Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement

by Day Leclaire

  “Aren’t you worried he’ll be offended and demand we terminate our contract with you?”

  “Isn’t that the whole idea?”

  She hesitated, confused. Thor never said anything without purpose. She might not understand it at the time, but he was the most precise, exacting, exasperatingly direct individual she’d ever met. If he suspected Joe might jump to another supplier, and if the only way that could happen was if she sold . . .

  “You think you’re about to lose the Milano account?” she guessed, fighting for calm.

  “I know I’m about to lose the Milano account, and I know who to thank for it.”

  She stared at him, frozen, her mind racing to analyze the various possibilities behind his accusation. Because it was an accusation. How could he have found out about the possible sale of Constantine’s so soon? She frowned. It didn’t make sense. She’d only decided to explore that option today. Perhaps Jack Maxwell had been indiscreet, spreading word of his interest in Constantine’s and the Milano account. “How did you know I might—”

  The pounding resumed at her office door and Thor’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “Persistent, isn’t he?”

  She hid behind mild amusement. “It’s silly I know, but most people who knock on that particular door do so in the hopes of speaking to me. I assume you have a logical explanation for why they— he —can’t do that?”

  “Yes, I do.” He opened the door a full six inches. “What?”

  “Er, cara . . .”

  Andrea struggled to keep her expression perfectly serious. Matters were serious. It was Joe she couldn’t take seriously. “Yes?”

  “I see you later, when? You forget to tell me this.”

  “Tomorrow. Here. Nine o’clock.”

  “Okay, good. I see you tomorrow. Here. Nine o’clock.” A concerned face appeared beneath Thor’s armpit. “You have more files to move, yes? No problem. I take care of it right away.”

  This time she did smile. Actually, she grinned. “No. Thanks, anyway.”

  “No?”

  “No,” Thor said in a tone that could have blistered paint.

  The face backed hastily away. “Okay, fine. Addio.”

  “So long, goodbye, it’s been great, and see you later. Much later.” Thor shut the door just shy of a slam.

  He turned and Andrea busied herself restacking the bills scattered across her desk. If she dared laugh, she’d be in deep trouble. At a guess, one heck of a storm was brewing across the room. The air practically crackled with electricity. Her thunder god had returned with a vengeance.

  “You were saying?” she prompted.

  “The Milano account.”

  She smiled her sweetest smile. “Are you sure Joe shouldn’t sit in on this? After all, if it concerns the Milanos . . .” She gulped at his expression. If she was very, very smart, she’d stay very, very quiet. Let the typhoon run its course and pray she survived the blow.

  Visibly restraining his temper, he spoke. “I’ve received a number of phone calls of late.”

  Her stack of bills grew taller. “Okay, I’ll bite. From whom?”

  “Caesar Milano, for one.”

  Andrea studied him warily. It couldn’t be unusual for him to get a phone call from Joe’s father. After all, the Thorsens supplied Milano’s Restaurants. Maybe this wasn’t about the sale of Constantine’s, after all.

  “And?” she asked.

  “It’s the first time anyone’s ever accused me of cheating them. I didn’t like the experience.”

  A timid knock interrupted yet again and Andrea almost screamed in nervous reaction. For an unnerving moment, Thor stared at her through narrow, suspicious eyes, then crossed her office and casually braced a shoulder against the door.

  “Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?” Andrea asked. “I can’t believe Caesar actually thought you were cheating them.”

  His gaze grew wintry. “He did and he does. My prices, he claims, are exorbitant, my quality shoddy. Since it can’t be the fault of his precious Andrea, it must be my doing.”

  “I’ll speak to—”

  “I’ve also received complaints from the managers of our stores.” He ignored the louder knock emanating from behind him and continued. “Care to guess why?”

  “No.” She didn’t have to guess. She knew.

  “I’ll tell you, anyway.”

  “Er, cara,” a muffled voice called.

  Thor settled his shoulder more firmly against the door. “The produce my markets have received of late is inferior. Their charges are up and their sales are down.”

