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playing along with his charade. “You need more than half a roast beef sandwich if you want to fight off the flu. I’l bring you a plate.” She did just that, her frown deepening as Wal ace coughed and rubbed his throat before sinking down heavily onto the sofa. “Maybe you should go home to bed.”
    “Nonsense.” He waved away her suggestion, putting the bottle of beer to his lips and taking a healthy swal ow. “The game wil take my mind off the annoyance of catching a cold. Besides, the aspirin Rosalyn gave me before she left are starting to kick in.”
    “Left?” Sloane’s brows rose in supposed surprise. “Where did she go? I wanted to check on her.”
    “She’s at a publishing dinner,” Matthew supplied. “You tried to talk her out of going, remember?”
    “I remember. I thought I’d won that argument.”
    “You know your mother better than that. She was getting cabin fever.” A pointed glance, reminding Sloane not to refer to the security guard she’d hired—or anything else that might clue his friends in to figuring out she was in the loop. “Her doctor gave her the green light, if that makes you feel better.”
    “Okay, you got me.” Sloane had planned this from the start. It was why she’d come at the tail end of their game, rather than earlier. She could accomplish everything she needed to, then take off. “Mom told me she was going to that dinner. She also told me you’d have plenty of company, since the poker game was here tonight. And, since I’d cleared my work schedule to play Mother Hen, and since Mom wasn’t going to be here to put up with it, I couldn’t resist dropping by to play a few hands—just like old times.”
    “You mean trying to clean us out—just like old times,” Phil amended.
    Sloane grinned. “Wel , something has to pay for redecorating and accessorizing the cottage. And, by the way, not trying—succeeding in cleaning you out.”
    “Back then, we let you cheat,” Ben informed her. “Not anymore. Not since you grew up and started using the strategies we taught you against us. Now it’s every man—and woman—for himself.”
    “Sounds fair.” Sloane nodded, already walking toward the kitchen. “Finish your hand. I’l grab more beers from the fridge. And then, with al due respect, you can kiss your money good-bye.”

    An hour later, the group disbanded.
    The men yanked on their jackets and left, looking far more on edge about Sloane standing in the living room waiting for Matthew than they did about the cash they’d lost to her at the poker table.
    “Aren’t you heading home, too?” Phil turned in the doorway to ask, striving for nonchalance and failing. “It’s late. And it’s a long drive to that rural part of New Jersey you live in.”
    “Not to worry.” Sloane strove for nonchalance, too. “I’m staying at Derek’s apartment in the city tonight.” A quick glance at her watch. “Actual y, I promised to meet him for a drink in a half hour—a drink I also promised to pay for, since I knew I’d win.” She gave Phil an easy smile. “I just need to talk to my father for a minute. He’s the only one who’l tel me how my mother really feels. She tel s me only what she wants me to hear.”
    “I understand.” The way Phil’s features relaxed told Sloane he believed her. “Then I’l let you two talk. And don’t be a stranger.”
    “Yeah, but don’t join the game either,” Leo chimed in as he fol owed Phil out the door. “I’ve got a mortgage to pay.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I expect to hear from you.
    Between Wal ace and me, we’l make a cozy home for you and your guy.”
    “I’m counting on it. Thank you both. Oh, and Wal ace”—Sloane stepped into the hal to speak to him—“I assume you’re not driving out to the Hamptons tonight. Not with that flu coming on.”
    “No,” he replied. “I’m staying at my place in the city.” A tight smile. “I always do after our poker games—and the inferior alcohol that