Christmas with Her Millionaire Boss

by Barbara Wallace

  Tucking the afghan under her arm, she headed upstairs. The claw foot tub was going to be a tight fit for his long legs, she realized. Kevin had never been one for baths, and she’d never had any trouble, but Hammond was going to have to sit with his knees bent. Folded like a card table, as Belinda might say.

  She felt another stab of guilt. Her mother-in-law would be mortified by Noelle’s behavior this morning. In Belinda’s world, everyone was welcome, no matter who they were. Hadn’t she embraced Noelle that first afternoon? The Frybergs didn’t pick fights like bratty children.

  Or encourage men with concussions to fly home.

  If he crashes, it’s on your conscience.

  He wasn’t going to crash. He wouldn’t take the risk if he didn’t feel secure in his abilities. Right?

  I don’t make a habit of staying where I’m not wanted.

  “That looks deep enough.” Hammond’s voice from behind her made her start. Looking at the water, Noelle saw the tub was three-quarters filled. Hammond’s blurry reflection shimmered beside hers in the water. Tall and icy blue next to small bright red.

  “The water?” he repeated.

  Stupid her. “Spaced out for a moment, there,” she said, reaching for the faucet handle. “I’ll let some of the water out.”

  “No need. I think I can handle it. I didn’t hit my head that hard.”

  “Right. Let me grab you a towel then and I...”

  She sucked in her breath. Hammond had unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a white T-shirt beneath. Tucked tight in his waistband, the thin cotton emphasized the muscles in a way the dress shirt couldn’t possibly. You could see the outline of his ribs. The bottom of the cage cut away to a narrow, trim waist. Above the ribs, a cluster of dark curls playing peekaboo at the V. It was to that spot that Noelle’s gaze immediately zoned. Drawn by the contrast, of course, not by any memory of her hand splayed against the firmness.

  Cheeks warming, she quickly yanked her gaze upward.

  “There’s blood on your collar,” she said. It was the first thing that sprang to mind, and she needed something to explain her sudden loss of words. “Your shirt is ruined.”

  “Looks like the drone claims another victim.” Hammond fingered the stiff corner. The red-brown stain covered most of the right side. “I’ll toss it out when I get home. Who knew something so small could cause so much damage?”

  “Consider yourself lucky it wasn’t something bigger,” Noelle replied. Her senses regained, she continued toward the linen closet. “Could have been a remote-control C-130.”

  “Or a crystal tumbler.”

  “What?”

  “They can cause a lot of damage, is all.”

  “If you say so.”

  Was this knowledge from personal experience? Considering she’d thought about tossing a thing or two in his direction, she wouldn’t be surprised. Taking a pair of towels from the cabinet, she piled them on a stool next to the tub along with a spare toothbrush.

  “If you don’t need anything else,” she said, looking in his direction. Hammond had shed his dress shirt completely, and stood in his T-shirt studying the bloodied collar. Noelle struggled not to notice the way his biceps stretched his sleeves.

  This sudden bout of awareness disturbed her. She’d never been one to check out other men. Of course, the fact that this was the first time a man had stood in her bathroom since Kevin probably heightened her sense of awareness. And while she didn’t like Hammond, he was handsome. She had been struck by how much so when she’d checked on him during the night. He had been blessed with the most beautiful mouth she’d ever seen. Perfect Cupid’s bow, full lower lip.

  “What time do you have to be at Belinda’s?”

  His question jerked her back to the present. Dear God she was having focus issues all of a sudden. “Not for a couple hours,” she replied.

  “Good. You’ll have time to drive me to the airstrip.”

  Her stomach twisted a little. “So you’re still planning to fly home today, then.”

  “What’s the matter? Worried I changed my mind between the kitchen and here?” He grinned. Something else she’d noticed this morning. His mouth was capable of an annoyingly attractive smile.

  Noelle scoffed. “Hardly. I doubt you ever change your mind.”

  “Only if I’m well and truly persuaded.”

  The intimate atmosphere made the comment sound dirtier than it was. Noelle fought to keep a flush from blossoming on her skin.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said. He’d stick to his decision, even if the idea was a bad one. Nothing she could say would change his mind.

  Oh, well. He was a grown man. If he wanted to risk his safety, it was his concern. She started to leave. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No. I won’t be long.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him start to shake his head, then close his eyes.

  He probably doesn’t think I can see him.

  Once again, Noelle’s conscience twisted her stomach.

  “You know...” she started. “Belinda isn’t going to be happy with you. She was expecting you for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “I’m sure she’ll survive.” There was an odd note to his words. Disbelief or doubt?

  I don’t make a habit of staying where I’m not wanted. His comment seemed intent on repeating itself in her brain.

  “Survive? Sure,” she replied. “That doesn’t mean she won’t be disappointed. Thanksgiving is a big deal to her. God knows she cooks enough for the entire state—and we’re talking about a woman who gave up cooking when Ned made his first million. She’ll hunt you down if you aren’t around to try her sweet potato casserole.”

  “There’s an image,” he said with a soft laugh.

  “But not far off. I’m willing to bet she was up early making something special for you.”

