Kurt Shintaku jokes that it wasn't love at first sight. It was "buzzed at first sight."

That's because the night he met his would-be wife Anne Furumoto, he had been downing drinks with co-workers at the Circle Bar at the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas.

"I definitely had some liquid courage in me," said Shintaku, 34, with a laugh.

The revelry accompanies a convention for Microsoft Corp., where both work. Shintaku is a principal systems engineer based in Los Angeles; Furumoto is a marketing manager from Seattle.

In an attempt to impress her, Shintaku casually mentioned that he liked a certain Windows newsletter, one that he knew Furumoto put together. She beamed. He thought he scored.

But he didn't. At least not at first.

"He tried to buy me a drink and I turned him down," recalled Furumoto, 38. "Then I went to bed."

They didn't exchange phone numbers or e-mail addresses.

Six months later — at another company convention — the two met again in Vegas, this time at the airport. Furumoto invited Shintaku — and about five others — to share a cab ride to their hotels. They also shared lunch — she brought a friend along — but not digits.

It took two more meetings over the next three months before the two actually sat down together — alone — for dinner. He made reservations at a French cafe in Seattle, a bottle of wine waiting for them at their table. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

"She was very skittish about the wine because it was an expensive bottle," Shintaku said. "She looked at me and said, 'Are you going to expense this?' And I said no. That's when she finally put it together."

That's when their relationship turned romantic.

"It changed when we had that dinner," Furumoto said. "We had a good time. We had a lot to talk about; it was just a really fun evening."

But living in different cities was a challenge. The two met up every other weekend for about a year, a lot of times because of — and thanks to — business.

Neither had talked much about marriage. But Shintaku knew — within just three months of dating — that Furumoto was The One.

So on their second trip to Whistler, British Columbia, in March 2004, he stashed a diamond solitaire ring in his jacket pocket and made plans to propose at their favorite restaurant at the Fairmont Chateau.

After some Beluga caviar and a slightly fruity Perrier Jouet champagne, he got on bended knee and asked for her hand in marriage.

"I had no idea," Furumoto said. "We were having this really nice dinner and all of suddenly he got serious. ... I was thinking either he's going to say we're going to stay together or we're going to break up."

As soon as she said yes, it started to snow outside. It was the first snowfall in Whistler in months.

Three months after the proposal, Furumoto moved out of her three-bedroom home in Seattle and moved into Shintaku's two-bedroom condo in Los Angeles. With pairs of everything, the couple had to downsize — and compromise — in what Shintaku's aptly calls "The Great Merge." Shintaku got rid of everything in the kitchen and bathrooms; Furumoto agreed to live with his black recliners and their built-in refrigerators and video game systems.

Because they met in Vegas, the couple considered having their wedding there. But Furumoto's parents are older, and traveling for them would be difficult. So Shintaku and Furumoto decided to get married on O'ahu, where both grew up.

Their April 2 ceremony took place at Holy Trinity, Furumoto's hometown church. The reception was held at the Halekulani. About 100 guests attended, keeping the nuptials intimate.

Marriage hasn't changed this couple, who still check out new restaurants and watch "The West Wing" together. They're just glad they finally found each other.

"We have a great time together," Furumoto said. "It's like, back to having a family again, instead of living by yourself for so long. It's really nice."