by Day Leclaire
Brita shot her a knowing look, but all she said was, “He hasn’t found the right woman. We’ll know when he does.”
She pulled mugs out of the cupboard and set them on the counter, dropping a tea bag in each.
Jordan resisted as long as she could. “How?” she asked fatalistically.
“He always said he’d stay single until he found an honest-to-goodness Valkyrie. That’s a—”
“Warrior maiden. I know.” Her brain went into overdrive analyzing the implication.
“Do you now,” Brita murmured. “How interesting. And do you also know the legend behind the Valkyries?” Jordan shook her head. “They’re actually Odin’s maids. He’s the Norse god who, according to legend, created the world. Whenever humans fought a battle, the Valkyries swooped down in all their armored glory. They determined which warriors were destined to fall in battle and carried off those who died bravely to join Odin in Valhalla, the Hall of the Slain.”
Jordan was enthralled. “And?”
Brita wrinkled her nose, pouring steaming water into the mugs. “And the Valkyries waited on the fallen warriors, feeding and bringing them drink. Mortal men considered it quite an honor to marry a Valkyrie. I think Rainer liked the tale because his name—”
“Means warrior. Yes. He told me.” She frowned, pondering Brita’s words. The Valkyries had the power of life or death over the warriors. Could that be why Rainer intended to marry a modern day Valkyrie? Because she would have the power of life or death over his love? It was a romantic notion and made her see Rainer in a whole new light. Charming. Ruthless. And now romantic. The pieces made a very confusing—and intriguing—whole.
“So,” the petite blonde said, handing Jordan a mug and changing the subject. “I understand you have a produce market, too. We literally live, breathe, and eat this business, don’t we?”
Jordan grinned. “You’d think I’d get tired of it.” She shrugged. “Sometimes I think it’s in the blood.”
“I guess you’ll get plenty of rest from it soon enough.” Brita leaned a hip against the counter and sipped the hot tea. “What will you do when Cornucopia is sold?”
Jordan stared at her, stunned. Before she could disabuse the woman of her totally erroneous notion and in no uncertain terms, Rainer’s voice came from behind.
“Wrong question, sister dear,” he said wryly. “The lady isn’t convinced she wants to sell. That’s the point of our visit.”
“Oops.” Brita turned an engaging grin in Jordan’s direction. “Sorry. I didn’t realize. Kevin gave me the impression Rainer had it in the bag.”
“Did he?” Jordan glared at him.
Brita laughed, not noticing anything amiss. “Let me warn you. My brother always gets what he wants. He never loses.”
Jordan stiffened. She’d gotten tired of hearing that. Very tired. “Then this will be a first,” she said in a cold voice.
Brita’s grin faded. She glanced from one to the other, and understanding dawned. To Jordan’s alarm, a hint of compassion showed in her light blue eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
This time her words weren’t an apology. This time they acknowledged the inevitability of Rainer’s winning—and Jordan knew it.
Chapter 5
T he next hour passed with torturous sluggishness. Sitting and talking with Brita and Kevin as though nothing had happened strained Jordan’s tolerance to the limit. At long last their time together ended. With cordial farewells, Rainer ushered her out of Thorsen’s South and back into his car.
“I have the feeling your sister knows something I don’t,” Jordan said abruptly.
Rainer started the engine and glanced at her, leaving the car in park. “She does.”
He said it with a calmness and finality that made her want to shriek in protest. Instead, she strove to sound equally composed. “She thinks you’re going to win, doesn’t she?”
His voice didn’t change inflection. “She knows me.”
That didn’t mean she was right, Jordan wanted to say. Lots of younger sisters idolized their older brothers. Again she saw that flash of sympathy in Brita’s light eyes and winced. Okay. So she had a major fight ahead of her. That didn’t come as any surprise.
