There was something in her tone he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but Seb knew he didn’t like it. It was both doubtful and challenging.
“That’s right. He thinks you should be able to hold the fort.” Seb met her gaze with an equally challenging one of his own. “So I’m counting on you to hold it.”
Neely’s didn’t waver. “Consider it held.”
The meeting in Reno was, for all of Lymond’s hand wringing, far more of a formality than the Carmody-Blake meeting was back in Seattle.
Seb was determinedly attentive and made sure every i was dotted and every t was crossed. But in the back of his mind, he was in Seattle, mentally overseeing the meeting with Blake and Carmody and hoping to hell Neely didn’t screw everything up.
He got out of the meeting at three. His fingers itched to punch in her number on his mobile phone and see what was happening. But of course, she would be in the meeting with Carmody and Blake right then and he wouldn’t get an answer.
So he went to the airport and paced until it was time for his flight, telling himself she wouldn’t mess things up, inadvertently, or even worse, deliberately, making clear her own dislike of Seb’s designs. He didn’t think she’d do him in deliberately, but how the hell did he know?
He glanced at his watch a dozen times or more, got halfway to stabbing out her number, then tucked the phone back in his pocket and kept pacing.
Right before the plane took off, though, he called Max.
“Reno’s sorted,” he said when Max answered.
“Of course it is.” He could tell Max was smiling.
“Just thought you’d like to know.”
“Sure. I’m going home this afternoon.”
“Neely picking you up?” Seb asked, grabbing the chance to legitimately introduce her name into the conversation.
“Not sure.”
“Haven’t you heard from her?” Seb asked, not quite able to mask the worry in his tone.
“What? Oh, sure. She may be the one to do it. Said she might be busy, though.”
“Busy?”
Max laughed. “I gather she has a life.”
Seb didn’t find it funny. “What’d she say about the Blake- Carmody meeting?”
“It went fine.”
Seb ground his teeth. “What does that mean?”
“That it went fine, I guess.” Max’s tone was equable enough, but it didn’t invite any further questions.
“Fine,” Seb muttered. “I damned well hope so.”
“Chill,” Max advised.
“Right.” Seb let out a long breath. They were calling his flight. “See you.”
He tried to tell himself Max would have let him know if Neely had screwed things up for him. He tried to tell himself she’d keep her mouth shut and let him handle it when he got home. So it wasn’t a good sign to find a voice mail from Roger Carmody when he landed in Seattle.
“Smart move,” Carmody said jovially, “sending Neely. She and I have everything sorted. We’re all on the same page now. Talk to you on Monday. Thanks.”
Seb felt sick. Shafted. Was the atrium even in the design now? It was crucial to the whole design, damn it! Had his sweeping, open spaces been carved into dinky little “people-friendly” segments. Couldn’t they see how the soaring planes of the atrium spoke to the human soul?
He supposed he had only himself to blame. He should have called Carmody and put off the meeting until Monday even if it looked as if he wasn’t prepared. He should have insisted Carmody and Blake have the meeting in Max’s hospital room if they wouldn’t wait. At least Max believed in his designs.
He should have sent Danny or Frank or somebody—anybody!—but Neely Robson to meet with Carmody and Blake. God only knew what she had agreed to.
Seb was going to have her head on a plate when he found out.
He was in a cold fury by the time he reached the houseboat.
It was getting late, the sun was setting behind Queen Anne Hill. And on it streetlights were beginning to twinkle on the other side of the lake. The wind had died down and there was only a light breeze as Seb grabbed his suitcase, banged his car door shut and stalked up the dock to the houseboat.
The porch light was on, and when he opened the door, he was immediately treated to wonderful cooking smells, light classical music and Harm bounding to meet him. He dropped his suitcase, rubbed his fingers over the dog’s ears and headed straight down the hall toward the open living area.
Neely was in the kitchen. She turned when he appeared, a bright smile on her face. “You’re back.”
“I’m back,” Seb agreed flatly. He didn’t smile in return.
Her own smile faltered a little. “Didn’t it go well?”
“You tell me,” he said.
“No, I mean Reno. You seem upset.”
“Damned right I’m upset! You screwed me over. You went into that meeting and you didn’t hold the fort at all.”
Neely stiffened. “Who told you that?”
“Carmody! Who else?”
“You talked to him? What did he say?”
“He called while I was flying home. Left me a voice mail—all cheery and ‘everything’s swell.’ So he got what he wanted apparently.” Seb very nearly spat the words.
“Yes,” Neely said slowly. “He got what he wanted.” She picked up a towel and began slowly drying her hands.
Seb slammed one fist into the other palm. “I should have known better than to send you. I should have told them they had to wait and talk to me. I should have—Damn it!” He couldn’t even speak he was so furious. He wanted to slam something, hit something, kick something. The kittens took one look at him and skittered for cover.
“What is it you imagine I’ve done?” Neely asked, her voice very even, very calm.
“I can’t imagine, can I?” Seb flared at her. “I don’t know what the hell you would do! You and I don’t see eye to eye—”
“You and I are working on the same project. I was representing the whole project. Not just mine. Which, as you pointed out yesterday, has already been approved.” She set the towel down and came around the bar to stand by the dining room table, facing him.
It was set for two. With candles already lit. Wineglasses. There was a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. He stared at it, then back at her.
“What
