Werewolf in Las Vegas

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  He hoped that Cynthia would make some headway with Bryce and eventually could enlighten her confused brother. If anyone could pry information out of a person, it was Cynthia.

  Cynthia and Bryce put in their order before heading off to the bar’s pool table. Cynthia chose a Long Island iced tea, and Bryce duplicated her order. It was a strong drink, but Luke had a better handle on his sister’s methods now.

  By ordering something strong, she’d challenged Bryce to do the same. If Luke had to guess, he’d say that Cynthia planned to nurse hers and catch a slightly drunk Bryce off guard. Then she’d subtly pump him for information.

  Luke settled at the table with Giselle and Mr. Thatcher. Giselle, who took the chair to his right, ordered red wine, so he did, too. He wouldn’t drink much. He wanted to keep his wits about him tonight. Mr. Thatcher, who’d chosen a chair across the table from them, asked for a gin and tonic.

  A bowl of mixed nuts occupied the center of their round table. Luke offered some to Giselle, who took a handful. Then he pushed the bowl in Mr. Thatcher’s direction. “I don’t think I’ve ever shared a drink with you,” Luke said.

  “Normally it’s bad form to drink with the hired help.”

  Interesting. Yet the guy had suggested accompanying Giselle and Bryce to the bar. Luke decided not to mention that. “Seems like a silly rule in your case,” he said. “You’re like a member of the family.”

  “I appreciate that. I feel as if I am, but still, you pay my salary. You don’t normally pay members of your family.”

  “I’m about to. Cynthia will draw a salary as one of the Moonbeams. What do you think of that whole deal, Mr. Thatcher? Am I making a mistake?” He discovered that the answer mattered to him. Hired help or not, he wanted this man’s approval. He always had wanted it.

  “In my estimation, you did the right thing.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Luke was ridiculously relieved to hear that. “I’m afraid that my dad—”

  “Never saw her as she was,” Mr. Thatcher said. “Only as he wished her to be. She’s been a dancer as long as I’ve known her.”

  Luke sent him a look of gratitude. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  Mr. Thatcher pushed back his chair. “Speaking of dancing, do you fancy some tunes on the jukebox? You and Giselle could dance.”

  “That’s okay,” Giselle said quickly. “Leaving you alone at the table would be rude.”

  “Nonsense. Let’s have some music. It would do my heart good to see you dance together.”

  After he walked over to the jukebox, Luke glanced at Giselle. “What’s that all about?”

  She flushed. “He’s a bit of a matchmaker, apparently.”

  “I’m not opposed to that, but he’s never been into matchmaking before.” He gazed at her. “Do you know him from somewhere?”

  “No.”

  He thought it was significant that she didn’t ask him why he’d think that. “When Cynthia and I caught up with you three on the sidewalk, I couldn’t shake the impression that you’d been talking about me. Bryce stepped into the breach and made up something that sounded like an excuse, but . . . were you talking about me?”

  She had a deer-in-the-headlights look, but finally she nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Like I said, Mr. Thatcher thinks we’re good together.”

  He covered her hand with his. “He’s got that right. Bryce is a big boy. Send him back to ’Frisco and stay with me, at least for a while. I know you have responsibilities back home, but you accomplished what you came here for. Don’t you deserve a little reward? A small vacation?”

  Her green eyes revealed the struggle going on there. “You know I want to stay.”

  “Then do it.”

  “That would only make things worse when I leave.”

  “I’ll take that risk.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll leave with Bryce. It’s the best for both of us.”

  Mr. Thatcher returned to his chair. “I don’t recognize most of those songs, so you’ll have to make do with some old ones, I’m afraid.”

  The opening chords of “I Will Always Love You” wafted through the bar’s sound system. Luke stood and held out his hand to Giselle. “That one works for me.”

  With a smile that was part frustration and part surrender, she took his hand and joined him on the small dance floor. They had it to themselves. He almost wished they’d been surrounded by other dancers, which would have given them more privacy.

  In the spotlight, so to speak, he couldn’t hold her as close as he wanted to. He felt self-conscious about pressing his lips to the tender place behind her ear.

  But he could talk to her. “Will you spend the night with me?” he murmured against her ear.

  She shivered in response. “I shouldn’t. I need to make plane reservations tonight.”

  “We can do that in ten minutes.”

  “My parents told me to take the corporate jet, but I think that’s a waste of resources.”

  “The corporate jet?” He pulled back to gaze into her eyes. “Your family has a jet?”

  She smiled. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “No. I’ve considered it, but our holdings are all in Vegas. A jet is overkill, unless I want it to impress people.”

  “Our jet is a necessary expense. We’re considering buying another one. We’re primarily a shipping company, and we do business all over the Pacific Rim.”

