Christmas With Her Millionaire Boss. Barbara Wallace
Belinda.”
“I’m merely pointing out a few of the landmarks since he’s going to be here all weekend.”
Not if he could help it, thought James.
“The man can’t remember what kind of soup they serve—I doubt he’ll remember what the place looks like.”
“There’s no need to be harsh, Noelle Fryberg.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Actually, James rather liked the harshness. Beat being treated like a patient. “Pumpkin,” he replied.
“Excuse me?” Belinda asked.
“The soup. It’s pumpkin.”
“You mean gingerbread,” Noelle replied.
“Oh. Right.” He knew it was some kind of seasonal flavor. His cheeks grew warm.
Belinda patted him on the knee. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Hammond. I’m sure you’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope so,” he heard the elf mutter.
James couldn’t have agreed with her more.
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