It was time to confront Rainer and find out what he
wanted, then see if she couldn't -- politely -- usher him out the door.
Squaring her shoulders, Jordan joined him at the berry
counter. Mrs. Swenson clutched a second basket in her hand, this one
overflowing with nectarines, grapes and raspberries. "Thank you, Mr.
Thorsen . . . Rainer." The older woman dimpled at him. "You've been such
a help. I can't wait to tell Ivar all about the tomatoes."
"Love apples," he corrected her.
She blushed. "Love apples." And with that, she trotted
toward the checkout stand.
Once Mrs. Swenson was out of hearing range, Jordan said,
"You two certainly got on like a house on fire. I don't suppose you want
a full-time job? You have quite a way with my customers, particularly
those of the female persuasion."
"Don't be snide," he admonished. "You should be
grateful. I even managed to sell her some bananas."
"How did you pull that off?" she asked, curiosity getting
the better of her. "Not more love potions or cute legends, I hope."
He grinned. "No sex, no politics, just plain, old
dry-as-dust fact. I told her bananas were like people -- they improved
with age.
Jordan nodded, secretly impressed. "I like that."
"I'm glad. Because if you continue to give the produce
away, you're going to need every extra sale I can drum up."
"Try minding your own business." She smiled sweetly.
"It'll save your poor nose another crook."
He didn't look at all intimidated. "So. Come to give me
my marching orders, have you?"
She chuckled. "How did you guess?"
"It wasn't difficult." He glanced toward the
curtained-off section at the back of the store. "You shouldn't have told
your uncle my identity. You scared him."
She shouldn't ask how he knew that Cletus was her uncle,
nor how he knew that she and Uncle Cletus had discussed. Clairvoyance,
telepathy, omniscience -- nothing seemed beyond him. "Does he have reason
to be scared?" she asked instead.
He didn't answer, which was answer enough. Darn! Why,
every time she got within arm's length of the man, did she forget he meant
trouble? She wouldn't forget again. She'd engrave it on her forehead, if
necessary, but she wouldn't forget.
Jordan lifted her chin. The game was over. It was time to
get serious. She'd thought of exactly three angles of approach,
admittedly all less that brilliant, to use in her dealing with him. She
could charm him. She could physically eject him. Or she could force him
to admit what he wanted.
She'd already tried charm; it hadn't gotten her anywhere.
But then, she never was much good at charm. And tossing him out,
presuming she could, would only bring a temporary end to their
conversation. That narrowed her choices a whole heck of a lot. Like down
to one. Somehow forcing his man into a confession seemed the poorest, and
most ludicrous, choice of all.
Maybe she could beg.
"Would you care to tell me what you want -- before you
leave?" She almost sighed aloud. She never was much good at begging.
He smiled then, his ruthless, Viking
I'm-going-to-win-no-matter-what smile. "I don't want much," he said
gently. "Just your store."
Related books:
Read Thor's story in the second book of
this duet,
A
Wholesale Arrangement
Now you've met Joe Milano! Read his
story in "A
Man For All Seasonings" part of the Christmas Treats anthology
From the book:
In the Market
by Day Leclaire
Harlequin Romance #3183--March ’92
ISBN: 0-373-03183-1
