Relaxing house style music played in the background as I prepared dinner. I wasn't a world renowned chef, but I did know my way around a kitchen. Currently, I had the penne pasta boiling, the chocolate cake baking, the freshly made salad mixed, the white wine chilling, and the well-seasoned marinara sauce cooking. Everything was going quite well. I had set the dinner table, which was also the breakfast and lunch table, just an hour prior to beginning the dinner. The table was neatly covered with a white cotton table cloth, a bouquet of orange blossoms in a clear vase centered in the middle of the table, two silver antique candle holders on each side of the vase of orange blossoms, and of course, the elegant looking plates and silverware. I had everything planned out to the very last detail. I was going to make sure everything was romantic as humanly possible. After all, this was all for Logan. He had been working long hours this week, and had been coming home completely exhausted. Of course, this was typical of someone in Logan's position. He worked as a financial analyst for a major insurance company. I'm sure anyone who dealt with numbers would be the same way. As it was, I wasn't much for math, and just the thought of investments, clients, numbers, and figures made my head hurt. Luckily for me, I was a newspaper columnist. So none of these things ever came into the equation. As jobs went, mine was pretty easy. I got to work from home, and I got paid pretty well.
It was close to six-thirty when I glanced up at the kitchen clock. I quickly rushed to get everything finished and ready for when Logan came home. I drained the pasta, mixed in the marinara sauce, dressed the salad, and took the cake out of the oven. I was quite proud, as everything smelled and looked very delicious. All that was needed now was for me to get cleaned up. Being that Logan would be home in about twenty-three minutes, I had more than enough time. I raced to the bathroom located within the master bedroom.