This chapter is relatively short because I wanted to post a "gift" for Valentine's Day. Enjoy!

Claire was sitting at a table in a corner of Nobu and looking at her watch. Owen was already ten minutes late. She hid behind her menu and pretended to consider the options even though she knew it by heart. She scanned the room occasionally to see if any other employees had entered the restaurant. As she anticipated, the crowd appeared to be all guests. It was an impossible task - for anyone other than the Senior Assets Manager - to get a table at Nobu on a Saturday night. It was booked for months in advance, but Claire had a standing agreement for a reserved table in case of last minute visits by the board, investors or other VIPs. She'd never used it for herself.

As the seconds ticked away, Claire wondered how long she could wait before walking out. She was growing more embarrassed than she was impatient. She examined her dress for any wrinkles. It was a deep red satin Versace with bejeweled straps that she'd never worn before. She'd been saving it for a special occasion and thought of it right away when planning this date night. Zara gave her seal of approval earlier in the evening, telling Claire that she looked like, "sex on a stick." The maitre'd even said he'd never seen her "so dazzling." All for nothing, she grumbled to herself just before she caught a middle-aged man making eyes at her from several tables away. Her stomach lurched, and she buried herself further into her menu.

"Claire?" Owen called out to her from across the room. She put her menu down and stood. She almost fell back into her seat as she regarded him in a gray henley, black board shorts, and Birkenstock sandals. She fought a frown from consuming her face. She was flabbergasted. She told him Nobu at eight. He had to know it was the finest restaurant on the island. What was happening?

"Wow," Owen seemed to stumble over his words as he planted a kiss on her cheek and ran the fingers of one hand over the satin on her hip. "You look...hot."

"And you look COOL," Claire struggled mightily to contain the disdain in her voice. She smelled alcohol on his breath. "Did you...pre-game?"

"Um...yes?" He smiled sheepishly then nervously looked around the room. Claire might've found it cute if he hadn't kept her waiting or had dressed more appropriately.

"Were you safe to drive here?" she asked scornfully in a hushed tone.

"I got a ride." He squinted at her and appeared to be sobering up. "It's why I was late."

"Good." Claire fought an eye roll. She wasn't happy but could accept that excuse in the name of safety and good judgment. It still wasn't an apology, however. Their waiter suddenly appeared at the table to take their drink orders.

"Two shots of tequila," Owen said with a wink and smile at Claire.

"Do you really think you need two more shots?" she said through gritted teeth.

"One's for you."

"No no no no. I'm not doing tequila shots at Nobu." Her voice dripped with haughtiness.

"What're you on a diet?" Claire did a double-take. She guessed that Owen was trying to make a joke, but it came out wrong in his inebriated state. She rolled her eyes and turned to their waiter. "One tequila shot for him," she said very kindly, "and tell Miguel I want my usual martini." The waiter nodded and left them.

"Your usual, Claire?" Owen sneered. "Bring all your dates here?"

"I have business dinners here," she sighed. "I wanted to enjoy it myself for once." She looked down to adjust her napkin in her lap. She willed herself not to give into her mounting sadness. She felt a hard lump in the back of her throat.

"I'm sorry," Owen whispered. He sounded genuine. Her head felt heavy and difficult to move. "You intimidate me." Claire's neck snapped upwards, and her eyes went wide. "Glad to have your attention again," he teased. She gave him a small smile and swallowed. She was uncharacteristically speechless, but the lump seemed to be shrinking. "It's true."

"I'm sure I intimidate lots of people," Claire finally said with vulnerability not arrogance. "I never thought you were one of them." One side of her mouth curled up, and she felt herself blushing.

"Why do you think it took me so long to ask you out?" He raised his eyebrows at her and extended one of his hands, palm-up across the table. The trembling in her fingers had subsided when she lifted her hand out of her lap to take it. She stared at their hands as he rubbed small circles onto hers with his thumb. She could feel both of them relaxing. "What's good here?"

"Everything," replied Claire. She laughed to herself as her eyes flicked to his. Her answer applied to more than just the food. She briefly contemplated his eyes again. She suddenly wanted to climb into their unfathomable depths. Claire shook herself out of it by thinking about how he must ensnare a lot of women in that way.

Owen seemed to enjoy her explaining the menu, the different types of sushi and what made the Nobu preparations special. He held her hand throughout, and she never tried to pull away.

