QUOTE : Her cell phone buzzed loudly in her purse. She saw that it was Christian and answered.<br /><br />“You couldn’t at least send me a metrosexual to work with?” he asked.<br /><br />She grinned at that. “How did the shopping go with Nick?”<br /><br />“We survived. That’s about all I can say. You should’ve seen his expression when he saw the colors of the ties I’d pulled to go with the suit. He told me that where he comes from, men don’t do boysenberry. I shudder to think such a place exists.”<br /><br />“Boysenberry? You are lucky you survived. Thanks, Christian. I appreciate your help.” Jordan made a mental note to send him a bottle of wine from the store.<br /><br />“Feel free to send me all the suit-buying customers you want. And I think you’ll be pleased with the results.” His tone turned sly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jordan. I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one for you.”<br /><br />Right, she thought as she hung up the phone. Because Nick was her date. And of course any woman spending Valentine’s Day with a date who looked like Nick was guaranteed a night of endless great sex.<br /><br />Hot, scruffy-jawed, throw-me-down-on-the-table, mindblowing sex.<br /><br />Probably with dirty words.<br /><br />Perhaps not a horrible way to spend Valentine’s Day, she conceded. But it wasn’t in the cards for her