A/N: Hi guys! I have a small new story for you...much shorter than the last. I'm currently finishing the last chapter and editing the rest so updates will take a couple of days but still be fairly regular. It's set before Fran's arrival and yeah...I hope you'll enjoy it. R&R please! :)

The Cabin

Prologue:

C.C. Babcock and Maxwell Sheffield were cooped up in the office of the mansion trying to work. Emphasis on trying as it was almost impossible to focus with temperatures around 86 or higher. A heat wave had swept across New York a week ago and had held the city in its firm grasp since then. The sun was blazing down from an almost clear sky, ricocheting off the glass surfaces of skyscrapers and persuading even the most professional business men to roll up their sleeves and abandon their ties. Maxwell Sheffield had long since joined their ranks but C.C. Babcock, his secretary, had refused to expose even an inch of skin, determined not to display any kind of inappropriate behaviour even though sweat was uncomfortably trickling down her spine.

"We could open the door again." Maxwell suggested timidly but she cut him off before he had even finished the sentence.

"No."

They had tried that technique several hours ago but his children had toddled into the room, one after the other, proving a bigger distraction than the heat. First the boy had appeared, wrapped up in his robe, shivering and red-nosed despite the temperatures.

"I don't feel well, dad." He had whined over and over again until C.C. had been about to offer putting him out of his misery herself.

Then his mother had thankfully made an appearance, scolding her husband for not notifying her sooner and ushering her son back off to bed. The silence had only lasted for another five minutes until Maggie, the oldest kid, had appeared.

"Daddy, mom says we can't go play outside coz Brighton is sick. But that's not fair! It's so stuffy in here!"

God, could these children do nothing else than complain?

"I'm sorry, darling," Maxwell had sighed, abandoning his seat for a moment to crouch down in front of his daughter "But mommy's really got her hands full looking after Brighton and Gracie. You understand, don't you?" He had smiled then but when his daughter's pout only grew bigger he'd quickly added: "Or perhaps Niles will take you once he's done with the plants."

At this, C.C.'s gaze had shifted out towards the terrace, where the Sheffield's butler was busy watering the flower pots and trimming the bushes. He, too, had rolled up his sleeves, abandoned his tie and – much to her secret delight – opened a few of the buttons on his shirt. Noticing her behaviour and her lingering gaze quickly she had firmly announced that both doors had to be closed if they were to ever get any work done.

Since the butler had left, however, she had caved and allowed Maxwell to open the balcony door again at least. But she was determined to keep the other one shut.

"Have you tried calling the company again?" she asked with a sigh when she saw Maxwell's eyes flickering longingly to the door.

"Yes, they said they'd be by to fix the aircon as soon as possible. But it could be a while…they're in high demand right now."

C.C. took in the information and nodded and then tried to focus on her work once more. With their most recent play having just started performances they hadn't found the time yet to come up with a new production for the upcoming season. So while Maxwell had decided to work through some of the notices from their current play, C.C. had made it her goal to find the perfect new script. Over the course of the past week or so she had at least narrowed the selection down to three possible options. But since then she'd failed to make any further progress. It was difficult figuring out which one was best when they were all so different and appealing in their own right. Not to mention that it was impossible to predict which genre the audience would prefer this year. She stopped reading yet again, closed her eyes for a second and moved a hand to her neck to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated there. Just then Sara barged into the room.

"I've had enough, Max." she announced and the dark-haired producer looked up immediately, somewhat frightened. "The kids are on summer vacation and all you do is work, work, work!"

"We do have a business to run," C.C. intersected and instantly earned a glare. Shrugging it off, she returned her attention to the current script.

"Maggie is going stir-crazy and Gracie isn't loving the heat either. So the minute Brighton is better we're going away."

"Where are you going?" Maxwell frowned, taking off his reading glasses.

"I don't know yet," the blonde snapped, wiping her hands on her pants "I haven't got that far. But somewhere cooler, somewhere we can finally relax and you can enjoy the vacation with your family."

"I'm coming too?" he stammered.

"Yes, of course, you are." Sara huffed impatiently "You have until the end of this week, Maxwell Sheffield. By then God willing your son will be better and I will have made arrangements."

"We can't just close business for summer, Sara." C.C. pointed out, this time a firmer note to her tone "Just because the children are home doesn't-"

"Yes, Chas, it does." The blonde interrupted her "My children come first and unless you," she directed her glance back to her husband "want to end up like your father, you are going to join us."

C.C. rolled her eyes and set aside the script, already knowing what was going to happen next. Maxwell had never been good at handling guilt. And as if on cue he mumbled "Of course I'll join you."

"That's just great," she commented dryly "so I'll be left setting up the whole next season while you're out with the family? And all of that without having earned a promotion? Must be my lucky year."

"I didn't say you weren't invited." Sara replied, shrugging.

C.C. opened her mouth to brush off the offer but suddenly couldn't quite bring herself to do so. The idea of escaping the office and the blasted heat for a week or so was definitely tempting.

"Alright, let's take some time off." She eventually conceded.

Secretly though she was already planning to stash some of the scripts and paperwork in her luggage and pondering how to sneakily share some of that workload with Maxwell.