Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement (11 page)

Loungers, deck chairs, and tables cluttered the patio, and a huge pitcher of iced tea rested on a long bar. Rainer took three glasses from a stack by the pitcher and filled them to the brim.

“Mint?” he asked Jordan. At her nod, he added a sprig and handed her the glass. “Don’t let all the people overwhelm you. You’ll get used to it in time,” he said, accurately reading her dazed expression.

He sat beside her and took precisely one swallow of his drink before finding himself knee-deep in kids. “Come and play!” they urged, his laughing resistance ignored. They yanked on his arms until he gave Jordan a helpless shrug as though to say, “What can I do?” and leapt to his feet. He sprinted easily across the lawn, a pack of screeching youngsters giving chase.

Jordan watched from her lounger in fascination, impressed with his natural affinity with children, as well as the way his large body moved with grace and power. The breeze carried his deep laughter across the lawn, and she experienced a stab of envy, wishing she could be part of such a huge, loving group.

“I gather you don’t have a big family,” Sonja commented.

“Is it so obvious?” Jordan gave a rueful laugh. “Or did Rainer tell you about my background?”

“My son’s been remarkably closemouthed about you. Your expression gave you away.” She inclined her head toward Rainer. “He has a boyish quality about him that’s very appealing, don’t you think?”

Rainer, boyish? Jordan strove to offer an honest, though tactful response. She couldn’t think of one. “No.” She sighed. Perhaps Sonja appreciated honesty.

Apparently she did because she laughed in genuine amusement. “So. You’ve run up against the Thorsen wall. All the men in the family have it.”

“Wall?”

Sonja nodded. “That’s what I call their stubborn streak. You can’t get over it, under or around it. It’s impregnable. Or so they think.” She gave a wide mischievous smile. “Would you like to hear how I get through?”

A memory teased her and she suddenly remembered Rainer’s laughing remark when she’d bounced off him at the wholesale market. “Wait. You . . . find a door.”

Sonja stared at her in amazement. “He told you this?”

“One time, as a joke. I bumped into him and that’s what he said.”

“It’s a family expression,” the older woman explained. “I use it when the men get too hardheaded.”

“When do we get too hardheaded?” a deep voice asked from behind them.

“You, all the time,” Sonja scoffed. “Jordan, this mountain of a man is my oldest, Thor.”

“Ms. Roberts,” he said. He offered his hand the same way Rainer had at the end of their first meeting.

She took his hand in a brief shake. So this was Andrea’s thunder god. She’d have to readjust her preconceived image of a fierce ruddy giant.

Instead of being the bright red of legend, his hair gleamed tawny as a lion’s pelt, a hint of auburn burnishing it. Rainer and his brother shared certain features, mainly the determined chin and high strong cheekbones, but Thor’s expression remained stern and closed, revealing none of the zest and humor that made Rainer so attractive.

“I’ll relinquish you into Thor’s capable hands,” Sonja said unexpectedly. “As much as I love lazing around in the sun, dinner preparations come first.”

Leave her all alone with this man? Forget it! Jordan knew a threat when she saw one. And Thor was a major threat. “I’d love to help,” Jordan offered quickly. “What can—”

“No, no. I have more than enough women in my kitchen. Let Thor entertain you.” Sonja slanted her son a teasing grin. “See if you can get him to smile.”

Thor waited until his mother left to turn in his chair and scrutinize Jordan. She returned look for look, finding the intense blue color of his eyes far less appealing than Rainer’s lighter, brighter shade.

“My brother is right. He has found himself a Valkyrie.” She didn’t respond, and his scrutiny sharpened. “You prefer we skip the small talk? I agree. Let’s cut to the bottom line.”

She tensed, remembering Andrea’s warnings about the Thorsens in general, and this man in particular. “Which is?”

“Which is the need to come to terms about Cornucopia.”

Jordan leaned forward, determined to play the aggressor. “Am I supposed to simply agree to whatever terms you choose to offer, take your money, and walk away from three generations’ worth of work?” she asked. “Is that what you would do?”

“No,” he admitted. “But you’re not me.”

“You’re right.” She glared at him. “What I am is a single woman, dependent on my family’s business for survival. A survival you and Rainer threaten.” Before he could respond, she added, “I know. I know. You two don’t make threats. I’ve already heard that line. It loses its effectiveness with repetition.”

