Werewolf in Las Vegas

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  The music vibrated around and through them, arousing Luke in a way it hadn’t before. The bass seemed to resonate with greater force, and the violins sang along his nerve endings, teasing him with desires he had no business having. In his imagination, he and Giselle were the only two people here.

  Inappropriate though it might be, he pictured them making love in time to the music and the cascading water. Eventually the crotch of his jeans pinched, reminding him that they were not alone, and he’d better imagine something else. He’d be wise to imagine Giselle getting on a plane in a few days, because she would definitely be doing that. She was the CFO of Landry Enterprises and her life was in San Francisco.

  Then another thought hit him. The bad news was that Giselle would be going back to San Francisco. But maybe the good news was that Giselle would be going back to San Francisco. What happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas.

  No, he was thinking crazy. Sure, he’d caught her looking at him during dinner in a way that might mean she was interested in him. But for all he knew, she had a steady guy back home.

  If she was in a similar situation to his, and she was attracted to him at all . . . but he didn’t know the answer to those things. Still, the idea had taken up residence in his brain and he doubted it would go away anytime soon.

  He glanced over at her and let the idea simmer a bit. She had a hotel room at Illusions, but while they were dealing with her brother and his sister, they really ought to stick together. Close together. Then he could find out the answer to some of his burning questions about her.

  The more he thought about inviting her to spend the rest of her stay at the penthouse, the more he saw it as the perfect solution. They needed a command central, and the penthouse made the most sense. Having him at one end of the Strip and her at the other would be impractical.

  The music swelled to a crescendo and the water shot into the sky with breathtaking force. The drama of the final moment was reflected in Giselle’s expression of awe. She’d been swept away. Luke longed to see that same dazzled look in her eyes in a far more intimate setting.

  As if she felt his gaze on her, she looked at him. If he was any good at reading the message in a woman’s eyes—and he was—then her thoughts might not be so different from his. But he would make no assumptions about that. He’d keep watching her and try to pick up on her cues.

  He gestured toward the fountain. “Great show, huh?”

  “Wonderful.” Her breathing was quick and shallow, which meant that she’d been excited by the show, or excited by other thoughts that ran along the same lines as his. Maybe both.

  “I think it was especially good tonight.” Now that was a boneheaded comment. The show was computerized, and unless the program didn’t work right, it would be the same exact presentation every time. He glanced up at the sky. “Perfect night for it.”

  “I agree.” She had that cute little smile going on again, the one that told him she thought he was goofy. But she didn’t seem to mind goofy. But then she looked away, and the smile disappeared.

  So maybe she did have someone else and had just reminded herself of that. He took a deep breath. “Well, nothing’s happened in connection with Cynthia, so maybe we should think about—”

  “Excuse me.” A heavily tattooed woman with multiple earrings and a nose ring approached him. “Are you Luke Dalton?”

  He wasn’t sure whether to admit it or not. The woman seemed a little scary. And she wasn’t Cynthia. His sister might be in disguise, but she’d never be able to make herself look like this without spending hours in the hands of a Hollywood makeup team. Cynthia hadn’t had hours to devote to such a project.

  “It’s nothing bad,” the woman said. “I’m not going to serve you with a subpoena or anything. But you fit the description I was given, and I was told you’d be here with a redhead, watching the Bellagio fountain do its thing.” She pulled a manila envelope out of her large tote.

  Luke recognized his sister’s handwriting on the outside of the envelope. “When did you get that?”

  “I’m not supposed to say. I’m just supposed to give it to you and leave.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t refuse a tip, though.”

  Luke dug out his wallet and located a hundred-dollar bill tucked behind the twenties. “If you’ll tell me when and how you got the envelope, and what the woman was wearing at the time, you can have this.”

  Her eyes widened. “Uh . . . no. As much as I could use that, I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. You should let her dance, though. It’s not like she’s going to strip. I can see why you’d object to that, but what she wants—to dance with the Moonbeams—that’s classy.”

  Luke was very aware of Giselle standing next to him listening to every word. “She told you about that?” he asked.

  “Sure. We shared a moment. My family didn’t want me to get the tattoos and the piercings, but it’s my life, you know?” She glanced at Giselle. “You get what I’m saying, right? Once you’re an adult, you get to decide.”

  “I agree,” Giselle said.

  “I thought you would.” The woman moved a little closer to Giselle. “You look like a take-charge kind of lady. We can’t let other people push us around. Like present company, for example.”

  Luke sighed.

  “I completely agree,” Giselle said, suppressing her smile. She could see Luke was suffering through this conversation.

  “Here.” Luke shoved the hundred-dollar bill at the woman. “Take it with my blessings. Now give me the envelope.”

  “You bet.” She handed it over.

  “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to get—”

  “Wait. I have something else for you.” She reached into her tote, pulled out a pink squirt gun, and shot him in the face. “Bye, now!” She hurried away.

