Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement Read Online Free PDF

market picture perfect when she opened the front doors to the first customer. Confusion and disarray bothered her. A lot. Unfortunately, in this business they were a fact of life, one she’d learned to accept.
    She hurried to the front of the store and stopped short, a small groan escaping her. Mrs. Swenson headed the line of customers, which didn’t surprise her. She’d started the day with a Viking, naturally she’d continue it with the Norse version of Attila the Hun. Heaven help the tomatoes, because dear Mrs. Swenson had a grip that could squeeze blood from a hazelnut.
    Jordan unlocked the doors and smiled a greeting. Within seconds the store filled with shoppers. As she’d predicted, Mrs. Swenson marched straight for the tomatoes. At the last minute she veered toward the eggplant. Jordan, knowing impending trouble when she saw it, followed. Combining Mrs. Swenson with her grip of iron and Uncle Cletus with his precious eggplant could only mean a combustion of the most elemental kind.
    Sure enough, Uncle Cletus took a defensive stance in front of his display, his arms spread wide. It didn’t deter Mrs. Swenson. The stocky woman brushed him aside with no more effort than it would take to swat a pesky fly.
    “Your eggplant looks tired,” she announced, picking one up and inspecting it with meticulous care.
    “Tired?” Uncle Cletus’s voice held a strangled quality. He snatched the eggplant from her and cradled it protectively in his arms. “My dear woman, I’ll have you know these eggplants are in their prime of life.”
    Mrs. Swenson sniffed. “What would you know about an eggplant’s prime, when you don’t even know your own? Men think their prime starts when they crawl out of their diapers and ends with the last nail in their coffin.”
    “You mean it doesn’t?” Uncle Cletus grumbled.
    The look she shot him could have shriveled watermelons. She picked up another eggplant and shook it at him. “A week ago these were in their prime. Today they’re just plain tired.” She dropped the mangled vegetable back onto the pile. “There’s nothing more pathetic than tired eggplant.”
    “Why, Mrs. Swenson, how nice to see you this morning,” Jordan interrupted. “Have you seen our wonderful deal on bananas?”
    “Good morning, Jordan. Yes, I’ve seen it. You know I only buy top-quality produce. Those aren’t even fit for banana bread.” She reached for a third eggplant, but was forestalled when another voice intruded on their conversation—a deep familiar voice, one that caused Jordan to stiffen in alarm.
    “Try this one, Mrs. Swenson,” Rainer Thorsen suggested. He cut neatly between them and plucked a large eggplant from the back of the display. He cupped it in his hands and held it up so the overhead lights gleamed off the rich purple skin. Then he lifted it to his face and inhaled deeply. “Yes, this is the perfect one.”
    The Norwegian woman eyed him with equal parts curiosity and suspicion. “Do you think so?”
    “Yes. Definitely.” He took her work-worn hand in his, placing it around the vegetable with care. “Be gentle now. Eggplant is like a beautiful woman. Squeeze too hard and you’ll bruise her. And that would be a sin, don’t you think?”
    “Not another one,” Jordan muttered, rolling her eyes. “First politics, now sex. I swear these vegetables see more action than I do.”
    “I— Oh, oh yes,” Mrs. Swenson said in apparent fascination.
    “Even the shape is womanly,” Rainer continued. “Round and full-bodied, the skin, warm and firm and smooth.” He grasped her other hand so they held the eggplant between them. “Do you feel that, how it invites the touch? Eggplant is one of the most sensuous vegetables you’ll find.”
    Mrs. Swenson gave a deep heartfelt sigh and Jordan listened in amazement. Eggplant, sensuous? Apparently, the woman agreed with him, because she nodded, her faded blond topknot bobbing up and down.
    “Sensuous. Very sensuous,” she