“It shouldn’t.” The very mildness of his response made it more alarming. “You seem to have a misconception about this whole situation. You act as though we’re doing something unscrupulous or underhanded, that we’ve wronged some innocent victim.”

“And you haven’t?”

“Not at all. Do you really believe we need Cornucopia?”

She stared at him in confusion. “You don’t?”

He shook his head, a small smile of amusement playing about his broad mouth. “Not at all. We’re offering you a very generous price for a store that will cease to exist within a year or two.”

She couldn’t believe it. “You’re going to buy Cornucopia to close it?”

“If we bought your store, it would become another Thorsen market. But if you refuse to sell, we’ll open markets all around you, and before long Cornucopia will be cut down to nothing.”

“Why?” She could barely get the word around the frozen muscles of her jaw.

He inclined his head. “A fair question. Right now your store has a lock on the north end. We need to smash that lock, one way or another.” His smile didn’t reach the wintry blue of his eyes. “Take the money, Ms. Roberts. I’d rather be kind than cruel. But make no mistake, we intend to break your hold no matter what.”

He’d repeated Andrea’s words, almost verbatim. It would seem her friend knew this man all too well. Jordan turned her head, her gaze settling almost instinctively on Rainer. He and the kids had progressed to a rough-and-tumble game of football. Part of her longed to leap to her feet and scream for him.

Once again, she realized these were serious men. They meant business. This wasn’t a game to them.

As though sensing her agitation, Rainer rose from beneath the pile of youthful bodies covering him and stared across at her. He stooped down and said something to the children, then loped toward her. She noticed again his easy grace, admiring despite herself, his rugged build. His hair was damp with sweat, his chest rising and falling with his quickened breath. He stepped onto the patio and she smelled the sweet scent of grass clinging to him.

He glanced at her for a brief moment, a question in his gaze, before turning to greet Thor. “I didn’t see you arrive. Been here long?” He reached for his glass of tea, draining the icy beverage in one swallow.

“Long enough.”

Rainer returned the glass to the table and lowered himself onto the edge of Jordan’s lounger closest to his brother. For an insane moment, she had the impression he sat there to protect her, putting himself between her and danger.

“I wanted to be here when you met Jordan.” Beneath his surface congeniality, Rainer’s voice held anger. At his brother?

Thor shrugged. “You didn’t miss much. I gave Jordan certain truths. Perhaps any further discussions should be with her uncle, since he owns Cornucopia.”

“Back off, big brother.” Real menace rippled through Rainer’s voice. “You’re overstepping your boundaries.”

Suddenly Jordan was sick of the whole situation. She’d had it with these Thorsen men and their not-so-subtle threats and their bickering and their . . . kisses? Was she tired of dealing with those, too? She’d have to be. She could live without Rainer’s magic touch. Sure, it felt wonderful, incredible even. Sure, she felt as if she’d been to heaven and back, and every nerve in her body shrieked for more. But she could live without heaven, couldn’t she?

“I’d like to leave,” she announced, jumping to her feet. If she hung around heaven too long, she might be tempted to stay.

After one swift, searching look, Rainer stood, not attempting to dissuade her. He spoke privately with Thor for a minute, and then took her arm and led her through the house. “We’ll say goodbye to my mother before we leave.”

“Of course.” She even managed to sound sincere when she made her excuses. She could handle this, she decided miserably. Living without heaven would be a snap.

Sure it would.

Rainer waited until they were in the car before starting his questions. “What did he say to you? Why are you running scared?”

“I’m not scared!” She turned her head away. “And Thor didn’t say anything you haven’t. At least, not much more.”

“What else, Jordan?”

Not Valkyrie anymore, she noticed, with an unwanted rush of regret. Did she act as beaten as she felt? She sighed. “He explained why we can’t win.” She turned and met his compassionate gaze. “Don’t get too excited. I’m not convinced. Yet.”

If he noticed how much she betrayed with her final qualifying word, he didn’t show it. His eyes gleamed with gentle mockery. “You’d disappoint me if you were.”

She lifted her chin in a gesture of defiance. “You don’t see any white flags flying, do you?”

