Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement (21 page)

“For the last time, what are you talking about?”

“Rumor has it . . .” Andrea sighed and collapsed into the chair behind her desk. “No, it isn’t rumor. I checked and it’s fact. Damn it, Jordan. I’m so sorry. Your uncle sold out to the Thorsens.”

“What?” Jordan laughed, relaxing. “You’re wrong. Uncle Cletus would never sell out. Never. Not in a month of Sundays. Not in a million years. Not for a million . . .”
Bucks
. The words struck a chord of memory and her laughter died away.

She pictured Rainer in her living room, intent on working at Cornucopia, and bribing Uncle Cletus in order to do it. Rainer had held out money like a succulent morsel of meat to a hungry man. With the bath they’d taken over the ad and the sharp reduction in her uncle’s retirement savings, he’d be more than hungry. Uncle Cletus would be starving.

And Rainer knew it.

“Are you listening to me?
Jordan!”
Andrea’s expression reflected her concern. “Are you all right?”

“Are you sure?” Jordan asked in a shaken voice. “There’s absolutely no mistake?”

A mist of tears glittered in Andrea’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve checked and rechecked. It’s fact.”

Jordan no longer tried to deny the truth of the claim. How could she when it was a sure thing?

Rainer had gone behind her back and bought out Cornucopia.

“He knew, Andrea,” she said in a low voice. “He knew we’d be hurting, and he used that information to get at Uncle Cletus.”

“You mean because Dad revoked your line of credit?” her friend asked hesitantly.

It took several seconds for her words to sink in. Jordan sat and stared, wondering if she was the only one in the entire universe who knew less than nothing about Cornucopia. She cleared her throat. “We lost our line of credit, as well?”

Andrea groaned. “You didn’t hear? Cletus didn’t mention that, either? Dad called him to discuss it, I’m sure he did.”

“Did Rainer know?” Jordan asked tautly.

“Yes. He tried to talk Dad out of—”

“And I thought he cared,” Jordan interrupted, her hands balling into fists. “What a fool I’ve been! I thought we
—I—
meant something to him. But all the time he only cared about getting Cornucopia.”

It was a bitter pill to swallow. Just as Seth used her to get free produce, Rainer used her to get the store. Why else would he have kept her buried eyeball deep in a romantic fog? So he’d have time to accomplish the dastardly deed, that’s why!

With an impatient gesture, Andrea shoved a stack of invoices to one side, sheets of white paper forming a blizzard around her desk. “Wait a minute. Your uncle went to Rainer, not the other way around. Rainer had nothing to do with Cletus’s decision.”

Fury welled inside her. “He had everything to do with it! He knew about our financial setback. He knew we’d lost our line of credit. And he knew it would be the perfect time to put the screws to Uncle Cletus. He even warned me!” She laughed harshly. “He told me everything would be settled by Monday. How right he was.”

“You love him, don’t you?” Andrea said in astonishment.

Jordan stared at her friend in stony silence, refusing to respond.

“You don’t have to answer. Your expression says it all.” Andrea crossed to crouch by Jordan’s chair. “Listen, I’m no fan of the Thorsens or their methods, but I’d be careful if I were you. Don’t jump to conclusions. Talk to Rainer. See what he says.”

“You bet I’m going to see him.” She shoved to her feet. “And he won’t be the only one with something to say.”

Andrea grabbed her arm. “Wait! Don’t rush into anything. Calm down first.”

Jordan shook her head. She’d resigned herself to losing Cornucopia, at least she’d resigned herself to the strong possibility of losing it. But Rainer’s duplicity was another matter altogether.

Didn’t he care how his actions affected her? Had he given her even one moment’s consideration? No. And why should he when all he ever wanted was the store? She’d known that from the beginning. Love might have hit her on the head leaving behind a walloping case of romance-induced amnesia, but a brick labeled Indisputable Facts had cured that. And how.

“I have to know the truth,” she told Andrea. “I have to see his face and look into his eyes and hear him tell me why he stole my store.” She bit hard on her lip. The only problem was she strongly suspected she already knew the answer.

I
t took her three hours to track down Rainer. Three hours of, “You’ve just missed him. Try Thorsen’s East.” Or West, or South. Would Cornucopia’s new name be Thorsen’s North? It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Brita finally found him. “He’s at the home office,” she informed Jordan. “Do you know where that is?”

Without saying a word, Jordan shook her head.

“It’s downtown. Here, I’ll give you directions.” Brita jotted them on a piece of paper. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but don’t be too rough on him. He—” She stopped abruptly, something in Jordan’s expression cutting off whatever she intended to say. “He’s expecting you,” she said, her tone carrying a defensive edge.

If she’d meant the words to frighten, she failed. Nothing seemed to penetrate the shell Jordan had built around her feelings. She’d frozen all emotion, as if she was only going through the motions. Even her fury felt cold, burning like black ice in her heart.

It took forty minutes to find the building, a huge market, standing three stories high—twice the size of Cornucopia. The sign above it simply read, Thorsens. According to Brita, the offices were on the second and third floors, with Rainer and his brother occupying the third.

Jordan parked her truck and entered the building, expending some of her tension by taking the stairs. Walking down a long hallway, she came to a receptionist’s desk. The woman looked up and smiled.

“May I help you?”

“Rainer Thorsen, please,” Jordan said in a low voice.

