Behind The Boardroom Door: Savas' Defiant Mistress / Much More Than a Mistress / Innocent 'til Proven Otherwise. Michelle Celmer
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blocks from where he lived. And Vangie knew about it. They’d all know about it if he went there.
It wouldn’t be a bolt hole for long.
He’d like to stick them there, but that would never work. One room plus one bathroom and the four of them? It didn’t bear thinking about.
Maybe he could buy a futon for his office and sleep here. A few months ago Max would have applauded the idea. Now, in his new “isn’t playing hooky wonderful?” mode, he would have a fit.
But damn it, Seb wasn’t having a midlife crisis. And if he wanted to work 24-7 why shouldn’t he? At least here at the office, he could still focus.
Deliberately Seb shoved the thought away and focused once more on the Kent school designs. Almost everyone else had gone home now. It was close to six-thirty. Max had breezed out half an hour ago.
He’d stuck his head in on his way to the elevator. “Still here? It’s Friday night. No hot date?”
Seb just looked at him.
Max grinned and shook his head. “Learn from me, man. There’s more to life than work.”
Like hot dates with a woman half his age? Seb sucked in his cheeks. “I have some work to do for Reno, then I want to think a bit about the Kent project.”
Max gave him a wry look that said he recognized the guilt being offered him, but then, pure Max, he shrugged it off. “Up to you.” He started away, then returned to stick his head round the door again. “We’re going sailing on Sunday. Come along?”
Oh, yes. That was exactly how Seb wanted to spend his Sunday—watching Max make a fool of himself over Neely Robson—and watching Neely Robson gloat. Seb gritted his teeth. “Thanks, but I’m busy. My sisters are in town.”
If he was stuck with them, the least they could do was be useful.
Max nodded. “Right. You have a big family. I always forget that.”
Seb wished he could.
“Lucky you. I’m glad you’ll have some distraction,” Max said. “You won’t make the same mistake I did.”
No, he wouldn’t! There was no way on earth Seb was going to go all ga-ga over an unsuitable conniving woman. “Have fun,” Seb said drily.
Max flashed him a grin. “I intend to.”
And he sauntered away. Whistling, for God’s sake!
Seb thrust his fingers through his hair and kneaded his scalp and tried to focus again.
He tried for another half an hour after Max left. But his stomach began growling, and he needed to get something to eat. At least he didn’t have to go home for that. He could get takeaway, bring it back here, stay and work until it was time to go to bed.
Like the triplets ever went to bed.
He shoved back his chair and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair, then stepped out into the common room.
There was only one other light still on. Four doors down in Frank Rodriguez’s office. Frank, who was doing the Blake-Carmody office space, would be happily burning the midnight oil. And as he walked toward the office on his way to the elevator, he could hear Frank and Danny Chang in deep conversation.
Seb felt a prick of envy, then tamped it down. He didn’t want Frank’s job. Or Danny’s. And it wasn’t their fault he hadn’t got the job he did want.
“Can’t help you,” he heard Danny Chang say. “Wish I could.” He stepped out of Frank’s office, then paused in the doorway and turned back. “I thought you had it sold.”
“So did I,” Frank’s tone was glum. “Cath is going to freak when she finds out the deal fell through. We want this house. How the hell am I going to put the down payment on the house if I don’t have it?”
Danny shrugged. “If I hear of anyone who wants one, I’ll send ’em your way.” He turned to go, then stopped and did a double take at the sight of Seb. “Hey, wanna buy a houseboat?”
Houseboat?
Did he want to buy a…houseboat?
Any other day Seb would have laughed. Today as the words registered, he found himself saying cautiously, curiously, “What sort of houseboat? Where?”
Danny and Frank exchanged glances.
Then Frank got up from behind his desk and came to the door of his office. “Not big. You probably wouldn’t want it. Two bedrooms. One bath. Pretty small really. On the east side of Lake Union. Bought it after I’d been here a year. I love it. But Cath—we’re getting married—and Cath doesn’t. She says she’s not into Sleepless in Seattle.”
Seb had no idea what he meant. He wasn’t into chick flicks. But a houseboat… “Tell me more.”
Frank’s eyes widened in surprise. And then, apparently deciding Seb was serious, he ticked off its virtues. “It’s perfectly functional. Fifty-odd years old, but it’s been well cared for. Pretty quiet place. Right at the end of the dock. Great views, obviously. My tenant was going to buy it, but the financing fell through. I just got the call.”
“Tenant?”
Frank shrugged. “I rent out the other bedroom. Helps with the payments. But nothing’s going to help with this,” he said grimly. “We’re not going to have the money for the down payment and we’re going to lose the house.”
And tenants could be moved. “How much do you want for it?”
Frank blinked. “Seriously?”
“I’m asking, aren’t I?”
“Oh! Well, um…” Frank looked a bit dazed as he spit out a figure.
Not a bargain. But what price did you put on peace? Sanity. A lack of clutter and giggles and panty hose? Besides, he could always sell it.
Seb nodded. “I’ll write you a check.”
IT WAS perfect.
Seb could see the houseboat as he came down the hill. It sat at the end of the dock. Other houseboats were moored on either side, but his was right at the end—two stories high of weathered grey wood and very crisp white trim, it looked snug and welcoming, just as Frank had said it would be.
As it was backlit by the setting sun, Seb couldn’t see all the details. But from what he could discern, it was the bolt hole of his dreams.
He couldn’t have made a better decision, Seb thought as he parked his car, then grabbed two of the duffel bags he’d packed and headed down the dock. He felt alive somehow, energized, actually smiling in anticipation.
Sure, it was a lot of money to pay for a month’s bolt hole. But what else was he doing with his money besides footing the wedding bill for his sister, paying college tuition for all of his sundry siblings and providing tummy tucks and face-lifts for his father’s ex-wives?
Besides, Frank had assured him, a houseboat was an eminently resalable item. His urgency to sell only had to do with his impending marriage and baby. He was sure his tenant would buy it whenever Seb wanted out, presuming the financing worked out then. And if not, there would be plenty of other interested buyers.
So, when—if—Seb wanted to sell, he might even make a profit.
But it wasn’t the profit that interested him now. It was the peace and quiet. The solitude.
If he’d needed any convincing that he’d done the right thing by his impulse down payment and promise to get the financing tomorrow, walking into his penthouse tonight had done it.
The panty hose were