Billionaire Bosses Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

he thought the fish looked lonely. So two days later he bought another fish.

      Maybe they’d have little fish. Or one would eat the other.

      He wondered which.

      Would Neely know?

      “It’s nearly midnight!” Max, hair ruffled and wearing what looked like hastily pulled-on shorts over his cast, leaned on his crutches and scowled furiously at Seb when he opened the door. “You might work at all hours, but some of us like a little time off now and then.”

      “I’m taking time off,” Seb said gruffly, brushing past Max heading straight into the living room without waiting for an invitation. “But first I need to know where Neely is.”

      He turned and waited while Max crutched his way into the living room, sputtering and looking indignant. “What do you care where she is?”

      “I need to talk to her. And don’t ask me about what. That’s between your daughter and me!”

      Max’s brows shot up, but he didn’t answer at once, just looked Seb over sceptically.

      Seb waited. He’d wait till kingdom come if necessary.

      “She’s with your old man,” Max told him.

      It was a blow. Seb felt his teeth come together, but he forced himself to simply nod. “Her choice,” he said evenly.

      Max’s brows lifted. “One you didn’t agree with.”

      “No.” No use arguing that. “I didn’t.” He took a breath. “I’ve changed my mind.”

      Now Max’s eyes really did go wide. But before he could reply, a husky female voice spoke up. “About time.”

      Seb looked up to see Neely’s mother standing on the landing clad in what had to be Max’s bathrobe and little else. Obviously there was more going on here than simple nursing care.

      “Give him the address, Max,” she said. “He looks ghastly.”

      “Maybe she won’t want to see him,” Max said.

      “Up to her. At least he’s going after her,” Neely’s mother said pointedly. “Which is more than you ever did.”

      Max grimaced and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Well, you know how it is. Some of us take longer to wise up.” He copied an address down and handed it to Seb. “Good luck.”

      “You’ll need it,” Lara added.

      Seb had no doubt about that.

      * * *

      The cabin was in the middle of nowhere. Admittedly it was the most beautiful bit of nowhere that Neely had ever been in—a balm to the most troubled soul—and good thing because she needed all the balm she could get.

      She stopped now to stare out the window at the expanse of Lake Chelan through the trees. She drew on the view for inspiration as she tried to bring the outside in—to capture the grandeur that Sebastian did so well in his soaring spaces and expanses of glass, while at the same time trying to create the sense of safe harbor, of peaceful retreat that her own heart sought.

      Finding the balance between the two was the hardest work she’d ever done. Particularly because half the time she wasn’t even sure she should be here.

      Neely knew perfectly well that Philip had only asked her because he really wanted his son to do it. He’d been perfectly polite and welcoming when she’d shown up instead.

      He’d been a little wary of course. “Does Sebastian know you’re here?” he’d asked her the afternoon she’d come to discuss the idea.

      Neely had had to admit he didn’t. “We didn’t exactly see eye to eye on things.”

      Philip wasn’t clueless. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

      Neely rather thought that Sebastian felt Philip had never wanted anything to do with him. But she only said that she had discussed it with Max, and if Philip was interested in having her work on a design, she would be happy to do it.

      She’d brought him a portfolio of her other work, and he’d been impressed enough to agree. Over the past two and a half weeks, she had worked with him almost every day, exploring the site, listening to his ideas, creating sketches and working out plans.

      It was intense and creative and energizing—exactly the sort of time that would have gone a long way toward healing the rift between Philip and his son—if his son had deigned to come.

      She hadn’t seen Seb or heard from him since he’d stalked out of the houseboat the night of Vangie’s wedding.

      She’d waited. And waited. Had wanted to talk, to discuss, to explain. But when he hadn’t come back she realized he didn’t intend to.

      No doubt he’d simply moved back to the penthouse and taken up his old life right where he’d left off. Without her.

      Still, when she’d packed up her furniture, her books and her animals, Neely had dared to hope he would come after her.

      She knew she loved him.

      And despite his resistence, despite his reluctance to trust, she believed, deep down, that he loved her.

      She stared at the boat cruising up the lake and wondered if Philip would be here soon. He came most afternoons and they reworked the sketches she came up with the day before. He was easy to talk to, warm and engaging, yet always edgy and on the move. There wasn’t the peace in him that she saw in his son.

      Peace? In Sebastian?

      Maybe not always. But she dared to believe that he’d found a little with her.

      Would that peace have been enough? Certainly she could have stayed—could have simply shared his bed and his houseboat and taken what he thought he could give.

      And they would have had great sex and also a certain degree of contentment.

      But it wasn’t enough. Just as her mother had never been able to accept the little Max had been willing to give years ago, Neely knew she wanted more than great sex, a bit of peace and contentment with Sebastian.

      She wanted everything. She wanted the love and connection that her parents finally seemed to be finding with each other now. Max and Lara together at last. Who’d have thought it?

      It just proved, Neely supposed, that it was never too late.

      But she couldn’t imagine waiting another twenty-seven years or so for Seb. After three weeks and not a word, not a sign— nothing at all—she didn’t expect there was any point.

      She reached her toe out and nudged her sleeping dog. “You’re here for me, aren’t you?”

      Harm opened one eye and closed it again. So much for that.

      She forced her attention back to the sketch she was working on. It was for the lobby area of what would be a fifteen-room inn. “Small and intimate, yes,” Philip had said, “but with light and space. Bring the outside in.”

      He sounded just like his son.

      Neely chewed on her pencil and tried to think how to convey exactly that when Harm jumped up and went barking to the door.

      “It’s just Philip,” she said. “Don’t fuss.”

      Usually Harm didn’t. But he was barking his head off today. “Stop it, you stupid dog!” Neely got up and jerked open the door. “See! It’s just—”

      Sebastian.

      She stared. Not Philip at all. His son. Lean and dark and as serious looking as ever Neely had seen him. Every bit as gorgeous, too, in a pair of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved grey shirt.

      The Iceman? Or not?

      Harm flung himself onto Sebastian who scratched his ears and rubbed his fur