  “That’s impressive. I should have Googled you so I wouldn’t be caught by surprise.” He drew her closer. To hell with who was watching. “Your company has resources. My company has resources. We can find a way to make this happen. We’re good together. You know we are. Don’t throw that away.”

  She continued to smile, but she shook her head. “No can do. It wouldn’t work out.”

  “You are the most maddening woman I have ever met.” Pressing his cheek to hers, he danced with her until the song ended. Then he led her back to the table, where their drinks were waiting. He glanced over at the pool table. He needed his resident spy to return with some intel.

  As if he’d signaled her on some high-tech personal communication system, she came back to the table, Bryce trailing behind.

  “She kicked my butt,” Bryce said. “I thought they taught intellectual stuff at Yale, but apparently she majored in billiards.”

  Cynthia made a face. “I learned the basics in Vegas and polished my game with my college friends. Most of them were math majors, so they understood the geometry involved. They taught me to view the table scientifically.”

  “That might be true, but I say she was channeling Minnesota Fats.” Bryce rolled his eyes. “Just warning you suckers. The girl’s got game.”

  “He exaggerates.” Cynthia focused on Luke. “Care to take me on, big brother?”

  “Sure. My ego can handle it.” Luke stood.

  “That’s what I thought.” Bryce drained his Long Island iced tea. “But she’ll humiliate you, my friend. And you won’t even see it coming.”

  Luke didn’t give a damn about the pool game, but he hoped Cynthia had information about the woman he craved more than life itself. He chalked his cue and pretended to care. “You can break.”

  She sent the balls flying, and two landed in the pockets. She lined up for another shot.

  “What did you find out?”

  She pulled back and sighed. “Wait until I’ve made my shot, okay?”

  At that moment he became acutely aware that she was twenty-two. She was smarter than almost anyone he knew, and beautiful, and a great dancer, and savvy about people when she chose to be. But she was still twenty-two, and living for the moment, which meant getting the number two ball in the side pocket.

  Curbing his impatience, he leaned on his cue stick and waited for her to make the shot. She made that one, and the one
after that, and the one after that. If she ran the table, they would have no chance to talk. In which case, they’d simply play another game. He wasn’t leaving the table without some answers.

  Eventually she missed a shot. Not by much, but finally he had a turn. He wasn’t going to take it until she gave him some information. “What did you find out?”

  “Seriously? Not much.”

  He groaned.

  “No, really. The Landrys are rich, and they have an estate of some kind north of San Francisco. The most I could get out of him—and this was after he’d swallowed most of his Long Island iced tea—was that Giselle was expected to marry a certain type of person, and you didn’t fit the bill.”

  “What the hell? What’s wrong with me? I’m healthy and reasonably good-looking. I have money. Maybe not as much as they do, but I can’t believe they’re focused on that. Giselle and Bryce don’t strike me as snobs.”

  “Me, either.”

  “So is it pedigree? Are they requiring dudes whose ancestors came over on the Mayflower?”

  “I can’t believe that’s it.” She gestured toward the table. “Take your shot.”

  He sighed. “I’m not here to play pool, and you know it.”

  “I know, but you have to make it look convincing. Shoot.”

  He did and, by sheer coincidence, he sank two balls in a row. Then he missed, and Cynthia proceeded to clear the table of every single one of her remaining balls.

  Bryce had described the total humiliation very well. Luke gazed at her. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

  “As I said, I hung out with math majors. This is a game of geometry and physics. Once you understand the principles involved, all you have to do is execute.”

  “Okay, I accept defeat. But before we go back to the table, isn’t there anything else you can tell me?”

  “I know he’s really happy about you selling the bar back to Benedict Cartwright. He mentioned that several times.”

  “Why does he care about that so much?”

  “I’m not sure, but he kept talking about the Cartwright family tradition as if that mattered to him. He’d said all that before, when we were pulling our pranks on you, which was why I decided you should sell the bar. But . . .” She looked at him across the pool table. “Do you ever get the feeling that there’s some secret society in town?”

  “Yes! Have you ever tried to walk into the lobby of Illusions, the Cartwrights’ new hotel?”

  “No, why?”

  “The doorman won’t let you in unless you’re a registered guest. You can’t even enter the lobby with a registered guest. Giselle tried to get me in there, and the doorman flatly refused.”

  “That’s weird. Could it be some top secret headquarters?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s a ridiculous level of security, no matter who’s staying there. Who restricts access to the damned lobby?”

  Cynthia rolled the cue ball back and forth in front of her and she seemed lost in thought. “It does make you wonder.”

  “And there’s some kind of connection between Mr. Thatcher and the two Landrys. Maybe they all belong to a secret organization and maybe not, but the three of them have something in common. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there.”

  “I absolutely agree. Maybe if you find out what that connection is, you’ll find out what’s standing between you and Giselle.”

  “How will I find out?”

