Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement Read Free Page A

feigned surprise. “Was that what it was, a message? I thought it was your peculiar idea of a joke.”
    “Oh, it’s no joke, Ms. Roberts. I’m very serious.”
    He knew her name, which meant she was right. He’d deliberately taken her bananas in order to bring about this confrontation. No matter what Terry thought, this man wasn’t interested in her, at least, not as a woman.
    She found herself thoroughly annoyed with him because his interest was purely a business one. And she was thoroughly annoyed with herself for even caring. Jordan pulled herself up short. No need to get a dented ego, she silently scolded. He was enough of a threat without that sort of complication.
    She glanced at Marco, who stood gazing in fascination at a crushed box of tomatoes tossed to one side of the dock. The poor man couldn’t have shown his discomfort any clearer if he’d jumped up and down and screamed it for the world to hear.
    “Why don’t we dispense with the games and get down to business?” she suggested. “You have my bananas and I’d appreciate their return.”
    “My bananas,” he corrected softly, staring down at her.
    How could a single glance from those ice-blue eyes burn so? She crossed to the pallet holding her bananas, her back defiantly stiff. Lifting off a cardboard lid, she flicked the thin plastic cover out of the way and, with a quick twist of her wrist, broke off a banana. After peeling the yellow skin she took a bite, then faced him again. Claim staked, she announced silently.
    “What do you want, Mr. . . .”
    “Thorsen. Rainer Thorsen.”
    Jordan inhaled sharply, choking on the banana. The Thorsen name and reputation was well known in the Seattle produce community—as well known as their Viking-like appearance and Viking-like ruthlessness. Also well known were the dozens of markets they owned and operated, each one at least as large and profitable as Cornucopia. She should have guessed his identity sooner. Her gaze strayed back to the lightning bolt earring he wore. She should have guessed from that telltale symbol alone.
    “My banana too strong for you?” he inquired with mock solicitude.
    Jordan lifted her chin. “My banana is just fine, thanks.”
    “Then you must be choking on the Thorsen name. I’ve found it does tend to intimidate people.”
    “I’ll struggle to keep that from happening,” she informed him, surprised by his levity. “As for the bananas . . .”
    “I suppose, since both of us claim ownership, we’ll have to split them.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, waiting until she caught his pun.
    Jordan’s lips twitched. Impossible, contradictory man! Didn’t he realize what a serious issue this was? “That’s one solution, though quite unfair. We both know they’re really mine. Unfortunately splitting them won’t do me any good. I need the full pallet. I don’t suppose you’re willing to acknowledge prior ownership?”
    His teasing facade vanished, exposing the merciless businessman lurking beneath. So the lighthearted charmer was just for show, she realized, filing the information away for future reference.
    Rainer shook his head emphatically. “No, I’m not willing to acknowledge any ownership but my own.”
    Jordan lowered her eyes and thought fast. “I suspected as much.” She sighed. “I guess we’ll have to settle it in the only reasonable way I know.”
    “Which is?”
    “I’ll flip you for them.”
    He looked down at himself, then at her, his expression doubtful. “Won’t be easy. I’m a big guy.”
    It took her a second, but then she broke down and laughed. “A coin, Mr. Thorsen. We’ll flip a coin. Heads or tails?”
    “Er, Rainer . . .” Marco began. He was waved silent.
    “Tails,” Rainer said and reached into his pocket.
    Jordan forestalled him. “Please. Allow me.”
    If she’d suspected the buyers and workers along the dock were staring before, she was certain of it now. The shouts and occasional curses that usually rang