“Nothing’s ever been free with you.”

“We’re not talking about me. I’ll pay your legal fees, I’ll talk to Social Services, I’ll work to make the Quinns understand your needs and your rights. I want you to agree to rehab.”

“For what?”

“You drink too much.”

She sneered, deliberately gulping down more gin. “I’ve had a rough day.”

“You had drugs in your possession.”

“I said they weren’t fucking mine.”

“You’ve said that before,” Sybill said, coolly now. “You get counseling, you get therapy, you get rehab. I’ll arrange it, I’ll foot the bill. I’ll help you find a job, a place to stay.”

“As long as it’s your way.” Gloria tossed back the rest of her drink. “Therapy. You and the old man used that to solve everything.”

“Those are the conditions.”

“So you’re running the show. Jesus, order me another drink. I’ve gotta piss.” She swung her purse over her shoulder and strode past the bar.

Sybill sat back and closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to order Gloria another drink, not when her sister’s words were already beginning to slur. That would be another bitter little battle, she imagined.

The aspirin she’d taken had failed miserably. Pain was drumming at both temples in a sick and consistent rhythm. Across her forehead was a squeezing band of iron. She wanted nothing quite so much as to stretch out on a soft bed in a dark room and sink into oblivion.

He despised her now. It made her ache with regret and shame to remember the contempt she’d seen in Phillip’s eyes. Maybe she deserved it. At that moment she simply couldn’t think clearly enough to be sure. But she was sorry for it.

More than that, she was furious with herself for letting him and his opinion of her come to matter so much in such a short time. She’d known him for only a matter of days and had never, never intended to allow his emotions or hers to become entangled.

A casual physical attraction, a few mutually enjoyable hours in each other’s company. That was all it was supposed to be. How had it become more?

But she knew when he’d held her, when he’d sent her blood swimming with those long, intimate kisses, she’d wanted more. Now she, who had never considered herself particularly sexy or overly emotional, was a frustrated, pitiful wreck because one man had jiggled a lock he was no longer interested in opening.

There was nothing to be done about it, she reminded herself. Certainly, considering the circumstances, she and Phillip Quinn had never been meant to develop a personal relationship of any kind. If they managed to have one now, it would be because of the child. They would both be adult, coldly polite, and—in the end, she hoped—reasonable.

For Seth’s sake.

She opened her eyes as the waitress served her salad and hated the pity she saw on a stranger’s face.

“Can I get you anything else? More water?”