Life couldn't be better. The sun was shining, it was Friday morning, Jason had made it through the battery of medical appointments yesterday, and she would be Mrs. Jason Port in a few months. It was like living on Cloud Nine. Ah, bliss.

She unhooked Prince from his leash as Pete shut the front door. The sweet scent of fresh blueberry muffins wafted from the kitchen. Prince raised his nose, his tail whipping, and skipped greeting Jason this morning to head straight for the kitchen.

Pete took the leash and her purse to hang in the closet. "Trudy has been practicing her baking nonstop since you and Dr. Port announced your engagement on Monday." He shook his head. "She is convinced she can make your bridal shower cake herself." Then he whispered behind his hand, "If you value your life, you won't swallow anything she bakes."

She smiled. "Pete, she is a phenomenal cook. Her cookies for his birthday were...good." Good if one enjoyed the taste of baking soda.

He shuddered. "Dr. Port needs to put an end to her enthusiasm before we all die of indigestion."

Trudy came trotting out of the kitchen, her apron covered in as much flour as the rest of her. The cheery womn carried a muffin in each hand, and Prince trotted at her feet with his eyes up, prepared to catch any casualty before it reached the floor. "Married life will agree with you, don'tcha know. You shine prettier than a seashell each day. Look at the glow in her cheeks, Pete." Trudy smiled and shoved a muffin at each of them. "Try. They are my best yet." Then the woman folded her hands and waited expectantly, her face glowing with pride.

With a sideways glance at Pete, who looked terrified of the muffin in his hand, she took a small bite. And smothered a gag reflex. Far too much flour. The muffin crumbled in her mouth like sawdust. She forced a smile. "Mmm. Getting better," she said around the lump forming into paste in her mouth.

Trudy clapped her hands together in excitement and flounced out to the kitchen.

She spit it back on top of the muffin and grabbed Pete's muffin. Opening the front door, she threw them as far as possible into the woods. Prince shot out the door after them. She turned around to meet Pete's scowl.

"Good. Now she'll think we ate them." He pointed a finger at her. "You are an enabler. I told her to get a different task for the bridal shower. Like blowing up balloons."

She held up her hands. "What was I going to say? She wanted so much to make the cake for it. I told her we can buy one and she can decorate it, but she wants to do it herself. You're a baker, you go teach her how to do it."

He shook his head and stepped back. "Oh no. I tried on Tuesday. She ruined my recipe. I told her I'm not going to be in that kitchen if she's going to murder a culinary masterpiece."

Prince came trotting back in, shaking his head and snorting. He dropped his haunches and flicked his tongue over his nose over and over. The poor thing had pasty muffins all over his snout. Then he started pawing at his face and rubbing it on the floor.

Pete laughed. "Even he won't eat it! You can't make us suffer the next how many months until the bridal shower. Please tell me you plan on getting married tomorrow."

She smiled and shook her head. "We haven't discussed a date yet."

"Who wants to try my brownies?" Trudy called from the kitchen.

Pete looked at her with wide eyes. He ran for the front door and she ran for Jason's office. Poor Prince, ever hopeful, ran for the kitchen.

His office door was cracked open, and he sat at the desk in a suit with a look of intense concentration as he read a document. On the wall to the left of his desk, he'd already hung up his birthday present - her oil color drawing of a red rose. She smiled and stopped on the other side of the desk, but he still didn't look up. It would be rude to interrupt when he seemed so enveloped in his reading, so she sat in the plush chair across from his desk.

He seemed to grow more handsome each day. Those long black lashes swept down over his vibrant blue eye as he scanned the page. Why did men always get the beautiful lashes and thick hair? He blindly reached for a pen beside him with a beautiful, vein chisled hand. His suit pulled tight across his broad shoulders. Goodness, he could make her heart flutter. He'd taken to wearing the plastic mask more often than not since she'd mentioned weeks ago that the ski mask tended to startle her. She should ask him about that because he'd said on her birthday that the mask was uncomfortable.

With a sigh of frustration, he flipped the page and shook his head. Then he tossed down the pen and leaned back in the chair. And startled when his eye landed on her.

"Sorry." She smiled and got up.

He glanced at his watch and stood. "Time must've gotten away from me. Morning, sweetheart." He met her at the side of the desk with a smile and kiss.

"Hi. You looked frustrated. Do you need help?" She slipped her arms around his trim waist.

He sighed and shook his head. "I received a letter from the government regarding the patent. They want paperwork that was already submitted. It's just a headache."

"Let me know if you want help." Then she held her hand out behind his back, turning it this way and that. The engagement ring glittered in the sunlight.

He looked over his shoulder and cracked a smile. "You like the ring, I presume?"

She beamed. This smiling really needed to stop soon before her cheeks fell off. But even the aching of sore muscles couldn't damper the joy. "It's beautiful. I sent a picture to Andy when I asked her to be my matron of honor. She called me on the phone screaming," she laughed.

"Andy is the matron of honor?" The man did well to suppress his uncertainty about the wisdom in that.

