He held up a hand to stop her. "You're right, you're right. Go and enjoy yourself." He kissed her on the forehead before turning to walk into the building.

Brooke stood there for several minutes as she tried to decide what to do first-go straight home and make some calls or go straight to Owen's classroom and demand he talk to her. With a steadying breath, she turned to go when her phone rang. Rummaging through her purse, she pulled her cell phone out and sighed. Swiping the screen, she lifted the phone to her ear and put on her cheeriest voice.

"Hi, Mom!"

All day Owen felt ill at ease-like he was waiting for something bad to happen.

Maybe an angry mob would hunt him down or something.

Actually, that would be preferable to the ways he was torturing himself.

After leaving Howard's office, he had felt anxious and a combination of angry and sad. All of which were pretty much out of the ordinary for him. Not the anxiousness-he felt that sometimes on a daily basis-but the anger and sadness definitely weren't part of the norm.

It wasn't as if he expected Howard to fight his battles for him. He didn't. But in this particular case, Owen had hoped his friend would take pity on him and help him out of a difficult situation.

Wasn't that what he was already doing with Brooke?

Damn. Owen hated it when his subconscious had a point.

Okay, so he left Howard to break the news to Brooke about not coming on the trip with him. It was the coward's way out, and Owen knew it, but there was no way he could have done it himself. One look into her blue eyes, and he would have caved-just so he'd have the opportunity to spend time with her.

He scrolled through the text messages on his phone-the ones she had sent him over the last week. Smiley faces, friendly greetings, and a picture of a starry night from several days ago. Each one of them had made him smile. Most of the time he hadn't responded. Didn't know how. There wasn't anyone in his life he just...texted with for no reason. It was a common form of communication-he was aware of that-but normally that communication had a purpose.

So did hers. She was reaching out to you!

And he'd felt unsure of what the proper etiquette was for responding back or how to respond without sounding uncomfortable.

The constant seesawing he was doing where she was concerned was giving him motion sickness, and it had to stop. Class was over, and the rest of his day was free-as was his weekend-and that meant he was able to go back to his hotel and find something to do to distract him. Collecting his things, Owen left the lecture hall and made his way out to the parking lot to his car.

Friday afternoon traffic was fairly brutal, but he wasn't in a rush. His hotel wasn't that far from the campus-a couple of miles tops-but right now it could have been ten miles away. The roads were pretty much like a parking lot, which left him time to think.

What do do...what to do...

There were several books he had planned to read. Maybe he could download them to his tablet and settle in for a night of relative escapism. Boring but still a viable option. He didn't have to be back at the campus until Tuesday, so he had three and half days to himself. Maybe he'd look into taking a flight home to see his family. He shook his head. Too much time wasted in travel to make it more than a rushed event.

He inched along in traffic and sighed. You'd think in such a busy city he wouldn't have any trouble trying to come up with something to do. But that's what happened, he supposed, when you weren't the outgoing and social type.

You could be...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. He'd had the option, and he'd thrown it away. It was self-preservation. At least...that's what Owen was telling himself. There was no way he could take on going to Red Rock and spending time with Brooke-time he knew was going to do nothing for him but make him want her more-and then watch her walk away when they were done. He was many things, but a masochist wasn't one of them.

He turned off the main road and felt relief when the hotel came into sight. Within minutes he had parked and was walking through the lobby toward the elevators. While waiting for the elevator to arrive, Owen realized he was no closer to having something to do for the weekend. He walked back toward the concierge desk, intent on getting some suggestions for things to do-outside of the hotel.

He could read anytime.

"Excuse me," he said softly and then cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. "I was wondering if you could recommend something to do this weekend."

The young man behind the desk had a ready smile. "Absolutely! Tell me what you're looking for-museums, shopping, restaurants, tourist attractions, something off the beaten path...we've got everything!"

He was a little too upbeat and perky for Owen's taste, but Owen could mildly appreciate his enthusiasm for his job. "I'm thinking more along the lines of museums or something equally quiet."

"Ah, give me just one minute."

And sure enough, a minute later Owen had a handful of brochures and literature about a local history museum, an art museum, a natural history museum, and even a nature museum.

