling down for a lifetime with a capital-L Love, even if she’d been suited to it personalitywise.
But her parents had come close to having it. Before the whole mess with Robin and Wren and that sonofabitch husband of hers, Robin’s parents had still cuddled on the sofa and kissed in front of their eye-rolling grown children. They used stupid pet names and held hands in public. Part of Robin thought she was unsuited for that kind of relationship; another part of her was almost desperate to find it.
No way Cage and Melissa had it, which meant he was fair game. Capital-L Love might be out of Robin’s reach now, but a really consuming case of capital-L Lust would do, and she thought Cage Reynolds would be quite lusty once she knocked that stuffy Brit reserve out of him—maybe literally.
“Need any help?”
Deep in her plot to overthrow the tower of stodginess that surrounded the Vampire Reynolds, Robin startled at the voice and then the man it belonged to. She didn’t know who the hell he was, and she’d let him slip up on her like she was still a nested chick. Stupid.
“No thanks. Who are you?”
The man was medium height and almost pretty, with tousled blond hair and bright eyes the color of cobalt. He wore running pants and a T-shirt, but what gave him away was the cane. As in, he was leaning on one.
“Never mind, I know who you are. Mark Calvert, right? You got hurt at the job site.”
“Yep, that’s me.” He walked with some effort to the steps, and Robin moved over to make room for him. When he finally sat down, the pain lines on his face smoothed out. “Gonna tell me who you are?”
She stuck a hand out to shake. “Robin Ashton. I’m one of the Omega Force team members from Texas.”
He nodded. “You the Army Ranger or the shape-shifter? I heard there was one of each.” Leaning back slightly, he took in her oversized sweater and rolled-up jeans. “I’m guessing shape-shifter. You’re too short for Army. Nice fashion sense, by the way.”
“A man wearing dark-green track pants and a gray T-shirt shouldn’t be casting fashion stones.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “I’m wounded.” Then he grinned. “Seriously, I’m wounded. You’re lucky I have on pants at all. You ever tried to get dressed with a back injury?”
She laughed, then cut it off. She didn’t want to like Mark Calvert. If he’d kept his wife sufficiently occupied, she wouldn’t be hanging around being friends with Cage Reynolds.
“I met your wife last night. She’s”—annoying, suspicious, and distracting the guy I want to play with—“nice.”
“Yeah, well, we’re getting a divorce, so don’t feel you have to talk her up.” Mark fidgeted on the step. “Damn it, I can’t get comfortable.”
Robin was only half listening. She’d spotted a jagged row of scars on the inside of Mark’s left arm. “What are those from?”
Mark glanced down, then back up at her. “You don’t mind asking questions, do you?”
Robin shrugged. “I’m told I have no brain-to-mouth filter, so you’ll have to get used to it. They look like—”
“Track marks.” He held out both arms, scored with a crisscross of scars. “I was one of Aidan’s first rehab successes. Been his business manager for almost six years since he scraped me off the highway to heroin.”
Interesting. “So you were with him before he bought up Penton?”
Mark laughed. “Who do you think carried out all the transactions? Aidan and daytime business meetings? Not happening.”
“Right.” Fangaroos. They were too high-maintenance. Cage might have to be a one-night stand. Nothing wrong with that. It would be a really good night.