  As water ran down Luke’s face and into the open neck of his shirt, he didn’t look at Giselle. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

  “I won’t.” But her voice quavered as though she wanted to. “I have a tissue in my pocket, if that would help.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

  The white tissue fluttered in front of him like a flag of truce. “Can I hold the envelope for you?”

  “Sure.” He handed it over and accepted her tissue so he could mop his face. “I don’t know where Cynthia found that squirt gun, but it packs a punch.”

  “Luke, I have a confession.”

  “Oh?” Balling the tissue in his fist, he glanced around for a trash can. One happened to be nearby, so he lobbed the wet tissue into it. Two points. “About what?”

  “My brother. As a kid, he was fascinated with practical jokes. The bucket of water trick is something he spent hours getting right. And he knows his squirt guns, too. He considers the superpumper ones too obvious. So he’ll take a normal-sized one and fool with it until it delivers a blast of water that’ll drown you on the first shot.”

  Luke stared at her in disbelief. “And your brother is how old?”

  “Thirty. And you know what? I never connected that significant birthday with him shucking his responsibilities and coming to Vegas. But that might be part of it. Maybe this is a last fling before he has to settle down.”

  “Bully for him.” Luke was in no mood to hear about some guy’s birthday angst. When he’d turned thirty, he’d been watching his dad’s health deteriorate. He’d prayed that the hardworking man he idolized would live to enjoy a ripe old age. His prayers had gone unanswered.

  “I honestly thought he’d outgrown the practical joke stage, and for the most part I think he has. But he seems to have appointed himself Cynthia’s champion, so he’s come out of retirement to help her harass you.”

  “Does he have any more tricks like this up his sleeve?”

  “Probably. I’ll have to think back to those days and make a list. Some things he did were never blamed on him. Others he couldn�
��t resist taking the credit for and was willing to accept being grounded in exchange for the glory of a prank well and truly executed. He was at his peak around twelve, and I was only ten and easily impressed.”

  “I’m thirty going on two hundred, and I’m not impressed at all.” He heard the martyred tone of his voice and winced. He’d inherited a fortune, and he’d acquired the education to manage it. He was grateful for what he had.

  But maybe he was wound a little too tight. He had a pretty good idea of how to unwind, but he also had a strong suspicion Giselle had a sweetheart back in ’Frisco. Even if she didn’t, she couldn’t think kindly of a man who’d made cutting remarks about her brother.

  He took a deep breath and a mental step back. “Look, I apologize for that crack. I don’t know Bryce at all, and it’s possible I’ve made some unfair assumptions about him.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Luke.”

  “From his viewpoint, he might think he’s helping solve the problem.”

  “I believe he does. I’ll bet they’ve bonded over the fact their relatives are leaning on them in ways they don’t like.”

  “I don’t want them to bond permanently.” Luke realized that didn’t sound very complimentary, either. “Nothing against your brother, but—”

  “I know. Believe me, I’m hoping they’re just good friends.” She glanced over at him. “Are you going to look at what’s in the envelope?”

  “I can guarantee it’s another of her recital pictures. Maybe I should leave it in there for now, where it’s protected. At this rate, I don’t know where another blast of water might come from. Listen, would you be willing to head back to the penthouse so we could have a strategy session without me being in danger of water sabotage?”

  She hesitated. “I’ll walk back with you, but I was thinking I should fetch the Harley and go back to my hotel room. It’s been a long day.”

  That clinched it for him. She wasn’t interested in spending any more time with him than necessary. “Okay. I’m sure you’re tired. How would you like to handle any more communication from them, assuming they stick together?”

  “We can forward texts to each other. I’m willing to meet you if it looks as if we need to do that, but we probably should both get some sleep and continue this tomorrow.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll walk you back to the Silver Crescent parking lot.” This time, he didn’t reach for her hand. She was making it pretty obvious that wouldn’t be a welcome gesture from him. The depth of his disappointment took him by surprise. In a very short time, Giselle Landry had gotten under his skin.

  Chapter 8

  During the water show at the Bellagio, Giselle had found herself thinking about something she was strongly opposed to—having sex with a human. And not just any human, either. She needed to put some distance between herself and Luke ASAP.

  They walked in silence back to the Silver Crescent. The music from the water show thrummed in her veins, and pictures of Luke flashed through her mind. She’d been aware of him watching her during the show, and his presence there had been exciting—way too exciting.

  His comments afterward had tickled her, because they told her he’d been thinking similar thoughts, but he’d wanted to appear cool and composed. But when she’d looked into his eyes and felt that click of recognition, that moment when she could all too easily allow herself to get carried away, she’d pulled back.

  Seeing the sadness in his expression hadn’t made her feel very good, but she was doing the right thing for both of them. Giving in to the pull of their mutual attraction wouldn’t be doing either of them any favors.

  He stayed with her until she’d retrieved the Harley and was ready to leave. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, which reminded her of the moment in the hotel room when he’d done the same thing. His gestures, his smiles, his laughter, were becoming important to her. That had to stop.

  “So if anything happens,” he said, “I’ll text you, and vice versa.”

  “That works.”