"As you can see, we have quite a few museums to choose from," the concierge said. Then he handed Owen a map of the area. "This map specifically details how to get from the hotel to each of the museums. Several are within walking distance." He stopped and chuckled. "Or at least a somewhat reasonable walking distance. It's easier than dealing with the traffic."

Owen nodded.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, but thank you. I appreciate the information."

"Anytime. And enjoy your weekend, sir."

After another murmured thank-you, Owen made his way back to the elevators and went up to his room. All of this information he could have easily found himself online, but he was trying to make himself interact with people more. And honestly it hadn't been...terrible. Huh. How about that?

Once inside his room, he got comfortable and sat down to look at all of the brochures. He was a fan of museums-any museum, really. It was very satisfying to spend the day immersed in history or learning something new, and suddenly Owen felt some excitement for the weekend.

His plan was to relax for the night-order some room service and do some reading-and then spend the next three days touring the Field Museum, the Chicago History Museum, and then the Museum of Science and Industry. With that decision made, he spent a few minutes ordering and downloading the books he had wanted, and when he looked at the clock, he saw it was almost six.

"Dinner," he said and reached for the room service menu. Scanning it, he quickly realized nothing was appealing-at least not tonight. A BLT was always an option because...well...bacon. And even though it would have been fine, it wasn't what he wanted. Owen wasn't sure what specifically he was in the mood for, but it wasn't on this particular menu. There went his perfectly planned evening. But rather than letting that stress him out, he decided to try to go with flow. A quick walk around the block to find something interesting to eat would not only kill some time, but it would give him an opportunity to enjoy more of the great spring weather.

When he stepped out onto the sidewalk a few minutes later, he took in the sights and smells of the city, something Owen didn't normally take the time to do. But he was trying something new-trying to break out of his little comfort zone and see what else was out in the world for him to experience.

So far? He wasn't overly impressed. There were a lot of traffic and a ton of people walking all around him, and it felt a little chaotic and crowded, and he shuddered with discomfort but decided he was going to deal with it. He needed dinner, and if this was how he had to go about getting it, then so be it.

The first block didn't have anything that piqued his interest. The second block either. Next thing Owen knew he was almost to Grant Park, which he knew was almost a mile from his hotel! His stomach was growling, and he couldn't believe he'd walked so far and hadn't found a single place where he wanted to eat. He stopped on the corner, looked around, and decided he was going to pick a place right then.

A diner.

There, on the opposite side of the street, was a diner. Most diners had hundreds of selections on their menu, so Owen had no doubt he'd find the perfect dinner and be back in his room enjoying his book in no time.

He crossed the street with a little pep in his step, and even though there was a crowd of people waiting, he wasn't deterred. He was a single person, and if there was a counter, he'd be more than happy to sit there. Maneuvering his way through the crowd, he made his way up to the podium and waited for the hostess to come back and take his name.

"Owen?"

He froze. It couldn't be.

Slowly he turned around, and there were those eyes-those blue eyes that had captured him from the start and had been haunting him for weeks.

Except they were looking at him now with a whole lot of negativity, anger, and disappointment.

Next time he'd order the BLT in his room and be done with it.

"Hi, Brooke," he murmured and looked over his shoulder to see if the hostess was back so he'd have an excuse to get his thoughts together. But no such luck. Turning back around, he faced Brooke. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Dinner."

She even sounded negative, angry, and disappointed.

And a little hostile.

Apparently, Howard had told her about not going to Red Rock.

"Me too," he said quietly. "I didn't think it would be this crowded."

"It's a diner on a Friday night-of course it's crowded. Every restaurant is crowded on a Friday night in the city. It's when most people go out."

He wouldn't know. He was usually working, which is what he said just to prevent an awkward silence.

Brooke seemed to relax a little. "So why aren't you working tonight?"

"Um...I was caught up on everything. I don't have another class until Tuesday-and it's my last one for this semester."

Her eyes went a little wide. "And...and then what will you be doing?"

Nervously he looked over his shoulder again. Where the hell was the hostess?

"Owen?" Brooke prompted.

Looking back at her, he quickly stammered, "I'm supposed to leave to tour Red Rock." And he instantly regretted his words. To her credit, Brooke continued to look at him-not showing any reaction to his words.

