As expected, Owen didn't file his paperwork on time. As she planned, Claire alerted Vic Hoskins. She knew him to be harsh on his employees. Hoskins was a Marine drill sergeant in another life - hard for Claire to comprehend given his beer belly - and maintained that attitude as the head of island security. On numerous occasions, she'd heard him prattle on about "survival of the fittest." He was obnoxious in a way not unlike Owen. She would've been more annoyed by him if not for the fact that he got results. He vetted ACU recruits in San Diego by subjecting them to some top secret training program there. Subsequently, the turnover rate for ACU was the lowest among the various park employee classifications. Claire was never dissatisfied with the quality and support of his ACU.
She tolerated Hoskins' arrogance due to her respect for his work ethic, and that respect was mutual. She fully expected him to assist her with getting Owen in line. Hoskins chuckled into the phone. He seemed eager to reprimand his "wayward" raptor trainer. Since Hoskins and Owen probably mixed like oil and water, she imagined the powder keg this would ignite. It filled her with glee. Claire chastised herself for relishing in Owen's impending punishment. She remained very bothered by his crass comments during their last encounter, and she was far from becoming indifferent to the thought of him. He still invaded her dreams despite her no longer masturbating with him in mind.
Two days after her phone call to Hoskins, Claire was writing an email in her office and heard a commotion in the hallway outside her closed door. The voices were muffled, but she could make out the conversation if she strained to hear.
"She's very busy," Zara said dismissively. "You can't just show up here unannounced."
"Oh, she'll make time for this." It was Owen Grady. He sounded angry and as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. Claire's heart started to pound.
"I'll ask her," Zara sounded at her wit's end. Claire knew her assistant had a great deal of patience and strength. She feared that Owen was reaching new levels of menacing. She mentally prepared to face him at his worst. It was a favorite defensive play of hers.
"If you open that door, I'm going inside," Owen was practically growling. Claire suppressed a laugh. This was going to be so much fun.
True to his word, Owen pushed past Zara and stalked toward Claire's desk. Zara made eye contact with her boss, who gave her a nod. They understood each other's nonverbals implicitly. Zara stepped back into the hallway and shut the door. Claire cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair as she looked up at Owen. He was breathing heavily and toggling a manila envelope between his hands. He glared at her briefly before shaking his head and emitting a staccato "tsk" sound. Claire leaned back further and raised a single eyebrow.
"Here," he said calmly, chucking the envelope forcefully onto her desk. "Signed, sealed, delivered."
"Thank you," she answered flatly, her eyes never leaving his.
"You ruined something fun."
She scoffed, "Please." She almost snorted. "I wasn't crude."
"You started it."
"You're immature." Claire rolled her eyes.
"Oh, right." Owen chuckled viciously before sneering sarcastically, "Because talking about people behind their backs is the definition of maturity." Claire was caught. The mirth drained from her face. She appreciated a modicum of pain in his eyes. She didn't know if it was about herself or Hannah. She hoped it was about herself. "You didn't have to make it personal...at least, not like that." He flashed her a cheeky grin.
"You want me to get personal with you...another way, Mr. Grady?"
"You know I do." He paused to cross his arms over his chest and slightly elevate his chin. "So do you."
"You wish." She tried to shrug it off, but even she could tell that it was an unconvincing display. He walked forward and smacked his palms on her desk. It made her jump. Their eyes were now on the same level.
"I know you aren't so lenient with all your employees, Claire. I got special treatment, and I liked it." He moistened his lips with his tongue. Claire almost audibly gulped in response. She pulled herself together.
"So, you were taking advantage of me?" Her tone was taunting.
"Yeah, and I want to keep it going."
"Well," she smirked, "I'm done giving you leniency, so I guess you're shit out of luck."
"How about I lean you over something in my bungalow?" He laid on the smolder thick. It didn't do him any good.
She laughed out loud before taunting him, "Is that the best you can do? Seriously? Do girls on the mainland go for lines like that?" He stood up and removed his hands from her desk. She had him unnerved. She shook her head. Her patience wearing thin as he said nothing and she couldn't read the expression on his face. "'Just fucking' isn't something I do."