  Join the club, she almost said. “Yes, well—”

  “You supply us with produce. All of our produce. Since we can’t buy anywhere else, our quality reflects your quality, and our prices reflect the prices you charge us. It’s a tarnished reflection, my sweet. Very tarnished, indeed.”

  The doorknob rattled. “Andrea, you open up please?”

  “Andrea does not please,” Thor said in a voice sufficient to blast through three oak doors, let alone one. He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a thick piece of paper. Unfolding it, he tossed a large graph onto her desk. The neat pyramid of bills she’d built collapsed with a soft poof. “Explain this, if you can.”

  She picked up the paper and studied it curiously. “A pricing chart? This looks like . . .”

  Damn. It looked like a graph of her produce charges for the past year. According to all the spiked red lines, her prices didn’t chart well. This had nothing to do with selling Constantine’s, she decided, relaxing a little. Her relief was short-lived.

  Thor shoved away from the door and walked toward her, barely suppressed fury in every line of his massive body. “I didn’t believe it at first. Not of you. I couldn’t credit the possibility that you were guilty of price gouging.”

  She dropped the graph and sprang to her feet. “I hear a but in that statement. For your information, I’m not guilty of price gouging!”

  “So I compared your prices with another wholesaler,” he continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. He placed his hands on her desk and leaned forward. “You’re so far out of line with the competitors, it’s beyond belief.”

  She inched away. “There’s a reasonable explanation.”

  “And I saw it here today!” he shot back, knocking the graph and several dozen bills to one side. “You’re in cahoots with Milano. You want to deal directly with them again by acing out the middle man.” His voice dropped to a low growl. “In case you’ve forgotten, that middle man’s me, sweetheart. And—trust me on this—I don’t take that sort of loss well. Not well at all.”

  Ignoring a stab of fear, she hurried around her desk and planted herself directly in front of him. Her height wasn’t sufficient to go eyeball-to-eyeball, but it came close enough. He’d listen. She’d see to that.

  “You’re wrong!” she informed him in determined tones. “Dead wrong.”

  “Am I?” He traced a finger along her cheekbone, drawing a response more unwelcome than unexpected.

  She pulled away, furious she still felt anything for him. He must have read her reaction. His eyes darkened and he lowered his head, his mouth hovering inches from hers. For a fleeting moment, she thought he might kiss her. Then his expression closed over and he folded his arms across his chest, fixing her with a stern gaze.

  “Prove it,” he said.

  If only he wasn’t so tall and so broad—and so male. If only she could pull her scrambled senses together and approach this argument logically. Thor would listen to reason, assuming she could find her reason.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she forced herself to say. “The Milanos get much better service from you than us. You’re faster and you’re willing to deliver twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. They even get better variety because you special order items
we wouldn’t normally carry. Besides, we net much more off Thorsen’s than we could supplying Milano’s Restaurants directly.”

  His laugh held an edge of bitter irony. “I know. I have the receipts to prove it.”

  Desperation underscored her words. “The Milanos order split cases. Each restaurant requires something different, and it’s a dozen of this and six of something else. It means more manpower than it’s worth. You order full cases and in huge quantities. Because you have all your retail markets to service, supplying Milano’s Restaurants, as well as your stores, works out perfectly. We like it that way. We aren’t out to cancel your contract.”

  Guilt touched her. Unless she sold Constantine’s to Jack Maxwell. Thor would lose his contract if that happened. She brushed the thought away. Maybe he wouldn’t. Or maybe she’d find an alternative.

  “If you’re not trying to break the contract, then what the hell—”

  Without warning, the office door flew open and Joe, followed by her head salesman, Marco, and two of her huskier employees, piled into the room.

  “Er, cara,” Joe began, peering around suspiciously.

  “I don’t believe this,” Thor muttered. “We have business to discuss, Andrea. Uninterrupted business. Now. Do you have a place where that’s done? Because we’re not accomplishing anything here.”