"Brooke? Party of one! Brooke, party of one!" the hostess called out.

Brooke looked beyond him to the hostess, waved her hand, and then looked at Owen. "Well, it was...nice to see you. Enjoy your night."

"Thank you," he murmured but didn't look at her.

She hadn't gone two steps when she stopped beside him. "Would you like to join me? I asked for a small booth, so there's room for a second person."

Owen's head snapped up as he looked at her-completely surprised by her invitation. "Really?"

At first she didn't answer, but then she nodded.

"I... I'd like that very much. Thank you." Clearly, the new Owen was a glutton for punishment. Now that he had been the first to mention the trip to Red Rock, it was certain to come up, and he'd have to explain to her-face-to-face-why he didn't want to hire her. Well, he thought, not the real reason. There was no way he was going to admit how he was attracted to her. That would just be...well, it might be some sort of discrimination issue, and he wasn't ready to deal with that either.

Brooke stepped past him, walked over to the hostess, and explained that Owen would be joining her, and then the two of them followed the hostess to a small booth in the far corner of the diner. They sat, and Owen thanked Brooke one more time for asking him to join her. She smiled at him, picked up her menu, and began to read it. He did the same.

The menu was like a large book, Owen thought. It was tall and thin, but it had about ten pages worth of options. Did he want breakfast for dinner? A sandwich? A burger? Pasta? Fish? Maybe there was such a thing as too many options because even with everything seemingly under the sun to choose from, he still couldn't decide.

"What are you thinking of having?" Brooke asked from behind her menu.

"I'm not sure. There's quite a lot to choose from."

"Mmm-hmm."

For another five minutes, Owen looked at his options. The waitress brought them glasses of water and took their drink orders, and Owen knew she'd be back any minute to get their food orders. He was just about to go with the BLT because he was a little overwhelmed and was feeling the pressure to make a decision when one of the specials caught his eye-the brisket. His mother used to make one of the best briskets he had ever eaten, but maybe he'd give this one a try.

Satisfied, he closed the menu and put it down. A minute later, Brooke did the same. He was just about to ask what she was going to have when the waitress reappeared and put down their drinks. "You ready to order?" she asked.

Brooke and Owen looked at each other and nodded. He motioned for Brooke to order first.

"I am going to have..." She paused, picked up the menu again, and glanced at one of the pages. "The brisket."

"You got it," the waitress said with a smile. "Would you like a salad with that?"

"Um...yes, please. With ranch dressing."

"Okay." Writing down Brooke's order, she paused and then looked to Owen, still smiling. "And what can I get for you?"

He was a little dumbfounded for a moment. What were the odds of two people ordering the same thing out of a ten-page menu?

"Sir?"

Oh, right. His order. "I believe I'll have the same."

"And would you like the salad too?"

He nodded.

"Okay, great. Thanks!" Taking their menus, the waitress turned and walked away.

Owen gave Brooke a weak smile and immediately picked up his glass and took a long drink. It took all of five seconds before they were back to staring at one another. "So..."

"So..." she mimicked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Which were pink. And glossy. Owen almost groaned after noticing that.

Brooke was dressed similarly to the way she was the first time he'd met her-long, flowing skirt and lots of bracelets, but tonight, instead of a tank top, she had on a fitted white T-shirt and her hair was loose. And, as usual, she was carrying her sweater rather than wearing it.

And she smelled amazing.

Yeah, definitely had to stifle a groan.

"Where is Howard tonight?" he asked, searching for a somewhat safe topic.

"He's home. I'm going to a gallery tonight to look at a new artist's work. I would have taken him along, but he had a faculty meeting, and I know he tends to turn in early. I wanted to have some time to sort of walk around and experience a little of the night life in the city."

"By yourself?" Owen asked incredulously. "That's not particularly safe."

She chuckled. "Have you been speaking to my parents?"

He looked at her curiously. "I... I've never met your parents. How could I have talked to them?"

She shook her head, still laughing. "It was a joke, Owen. I was implying you sounded a lot like them. They're always very vocal about how I need to go out in groups rather than by myself. I get it. They're concerned. But I'm twenty-eight years old. Sometimes I enjoy going out and doing things on my own."