Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement

by Day Leclaire

  “You look pretty guilty for someone with nothing to hide.”

  She grappled for an excuse. “He came for a visit. I’m an old friend of the family’s, you know.”

  “And?”

  Suddenly she remembered their embrace, the one that had been such a hit with Thor. “And it’s personal.” She gave her best imitation of a Mona Lisa smile. It felt very strange.

  He lifted a single tawny eyebrow. “Your eyelids are at half-mast again,” he murmured. “Which means it’s not personal. Business?”

  Her gaze jerked to his in alarm. “I— You— He—”

  “Business,” he said with satisfaction. “Excellent. Now. Let’s be more specific.”

  What in the world should she say? “It’s none of your concern.” That was true enough, just not good enough.

  “It is when he’s my customer. And it is when you’re my supplier. And it especially is when you’re having problems that affect my business.”

  Damn his logic. No matter which way she turned, he cornered her with another argument. He should have been that lower-than-low, slimier-than-slime, tackier-than-a-strip-of-flypaper lawyer, Thomas. Both men could take the sober truth and argue it into a drunken lie. What chance did she stand?

  She pressed her lips together. Thor would have to put her on the rack before she’d admit to the outstanding loan her father left behind. Nor would she mention Jack Maxwell’s offer. Not if she planned to live long enough to accept it.

  “You were about to say?”

  Andrea sighed. Racks be damned. She couldn’t keep the truth from him forever. “All right. Joe and I were talking business. He’d come for an explanation about the poor quality of the produce. I told him what I told you.”

  “And he said?”

  “Same as you said. Fix it.”

  “There’s more. Spit it out.”

  Exasperation swept through her. How could he tell? It was downright unsettling. “I have bills from here into next Wednesday, and—” She slipped the last tidbit past him with casual indifference. “I’m seriously considering selling Constantine’s.”

  “You’re what!”

  She suspected he’d react this way. She cleared her throat. “I’m thinking of selling—”

  “I heard what you said,” he snapped. “I just don’t believe it. Things can’t be that bad.” His mouth tightened. “Or is that an excuse? Do you want out of the business?”

  She set her chin at a stubborn angle. “You’re the genius. You figure it out.”

  “Okay. I will.” He mulled over the possibilities, his brows drawn together in a dark frown. “Perhaps you’ve been working at Constantine’s all these years to satisfy your father. Now that he’s gone, you can sell and enjoy the profits from his years of hard work. Is that it?”

  Ironic amusement gleamed in her eyes. What profits? But if he chose to think that, she’d play along. “It’s not illegal. Isn’t money supposed to be enjoyed? Make hay while the sun shines and all that?”

  He studied her, shaking his head. “For some, but not you. I know you too well to buy it. I also know how hard you’ve worked to keep Constantine’s going since your father’s death. Nope, wrong answer. You don’t have a mercenary bone in your body.”

  She glared at him indignantly. “I might.”

  His lips twitched. “I think not. If you’re selling, it’s either because it’s too much for you, or you think it’s in the best interest of Constantine’s.”

  “Now I’m a saint,” she muttered.

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far. You’re too proud for sainthood. And too stubborn.” His penetrating gaze made her uncomfortable. “Somehow I don’t think it’s too much work. As I remember, you always thrived on that.”

  She strove for nonchalance. “If you say so.”

  “Which means you’re selling because you believe it’s in the best interest of Constantine’s.”

  “Drop dead!”

  “Bingo. So now we have the why nailed. Next we work on what if.” He eyed her speculatively. “How about this? If I could find a way to fix things so you don’t have to sell, what would you say?”

  “Thank you?”

  His hands dropped to her shoulders. “Thank you? That’s it?”

  She saw the trap and attempted to tiptoe around it. “How about, what’s in it for you?”

  “Smart question. Answer—protection of my markets.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Retention of the Milano account.”

  Her smile held a touch of cynicism. “Anything else?”

  He lowered his head close to her ear, and his warm breath brushed her cheek. “You.”

  She stepped away. “Forget it. I’m not part of the negotiations.”

  “Always so suspicious.” His expression turned grim. “So wary of the ulterior motive.”

  “You taught me well.”

  “Wrong,” he flashed back. “Your father taught you well. He’s the one who always put Constantine’s first, even ahead of his own daughter.”

  Her hands balled into fists. She wished she could deny his accusation. It hurt that she couldn’t. It hurt a lot. “Don’t you say one more negative word about my father! If it hadn’t been for him, you wouldn’t be servicing the Milano account. You got a little greedy, is all.”

  He stepped closer. “Explain that remark.”

  She refused to back down, refused to be intimidated by the fury glittering in his eyes. Instead, she confronted him with a full year of pent-up resentment and anger. “I know about your attempt last year to get the Milanos to break their contract with Constantine’s and go with you, instead. When that didn’t work and you were forced to go through us, you saw me as the perfect tool. Our engagement ensured Nick would give you the sweetest possible deal.”

  A cool smile tugged at his lips. “You’ve forgotten one small detail. Business aside, I wanted you. I still do. I haven’t figured out what terms it’ll take to have you. But I will.”

