Page 30 of Christmas with Her Millionaire Boss

“Mr. Heineman...” This time, the words came out a little stronger, whether because of unwanted memories or the Manger Baby comment, James wasn’t sure. Probably unwanted memories, considering how she started twitching the moment Kevin’s name came up.

Personally, James wanted to hate the man—Kevin—but he couldn’t. It was impossible to hate a saint. Instead he jammed his hands down deeper into his pockets.

* * *

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I promised Mr. Hammond hot chocolate, not a trip down memory lane.” Noelle did her best to smile brightly as she cut the older man off. “I need to prove to him that the drink’s worth bragging about.”

“Of course it’s worth bragging about. Two cups of Heineman’s Hot Chocolate coming right up.”

“Prepare to be blown away,” she said to James with an enthusiasm she no longer felt.

“My taste buds can hardly wait.”

“Go ahead and joke. I will be vindicated.”

Naturally, his responding smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Dragging James to the market had been a bad idea. If she hadn’t let his eyes get to her in the first place, they wouldn’t have had to stand here listening to Mr. Heineman go on and on about Kevin. Normally, the man’s effusiveness didn’t bother her; people always talked about Kevin. Their marriage. His heroism. Being Kevin Fryberg’s widow was part of who she was. This afternoon though, Mr. Heineman’s reminiscing was too much like a spotlight. It left her feeling guilty and exposed.

Oh, who was she kidding? She was feeling guilty and exposed before they ever reached Mr. Heineman’s booth.

It was all James’s fault. Him and his stupid, sad, kaleidoscope eyes. Twice now, he’d looked at her in that intense way of his, and twice she’d had to move away before her knees buckled. Twice, she’d held her breath thinking he might kiss her. Which was stupid, because if a man like James wanted to kiss a woman, he would simply go ahead and kiss her.

And, since he hadn’t kissed her, he obviously didn’t want to. A point she should feel relieved over, but she didn’t. She felt foolish. Mr. Heineman waxing on about her great love affair only made her feel worse.

James’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Seems you and your late husband made quite an impression,” he said.

“After a dozen years of buying hot chocolate, I should hope so.” Her attempt at lightness failed, so she tried again. “That’s the kind of person Kevin was. Everyone loved him. He didn’t even have to try.”

“Some people are naturally lovable,” he replied.

“Only some?” Something about his comment struck her as odd. Looking over at him, she waited for his answer only to get a shrug.

“Not everyone is on that side of the bell curve,” he said.

“Bell curve? What the heck’s that supposed to mean?”

Mr. Heineman’s arrival prevented him from answering. “Here you go. Two cups of Fryberg’s finest hot chocolate. On the house,” he added, when James reached for his wallet. “To celebrate you buying Belinda’s company.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

The old man waved off the compliment. “My pleasure. Besides, it’s the least I can do for my longest and most vocal customer. You come back later in the season, okay?” he said to Noelle.

“Don’t I always, Mr. Heineman?” There were customers waiting behind them. Leaning over the counter, she gave the chocolatier another hug and left him to his business.

“Moment of truth,” she said to James. “What do you think?”

He took a long sip.

“Well...?” She was waiting to drink herself until she heard his verdict.

James smiled. “This is good. Like truly good.”

“Told you.” Her thrill at seeing his pleasure was ridiculously out of proportion. “And here you thought I was exaggerating.”

“Yes, I did,” he replied, taking another, longer sip, “and I take every thought back. This chocolate definitely qualifies as amazing. What’s in it?”

“Beats me. Mr. Heineman won’t share the recipe with anyone. Claims he’ll take the secret to his grave.” She took a sip and let the familiar delicious thrill wash over her. “That’ll be a dark day for sure.”

James was studying the contents. “I can’t believe no one’s suggested he bottle and sell it. A drink this good, sold in stores, would make him a fortune.”

“He’s been approached. So far as I know he’s turned all the offers down. I think he feels it would lose what makes it special if you could have the drink all the time.”

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