“And your name?”

“Roberts. Jordan Roberts.”

There was a brief pause. Then the receptionist offered another, more forced smile. “Of course, Ms. Roberts. Mr. Thorsen is expecting you. His office is down the hall to the right.”

Jordan traversed the length of the hall, her heart pounding, her palms damp. She stopped in front of his closed door and wiped her hands on her jeans. Unable to help herself, she reached for her tomato charm, attempting to draw comfort from it. Releasing it, she drew a deep breath, and knocked.

The door opened. Rainer stood there, more formidable than she’d ever seen him, wearing a suit, a tie, and his Viking expression.

“Come in, Valkyrie,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you.”

S
he knew he’d been expecting her. So why did she feel so intimidated? Jordan swallowed, her fury dissolving. For whatever reason, it took every ounce of willpower not to crumble at his feet. All morning, she’d carried her anger like a torch. So where was it? Sputtering, that’s where, her wrathful flame dying to a pitiful flicker.

Not giving herself time to reconsider, she lifted her chin and stepped over the threshold into his office. Glancing at Rainer, her banked anger flared anew. Everything about him—his expensive suit, his cool, commanding expression, even that lightning bolt earring—warned she was dealing with incredible strength and fierce determination.

On her initial assessment, she’d known what he was. A Viking, a ruthless marauder who took what he wanted. He’d even warned her of that. She’d thought he wanted her, but he’d taken Cornucopia. She’d been a fool to think it would end any other way. If it looks like a rose, has thorns like a rose, and smells like a rose, it’s bound to have a bee somewhere. And boy, had she been stung.

“I assume you heard about the sale,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Oh, I heard, you double-dealing, two-faced son of a—”

“I assume you’re not pleased?”

Her breath caught in disbelief. “Not pleased? You mean not pleased that you went behind my back and bought out my store?”

“Your uncle’s store.”

“You didn’t think to include me in the negotiations?”

He shrugged. “You weren’t the owner.”

“I assume you didn’t care enough about our . . . relationship to even discuss—” Her voice broke despite her best efforts and she glared impotently.

“Why don’t we cut to the bottom line and skip the rest,” he suggested, and hauled her into his arms. “This is all that matters.”

He kissed her, his mouth firm and determined. And she kissed him right back. It was anger, she tried to convince herself. She was using him, just as he used her. But deep down she knew differently.

She loved this man. And just for a minute she’d pretend he returned her love.

Their embrace lasted forever and a second. She released all her pent-up anger and frustration, all her loneliness and fear, all her love and desire. He replaced it with a gentle warmth that shattered her defenses. There was a tenderness in his touch that eased the ache within her. The words he murmured into her mouth nourished her body and soul, and his strength became hers.

He thrust his hands into the braid confining her hair, pulling at it, loosening it, so the dark curls tumbled wildly about her face.

“Now I see the volcano,” he muttered, nipping at her lips. “You’re an explosion waiting to happen, all heat and fire and fury.”

She tightened her hands about his neck, pulling his mouth back to hers. She kissed him deeply, hungrily, angry once again. She’d make him sorry he ever put Cornucopia ahead of her. He might not love her, but he’d remember her. And regret.

“I want you, Jordan. I want you here and now.”

She used the strength he’d given her and stepped back, the frantic ache within her surpassing anything she’d ever experienced. It hurt even to speak. “You have what you want,” she managed to say. “You have Cornucopia. Now give me what I want. An explanation.”

He shook his head as though to clear it. The passion drained from his face, his expression turning wary. Shadows appeared in his eyes, the intense blue stormy and impatient. “Ask your uncle,” he said, and folded his arms across his chest, his stance rock solid and defiant.

Jordan stiffened. “I don’t have to. I already know. You used insider information. You told Nick about our financial setback, didn’t you? As a result we lost our line of credit at Constantine’s. You romanced me to keep me quiet, and then when the time was ripe, you moved in for the kill. You went to Uncle Cletus and offered him enough for Cornucopia he wouldn’t have to worry about money problems ever again.”

Rainer cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. Their eyes met and locked. “After all our time together, you can say such a thing? Believe such a thing? You think I’d fake my feelings for you, that I’d romance the store out from under you?”

No!
she wanted to shout.
I
  
don’t believe it!
“Yes!” The word tumbled from her mouth. She could read his disappointment and pain. Then there was no expression.

Take it back before it’s too late
, a part of her cried. But she couldn’t. She knew her uncle, her only family in the whole world, wouldn’t betray her. She had to take her uncle’s side, defend and protect him no matter what the cost. And this time the cost was very, very high.

“So be it.” His hand dropped away. “I can’t fight your love for your uncle, and I wouldn’t do anything to destroy it. But talk to him, Jordan. When you do, don’t let your loyalty blind you to the truth. And don’t let him break your heart.”

She stared, a shimmer of tears blurring her vision. Too late. Her heart was already broken. But not by Uncle Cletus, and not by some store. A fierce, blue-eyed Viking had accomplished the job.

Their discussion was over. She turned and left the office, softly closing the door behind her, aware she’d just closed it on her future, as well as her past.

She practically ran down the hallway, tears blinding her. She kept her head lowered as she passed the receptionist, hoping to escape the woman’s notice. But the way to the stairs seemed incredibly long. Reaching the end of the hall, she realized she’d taken a wrong turn.