  “No terms!” she stated harshly. “I won’t be a business pawn. Not again.”

  “We’ll see.” He crossed to the window and stared at the loading dock. “Let’s return to your problem. Right now the brokers and farmers who supply you see Constantine’s and think it’s quick money. You’re right. They don’t respect you. You’re a woman without protection. Easy prey.”

  “Rub it in,” she groused. Relief swept through her now that they were once again on a business footing. Business she could handle. It was touching she couldn’t handle. Feeling. Anything that involved revealing the hidden parts of herself to Thor’s less-than-tender scrutiny.

  “You also have competitors chipping away at your slice of the marketplace.” He turned. “They’re after me and my business, the biggest slice you own. And they’ll do almost anything to get it.”

  She kept her expression blank. “Sounds like they’re making you offers. Maybe you should consider one.”

  He shook his head. “You’re right. I am greedy. I do want it all. I want a good deal on the produce I buy and I want the Milano account.” He let that sink in before adding, “I also want you.”

  She glared at him. “We’ve been over this ground before. It’s barren and won’t be coming up daisies anytime in the near future.”

  “Won’t it? You forget. The Thorsen name carries a lot of weight. We command the respect you don’t. Brokers wouldn’t dare dump second-rate produce on me, nor would any of the farmers.”

  She shifted impatiently. “So, what do you propose? Are you going to personally call up all the brokers and farmers who supply me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And tell than what?” she demanded. “That if they pull any more stunts with Andrea Constantine their corn is popped?”

  He smiled. “Not quite. I’ll tell them that if they pull any more stunts with Andrea Thorsen their corn is poppe
d.”

  Chapter 3

  A ndrea stared in shock. “You want me to marry you?”

  “Got it in one.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  Thor laughed dryly. “I don’t doubt it. Still, it’ll solve your immediate problems, and mine, as well.”

  “And create a thousand new ones. You can’t be serious.” Panic crept into her voice. “I’ll sell Constantine’s. It’s a much more reasonable solution than marriage.”

  “No, it isn’t. According to our agreement, your selling means I’d forfeit the Milano account.”

  “Not necessarily. Not if the new owner chooses to keep it in force,” Andrea protested.

  She’d convince Jack Maxwell to renew the Thorsen contract. She’d point out all the advantages to him, explain the importance of maintaining it. He might service his restaurant business directly right now, but retaining the exclusive rights to the Thorsen markets was worth far more than the Milano account alone. Jack would understand. She’d make him understand.

  Thor shook his head. “You can’t guarantee that, can you?”

  “No,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “The new owner might prefer to service Milano’s Restaurants himself, and I wouldn’t have a thing to say about it. I can’t risk that happening. Not when I have an alternative. Besides, there’s another reason why selling isn’t a viable option.”

  She already knew. By selling, far from living in the lap of luxury as he’d suggested, she’d be reduced to penury, all her profit going to the bank.

  “Constantine’s has dropped in value,” she admitted. “I’m aware of that. It doesn’t matter. I’m willing to take less.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You’d take less than half its former value? I’m surprised you’re willing to give up so much.”

  The money didn’t bother her as much as the fact that Constantine’s had been in the family for a long time. She hated to be the one to end it all. Nick hadn’t intended to leave her swimming in debt, nor were the recent business problems his fault. They were hers. If he’d lived, he’d have found a way out of their troubles. By giving up, not only would she fail him and Constantine’s, she’d fail herself.

  “You’ve always accused me of having too much pride,” she reminded Thor. “I’d think being forced to sell my business would teach me a lesson.”

  He nodded. “It would. Unfortunately, it would also teach me a lesson. Something I can live without. By marrying a Thorsen and restoring Constantine’s clout, you’ll be able to rebuild the business. I find that a much more profitable lesson. Don’t you?”

  Her mind raced. If he was right, and by marrying she could rebuild Constantine’s, she’d have a chance to pay off her debt to the bank. If, in the final crunch, she was forced to sell, perhaps she could safeguard the Milano account for Thor. Constantine’s would no longer be hers, true, but she’d have done her very best on all fronts.

  And Thor? Innate honesty made her squirm. He’d be the one most at risk. He’d put in his time and effort to help her business, only to risk losing it all in the end. Expedience came to the rescue, providing her with the perfect rationalization. If she couldn’t meet her debts, she’d have to sell, and he’d be minus one account, regardless. This way, they all had a shot at winning.

  She glanced at Thor. Maybe she could convince him to help without marriage. If he played tough with her suppliers, her quality would return. The Thorsens would be happy, the Milanos would be happy, and she’d be very happy. Thor would have accomplished his goal and need never be the wiser about her financial problems. It could happen that way. Right?

  “Well?” His harsh voice broke into her sunny daydream. “What’s your answer?”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  His voice grew colder than she’d ever heard it. “Let me help you decide. If you sell, instead of marrying me, I’ll break my contract with you and pull the Thorsen business. How much lost revenue would that mean?”

  She swallowed, her daydream firmly banished beneath a dark and threatening sky. “You know how much.”

