God dammit, he was going to be late. He couldn't do this to her today of all days. He should have known not to go this far from home when he had to meet Elizabeth in class for their cooking final and on her birthday of all days! He was the worst possible friend in the world. A low-down-grease-monkey who was -in all regards- was not good enough for the angelic Elizabeth Webber.

He should have known not to bring the bike out in the rain. He should have known it was going to break down. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Thumb out, Jason Morgan stepped up to the side of the road and prepared for a nice, long wait. Who the hell was he kidding? Taking a look at himself, bulking frame and fierce muscles, he began to walk. No one was going to pick up a hitchhiker that looked like him. Though...

There was one thing he had going for him. Sex appeal! Sure, some three-hundred pound trucker might not find it in his best interest to pick him up, but a car full of teenage girls...that was a different story. And so a plan was born.

Jacket off, sleeves rolled up, brilliant smile-complete with gleaming white teeth-and Jason began a slow strut down the highway. Grinning like an idiot he thought all his problems were solved. That is until it started to rain. Huh. Well, he could work with that. White shirt and rain equalled tight, wet clingy tee and many muscles clearly visible to the observant eye. Okay, so he could work with this.

Regaining his John Travola circa Saturday Night Fever stride Jason stuck out his thumb once again and the prospect of getting out off the highway and to Elizabeth were looking good. That is until a huge transport truck decided at that second to skid onto the shoulder of the road flinging mud and debris all over him.

Great! Just freaking fabulous!

Wiping most of the heavy mud from his body, Jason thought getting back to Elizabeth was becoming hopeless. She'd hate him. She'd call him a rat-bastard and all the work he'd done over the past few months to show her he wasn't a total womanizing sleaze would be lost.

Jason felt absolutely defeated. His posture now deflated, Jason bowed his head and kicked at the dirt under his feet. Not only was he not going to get to Elizabeth, he was going to be stuck walking the rest of the way to the nearest gas station. For the first time in his life, he finally understood all those times Elizabeth had explained to him about her bad luck. If she felt like this all those times... Man, he was an ass. He'd actually made fun of her for feeling sorry for herself once and now he understood. Hmm.

So distracted with his own inner monologue, Jason barely registered the car honking beside him.

"Hey, need a lift?" A burly man of about forty with yellowish teeth and a bad comb-over sat in a brown Cadillac staring at Jason.

"Huh?" Jason asked dazed.

"A ride. You need a ride?"

"Yeah, could you bring me to Renee's Culinary Institute?" He knew that was pushing it. After all, it usually worked the other way around, but hell he bloody well needed to get to Elizabeth and he had to do it in a hurry.

Squinting as Jason got in, the driver nodded. "Sure, why not. That mud on ya?"

"Yeah." Looking down at his wrist, Jason realized his watch had stopped working. "You got the time?"

"I got all the time in the world for you," he replied, licking his lips.

Jason nearly choked. He felt the vomit rise in his throat as a hand wondered up his thigh. "I uh...no, I mean... could you..." Jason stammered moving slowly away and out of reach. He really wanted to get out of the car, but if he waited any longer he would miss Elizabeth completely and he couldn't risk that. Sucking up his pride and the dirty feeling he got in the pit of his stomach, he sat in silence while thinking about how truly hard it must be to be a woman.

Forty minutes later, after the ride from hell and a quick trip to the grocery store to pick up sprinkled Jason raced up the steps of Renee's Culinary Institute.

Throwing away the cheap business card 'Lou' had given him, Jason wiped his hand on his chest as if to erase the handshake. How many times did a guy have to say he wasn't interested before he was believed? And what the hell made Lou think he would do those vile things he suggested anyway? Vaseline and flea powder? What kind of kinky fetish was that?

Sucking in a breath, all thoughts of Lou and his twisted sexual prowesses were tossed out the window because there standing in front of a ruined cake crying was Elizabeth. At least it looked like she was crying. Her shoulders were shaking and she had that slight tremble in her knees she always got when she was upset.

But damn she was wearing the leather mini and that oh-so-cute pink apron with red lips that said 'kiss the chef'. She was probably wearing those really cute smiley underwear he'd caught her in once when she bent down to retrieve something from the oven. The ones that were more suited for ten-year olds, not twenty-one years old, but shit she pulled it off. Damn! Stop thinking with your dick, Morgan, there is a cake to make, he thought.

He walked up behind her, posture firm and shoulders square. "Elizabeth?"

"Jason!"

Suddenly self-conscious, Jason watched as her eyes scanned his torso and only imagined what a spectacle he made. "I''m late, I know." Looking at anything but her, he took in the sad state of the cake they were supposed to make together. "I see you started without me."

He tried to play it off, but he knew she was upset. Hell, if she'd had half the day he had, he couldn't blame her.

Damn, he loved when she wore her hair up. Tiny curls found their way out of the high ponytail and rested against the nape of her neck. What he wouldn't give to give them a little touch and then move them away so his mouth could taste her skin.

"You could say that," she said, humour lacing her tone and making him feel hot.

"Well, it's a good thing I got here in time, we wouldn't want you not to be able to enjoy your own birthday cake."

Jason could see the shock on her face. Expected it, in fact. She just assumed he was some wise-ass prick that had never felt a real emotion a day in his life. That may have been true at one point, but definitely not now that he had her in his life.

"How did you-"

He met her eyes. "What, you think I would forget your birthday? Not a chance. I even got those chocolate sprinkles that you like for the top."

"Thanks Jason."

"No prob," he said smoothly, issuing her a casual wink. Yeah, no sweat. Really, the threat of crazy, homicidal, fetish freaks that pick up stray men to do God knows what didn't bother him one bit. Really, it didn't.

"I just have one question."

"Hmm?" Oh no, here it comes. She was going to ask about the mud, about where he'd been. Two questions he was just not ready to answer yet. He focussed on the cake. Looking at the cake was safe, looking at her could be very, very bad. He'd just spill the beans. Tell her about his horrible experience and ask her to hold him...preferably in bed after he'd given her a nice, long display of...affection.

And she touched him and he was literally thisclose to acting on his fantasy. Hmm...cake batter would probably be sticky right? Well, at least it was better than Vaseline and other gross things he could have very well been forced into had he not been so determined to get back to Elizabeth. She definitely was going to have to help him get over this ordeal.

"What''s with the mud?"

Jason laughed. "You don''t wanna know, Elizabeth. Trust me."