  “Something special?”

  “That’s the way the Frybergs do things. Seems to me the least you can do is stick around long enough to try whatever it is.”

  Noelle watched as his eyelashes swept downward and he glanced at the tile floor. He had pretty eyelashes too. When he raised his gaze, his eyes had an odd glint to them. The light looked right through her, and her argument.

  “Is this your way of asking me not to fly?”

  “I’m not asking you anything,” she immediately replied. “I’m thinking of Belinda’s feelings.”

  What was supposed to be nonchalance came out sounding way too affected, and they both knew it. Truth was, she didn’t want to deal with a guilty conscience should something happen. “Belinda likes you.”

  The corners of Hammond’s mouth twitched like they wanted to smile. “Nice to know one member of the Fryberg family likes me.”

  “Don’t get too flattered—Belinda likes everyone.” Apparently, her conscience wasn’t bothering her too much to stop being bratty.

  To her surprise, he laughed. Not a chuckle, like previously, but a bark of a laugh that seemed to burst out of him unexpectedly. “Well played, Mrs. Fryberg. Tell me, are you always so upfront with your opinions?”

  Honestly? Quite the opposite. She much preferred adaptation and assimilation to challenge. Hammond brought out an edge she hadn’t known she had. “Not always,” she replied.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment then.” He crossed his arms, causing the T-shirt to stretch tighter. “There aren’t a lot of people in this world who would say boo to me, let alone challenge me as much as you have these past twenty-four hours. It’s been very entertaining.”

  Noelle wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or feel condescended to. “I wasn’t trying to entertain you,” she said.

  “I know, which makes me appreciate it even more. You’ve got backbone.”

  So, flattered it was. “You’re complimenting m
e for being rude to you.”

  “Not rude. Honest. I like knowing where I stand with people. You may not like me, but at least you don’t pretend, which is more than I can say for a lot of people.”

  He may have meant to be complimentary, but his words struck her uncomfortably. They pressed on her shoulders along with his comment from earlier. If he was trying to prick her conscience this morning, it worked. She took a long look at him. Tall, handsome, arrogant, and yet... Maybe it was the concussion misleading her, or maybe the injury shifted a mask, but she was seeing something in his expression she hadn’t noticed before. It almost looked like...

  Vulnerability.

  The chip slipped a little off her shoulder. “I don’t dislike you,” she said, toeing the tile. “Not entirely. Like, I’d feel bad if you crashed your plane and died or something.”

  “Your kindness overwhelms.”

  “What can I say? I’m a giver.” They smiled at one another, the air between them thawing a little more. The guy wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t talking about gutting tradition.

  “Seriously,” she said, “I wouldn’t want to see anyone—you—do anything foolish.”

  “So now you’re calling me foolish, are you?”

  “I—”

  “Relax, I’m joking. I know what you were trying to say. And I thank you.”

  “For what?” She hadn’t done anything special.

  His expression softened like she had, however, and she saw the man she’d watched sleep. “Caring about my safety,” he replied. “Not many peop—That is, I appreciate it.”

  A tickle danced across the back of her neck at the gentleness in his voice. If he kept it up, they’d be friends before the bath water grew cold. “Does that mean you’ll consider staying for dinner? I wasn’t kidding about Belinda being disappointed.”

  “Well...” He ran his fingers across his mouth and along the back of his neck. “I’d hate to disappoint the woman who sold me her company. I suppose sticking around a few more hours wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Good. Belinda will be glad.”

  “No one else?”

  The cheeky question demanded a shrug in reply. “I might be a little bit relieved. Lack of blood on my hands and all. Enjoy your bath, Mr. Hammond.”

  She closed the door before he could see in her eyes that she was way more than a little relieved.

  Or that she was starting to like him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JAMES ADDED A log to the fireplace. The wood smoked and sputtered for a moment, before being hidden by the flames rising from the logs beneath. Warmth wrapped around his legs. Legs that were now clad in khakis, thanks to Noelle. She’d cajoled the Nutcracker’s concierge into opening the hotel boutique so he could buy a fresh change of clothing. The casual pants and plaid sports shirt were more stylish than he’d expected, a fact Noelle took great pleasure in mocking once he’d completed his purchase. His rescue elf had a terrifically sharp sense of humor.

  Then again, so did he. Tossing retorts back and forth in the car had him feeling as much like his old self as the bath and clean clothes.

  Behind him, cheers erupted in the downstairs family room. Someone must have made a good play. A politer man would head down and join the other guests, lest he be labeled unsociable. Since James had stopped caring what people thought of him when he hit puberty, he stayed upstairs. He was content sitting in one of a pair of wingback chairs, studying the fire.

  “People were wondering where you were.” Noelle’s heels click-clacked on the hard wooden floor until she drew up beside him. “Don’t tell me you’re not a football fan. Isn’t that against the law in New England?”

  “Only a misdemeanor,” he replied. “I’ll be down shortly. I was enjoying the fire. It’s soothing.”

