by Day Leclaire
“More work?” The gibe stung.
Cletus crossed to join them, glancing from one to the other. “I can do it,” he volunteered. “You never go out, Jordan. I’d feel terrible if you worked tonight.”
“Looks like I’m not the only one who thinks you should have more of a social life,” Rainer commented in an aside.
She shot him a disgruntled look, before addressing her uncle. “That’s sweet of you, but I don’t mind staying.”
“No, no. I insist.” He beamed. “It’s the least I can do.”
She wanted to go. She really wanted to go. She also knew there was no way on God’s green earth her uncle could handle that ad. Not after his latest escapade with the sign changes. Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face.
“Don’t you trust me to do it?” Cletus asked in a pained voice.
What could she tell him? Certainly not the truth. Not with Rainer looking on. “Of course I trust you. And I appreciate the offer, it’s just . . .”
The expression “caught between a rock and a hard place” took on special meaning. Jordan sighed, knowing she didn’t have a choice. She’d have to let Uncle Cletus do the ad and she’d have to make certain to check it before it went out.
Satisfied at reaching a workable solution, she gave in gracefully. “Thank you, Uncle Cletus. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” He grinned happily and hurried off, calling for Walker.
“Well, it seems we’re on,” she said to Rainer. “Give me a minute to change?”
“I’ll give you five,” he offered magnanimously.
It took her ten, though worth every extra minute to see the look in his eyes when she reentered the store.
“You’re beautiful,” he declared in a husky voice. “Purple’s a great color on you. It makes your eyes all dark and smoky. I’m not sure we should go to my parents’, after all. I’d rather be alone with you.”
She brushed the full amethyst colored skirt of her dress and smiled. “I think we’d be safer at your parents’.”
“Maybe for a few hours.”
Her smile faded. They only had a few hours. Just a brief respite before the world came crashing in again. “And then we’ll be right back where we started, fighting over Cornucopia.”
“Don’t,” he said softly. “Not tonight. Forget the store. Forget about Cletus and work and shoulds and shouldn’ts. Let’s be selfish and take one night for ourselves. Would that be so wrong?”
Jordan gazed at him, troubled. “Is that even possible?”
He touched her shoulder, his hand sliding up the length of her neck to burrow in the loose hair about her shoulders. “We’ll make it possible.”
“I’d like that,” she agreed, the tension draining from her.
It only took a few minutes to drive to the Thorsens. Jordan stepped from the car and gazed at the full August moon, the soft white glow reflecting off the dark waters of Puget Sound. The lights of the ferries twinkled in the distance, as they wended a watery path back and forth between Pier 52 and Bainbridge Island.
“Nervous?” he asked. “I know your last visit wasn’t . . .”
“A smashing success?”
“I’ll be close by all night,” he assured, tucking her hand through the crook of his arm. “No football games with the kids.”
She felt a surge of relief. “Is it a formal dinner?”
“Nope. It’ll be a koldtbord , which is the Norwegian version of the Swedish smörgåsbord .” He gave the words their Norse inflection. “Some people believe the idea originated with the Vikings.”
“Of course,” she murmured in a dry tone.
“Honest. They’d return with all these different foods from their raids. Naturally there’d only be a small helping of each. So, voilà.”
“French. Meaning ‘there it is,’” she said.
“Ah, Valkyrie. You never give in, do you?”
“Never.”
He chuckled. “Have you ever had kjøttkaker ? ” She shook her head. “Good. You’re in for a treat. My mother makes the best Norwegian meatballs you’ve ever tasted. She adds just a pinch of nutmeg and allspice to bring out the full flavor. You’ll love it.”
The bright lights of the house beckoned. Laughter and music drifted from the open windows. Stepping across the threshold, they joined in the revelry. Jordan immediately caught sight of Thor. He stood in the middle of a crowd, reminding her of all she preferred to forget. Vaguely threatened, Jordan looked away.