"Yes. She's a bit...crazy sometimes, but she's always been there when I needed her. We were inseparable as kids. And I'm godmother to one of her kids." She smiled at his concerned look. "It's alright. She loves planning weddings and is actually good about giving in to what the couple wants. She'll be a help, you'll see."

"As long as she's not causing trouble like when she thought it'd be good to take you to a bar to pick up men..."

A laugh escaped her. "It worked, didn't it?" She patted his shoulder.

Trudy knocked and stepped into the room with a full plate. "I have some blueberries and brownies, don'tcha know. Ms. Hoplin said I'm getting better. As good as a French baker in a stew I'll be in time for the bridal shower, don'tcha know."

Jason smiled. "It smells divine, Ms. Van Hoodie. Your skill will only improve with time." He took the plate from Trudy and set it on the desk.

She tried to catch his eye without Trudy noticing, but he didn't look as he broke off a tiny piece of the muffin and slipped it past his lips. Biting her lip, she winced for him.

His face contorted for a moment before he could smooth it over. "Have you tried them?" he asked Trudy.

"No." Trudy beamed. "I worked hard on this one, so I wanted to see how you all like it first."

She smothered a laugh behind her hand when his mouth seemed to stick together.

He raised his eyebrow and forced a smile. His eye kept darting to the glass of water and straw on his desk.

Trudy practically giggled with delight and trotted out.

The moment the woman exited, he dove for the water and took a long sip through the straw. "Dear god in heaven, how did you eat that?" He pulled open his desk and grabbed a wad of napkins. "Turn away for a moment, Em. This requires a real drink."

She laughed and turned away. His mask clanked on the desk. "I threw mine into the woods."

"Mm." He swallowed and his speech came out slightly impaired from even the bandage being removed. "You will go tell her there's no way in hell she's serving that. Alright, the mask is back on."

She whipped around and touched her chest. "Me?"

With an eyebrow touching the sky, he nodded. "I certainly didn't tell her she could be the baker. You can go break it to her."

She frowned. "Jay, she might get better. It's at least a year off until the shower. She can't possibly not improve. It'd break her heart."

"Don't give me those big green eyes." He sat at the desk. "I'm done being the guinea pig. If you want her to keep trying, you're in charge of being the taste tester."

She sighed. "Whimp."

Picking up a pen, he shook his head. "It's self-induced torture. I'd rather not have my innards solidified for the wedding. And tell her I expect to not find my bride suffering from food poisoning as a result of this mess you two are getting into. Put a little fear of God into the woman," he muttered and resumed his work.

His bride. Her heart melted. She smiled and leaned her elbows down on the desk beside him. "Are you being protective, Jay?"

He started writing, his eye on the paper. "I'm always protective. And I'm serious - tell her that I said you'd better not get sick. The woman will probably start meddling with flan or something undercooked again."

Forcing a frown, she saluted. "Yes, sir," she teased. The man seemed a bit cranky.

"Don't lean down in that shirt in front of men, sweetheart." His eye remained on his writing.

She frowned and glanced down. And shot up just as fast with a burning face. "Sorry."

A smile tugged at his lips. "I'd show you how much I didn't mind the accidental view...if indigestion wasn't threatening me." He gave her a dry look from beneath his strong brow.

She sighed, her face still hot. "Fine, I'll talk to her. But if she cries, I'm telling her it's your fault."

"Fine." Then he returned to his work, but his voice was softer. "There's no point in being embarrassed, Emma. It was only me who got a glimpse of your undergarment, and you breasts were covered. I have every intention of being more familiar with your body than that once we wed." He picked up a different piece of paper for a moment and scanned it.

Oh goodness. Now the flush really did spread, and not only across her face. Goosebumps skittered over her skin as an image formed of his hands caressing over her body. He'd be gentle and so tenderly careful to not frighten her on the honeymoon. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned to let him work in peace, biting her lip with a smile. Within a year or so she'd be married to the most wonderful man in the world. Within a year of that, he'd probably have her pregnant. Goodness, any more happiness and she'd probably burst today.

"Emma?"

She turned near the door

He looked her straight in the eye. "Forgive me, I'm in ill humor this morning and didn't intend to sound crass or disrespectful. I mean it that I don't wish for you to ever feel embarrassed about me seeing your body."

Even in a foul mood he could sweep her off her feet. Her heart melted and warmth flooded through her chest. "It never occurred to me that you would be crass or disrespectful, Jay," she said, her voice soft from shyness and his sweet, unnecessary apology. "And, Jason? I love you."

That lifted a little of the stress from his shoulders. "I love you too, sweetheart."

She headed for her office. At lunch she could help teach Trudy how to bake a cake. How the woman could be an extraordinary cook but not a good baker made no sense. THere'd be no need to break Trudy's heart about not making the cake - she and Pete would get dear Trudy good enough for a baking TV show by the time the bridal shower came. Perhaps best to keep some indigestion meds on hand until then, though. A bounce slipped into her step. Life was good.