Rainer set the car in motion and headed north toward Seattle. The sun peeked through the last of the storm clouds, and everything shone with a clean fresh-washed clarity. If only she could have such clarity in her own life. Thanks to the man at her side, things were about as clear as mud.
“So, where next?” she asked.
“Several fast stops at a number of our markets. Part of my job is to check with each store and see how everything looks. Basically, what you did at Thorsen’s South.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you went through the store, didn’t you compare prices and quality with Cornucopia?” She nodded, and he continued, “You looked at the size and types of displays, how well we’d stocked each item, and how we’d chosen to arrange the produce. I’ll bet you even peeked in the cooler.”
“I couldn’t resist,” she admitted. “They do a good job. It’s clean and attractive. The only problem I noticed—” She stopped, aware Rainer might misconstrue her comment.
“Go on,” he prompted.
Dare she be honest? Might as well. He could take it. And if he couldn’t? She shrugged. Too bad. “The traffic flow missed your back left corner. It’s cut off from the rest of the store.”
To her relief, Rainer seemed pleased by her observation. “Very good,” he approved. “Kevin and I were just discussing that. They recently put in new refrigeration units and redesigned the store’s layout to accommodate them.”
“If they move the greens against the wall and build an island for the berries, that should take care of it,” she suggested diffidently.
He stopped at a red light and turned in his seat. Before she could discern his intention, he leaned over and kissed her. “We think alike, you and I. We should work together more often,” he said, his mouth inches away. His eyes darkened. “We should do this more often, too.”
He kissed her again, his mouth hard and warm and demanding. She didn’t resist. It didn’t even occur to her. His kiss felt too good. Worse, it felt right. A horn blaring from behind brought them both to their senses. With a muttered word of regret, Rainer drove on.
They stopped at four more markets and followed the same procedure at each. She and Rainer walked through the store, discussing the good points and bad. Each time he’d ask her opinion, and each time she felt more and more comfortable offering it.
To her chagrin, she discovered Rainer’s relatives managed the Thorsen stores, his family, it would seem, equal parts prolific and ruthless. Not only that, every one of them had heard of her and knew what Rainer wanted. Judging by the smiles and joking comments, they didn’t think it was Cornucopia alone.
“Next stop, my parents’ home,” Rainer announced shortly after noon. Jordan couldn’t decide whether to feel curious or wary. To her surprise, he drove them to Magnolia, a beautiful hilltop community just outside Seattle and within a stone’s throw of Cornucopia.
“They’ve lived here for years,” he explained, pulling into the driveway of a huge sprawling estate. “I thought you’d prefer meeting everyone in less businesslike surroundings.”
Jordan glanced across the vast green lawn toward the dozens of children and adults milling about. “Are all these people relatives?” she asked, taken aback.
“Mostly. Cousins, aunts, uncles, with a number of employees thrown in for balance. Mom and Dad encourage everyone to visit Friday afternoons. We talk business and hash out problems. A lot of the kids spend the day at the stores with their parents, so this gives them an opportunity to run around and release pent-up energy.”
“So many,” she marveled, a hint of envy creeping into her voice. How she longed to be part of a family this size. Watching the ent
husiastic crowd gave her a vague sensation of loss and regret.
“Let me introduce you around.” He smiled, a tender light in his eyes.
Did he suspect how she felt? After this morning’s conversation, he must. “I’ll never remember everybody,” she warned.
“Don’t try. When in doubt, just throw out a Norwegian name. You’re bound to get at least one response.”
She gave him a wry look. “That’s presuming I know any Norwegian names.”
His voice dropped to a seductive murmur. “You know mine. That’s all that counts.” He pointed to a tall handsome woman. “There’s my mother. Come on. You’ll like her.”
“Call me Sonja,” the youthful hazel-eyed woman requested. “If you call me Mrs. Thorsen, you’ll have at least a dozen women answering.” She gestured toward the back of the house. “There’s iced tea on the patio. Why don’t we sit there?”
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, befo
re 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.”