  “We’ll use Dad’s office. Give me two minutes to take care of this and I’ll be right with you.” Not saying another word, Thor left the room. Andrea fixed her gaze on a sheepish Joe and sighed.

  Marco spoke up. “Sorry about this, Ms. Constantine.” He gave Joe a disgusted look. “Somebody thought you needed help. Though the day you need rescuing from Mr. Thorsen is the day they plant me six feet deep.”

  “Thanks, Marco.” She waited until her salesman and his workers left before addressing Joe, her voice stern. “It’s all right. Honest. You can stop playing the protective, big brother. Thor’s here to discuss business. That’s it. He’s not threatening me. He’s not frightening me. He’s not harming me in anyway.”

  “He does not make the pass at you?” Joe suggested irrepressibly.

  She wished! Andrea closed her eyes. She didn’t really mean that, did she? She’d struggled so long to suppress the memories of her time with him. It hurt too much to remember the wonder of being in his arms, having his lips caressing hers, knowing the special warmth of his love. He was a man of passion who’d lit an answering passion within her. She dreaded to think even a tiny spark of that desire remained.

  She forced herself to answer Joe’s question. “No. That ended long ago.”

  He shrugged. “You should tell him this. I think he is still in love with you. Perhaps you love him, too?”

  “You’re wrong,” she denied. She couldn’t afford to care. Not again.

  “Maybe. Maybe, no.” At her glare, he held up his hands, dropping the issue. “You sure I should not stay?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay.” He crossed to her side and snagged her chin, studying her expression. “You be careful, cara . He is angry. It is not good, him being angry with you.”

  She offered a reassuring smile. “Thor won’t hurt me.”

  “He did this already,” Joe said in a serious voice. “I see you tomorrow. We talk more about our little problem at that time, yes?”

  “Yes.” She nodded in agreement.

  Satisfied, Joe dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and left the room. Andrea leaned against her desk and fought for strength. It would seem today was her day for problems. She straightened. Now to take care of the biggest of them.

  She walked down the hall to where Thor waited. All the offices were located on the second story at the far end of the warehouse. And though each overlooked the cavernous main floor, her father had occupied the corner one. She rarely came in here. The room had always been Nick’s private domain and not even his death could change that.

  Thor, she noted sourly, appeared right at home. Huge picture windows enabled him to survey not only the warehouse floor, but the docks, as well. He stood at the window the same way her father often had, his legs spread wide, his arms folded across his chest, observing the bustle below.

  “I see your friend is leaving,” he commented, not turning around.

  “Can you say that without a sneer?” she asked. “Joe is a friend and has been for a lot of years.”

  “He’s in love with you.”

  “He’s concerned about me,” she corrected. “He doesn’t want to see me hurt. And I care about him.”

  “Enough to ensure I didn’t mess up his face?”

  “Yes.” Why deny it? If she’d called to Joe for help, a scuffle would have ensued, with Joe, unquestionably, coming out the worse for wear. “Would you have messed up his face?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  He turned. “I gave it serious consideration.”

  “Why?”

  Humor glinted in his eyes. “I believe it was an inexplicable possessive urge.”

  “He hugged me.”

  “And I almost flattened his nose.”

  “We’re not engaged any longer,” she protested.

  “I still want you.”

  The quietly spoken words hung between them. They shocked Andrea. They shocked, excited, and frightened her all at the same time. She’d always considered Thor a direct man. She shouldn’t be surprised when he chose to prove it. That didn’t change anything. If Thor still wanted her, it was because she represented a challenge and he felt a momentary urge to win what he’d failed to win before.

  Time to move on to safer ground. “We have business to discuss,” she said. “Perhaps we should discuss it.” The lesser of two evils, she acknowledged.

  Thor’s expression fell into grim lines that wiped every hint of desire from his face, she wondered if flinging herself into his arms might not have been the better solution. He stalked toward her, crowding her against her father’s desk.