He chuckled and started the engine. “Not a one.” He backed out of the driveway and headed away from Magnolia. They drove in silence, though not an uncomfortable one. Within minutes they were approaching Cornucopia. “Where should I drop you off?”

“Home. It’s the house behind the store.” She’d check Cornucopia later. She needed time alone. Time to think.

He stopped in front of the house and a huge marmalade tomcat jumped onto the hood of the car. Rainer’s eyebrows shot upward. “What is that?” he demanded.

“That’s Scratch. He’s part cat, part mountain lion, and owns this part of town.”

“I guess.” He dismissed the cat and turned to study her, concern reflected in his voice. “You look so . . . defeated.”

“What do you want?” she asked. “A fight? Fine. Put ’em up. We’ll duke it out.”

“Tempting, but I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Then what?” she demanded, shaken.

“You already know. I’m after Cornucopia. Nothing will alter that. Even so, I’d rather not destroy you in the process. Change is inevitable. How you adapt to change is up to you.”

“In other words, adapt or die? Never,” she declared. A rush of fierce anger rose within her, jerking her from her lethargy. “I won’t give in.”

He reached for her, ignoring her attempts to evade his touch, and captured her chin in his hand. “I didn’t bring you along today to fight.” A tiny grin softened his mouth. “And though I enjoy our little battles, they aren’t meant to wound. Don’t keep battering yourself against me. I make a rough barrier. You’ll hurt yourself.”

She believed him. Like a human wall, everywhere she turned stood Rainer, cutting her off, wearing her down, straining her to the limits both emotionally and physically. She’d almost run out of angles. The threat to Cornucopia, a threat she’d once thought ridiculous, grew slowly, inevitably, more and more real.

His hand shifted from her chin to cup the side of her face. “Relax,” he urged. “Enjoy today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

She shook her head, unable to dislodge his hand. “If I don’t think of tomorrow, who will?”

Something flared deep in his eyes, the turbulent blue darkening. “I will.”

He eased her closer to him, a strange tension visible in the set of his jaw. His fingers slipped deep into her hair, tangling in the thick, dark curls. He placed his free hand on her waist, his palm warm and heavy through her cotton shirt.

“If you’d let me,” he murmured, “I’d take care of today and tomorrow and all the days after that.” His mouth caressed the corner of hers, tasting, nipping, inching along, until he finally staked full claim.

Jordan sighed, her lips parting, savoring the faint taste of mint tea on his breath. She slid her hands across his chest and then around his back. His grip on her waist shifted, his hands straying toward her hips.

The magic of his touch began again, first on her back, tripping along her spine, then to her side and along her abdomen. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her skin quivered beneath his fingers, and she clutched his shoulders, struggling for control.

“Jordan,” he groaned into her mouth. “This is how we should always wage war. Here we both win.”

She didn’t want to hear his words, didn’t want to think. She knew what he was—a warrior, his battles fought long and hard and relentlessly.

Even as the thought passed through her head, she could feel herself giving ground, surrendering to him. She reveled in his strength and skill, exhilarating in the knowledge she could arouse him as thoroughly as he could her. It would seem she, too, had weapons.

I always win!
His words returned to taunt her. But he wasn’t the only winner in this contest.

Unless he gained Cornucopia.

The thought intruded on her euphoria. She remembered what had happened with the bananas. He hadn’t lost that confrontation, because bananas weren’t his ultimate objective. Cornucopia was. And now? Could his ultimate objective still be Cornucopia?

With a soft moan, she ended the kiss, turning her head before he could find her mouth again. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t even breathe properly. Nothing worked the way it should. Not her brain, not her nervous system . . . not her heart.

He frowned. “What’s wrong? Look at me, Jordan. Talk to me.”

“You know what’s wrong,” she whispered. “It’s not bananas you want this time, either. Is it?”

He laughed, frustration edging the sound. “You’re speaking Cletus-ese. Speak English.”

She stared at him, feeling hauntingly alone. “Which do you want? Me or Cornucopia?”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Both.”

“How do I know that? How do I know once you have Cornucopia, you won’t . . .” She couldn’t say the words.

“Drop you like a hot potato?”

“Don’t be flip!”

He sighed. “You don’t know. You’ll have to trust me.”