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I clicked.

The screen went wild. Golden confetti and silver streamers shot across the monitor like fireworks, and when it all settled down, a name appeared—this time in tall, electric blue capitals: QUINN EVERBY.

Quinn? Really? A remarkable name. I giggled. I guess I had asked for an extraordinary man, after all.

Too intrigued to stop, I scrolled down and found that Mr. Quinn Everby was a self-trained software designer, who spent his summers assisting on archeological digs in the Sahara and his winters bowling. He had indeed been born in China, where his parents were some sort of trade delegates. One by one, my stated preferences were met, and on the next page, I found a picture of a dark haired, sky-blue-eyed Adonis. Fantasies erupted, adding to my deprived sensuality.

Elbow on the table, I laid my cheek in palm and studied Quinn's sensuously full lips. How would he kiss? With great lips and a smile that lit up to those incredible eyes, I may have trouble keeping my hands to myself. We would have two children and maybe—wait, no. I sat up. Craziness.

What was I thinking?