Behind The Boardroom Door: Savas' Defiant Mistress / Much More Than a Mistress / Innocent 'til Proven Otherwise. Michelle Celmer

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      “Dear God.”

      “At last count.”

      “What!”

      “My old man has a habit of getting married and having kids,” Sebastian said grimly. “It’s what he does.”

      “I see.” She didn’t, and she suspected Sebastian knew that. The whole notion of ten kids in a family astonished her. And then there was the “my old man has a habit of getting married…” part.

      Did his “old man” have a habit of getting divorced as well?

      Was that what was behind Sebastian’s complete cynicism toward marriage? She could understand that. But somehow, even though he’d brought it up, she couldn’t see herself asking him.

      Still, that alongside the nine brothers and sisters would go a long way toward explaining Sebastian’s standoffishness. When you were one of ten, you probably needed to draw pretty definite boundaries. But from where she stood, as an only child, there was a definite appeal to the sound of all those siblings.

      “You’re so lucky,” she told him.

      “Lucky? I don’t think so.”

      “I would have given anything for a sibling or two.”

      “A sibling or two wouldn’t necessarily have been bad,” he said heavily. “It’s nine of them that gets old.”

      “I suppose.” But she wasn’t sure. She thought it sounded like far more fun than being dragged around from commune to commune after her mother.

      “It’s why I bought the houseboat,” he told her. “They were moving in on me.”

      That was why? She sat up straight on the sofa. “All of them?”

      “Four of them. Four too many.” She could hear the edginess in his voice.

      “Just until the wedding?”

      “God, I hope so. In fact, no question. After that, they’re gone.” There was certainly no doubt in his mind about that.

      “So, when they’re gone, will you sell to me?”

      He laughed. “My God, you’re persistent.”

      “When I want something, yes. Will you?”

      “Like I said, Robson. Make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

      “And what would that be?”

      “You’re a smart cookie. Max is always saying so. Figure it out.”

      The sight of the houseboat at the end of the dock made Seb smile.

      He was always happy to get home. Like he’d told Neely on Wednesday, he didn’t like being on the road. He didn’t mind working all hours, but at the end of the day he liked his own place, his own space. Solitude. Peace and quiet. There had always been a sense of calm when he walked through his front door.

      But there had never been a sense of anticipation before.

      His heart had never kicked up a notch. On the contrary, it usually settled and slowed. But today, all day long while he was still in Reno going over the building specs with the contractors, in the back of his mind Seb was already on his way home.

      Ordinarily he would have stopped and picked up some takeaway for dinner. But tonight he didn’t. He thought he’d wait and see if Robson was hungry. If so, they could get something together.

      It wasn’t a date.

      It was just a courtesy. They were sharing living space for a while. So, the way he saw it, they could share a meal.

      Besides, he owed her. She’d called him about the leak. She’d arranged for the repair. She had been the one who’d had to come home and let the repairman in.

      So he would buy her a meal. It was the least he could do. Simple.

      But when he opened the door, she wasn’t there.

      “Robson?”

      Silence. Except for the dog. He was there, stretching and yawning and thumping his tail madly as Seb came in and dumped his suitcase on the floor and briefcase on the table.

      The kittens were there, too, purring and meowing, noticeably bigger and even friskier than they had been on Monday. They attacked his briefcase and his shoelaces with equal enthusiasm. One scaled his trouser leg, putting tiny claw holes in the fine summer wool.

      “Hey, there!” Seb lifted it off and cradled it in his hands. “Robson? You here?”

      The guinea pig whistled. The rabbit didn’t even look up from crunching on its dinner. No noticeable change in them and, thank God, no more of them, either.

      And no Neely anywhere.

      He felt oddly deflated. Of course he had no right to expect her to be there. They hadn’t discussed dinner. It would have seemed like a date if they’d discussed it.

      Well, it wasn’t a date, that was certain. It wasn’t anything because she wasn’t here.

      It was only seven, though. Maybe she’d worked late. God knew he did often enough. So he took a shower and changed clothes and came back downstairs hungrier than ever.

      Still no Neely.

      There was however a blinking light on the desk phone. It wasn’t his phone. But he wasn’t sure it was Robson’s either. If someone had left a message for Frank, he’d have to pass it on. Seb punched the message light.

      “Neel’.” It was Max’s voice. “Couldn’t reach you on your mobile. Left you a message, but thought I’d try you at your place. I’m running late. Just go on in. I’ll be there.”

       Go on in?

      Go on in where? His brain couldn’t help asking the question even though, in his gut, he already knew the answer. But before he could follow the thought any further, his own mobile phone rang.

      He answered without even glancing at the ID. “Savas.”

      “Oh, good. You’re there!” Vangie’s voice trilled in his ear. “Are you home? In Seattle, I mean?”

      Seb slumped on the sofa. A kitten launched itself and landed in his lap. He winced. “Yeah. Just got back.”

      “Great! We thought you’d like to come have dinner with us.” She was all bubbly and bright and eager. Seb could hear lots more bubbly bright female voices in the background. “See the progress we’ve made for the wedding!” Vangie went on. “Want to?”

      No, actually he didn’t. Dealing with five of his sisters was very close to the last thing Seb wanted to do tonight.

      But he said, “I’ll be there.”

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