Where’s your fighting spirit now? One look at Andrea’s thunder god and she cowered in Rainer’s arms. Her lips curved upward. But what a pair of arms in which to cower!
Brita’s voice hailed her. “Jordan, I hoped I’d see you tonight.” She came rushing up to them. “Have you met Father yet?”
“We just arrived,” Rainer said.
“Mom’s in the kitchen. Come say hello.” Brita wrinkled her nose at her brother. “You don’t mind if I steal your date for a few minutes?”
Not waiting for an answer, she whisked Jordan off. “You look great,” she chattered. “It’s fun to have an opportunity to dress up, isn’t it? I get tired of jeans and T-shirts after a while.” She pointed to the strand of pearls encircling Jordan’s neck. “I like those.”
“They were my mother’s. So were the earrings.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and touched the matching pearl studs.
“Nice.” Brita pushed open the door to the huge crowded kitchen. Food covered practically every available surface. In the middle of the bustle stood Sonja, her height and pale blond hair unmistakable.
The older woman greeted Jordan with a warm smile. “Welcome. Have you had middag —dinner? It’s buffet style tonight, so help yourself. Brita, get her a plate and cup. Knowing Rainer, she’s probably starved.”
Jordan stood off to one side, quite happy to listen to the teasing happy group, Norwegian phrases and words mingling readily with English.
“So what have you decided about Cornucopia?” Brita asked. “Are we at war yet?”
“Not yet,” Jordan said noncommittally.
Sonja interrupted sternly. “No shoptalk. Here.” She shoved a platter into her daughter’s hands. “Take this out to the living room. And make sure Leo gets some of that rømmegrøt . He specifically asked for it.”
“Put my foot in my mouth again, did I?” Brita flashed Jordan a teasing grin. “Then, I’m off. My mother’s a firm believer in idle hands and Satan’s mischief and all that. I’ll be back as soon as I take this dessert porridge out to Mr. Goldbrick.” She disappeared through the door, tray in hand.
The name Brita mentioned flagged a memory. “Leo Goldbrick?” Jordan said aloud.
Sonja glanced over and nodded. “Do you know him?”
“He owned a market in White Center, didn’t he?”
“That’s right. We bought him out a few years back.”
Jordan couldn’t conceal her surprise. “But I heard . . .”
“That we put him out of business?”
She nodded reluctantly. “I understood you opened a competing market across the street from him.”
“We did,” the older woman replied easily. “Rumor must not have told you we bought Leo out first. We opted for a new location, instead of taking over his existing store.”
Jordan stared in confusion. “Then how did the rumors start?”
“Because poor Leo was reluctant to abandon his market, even though he’d been eager to sell. And Rainer being Rainer—” His mother shrugged “He let Leo take his time closing down.”
Which meant he wasn’t the villain she’d originally thought, Jordan realized with relief. Andrea had the story wrong. What else might her friend have gotten wrong? It certainly put a whole new complexion on things. “He’s not so ruthless after all,” she murmu
red.
Sonja laughed, not unkindly. “Don’t kid yourself. The Thorsens are a ruthless lot, all right. You live with it, or stay clear. I live with it.”
“Why are they like that?” Jordan had to ask.
Sonja shrugged. “Thor has his own reasons for being, well, Thor. With Rainer it’s because he takes his responsibilities so seriously. If it’s in the best interest of the family, he can be merciless.”
Jordan looked down at the crumbs on her empty plate, struggling to conceal her alarm. Sonja only confirmed what Rainer had told her earlier. It shouldn’t come as any surprise. If only he’d understand. By putting Cornucopia out of business, he would destroy the very thing the Thorsens held so dear—family and tradition.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rainer making his way through the crowd. His eyes met hers, their gazes locking. And in that moment she knew she loved him. The knowledge hurt like hell, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. The ferocity of her need burned within, the futility of her desire turning it to ashes.
For despite her love, Cornucopia still stood between them.