"From what I hear," Owen hissed, "you don't do anything at all." His words were intended to sting. The goal was accomplished to an extent, but Claire was largely content with her life choices. It could be lonely and isolating at times, but she figured it saved her from a different, deeper type of pain.
She sighed, "Seems like you talk behind people's backs, too." She stared him down. "Kindly leave my office." Her Owen Grady fantasy was less appealing with every passing second. She wanted him out of her sight as quickly as possible. She broke their eye contact first and resumed her email-writing. She glanced briefly at the door as he shut it. He didn't look back.
The next month, Owen submitted his report on time. Zara brought it to her after Claire returned from a meeting.
"You missed him," Zara opined with a pout.
"I don't know if THAT'S strictly true," replied Claire, frowning.
"Oh, shut it. Don't you want to know if he said anything? How he looked?"
"You're going to tell me anyway." Claire was trying too hard to appear disinterested.
Zara giggled, "He said to tell you that he was sorry. He was clearly disappointed you weren't here."
"Hopefully, he'll send someone else next time." Claire was just starting to get Owen Grady out of her system. Zara was undermining that effort. His words in her office replayed mercilessly in her brain: "I want to keep it going." What did he mean? At the time, she assumed he just meant meaningless sex, as was his reputation. The more she thought about his statement - recalling the subtle hurt in his eyes and his catty retort to her rejection - the more she wondered if he meant something else. Something more traditional. Something, dare she believe, more wholesome? It seeded in her consciousness and became more irksome than their previous interactions.
On good days, Claire told herself that the statement was likely part of a ruse to get her in bed. What a trophy she would be to him - not only the Senior Assets Manager, but he knew that she didn't sleep with anyone. That bit of information being discussed by her employees wasn't surprising but still hurt. She subsequently hadn't been gossiping with Zara about anyone since her last interaction with Owen.
On bad or lonely days - she was guiltily missing the schadenfreude that came from gossip - Claire wondered if she should've taken him up on his suggestion of being wined and dined. She fantasized about him being her trophy and how she'd make him work for it. Plead for it. Beg for it. Such thoughts got her aroused and made the rough days more tolerable.
As Owen's next paperwork due date approached, Zara teased Claire at least once a day about whether she was looking forward to seeing him.
"Maybe he'll be late again," Zara smirked. "Last month could've been a fluke. He can't keep it up."
Claire scoffed, "I somehow doubt that's EVER his problem." Zara laughed heartily. Her boss took the bait and proved where her mind was with regard to the raptor trainer. Claire remained silent until Zara frowned, "Look, I know you told me to lay off the gossip, but you should know that, in the last month, there have been no reports of his being out on the prowl." This knowledge piqued Claire's curiosity, and it was obvious to Zara, who shook with excitement. She whispered for effect, "People are starting to wonder if he's seeing someone...on the island."
Claire groaned, "Maybe he is." She looked away from Zara.
"Who could that be, Claire?" Zara's eyebrows were raised when her boss looked back at her. It was clear that Zara interpreted Claire's reaction differently than was intended.
"What are you suggesting?" Claire stammered. Zara smiled devilishly. "Do you think I'm seeing him...secretly?" Zara nodded. "Well, I can tell you with certainty that I am not."
Zara shrugged, "Maybe someone else then." Claire's disappointment was obvious this time. "Although," Zara added with a grin, "I doubt it. You were my guess, and there are very few other options - myself included, and it's not me."
"Are...people on the mainland suggesting it's me?" Claire asked hesitantly.
"No. The horny women just miss seeing him around. There are five or six ready to pounce as soon as he returns to the scene." Claire breathed an audible sigh of relief, but a small part of her lamented that her reputation for being frigid likely protected her from being the subject of such speculation. "Claire, come on. Admit you like him." Zara looked at her boss sympathetically. "I try not to rub things in with Alec, but I'm really happy to have found him. I want that happiness for you."
"I don't need a man to be happy," Claire spat back, near to venomously.
"I know." Zara didn't back down or appear offended. "But there's a tremendous difference between that and living a solitary existence. You're not happy anyway."