"I'm beginning to understand why you like this place," he teased. "They serve equal parts hot and cold dishes." She was amused and felt emboldened to be playful in kind. She seductively trailed her finger pads across the underside of his wrist and felt his faint shudder in response to her touch. Claire could get used to that.

"It's exhausting to stay hot all the time," she smirked. "I don't know how you do it." He quirked a brow and breathed out. He appeared to be considering his response carefully. Before he could speak, their waiter returned with their drinks. Owen largely deferred to Claire regarding their order. He nodded in agreement to her selections for sushi and tempura to share.

After the waiter left, she parroted Owen's words from her office, "That was easier than I thought it would be." She looked to him with appreciation and took a sip of her martini.

"You said you wanted to enjoy yourself," he replied with his twinkly-eyed smile. "And...lady's choice." He raised his shot glass. "Cheers." Claire laughed as they clinked glasses. He winced after he downed his tequila and said, "Oooh. That's the good stuff. Much higher quality than my usual."

"I hope that statement applies to more than just the alcohol," she smoldered at him.

"That's a given, Claire." He subtly licked his lips. Her blood simmered with lust. It was so unlike her, and she couldn't blame it on the scant sips of her martini. He was barely making an effort, but she was very close to being putty in his hands.

She cleared her throat, "I'll be right back." Claire wanted to run to the restroom to get a grip on herself. She took it slow, realizing that he would likely watch her movements in her slinky dress and gold pumps.

While washing her hands, it dawned on Claire that Owen would probably expect her to give him a ride home. So much for a clean getaway at the end of dinner. She didn't want to sleep with him this early, but the evening was swiftly heading in that direction. She reminded herself of her fantasies of making him beg for it. She needed to find the strength to draw this out. She was also testing him. He needed to prove that he could delay gratification. She needed to be worth it. Her thoughts drifted to his ensemble, and that successfully cooled her. Claire mumbled, "board shorts," under her breath as she walked back into the dining room.

Just as she had left their table, she walked slowly and deliberately back to him. Owen was looking adorably nervous as his eyes scanned around. When his eyes found her eventually, he was clearly captivated. It gave Claire the same strong, powerful feeling that she had during their kiss on the gondola lift.

"You look spectacular tonight," he said with more anxiety than heat in his voice.

"Thank you," she preened. Owen watched her suspiciously as she drank her martini.

"You're not going to return the compliment?" he asked with exaggerated disappointment. She merely glared at him with a lopsided grin.

Claire decided that talking about work over dinner would help keep Owen at bay and her own libido in check. It only worked for so long. After dramatically and skillfully snapping up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks, he asked, "Don't you want to talk about something else?" He gave her a knowing smile. He was onto her. "Or are you really that boring?"

"Excuse me?" she scoffed defensively.

"Come on, Claire, there has to be more to you than being a workaholic."

"I didn't put a list of discussion topics on this evening's itinerary." She was trying to hide the kernel of truth behind her sarcasm. He laughed out loud.

"Did you actually have an itinerary?" He was reading her better than she could read him. She avoided his gaze. "You did, didn't you?" Her foot started tapping nervously under the table.

"It was just a joke with Zara," she muttered.

"I didn't realize you were so intimated by me." His tone was arrogant yet playful. She rolled her eyes through a smile.

"Okay, hotshot," Claire teased, "What's your favorite movie?" She needed to keep the discussion light.

"There's so many, it's hard to choose." She was intrigued and picked up another piece of sushi. "If I have to choose just one, I'd go with The Adventures of Joe Dirt with David Spade." She practically choked on her tuna roll. Owen laughed heartily. When he caught his breath, he said, "I'm kidding."

"Thank God," she blurted out.

"Our night would've been over, right?"

"More than our NIGHT, Owen."

"Are you some sort of film snob?" She glared at him again. He clearly enjoyed getting a rise out of her. "In all seriousness, Hitchcock is my favorite. It's hard to pick just one of his. Probably Vertigo or Strangers on a Train, but North By Northwest is almost perfect."

"Color me impressed. I haven't actually seen any of those." Owen's jaw dropped.

"More things I can open your world to." His seductive smile returned, and Claire felt warm all over.

She swallowed hard and stammered, "My favorite movie is Elizabeth."

"The Cate Blanchett one?" Claire nodded. Owen didn't skip a beat. "Sounds about right for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she bristled. He looked very seriously at her without any mirth in his eyes.

