“Watch this reliever kick this guy’s sorry ass.” Seth kept his voice down, but it rang with glee. He didn’t even flinch when Cam slapped him on the head with his own ball cap. “Oh, yeah! Struck him out!” He leaped up, did a victory boogie. “We are number one. Man, I’m starving.” He raced off to the kitchen and soon could be heard begging for food.

“Winning ball games works up an appetite,” Phillip decided, absently kissing Sybill’s hand. “How’s she doing in there?”

“She appeared to be on top of things.”

“Let’s go see if she made antipasto.”

He pulled her into the kitchen, and within moments it was crowded with people. Aubrey rested her head on Ethan’s shoulder and blinked like an owl. Seth stuffed his mouth with tidbits from an elaborate tray and did a play-by-play of the game.

Everyone seemed to be moving, talking, eating at the same time, Sybill thought. Phillip put another glass of wine in her hand before he was drafted to deal with the bread. Because she felt slightly less confused by him than by the others, Sybill stuck to his side as chaos reigned.

He cut thick slices of Italian bread, then doctored them with butter and garlic.

“Is it always like this?” she murmured to him.

“No.” He picked up his own glass of wine, touched it lightly to hers. “Sometimes it’s really loud and disorganized.”

BY THE TIME he drove her back to her hotel, Sybill’s head was ringing. There was so much to process. Sights, sounds, personalities, impressions. She had survived complex state dinners with less confusion than a Sunday dinner with the Quinns.

She needed time, she decided, to analyze. Once she was able to write down her thoughts, her observations, she would align them, dissect them, and begin to draw her initial conclusions.

“Tired?”

She sighed once. “A little. It was quite a day. A fascinating one.” Blew out a breath. “And a fattening one. I’m definitely going to make use of the hotel’s health club in the morning. I enjoyed myself,” she added as he parked near the lobby entrance. “Very much.”

“Good. Then you’ll be willing to do it again.” He climbed out, skirted the hood, then took her hand as she stepped onto the curb.

“There’s no need for you to take me up. I know the way.”

“I’ll take you up anyway.”

“I’m not going to ask you to come in.”

“I’m still going to walk you to your door, Sybill.”

She let it go, crossing with him to the elevators, stepping inside with him when the doors opened. “So, you’ll drive to Baltimore in the morning?” She pushed the button for her floor.

“Tonight. When things are fairly settled here, I drive back Sunday nights. There’s rarely any traffic, and I can get an earlier start on Mondays.”

“It can’t be easy for you, the commute, the demands on your time, and the tug-of-war of responsibilities.”

“A lot of things aren’t easy. But they’re worth working for.” He caressed her hair. “I don’t mind putting time and effort into something I enjoy.”