“ W hat’s wrong?” Rainer asked on the way home.
Jordan stared out the window. “What could be wrong?”
“Make a list. Do we head it with the Thorsens or Cornucopia?”
We head it with the fact that I love you, she almost said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put a damper on things.” She forced enthusiasm into her voice. “Everyone was very nice. I like your father. I didn’t realize he used a wheelchair.”
“He broke his back fifteen years ago.” Rainer frowned. “You’re avoiding my question. What’s wrong?”
Jordan bowed her head, her tone reserved. “I’ve been thinking about this whole situation.” She sighed. “And I don’t see any way out.”
The warning lights on the Ballard Bridge began to blink and a gate lowered, blocking the road. Rainer pulled to a stop and cut the car engine. Jordan spotted the mast of a sailboat waiting for the center spans of the bascule bridge to lift and allow it passage. Without a word, she opened the door and jumped out, crossing to the pedestrian walkway. Peering over the edge, she watched the sailboat angle into the middle of the canal.
Rainer joined her. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’ll all work out. Give it time.”
“How?” Jordan set her jaw. “By our bowing down to the mighty Thorsens? By Cornucopia acquiring another name. Thorsen’s North, perhaps?”
“Possibly. Or possibly not. What does Cletus think?”
She wanted to laugh. “He thinks you’ll pay to work for us forever. Or that he’ll wake up one day and you’ll have gone, and his problems will be solved.”
“Incredible.” The two sides of the bridge stretched high into the night sky and the sailboat drifted through the open spans. “I’m sorry you’re the one left with all the worries, Jordan. I wish—” He broke off without completing his sentence.
“Me, too,” she whispered.
The bridge began to close, and they turned and returned to the car. Rainer drove the rest of the way without speaking. In too short a time, he pulled into her driveway.
“The back?” he suggested. At her nod, he drove to the rear of the house. He parked and exited, circling the car to open her door. “Thanks for coming tonight.” He put his arm around her shoulders and walked with her across the neglected lawn of knee-high grass.
“I really should cut this,” she murmured, embarrassed.
“Right. Sometime after work ends at midnight and before it begins at five in the morning, you should be out here with your mower.”
“Okay, so I’ll hire someone.” She laughed, leaning against him. “Like to earn five bucks?”
He glanced at her and chuckled. Then the humor died from his face, his expression turning serious. “Jordan, I—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by a loud, infuriated caterwauling. Scratch, clearly objecting to Rainer’s foot taking up residence on his tail, decided to live up to his name. Ten razor-sharp claws sank into Rainer’s ankle.
With a muffled oath, Rainer hopped up and down in the deep, dew-laden grass, trying to shake off the cat. The cat proved his tenacity by hanging on, and digging in.
“Rainer, no! Don’t grab me or we’ll—” Her feet slid out from under her and she fell, bringing Rainer and the cat down with her. “Slip,” she finished, shoving at his shoulders. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re heavy?”
“It’s not me, it’s the cat. He’s on my back. Ouch!”
With a final indignant meow, Scratch parted company with them. He stalked toward Rainer’s car, only the tip of his tail visible above the tall grass. With a single perfect leap he landed on the bright red hood and sat, calmly cleaning his paws.
“I’d get up and kill that cat if I wasn’t so comfortable,” Rainer said. He braced himself on his elbows.
Jordan took a deep breath, instantly recognizing her mistake. Every inch of her pushed against every inch of him. Her body fit his in perfect alignment, an alignment that felt perfectly marvelous. She stared at him, her eyes wide with wonder.
Rainer smiled. “Feels good doesn’t it?” He brushed her hair away from her face. His lean fingers and her thick dark curls and the long sweet grass became deliciously entangled. Taking his time, he sketched a path from her cheek, along the pearls encircling her neck, to the strap of her dress. He hesitated briefly, then eased it slowly to one side, baring her shoulder. His hand spread across the exposed skin, his fingers stroking her with a light, delicate touch.