"Like Elizabeth, you inspire women." Claire laughed incredulously. "You don't believe me?" She raised her eyebrows. "You have no idea how many women look up to you. Or how important it is to have a woman in charge here. It makes other women feel good about this company. Like they can achieve more." She wasn't expecting this conversation. It was somehow more arousing than anything else they previously discussed. Owen continued matter-of-fact, "It also creates a less hostile work environment."

She scoffed, "You lost me there. Other women can get pretty hostile towards me."

"To your face?" he asked astutely.

"No...behind my back." He had her unnerved.

"Of course. They know what you would do to them if they did it to your face." This made her smile and relax. "Claire, they may cut you down behind your back out of jealousy, but they want to be you." This was definitely not just a line. She fought a huge grin from spreading across her face. It was the best thing anyone had ever said to her. He reached out and took her hand. His voice was low and gravelly when he added, "The fact that I'm with you will make them more jealous. You'll seemingly have it all."

Claire couldn't contain her embarrassingly girlish giggle. She recovered quickly and retorted, "You're not too full of yourself, are you?" They both laughed as Owen caressed her palm. She never felt so lucky.

As the remainder of their dinner played out, Claire found herself feeling shy. She recognized this as being mutual. She wondered if a fully sober Owen was bashful about his behavior at the beginning of the evening and trying to make it up to her in a caring and unassuming way. He listened attentively, but she never felt like he was ogling her. When he spoke about his raptors again, her jealousy from their walking lunch reappeared with an additional, ironic level of meaning. She wasn't only jealous of his occupational contentment. Just as he had joked, she was jealous that the raptors were what made him so joyful. They walked silently, hand-in-hand to her car at the end of the meal. Claire zoned out and found herself imagining Owen talking about her with a similarly joyful expression on his face.

When they reached her car, he turned to her and softly said, "I have no expectations for the rest of the night." He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I know I messed up. I'm really happy you're still-" She cut him off with her lips crashing against his. Her arms snuck under his to pull him down to her. She needed to kiss him now and not in the car or at his bungalow. She would be able to control it better in the open. The setting didn't prevent the kiss from escalating to voracious, however. Claire thought they could do this for hours. It made her feel alive.

"You're such a good kisser," she said breathlessly before diving back in for more. He pulled her flush against him. Her arms felt heavy and were going slack. Her hands grasped for purchase on his shoulders.

"You do something to me," he panted before pulling away to rest his forehead against hers. "Are you just going to drop me off or do you want..." His voice trailed off, and his fingers traced her gluteals. He was breathing hard. Claire opened her eyes, but his remained closed. She was incredibly torn. She ultimately decided to stick with her original plan and not to give into her baser desires. For the first time, it occurred to her that Owen could break her heart. She remained somewhat suspicious of him and wasn't ready to face that possible outcome.

He finally opened his eyes and must've seen the conflict on her face. He smirked, "It's the board shorts, isn't it?" She laughed, and his eyes twinkled in response. "Are you free Friday night?"

"I can be," she answered with a blush.

"Good. My turn to make the itinerary." She rolled her eyes and gave his arm a playful slap before moving to get into her car.

They were both quiet on the drive to the bungalow, but it wasn't tense or awkward. Owen was smiling at her most of the way even though he kept his hands to himself. His respect for her boundaries made Claire feel more at ease with him. He struck a perfect balance, like his gracefulness when holding her after the gondola ride. When she stopped the car, he hesitated to get out.

"You know, Claire, you're the only woman who's ever been here."

"I believe it," she answered in a clipped, judgmental tone.

"I won't take offense to that," he chuckled. "What time can I pick you up at your office on Friday?"

"Six."

"Great." He added with a wink, "And wear those bicycle sneakers for Casual Friday." When she smiled at him, he was looking at her wantonly. There was a fire in his eyes that threatened to break down all her defenses. Claire bit her lip and took a deep breath. The moment stretched on until she thought they'd both combust. Or maybe it only felt that way to her. She finally broke their eye contact to stare at her shoes - escaping his hypnotic gaze. Owen let out a brief, guttural moan and kissed her cheek before exiting the vehicle.

She didn't look up again until she heard his screen door slam shut. She breathed out until she felt completely deflated. Spent. Part of her fleetingly regretted not giving in. No. She couldn't have regrets with Owen Grady. She wouldn't let him have that power over her. Claire looked forward to the day she'd feel comfortable giving herself fully to him. Willingly and not under, albeit tantalizing, duress.

I ended this chapter here to consolidate (rather than arbitrarily split) the drama in the next one - I can never make it easy for these two, but I loved making their re-imagined date go well. Thanks for reading, and please review!