Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement (33 page)

“Behave, as in stay away from Joe?”

He grinned. “It’s a start.” He dropped another kiss on her parted lips. “Andrea Thorsen. I like the sound of that.”

She raised a hand to her mouth. The frightening part was, she liked the sound of it, 
too.

A
ndrea stood by the window of her temporary bedroom at the Thorsens’ and watched the first hint of dawn lighten the August sky. Deep indigo and purple streaks tinted the calm waters of Puget Sound and crept toward the upper peaks of the Olympic Mountains. Her wedding day promised to be fair and clear, which considering Seattle’s unpredictable weather patterns, came as a huge relief.

A light tap sounded at the door, and Jordan poked her head into the bedroom. “I thought I heard you stirring in here,” she whispered, nudging open the door. Silverware rattled on the covered tray she carried. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Andrea hurried over and took the tray, placing it on a small trivet table by the window. “Not a wink. If this is coffee, I’ll be your best friend for life.”

“Big deal. I already am your best friend for life.” Seeing Andrea’s disappointed expression, Jordan relented. “Yes, it’s coffee and something to eat, as well.”

“In that case, you can be my best friend in our next life, too.” Andrea’s stomach grumbled, reminding her she’d only picked at last night’s rehearsal dinner. Beneath the curious gaze of all Thor’s relatives, her appetite had fast disappeared. “What have you brought me?”

Jordan chuckled, whipping off the linen napkin covering the tray. “Croissants with jam, my greedy chum. They’re fresh from the oven. I gather Sonja couldn’t sleep, either. I found her busy in the kitchen.”

Andrea glanced nervously at the door and fiddled with the belt of her robe. “She decided not to join our little breakfast party?”

“She thought you’d prefer some privacy after last night’s banquet.” Jordan gave a reassuring smile. “You’ll find Sonja’s a very diplomatic mother-in-law.”

Andrea nodded, knowing it was true. “You’re right. She is diplomatic. She certainly coped well with all the, er, discussions, last night.”

“Arguments, my dear. Don’t bother being polite. They were gate-crashing, wall-tumbling, ear-blistering battles royal.” Jordan took a large bite of her croissant. “Wasn’t it great?”

“No.”

Jordan made a face. “Look at how much we missed by growing up in small families. Besides, it isn’t as though the Thorsens were seriously angry or anything. They just love to squabble. It took me six whole months to figure that out. You’re lucky enough to get the inside track from day one.”

“Thanks so much,” Andrea said dryly. “It’s a wonder the banquet hall didn’t demand a security deposit, considering the fuss Thor and Rainer made. I guess next time those two nearly come to blows I can say, ‘Boys will be boys,’ and send them to bed with no supper.”

“You do that,” Jordan replied, her eyes sparkling with secret laughter. “I’m sure Thor will thank you personally.”

Andrea ignored the double entendre and sank into a chair. “I can’t believe the size of his family.” She helped herself to a reviving sip of coffee. “How many are there? I lost count at around fifty.”

“There’s eighty-three.” Jordan patted her stomach and grinned. “Make that eighty-three and two-thirds. It changes on a daily basis, you know.”

“I believe it.” She picked up a croissant and broke off a flaky portion. “They all seem so happy for us.”

“They are.” Jordan studied her friend, her expression softening. “What’s wrong, Andrea?”

She sighed. “I feel like such a fraud. What will they think when Thor and I divorce? They’ve gone to so much trouble and expense.” She ticked off on her fingers. “There’s the rehearsal dinner last night, the special costumes, carts and horses for the procession.”

“Not to mention the day and a half of celebrating after you’re married.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel much better.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Jordan hesitated, choosing her words with care. “Whose idea was it to have such an elaborate wedding?”

“Thor’s.”

“Why, do you suppose?”

“He explained that to me. It’s to get the news out to my suppliers, so they’d think twice about giving me a hard time. With the Thorsens behind me—”

“Get real,” Jordan broke in impatiently. “Formal announcements and a few follow-up phone calls would have been just as effective, don’t you think?”

“I guess. But he said they wouldn’t believe a small quick ceremony.”

“And you bought that excuse?”

“I shouldn’t have?”

“Sounds pretty lame to me.”

Andrea frowned. She’d wondered about that, too, which only added to her unease. If such an elaborate setup weren’t for her suppliers’ benefit, why do it? “Then why do it?”

Jordan shrugged carelessly, taking another big bite of pastry. “Beats me,” she mumbled. “Ask your husband.”

“Husband-to-be.”

“Picky, picky. A few more hours will take care of that. I’ll tell you one thing.” A sly look entered her bluish gray eyes. “You’re the only one who thinks this marriage is temporary.”

Andrea shot to her feet, nearly overturning her coffee cup. “Then you’re all kidding yourselves,” she insisted. “If it weren’t for the problems at Constantine’s, I wouldn’t be marrying Thor.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“You don’t love him?”

“No.”

“And he doesn’t love you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Jordan brushed the crumbs from the shelf of her stomach. “Sounds like an excellent foundation for marriage to me. Why don’t I draw your bath? I think you should soak your head for a while.”

Andrea’s lips twitched. Jordan glanced at her and started to chuckle. The next minute they were both laughing helplessly. “You always were a brat,” Andrea said, hugging her pregnant friend. “I’m glad you’re going to be my sister-in-law. You’re good for me, you know that?”