"I'm sorry, Zara. I shouldn't have snapped at you." Claire stopped short of admitting that her assistant was right. She knew her too well. Maybe three assistants would be better. Alec and Zara were considering a transfer within Masrani Global as their wedding date approached. Claire knew that Zara would be irreplaceable.
When her assistant left for the day, Claire leaned back in her office chair and considered how to divide her workload into thirds. She refused to consider what Zara suggested with regard to Owen Grady, after quickly bemoaning the lack of alternative bachelors. She also pushed away the intrusive thought that she only had eyes for him.
The next morning, Claire logged into her computer and saw something on her schedule that hadn't been there the preceding evening: "1130 - Meeting with Owen Grady." It was marked as added to the calendar by Zara and spanned until 1pm. Claire huffed silently. This was supposed to be her day for a quiet lunch alone and away from the building - no meetings, no teleconferencing, no one breathing down her neck for a signature. She called Zara into her office.
"What do you think you're doing?" Claire asked with agitation in her voice after the door was shut.
"Encouraging you to live a little," Zara answered with a giggle bubbling in the back of her throat.
"Did he ask me to lunch?" Claire was whispering for no apparent reason.
"No." Zara spoke in a normal volume, unable to contain her mirth. "He emailed me last night and asked when you'd be in your office today...to 'receive his paperwork.'" Claire rolled her eyes. The other woman was enjoying the potential double intendre way too much. "Ask HIM to lunch."
"What if he says no?" Claire was embarrassed by the fear evident in her tone.
"He won't," Zara reassured her. Claire's brow wrinkled in frustration.
"I don't want to be another notch in his bedpost."
"You won't." Zara looked deadly serious. It startled Claire. "I know you wouldn't let that happen, even if that's his intention...which I don't think it is." Zara sighed, "Give it one lunch hour. Explore the possibility. If he's a total louse, toss him...and the fantasy. It'll be done." Claire blushed, unnerved that Zara could read her like that.
Claire sat at her desk a bundle of nerves, glancing at the clock on her computer screen every ten seconds. She hadn't recalled ever feeling so foolish. It was just Owen Grady, for Pete's sake, and she wasn't some trembling violet. She was Claire fucking Dearing, keeper of the kingdom. She pounded a fist on her desk reflexively. Just then, an aggressive knock sounded on her door. Claire knew that it wasn't Zara. He didn't wait for a response, and she barely had time to adjust her posture before he let himself in. As he shut the door behind him and sauntered toward her desk, Claire admitted to herself that she had missed him. His musky scent. His cocky charm. The real thing was better than any fantasy. She tucked the thoughts away. He stopped in front of her desk with a hopeful look in his eyes. Owen cleared his throat and held out the envelope toward her. She stood to take it from him, but he didn't immediately let go. They seemingly played tug-of-war until he spoke - barely audible and almost under his breath, as if he was the object being pulled in two different directions - "How can I see you more than once a month?" Claire blinked rapidly, suddenly unsure of herself, and almost stumbled backwards with the force of her own tugging when he let go of the envelope.
"Are you free for lunch today?" she blurted out, not thinking first. His question remained unanswered.
"Uh, yeah," he stuttered as he looked down. Claire smirked at the faint blush on his cheeks. Maybe he was expecting a fight. Or a rejection. Owen's gaze shifted back to her, and there was mischief in his eyes. "That was easier than I thought it would be." She bit her bottom lip to contain a chuckle.
"My free time is precious," she finally said. It was a loaded sentence and a warning. She wouldn't stand for him wasting her time. She was also telling him that he was worth her time. He appeared to understand all her meanings and was speechless, for once. Owen gave her a closed mouth smile that brought a twinkle to his eyes. She'd never before seen him smile like that and couldn't remember the last time such warmth was directed at her by anyone. Claire fought the smile tugging at her own cheeks. Fought the flush on her face and below her waist.
"Where to?" he asked with trepidation.
"Main Street," Claire answered while pulling her purse out of her desk drawer. She caught him rolling his eyes with her peripheral vision. What was he expecting? Afternoon delight? Owen Grady just might prove himself to be a total louse, after all.