  He smiled. “We didn’t eat the cake, but I’m sure they have great desserts at Illusions, too.”

  “I’m sure they do.” She started the engine. “We’ll keep in touch.”

  “Right.”

  She started down the street and fought the odd sensation that she was leaving someone important behind. No, she was leaving temptation behind. Maybe Luke Dalton was a test of her resolve not to get sexually involved with a human male. If so, it had turned out to be tougher than she’d ever imagined it would be.

  Traffic was heavy, and she was held up by a red light. Her cell phone chimed, but the light changed and she had to concentrate on her driving. Two lights later, she finally glanced at the message. Another riddle. Want me to take this one?

  Damn, her heart started pounding as if she were seventeen and had been asked to a dance. That was bad. Pulling into the circular drive at Illusions, she balanced on her bike and looked at the riddle. Romance in the air, voices raised in song, artistry in movement as they glide along.

  Had to be the gondola rides at the Venetian. She sat there telling herself to let it go. But doggone it, she wanted to know what Bryce and Cynthia had cooked up for the gondola ride at the Venetian. She could meet Luke there, satisfy her curiosity, and come straight back here.

  But not on the Harley. It had been a long day, and an emotional one. Her reflexes might not be as quick as she needed them to be in Vegas traffic. She’d cab it this time. After quickly texting Luke that she’d meet him at the Venetian in about twenty minutes, she turned the Harley over to valet parking and hopped in one of the cabs parked at the curb.

  Luke must have been watching for her, because when she got out of the cab in front of the Venetian, he was right there. “Thanks for coming. No Harley?”

  “I was ready to let someone else drive.”

  Sympathy flashed in his eyes. “You really are pooped, aren’t you?”

  “I am, but my curiosity got the better of me.”

  “You understand it’s a water ride, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’re willing to risk it, knowing that Bryce has cooked up something special?”

  She decided to be as honest as possible. “I tried to talk myself out of meeting you here, but I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing firsthand what they’ve come up with now.”

  His boyish grin flashed. “Let’s go check out the gondola rides.” And he took her hand.

  She could have pulled away, but the simple fact was she didn’t want to. Holding his hand earlier tonight had been a pleasure. She would go back to Illusions after this, so she told herself she could allow herself to hold his hand now.

  As they started into the building, a young guy who looked to be around twenty stepped forward. “Are you Luke Dalton and Giselle Landry?”

  Luke glanced at Giselle and she gave him a thumbs-up. They were here now, so they might as well see what happened next.

  “Yes, we are,” Luke said.

  “Then come with me. Someone has paid an obscene amount of money for you to have a custom gondola ride.”

  “Wait a minute.” Luke caught his arm. “How custom? Are we going to get wet?”

  “How would you get wet?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Luke said. “The boat capsizes, or sinks, something like that.”

  The guy shook his head and smiled. “Not gonna happen. I think the custom part is that you go to the head of the line, and the gondolier has agreed to sing something special for you.” He looked at them with a twinkle in his eyes. “Special night for you two, maybe?”

  “Yes,” Giselle said. “Very special.” She enjoyed the shock in Luke’s expression. “He just popped the question.”

  “Excellent!” The kid beamed at them. “Congratulations! We love romance at the Venetian. Right this way. I’ll tak
e you to your gondola.”

  “What question?” Luke asked as they followed the guy at a brisk pace. “I didn’t pop any question.”

  She lowered her voice. “Yes, you did. You asked if I was ready to risk a water ride with you.”

  “Yeah, but that was a question, not the question. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Relax. I have no interest in a trip down the aisle. But that kid was expecting something, so I played along.” Pretending to be his engaged girlfriend might not be the wisest thing she’d ever done, but again, it seemed like a harmless bit of silliness and it made the gondola folks happy.

  A little voice in the back of her mind taunted her with the possibility that she was acting out a fantasy of her own by masquerading as Luke’s one-and-only. So what if she was? It was just a water ride, over in a few minutes. It didn’t matter.

  • • •

  Much as Luke chafed under the constraints of this game Cynthia was playing, it had its rewards. The lure of a riddle had brought Giselle to the Venetian, and even though she was playacting this gondola scene, he intended to enjoy himself, at least until he became drenched. He knew it would happen. He just didn’t know when.

  “This lucky couple is celebrating a very special night,” said the guy who’d brought them to the gondola landing. “I know you’ll take good care of them, Luigi.”

  “Luigi?” Luke looked at the gondolier. “Really?”

  “While I’m giving gondola rides.” The dark-haired, olive-skinned man in a shirt with vertical stripes flashed his white teeth. “Are we ready?”

  “Absolutely.” Giselle looked at Luke and lowered her voice. “You should put your arm around me.”

  “Oh.” This experience continued to improve. He discovered that Giselle made a very good snuggling partner. She understood exactly how to nestle her curves against his angles so they fit like a couple of puzzle pieces.

  “Perfect,” Luigi said. “Don’t forget the tradition.”

  Luke glanced at the gondolier. “What tradition?”

  “Couples in love usually kiss going under the bridges.”