Director Quinn stood from his side of the sofa, prepared to unquestionably do his wife’s bidding. Aidan settled deeper into the cushions and leaned his head against the wall behind him. “I’m not hungry, Mom.” Naomi Quinn angled her chin slightly down. The move shifted her eyes up a little to lend a layer of command to her I’m-a-mother-and-gave-you-an-order look. “The cafeteria is off the lobby.” “It’s after midnight, Mom. It’s closed.” Lana laced her words with an endearment she clearly hoped would be enough to halt her mother’s hovering. Her unspoken plea was no more successful at winning her way than Aidan’s would’ve been if it were his mother issuing a command. It wasn’t in their make up to not worry. “Maybe a salad or bowl of fruit.” “I’m not hungry, but if I were I’d rather a steak.” She locked her gaze with Aidan’s and in a synchronized blink they were back in her kitchen—alone—with the scent of steak broiling in the oven wafting around him.