  “Yes, I do. With all the trade your competitors have bled off, losing me on top of it would hurt, wouldn’t it?” He stepped closer, his words sharp and merciless. “The produce business is a close-knit community. Within hours of our breaking the contract and going to one of your competitors, the news would be out. How many of your other customers will follow the Thorsen lead? And how will our desertion affect the sale of Constantine’s?”

  Her daydream turned into a nightmare. Jack wouldn’t care if the Thorsens chose to buy elsewhere. He wanted the Milano account. Unfortunately, the severe drop in revenue might not give her sufficient time to complete the sale before going bankrupt. Jack was a nice guy, but business was business. If he heard of Constantine’s financial difficulty, he might stall the sale until she went under. Then he could woo, and quite possibly win, the Milano account without it costing him a dime. She couldn’t risk that happening.

  She glared at Thor. “Damn you!”

  He stepped closer. “You did that a long time ago.”

  “So it’s revenge, is that it?”

  “That’s right. I play knight in shining armor, snatch your pretty backside from the fire, ensure you’ll live in comfort for some time to come, and I’m doing it out of revenge.”

  “Then why?” she demanded in frustration.

  “You figure it out. All I require is an answer.”

  “Now? Just like that?”

  “I don’t have a lot of time. My business is hurting, and since it’s a family business, so is my family. I won’t allow the situation to continue much longer. If you’re going to sell, I want to know, so I can terminate our contract and cut my losses.”

  “Regardless of what it does to Constantine’s?” she asked bitterly.

  “You do have an alternative.”

  She chose her words with care. “If I agree to marry you, would it have to be permanent?”

  “I’m not that altruistic.” She winced, knowing she deserved the blunt statement. “After six months, maybe a year, we can divorce. You’ll still have my name and the Thorsen protection. We’ll make it clear it’s an amicable parting. Your suppliers and competitors won’t trouble you again. I’ll see to that.”

  She looked away. He moved too fast. She didn’t have a prayer of outthinking or outmaneuvering him. She could only stall. “I need time.”

  “I’ll give you forty-eight hours. After that, I’ll assume you plan to sell. According to my contract, I have to give seven days’ written notice of my intent to terminate. Unless you agree to my suggestion, that notice will be on your desk first thing Wednesday morning.”

  Andrea bowed her head. “Why, Thor?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  She gave a watery laugh. “Maybe it’s something in the air. This is my second proposal today.”

  His voice remained even, though she suspected she’d angered him. “Mine’s the better one. Marriage to Milano wouldn’t work. He loves women too much to stay faithful to any one.”

  She couldn’t argue. “Ironic, isn’t it?” She lifted her chin proudly. “No matter who I marry, I’ll still end up divorced.”

  He gave no quarter. “Life’s tough.”

  L ate that evening, Andrea climbed the back warehouse steps to a tiny storage loft located above the offices. She leaned against the door, exhaustion sweeping over her. After Nick’s death, she’d put their home on the market and sold most of its furnishings. Last week, the escrow closed and today she’d mailed the check from the proceeds to the bank in an attempt to lessen her debt. All that remained of the home she’d shared with her father for almost twenty-seven years were a few personal possessions she couldn’t bear to sell or leave behind. Few people knew about the sale and she preferred to keep it that way.

/>   She unlocked the loft door and pushed it open. Home wasn’t quite what it used to be, but it would do. It had taken massive amounts of cleaning and a lot of imagination to turn the tiny, dark hole into a pleasant hideaway.

  Switching on the overhead bulb, she stepped inside, welcomed by the glitter of hundreds of dancing prisms hanging from every conceivable fixture. Dodging the sparkling bits of glass, she hurried over to a small window and opened it. Seattle’s hot July days left the loft of the cavernous old building stuffy. Fortunately, with only one room to cool, an electric fan solved the problem. Sort of.

  In no time at all, she’d boiled water for coffee on the hot plate that served as a stovetop. Eggs out of a miniature refrigerator followed, accompanied by a salad overflowing with assorted vegetables. She grinned. With a built-in produce market two floors below, at least she wouldn’t starve.

  The only drawback to her new accommodations was the necessity of going downstairs to use the bathroom and to refill her thermos jug whenever she needed water. Considering she lived rent free, she couldn’t complain. Besides, it was temporary. As soon as she turned the business around . . .

  “Ms. Constantine?” a voice called from the stairwell.

  She opened the loft door and looked into the anxious face of her night security guard. “Yes, Willie?”

  “Thought I’d check to see if you’re okay. I’ll be outside, if you need me. You, ah, sure you should stay here by yourself?”

  “I’m fine,” she said firmly.

  He cleared his throat. “I spoke to Marco today.”

  Andrea winced, wondering if Willie let anything slip about her new residence. Except for the guard, no one knew she’d moved into the warehouse, and she preferred to keep it that way. For some reason, her employees had become very protective of late. If they discovered she lived in the loft, not only would they worry about her safety—not that there was anything to worry about—they’d also wonder why she’d sold her home. She couldn’t afford to start rumors concerning Constantine’s financial position. Not now. Not ever.