  “Fine. Business it is. You’re overcharging us, Andrea, and it has to stop. I could go to any of the other wholesale houses and get better produce at much better prices.”

  She stared in alarm. “You’d lose our Milano account if you did that.”

  He nodded. “True. But it’s fast approaching the point where the Milano account isn’t profitable. We’ve lowered our markup in order to keep them happy. But between what you’re charging us and what the Milanos end up returning, we’re losing too much money.” He tilted his head to one side and studied her. “Why are you doing it? Revenge? You dumped me, remember? I should be the one after blood.”

  She struggled to maintain her composure. “I remember. For your information, I’m not overcharging you, not deliberately.”

  “Pull the other one, sweetheart. I checked. Your prices are so high there isn’t any other explanation.”

  Nick’s phone rang and Andrea groaned. This was getting ridiculous. Was she allowed no peace? She grabbed the receiver. “What is it?” she snapped. She closed her eyes and nodded. “Okay, put him through. Mr. Thomas?”

  The voice on the other end of the line assaulted her ear, and she held the phone farther away. “But I explained to Mr. Hartsworth.” She turned her back to Thor and spoke urgently into the phone. “I refused his corn because it was— No! I won’t pay for bad produce, and that’s just what he tried to dump on me.”

  She listened to the lawyer’s blistering comments, her own anger rising by the minute. “You can’t do that. It’s slander! If Mr. Hartsworth causes me to lose so much as one farmer or broker I’ll . . .” At his pithy retort she slammed down the phone.

  “Problem?” Thor inquired idly.

  “I hate that lawyer!” she announced, glaring at the offending instrument.

  “Ah, a lawyer problem.”

  She froze, aware of how much he must have learned from that one unfortunate conversation. “Not at a
ll,” she claimed with more pride than honesty.

  A grin eased the corners of his mouth, and observing it, she felt a sharp, intense yearning flower to life. He took another step closer and dropped his hands on her shoulders. His touch felt good. It felt right. How could it be so wrong?

  “You,” he murmured, “are a liar.”

  “I’m not! I—”

  “—can never meet my eyes when you tell one.”

  She forced her gaze from the top button of his shirt up to his chin. “Everything’s fine,” she informed the tiny cleft. She made it to his nose. “Perfect, in fact.”

  “Higher, brown eyes.”

  One glimpse of electric blue and she began to babble. “I’m not price gouging. Honest, I’m not. I’m having a small supply problem.” His eyes narrowed. “Okay, okay! I’m having a major supply problem. I’m not my father, and the farmers and brokers who sell to me know it. They’re trying to dump their seconds on me. The junk Hartsworth sent couldn’t even be called that.”

  “Did you have the inspectors in?”

  “Yes.” Resisting the urge to curl up in his arms took every bit of determination. “They side with me on this. The problem is, if I call them too often, the shippers refuse to deal with me at all. I can’t win.”

  “What about their prices?”

  She might as well tell him everything. Confession cleansed the soul, right? Hers could use a good spring cleaning. “Through the roof. A woman in this trade is fair game, I guess.”

  His eyebrow shot up. “I find it hard to believe your suppliers are trying to put you out of business.”

  Her mouth curved into a bitter smile. “Oh, they aren’t. My competitors are trying to put me out of business, and they use every dirty trick they can think of to accomplish it. My suppliers are trying to dump their rotting banana peels on me at top prices.”

  Thor’s gaze turned thoughtful. “So costs are up, quality down, and business, I don’t doubt, is off.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, that explains the price gouging. Now explain Milano’s presence. If the two of you aren’t cooking up a private deal, why was he here?”

  Andrea stared at him in appalled silence, delicate color warming her cheeks. How did she answer him? Simple. She didn’t. If she relayed Joe’s complaints, Thor would be furious. And not with the Milanos. She’d be the one receiving the fallout. Nor could she mention the various alternatives she’d discussed with Joe to solve her problems—such as selling Constantine’s.