“I do. And it’s about time you realized it, too.” With a final hug, Jordan trotted off toward the bathroom. She turned the tap on full blast and upended a jar of gardenia-scented bubble bath into the tub. “I’ll also make you a little bet.”

Andrea regarded her with suspicion. “What?”

“I’ll bet by the time this baby makes its appearance in another two months or so, you’ll have forgotten all about this temporary marriage stuff. I win, you deliver a pallet-load of your biggest, juiciest ruby-red grapefruit to my produce market. Gratis, of course.”

“Of course. And if I . . . win.” Andrea gulped. Why had she almost said “lose”?

“I’ll give you a good swift kick and hope it implants a little common sense.”

“What?”

“I mean, I’ll find you two new customers.”

Two new customers. She couldn’t afford to pass that up. “You’re on.”

Jordan grinned. “I can taste that grapefruit already. Your bath, madam, awaits your pleasure.” With a surprisingly graceful curtsy, she slipped from the room.

Andrea climbed into the steaming water, sliding down into the bubbles. Jordan was a good friend, if not terribly realistic. As yummy as pie in the sky might seem, it didn’t have much taste.

She scooped up a mound of foam and blew gently into her cupped hands. A clump of bubbles spun into the air, floating high overhead. Light caught in them, revealing rainbow swirls of color. Thor didn’t love her. Oh, he wanted her, she didn’t doubt that for a minute. But it wasn’t love.

She blew into her hands again. This time the foam burst into a thousand independent bubbles, raining down all around her. Regardless of what he’d said, business was his life, just as it had been her father’s. To imagine any other explanation asked for trouble of the worst kind.

She knew Thor well, but he’d only proposed because of the risk to his account with the Milanos. Business first, pleasure second. That was Thor. A last puff of air scattered the remaining bubbles, leaving her hands empty. As empty as her soon-to-be marriage?

She sank deeper into the warm water and closed her eyes, her imagination defying all attempts at control. Images flashed through her mind. Jordan with a baby snuggled in her arms, perched atop a stack of grapefruit boxes, a smug expression on her face. Thor looking at her the way Rainer looked at his wife. Celebrating a fifth and a tenth and a fiftieth anniversary . . .

Close to her ear, the bubbles filling the tub began to burst, as temporary and ethereal as her daydreams. Face facts, she ordered fiercely. It’s not going to happen. But that didn’t prevent a wistful tear from escaping beneath one eyelid.

It crept slowly down her cheek, plopped into the soft foam, and dissolved.

B
y ten o’clock, her bedroom overflowed with helpful relatives-to-be. Each commented about her hair and makeup, her dress and jewelry. Finally, with a few pointed Norwegian words, Sonja cleared the room.

“Don’t mind them,” she told Andrea. “They all adore Thor and wish to help his bride any way they can.”

“It’s all right,” Andrea reassured with a smile. She ran a cautious hand down the apron of her
bunad
and peeked at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t believe the change in her appearance.

Sonja had coaxed her short flaxen curls into a sophisticated plait, a style flattered by the embroidered bridal crown. She fingered the trim on the bright red vest, aware her cheeks were almost as rosy. Excitement, along with a touch of fear, gleamed in her large brown eyes, their color darkened with emotion.

“How do I look?” she asked, shy for perhaps the first time in her life.

Sonja gave an encouraging smile. “Stunning. It is good you are tall and slender. A few little tucks and the dress fits perfectly.” She gave the green skirt a final twitch. “Of course, Thor would think you beautiful no matter what you wore. But in this . . . He will be very pleased.”

Andrea busied herself with touching up her lipstick. She wanted Thor to be pleased. She wanted him to look at her with hot desire in his electric blue eyes, wanted to see the heat of passion creep across his high cheekbones. She longed to hear the husky rasp in his voice when he spoke to her and know she’d moved him as no other woman could.

Her hand trembled and she set the lipstick down on the dresser. Face it. She craved an impossible fantasy, and the knowledge terrified her. It shouldn’t matter what he thought or felt. Her happiness shouldn’t depend on that. So why did it?

“It’s time to go,” Jordan announced from the doorway. “Rainer says everyone’s lined up for the processional. The police have all the streets cordoned off and ready for the parade.”

This was it. Andrea took a deep breath and left the bedroom behind. The full petticoats and skirt danced gracefully around her white-stockinged calves. Once outside, she followed Sonja to the front of the line of carts and horses and buggies.

The pageantry of the scene amazed her. Everywhere she looked silver jewelry glinted and bright costumes flashed, the noisy crowd a happy festive sight. Carts stood loaded with children, as well as those who couldn’t walk or ride the distance. Horses, curried and braided, stood patiently waiting, their elaborate bridles and oiled leather saddles gleaming in the warm sunshine.

She grinned, realizing someone thought to arrange for official “scoopers” to follow the parade and clean up any natural equine occurrences. Marco called to her from the crowd, and she waved, spotting several of her other employees, as well. Thank goodness she knew someone in this mass of humanity!

Then she saw Thor.

He stood by a pair of buff-colored horses, his expression remote and serious, his eyes as clear and light as the Seattle sky. She studied his costume, impressed at how naturally he wore the forest-green knickers and red, silver-buttoned vest, his muscular legs encased in white stockings almost identical to her own. He’d left his black overcoat open, the fabric stretched taut across his shoulders.

As though aware of her scrutiny, he glanced her way and froze. His gaze swept over her with singular intensity, an unidentifiable expression flitting across his face. She paused, not quite certain of her role, and ridiculously self-conscious as a result.