They were largely silent on the walk through the building. Claire wondered if it was a mistake to be seen out in the open with him. She didn't want to be the subject of idle gossip, especially if this didn't pan out.
"Relax, Claire." He startled her while they rode the elevator alone. "I don't bite...unless that's something you're into." She turned her head, and he was laughing.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," she teased. "I'm not even going to let you pay for me."
"I wasn't offering." She shook her head before he added, "I hope it won't offend your sensibilities, however, if I hold a door open for you." Claire missed this. Aside from Zara, no one joked around with her. One of her park monitors, Lowery Cruthers, made attempts at humor, but it usually came across as condescending. Lowery was perilously close to being reprimanded or losing his job for it. By contrast, Claire never considered firing Owen for his playfulness, but that could've been her leniency with him.
"I hadn't pictured you as the chivalrous type," she smirked.
"I guess I'm already not living up to your fantasies," he answered in mock disappointment.
"I'll do my best to exceed yours." She quirked a brow and smiled lasciviously. Her effect on him was evident in his widened pupils and sharp intake of breath. She walked into the Innovation Center with unmatched confidence after the elevator doors opened.
As they assimilated with the crowd on Main Street, Owen asked, "Why do you choose to come here on your free lunch hour?" His tone was a mix of curiosity and disdain. Claire could also tell that he was uncomfortable.
"I need occasional reminders of why I work so hard," she answered without defensiveness.
He scoffed, "Last time I checked, you weren't the Senior Tourists Manager."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Now, Claire was defensive.
"If you need reminders to motivate you, you should spend some time with the animals."
"I spend plenty of time in the field with the ASSETS." He scowled at her emphasis on the last word.
"You spend time in the field evaluating and criticizing the staff who work directly with the ANIMALS." She bristled at his judgmental emphasis as well as the presumption of familiarity with her job. She was more concretely beginning to regret this lunch. "I'm suggesting you make a trip into the park just to appreciate them. Maybe then, they'd be more than just ASSETS to you."
"I suppose you'd volunteer to enlighten me," Claire huffed.
"I'm sure I could open your world to lots of possibilities." She heard the shift in his tone. Owen was back to being mischievous. When she turned her head, he was grinning broadly at her. It made her laugh. "I like that sound, Claire. You should do it more." She rolled her eyes to keep her blush in check. They were standing in front of Jamba Juice. "This is lunch?" asked Owen, confused.
"Their drinks average almost 800 calories, and it's efficient."
"Okay," he relented. "I would've offered to pay if I knew you were a cheap date." He made a show of holding the door open for her, and she laughed again.
They walked the perimeter of the lagoon with their drinks. Claire shared amusing anecdotes about guest mishaps and the subsequent modifications made by engineering. Owen responded in kind by sharing similar stories about the raptors. She liked the way he lit up talking about his job. There was a joy for him that she had yet to capture in her own work despite years of living on Isla Nublar.
"What is it?" he asked, a genuine concern apparent.
"Oh," she stammered. "I guess I'm a little jealous." She regretted the self-disclosure immediately and avoided his gaze.
"Yeah," he smirked, "I get that a lot. Many women are jealous of my girls." Claire could tell he was joking. She looked at him, and his eyes were sympathetic. "You're not going to find that motivation out here." He motioned toward the crowd. She swallowed hard. "When's your next free afternoon?"
"Wednesday." Her voice was soft and hesitant. Her heart fluttered in her chest.
"Meet me at my place. One o'clock?"
"Sure." Claire had pulled herself together and stiffened her posture. She hoped to convey that she wasn't agreeing to an illicit rendezvous. He flashed her that warm smile again before nervously looking at his watch.
"I gotta get back," he stammered. She nodded in agreement. They walked somewhat briskly toward the Innovation Center. Before he broke off toward the staff parking area, he gave her a sly smile and said, "Wear pants and...flats Wednesday."
"Don't get used to telling me what to do," she teased in response.
"You'll learn to like it." She scoffed audibly, but his back was already facing her as he maneuvered through the crowd, preening like the cock of the walk.