  “Hmm. Soothing, huh?” Perching on the arm of a wingback chair, she looked up with a tilted glance. Before leaving the house, she’d swapped her sweatshirt for an angora sweater. The neon blue reflected in her eyes, giving them a gemlike glow. “Let me guess,” she said, “you’re not a fan of crowds either. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “I don’t dislike them,” he replied. “But you’re right, I prefer being by myself.” It was easier that way. Less picking up on the negative vibes.

  He shifted in his seat. The small space between the chairs caused their knees to knock. Laughing, they both pushed the seats back. “Let me guess,” he said, “you love crowds.”

  “I don’t love them, but they don’t bother me either. I spent most of my childhood having to share my space, so I’m used to it.”

  An interesting choice of words. “You came from a big family then?”

  “Not really.”

  Then with whom was she sharing space?

  “Did you get enough to eat? There’s more corn bread casserole if you’d like some.”

  “Dear God no,” he replied. “Four servings is enough, thank you.” Why such an abrupt change of subject? He was under the impression she was all about family. “I can’t believe I ate as much as I did.”

  “That’s what you get for sitting next to Belinda and her ever-moving serving spoon.”

  “Plus almost two days without eating.” He literally had been the starving man at the buffet. The perfect match for Belinda’s serving spoon.

  Noelle wasn’t joking when she said her mother-in-law cooked up a storm for the holiday. The woman must have served three times as much as the guests could eat. Granted, the turkey and side dishes were nothing like the five-star fare the family chef set out—on those rare occasions he and Jackson celebrated together—but James had enjoyed eating them ten times more. The food today came with wine and laughter and conversation. Real conversation. The kind where people debated, then joked the tension away. No stilted dialogues or pretend interest in each other’s lives.

  And not a single tumbler hurled across the room.

  Funny how that memory had reappeared today, after twenty years of staying buried. Especially since it happened on Christmas Eve. Thanksgiving had been a Tiffany candlestick. Or had that been the dinner plate? The flying objects blended together after a while.

  “You’re frowning,” Noelle said. “Is your head okay?”

  “My head’s fine.” A faint headache at the base of his neck was all. The bulk of his dizziness had ebbed, as well. Unless he whipped his head around quickly or hung upside down, he wouldn’t have a problem.

  “Guess that means you’ll be able to fly home without a problem.”

  “Don’t see why not,” he replied. His original reason still stood. So long as he could control when and where he stayed, he would. “No sense overstaying my welcome, right?”

  “Definitely not,” Noelle replied. “Is it a long flight?”

  “A few hours. One of the benefits of being the pilot, you save all that time waiting at the airport.”

  “No security pat down either. Is that why you fly? So you can avoid lines at the airport?” While she was talking, she slid backward off her perch and into the chair. The move left her sitting sideways with her calves balanced on the arm. “Wow, you really do hate people, don’t you?”

  Her smirk told him she was teasing. “Very funny,” James replied. “I fly because it’s more efficient. I don’t like wasting time.”

  “Really? Who would have guessed?”

  This time he smirked. Her sitting in such a cozy, casual position had made his muscles relax, as well. He was at ease, he realized. An unusual experience outside the cockpit. The sky was the one place he felt truly at home. He would never tell that to anyone though. At thirty-nine-thousand feet, the sound of the engine roaring in your ears drowned out your thoughts. There was nothing to prove, nothing to forget.

  “I was studying Belinda’s mantel.” He nodded toward the fireplace, and the collection of photograp
hs and knickknacks that lined the thick pine. Diverting the attention away from himself once more. “Couldn’t help noticing you and she have a lot of the same pictures.”

  “No big surprise, considering I married into her family.”

  Family was definitely the theme. The largest photograph was a portrait of a man in a military uniform smiling from the passenger seat of a truck. Pushing himself to his feet, James walked over to take a closer look. A copy of the photo was on Noelle’s mantel, as well. “Kevin?” he asked. He already knew the answer. Who else could it be?

  “He emailed the photo from Afghanistan a few months before the accident.”

  His jeep flipped over. James remembered from researching the sale. He’d been surprised to hear the Fryberg’s heir had been in the military.

  “He looks like he enjoyed being in the army.”

  “Guard,” she corrected. “Signed up our senior year of high school.” James heard a soft rustling noise, which he realized was Noelle shifting in her chair. A moment later, her heels tapped on the wood floor again. “He was so excited when his unit finally deployed. All he ever talked about was getting overseas. Ned and Belinda were crushed when they learned he’d been killed.”

  Was it his imagination or did all her answers go back to Ned and Belinda? “Must have been hard on you too.”

  “I was his wife. That goes without saying.”

  He supposed it did. It was odd is all, that she focused on her in-laws’ grief instead of her own.

  Then again, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was how real families behaved.

  The picture on the left of Kevin was from their wedding. The Fryberg quartet formally posed under a floral arbor. It too had a duplicate at Noelle’s house. “How old were you when you got married anyway?” She looked about ten, the voluminous skirt of her wedding dress ready to swallow her.

  “Twenty-one. Right after graduation. We were already living together, and since we knew Kevin was scheduled to leave after the first of the year...” She left the sentence hanging with a shrug.

  No need to say more. “You didn’t have a lot of time together.”