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

repeated breathlessly.
    Rainer eased the eggplant into the plastic basket she carried on her arm. “Not as sensuous as tomatoes, of course.” He slipped his hand beneath her elbow and spared Jordan a quick glance. “Coming?” he asked, before leading her customer toward the tomatoes. “You can’t buy your man eggplant, kjæreste , and not tempt him with love’s most infamous vegetable.”
    “Sweetheart.” Mrs. Swenson sighed again. “My husband used to call me that.”
    “Feed him more tomatoes,” Rainer responded promptly, “and he will again.”
    “Well I’ll be a pickled herring,” Jordan muttered, staring after them. She didn’t know whether to be grateful, annoyed, or suspicious. Suspicion won out. Who did he think he was, Svengali? And what had he done to her customer? At a guess, charmed Mrs. Swenson into buying more produce in one day than she had in the past month.
    Jordan drummed her fingers against the wooden counter, her eyes narrowed. That golden-haired, smooth-talking, devil incarnate wanted something, and if she was wise, she’d find out what. Pronto.
    Before she could act, Uncle Cletus tapped her on the shoulder and gestured toward Rainer. “Who is that?” he asked, intrigued.
    “Trouble, with a capital T.”
    Her uncle shook his head. “Impossible. A man with such an instinctive understanding of the basic nature of eggplant can’t be all bad.”
    “Trust me on this,” she said dryly. “Bad doesn’t begin to describe the man.”
    Determined to find out why he’d come, she followed Rainer. She didn’t buy two coincidences in a row, especially when the first wasn’t one. So, what did he want? Not the bananas, that didn’t make sense. Or did it? She paused in midstride, her right hand straying to her pocket. Maybe he’d found out about the coin trick and had come to reclaim what he deemed his property. Jordan smiled coolly. If so, she’d soon disabuse him of the notion.
    By the time she caught up with Rainer and Mrs. Swenson, they were examining the tomatoes. Her gaze snagged on Rainer’s lean fingers stroking a plump red tomato. He was right about one thing. Tomatoes were sensuous, at least the way he touched them. Suddenly she knew she’d never be able to think about them the same way again.
    She swallowed.
    The man had an exquisite touch. What a shame to waste it on an inanimate vegetable. Not that she’d care to experience his caresses personally. But, to give such loving attention to a tomato?
    He bent down and whispered something in Mrs. Swenson’s ear. To Jordan’s astonishment, the woman turned as red as the vegetable he held and let out a snort of laughter.
    “It’s the truth,” he insisted. “If you don’t believe me, ask Jordan.”
    “Ask me what?” she asked, not certain she wanted to know.
    Rainer held up the tomato, turning it. “That one of the names for this vegetable is the love apple.’”
    As much as it went against the grain, she forced herself to agree with him. “It’s one name for them, among others.”
    “Quite right. Also the wolf peach—”
    “The mad apple—”
    “And the rage apple.” He offered the tomato to Mrs. Swenson. “But to me, it will always be . . . the love apple.”
    So he liked to play games, did he? Well, she played games and quite ably, too. “Tomatoes,” Jordan stated with determination. “Low in calories, high in nutrition. They contain vitamins A, B1, B2, and C—”
    “Once considered poisonous,” he broke in, shooting her a wicked look, “they were later believed harmful only to the chaste. All proper maidens who guarded their virtue avoided what many considered an aphrodisiac.” He selected another tomato and offered it to Jordan, along with a mocking grin. “Shall I tempt your virtue?”
    She took the proffered fruit. “Lycopersicon esculentum , literally ‘juicy wolf peach.’ A member of the nightshade family, the fruit is the only edible portion. In actuality a berry, it is legally a