“Rainer,” she moaned. “Someone will see.”
His lips replaced his hands. “No one will see. The grass is too long.”
“Uncle Cletus—”
He nipped the curve of her shoulder, his tongue caressing the slight indentations, “He’s probably asleep, like the rest of the world. They’re all asleep, except us.”
Jordan trembled, desire slipping beneath her defenses, invading and conquering. Her heart pounded against her ribs and she strained to draw breath. A burning heat gathered in the pit of her stomach and she wished with an intensity born of desperation they were someplace else, anyplace else, where they could assuage this urgent need building within them.
Rainer levered upward, the muscles of his forearms bulging with the effort. For several long, compelling seconds, he studied her flushed face, then slowly, so slowly she thought she’d die before he reached her, lowered himself again. Finally, his lips found hers.
Her mouth parted beneath his, welcoming him. She slipped her hands around his waist, thrusting them beneath the cotton polo shirt he wore. The heat of his skin practically blistered her palms. She ran her fingers along his rib cage, lingering over the hard, sculpted muscles of his chest and shoulders.
She squirmed down into the grass, the uneven ground hard against her back. A low rumbling noise sounded near her ear. Startled, she dragged her mouth from Rainer’s.
“What’s that?” she whispered. She turned her head and looked directly into the unblinking stare of Scratch. His rumbling grew louder, and she realized in astonishment he was purring.
Rainer muttered a curse and swatted at the cat. It was a major mistake.
An earsplitting howl erupted from the indignant animal. An instant later, the back porch light flickered on.
“What’s all that noise? What’s going on there?” Uncle Cletus called out.
“Don’t make a sound. Maybe he’ll go away,” Rainer whispered in her ear. Obediently Jordan kept quiet.
“Jordan? Is that you? What are you doing on the lawn there? Have you hurt yourself, girl?”
Rainer rolled off her and she sat up, brushing bits of grass and twigs from her hair. “Uh . . . no. Not exactly.”
Walker poked his head out from behind Cletus, observing them with an unblinking stare identical to the cat’s. He held a p
apaya in one hand and a passion fruit in the other. “Huh,” he said.
Uncle Cletus glared at him. “You don’t have to overstate the matter.” He cleared his throat. “Being a traditional sort of man,” he announced, “I’ll assume the best and close the door.”
“What’s the best?” Rainer muttered from beside her.
“You don’t want to know,” she assured him.
“I’m closing the door now. Walker and I will just go on with our checker game, and you can go on with . . .” He appeared slightly nonplussed. “I’m closing the door.” And finally did so.
“Dare I ask what we do now?” Rainer asked.
“You daren’t. I have maybe ten seconds to get in there if our reputations are to avoid—”
“Being sullied?”
“More like being further sullied.” She started to reach for him, but stopped herself in time. “And as much as I like the idea of your sullying me, this is neither the time nor the place.”
Rainer stood and offered his hand, pulling her to her feet. “Come with me tomorrow.” He brushed the bits of grass and dirt from her dress. Diligently. By the time he’d finished, she was trembling so much she could hardly stand. “The store’s closed Sunday. We could have all day. Alone. Together.”
She didn’t give herself time to think. “Yes,” she said quickly, before she could dream up a thousand reasons to say no. She glanced at the back door and then stood on tiptoe, planting a swift kiss on his lips. He didn’t let her get away with it. He swept her into a tight embrace and gave her a kiss she’d dream about for a long time to come.
Jordan practically floated into the house, her uncle’s expression bringing her down to earth with a thump.
“You two are getting awful cozy,” he said in disapproving tones. He gestured toward the back lawn. “Just where is all that leading?”
“Where?” Walker echoed.
Guilt swamped her. What had she been thinking? How could she have forgotten Cornucopia and Uncle Cletus and Walker? “Don’t you worry,” she assured her uncle stoutly. “My loyalties are with you through thick and thin.”