  “Keep a watch on your lady friend.” Cynthia rolled the cue ball across the table in his direction. “By the way, I’ve invited Bryce to spend the night in my apartment at the Silver Crescent.”

  “Don’t tell me that you’re finally going to get chummy with the guy.”

  “No. He gave up his hotel room once we set off on this adventure together, so now he needs a place to crash and it seems silly for him to book another room. We get along, but he’s still hung up on his ex, and although he’s sweet, he doesn’t do it for me, either. I’m just saying that I’ll be able to keep an eye on him. That leaves only Mr. Thatcher. I think he’s a piece of the puzzle, too, but I’m not willing to camp outside his door tonight to find out.”

  Luke rolled the cue ball back across the table in her direction. “You realize we’re both talking like we’re paranoid.”

  She smiled. “I know. But that doesn’t mean we’re wrong.”

  “But you don’t think we’re crazy, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. And whatever’s going on, I agree that Giselle’s involved in it, so stay alert.”

  “Do you still think she’s the one for me? I mean, all this mystery and intrigue doesn’t sound promising, does it?”

  “No.” Cynthia hesitated. “But I looked over at you two when you were dancing. You move together as if you’ve been doing it forever. As a dancer, I know how rare that is.”

  “I’m not a dancer, but I know what you’re talking about. We’ve been able to catch each other’s rhythm without really trying.”

  “Luke, do you believe in soul mates?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure.”

  “Me, either. But if there is such a thing, then she’s yours.”

  Chapter 24

  During Luke and Cynthia’s pool game, the three Weres had a chance to discuss their plans.

  Mr. Thatcher leaned forward. “I don’t know how long before Benedict will have legal access to the playground, but shutting it down was such a rushed affair. I feel it’s most important to get in there and make sure there are no problems that could prove disastrous.”

  “It hasn’t been that long since the crews left,” Giselle said. “It’s probably okay.”

  “But I understand what Mr. Thatcher means,” Bryce said. “This is a situation where a little problem could turn into a big one really fast. I really want to take a look at the place, but I just agreed to stay with Cynthia tonight. She offered, and turning her down would seem strange to her after all this.”

  “You’re staying with Cynthia?” Giselle pinned him with a look. “Are you involved with her, after all?”

  He sighed. “Not only do you know that I’m not interested in her like that, but it seems that your fascination with Luke is the real problem here.”

  Giselle recognized that he’d made a direct hit. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  “Cynthia and I are that rare phenomenon—heterosexual friends of opposite genders.” A hint of vulnerability flickered in his blue eyes. “And if you must know, I can’t seem to forget Miranda.”

  Giselle felt sorry for him, but he’d done it to himself, and she didn’t want to give him false hope. “I’m in no position to comment, but—”

  “But you will.”

  She hesitated, but she was his sister, after all, and sisters were obligated to say the hard things to brothers. “You really screwed up that relationship. I don’t know if you can ever salvage it.”

  He nodded. “I realize that. But she hasn’t hooked up with anyone else yet. I checked.”

  Giselle didn’t know if that meant he was willing to return and move into the alpha role or not. She emptied her mind of all expectations as she turned to him and asked.

  He put his hand over hers. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching in the weeks I’ve been gone. I had to get some perspective on the situation before I could decide if it was what I wanted or what everyone else wanted for me.”

  “Before you tell me your decision, let me say that I’ll support you whatever it might be.”

  He grinned at her. “Picked up a few tips from the Luke and Cynthia mess, did you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. So have I. What I learned about myself is that family is important to me, too. And tradition. I’m ready to be the alpha.”

  Giselle took a deep breath and sandwiched his hand between both of hers. “I’m happy that you decided that. Selfishl
y, I wanted you to, but I meant what I said. I would have been behind you either way.”

  “That’s terrific to hear.” He hesitated. “And if Miranda can ever forgive me, I want her to be by my side.”

  “It’s encouraging that she hasn’t found another,” Mr. Thatcher said. “For both your sakes, I’ll hold a good thought.”

  “Thanks.” Bryce glanced at the butler. “As I started to say before, I can probably still go with you tonight. I’m sleeping in a spare room, so if I’m careful, Cynthia doesn’t have to know I’m gone.”

  Giselle shook her head. “I wouldn’t risk it, Bryce.”

  “I’m scheduled to meet Benedict at precisely two,” Mr. Thatcher said. “We won’t be able to wait for you.”

  “I understand. If I think there’s any chance Cynthia would catch me, I won’t do it.” He looked over at Giselle. “Sure you won’t come with us?”

  “I’d like to. But I can’t.”

  “I know. Just teasing you. Enjoy your last hurrah.”

  “Right.” Heat rose in her cheeks. He would have to say something in front of Mr. Thatcher. But she also realized he’d kept his comment relatively tame. He could have made it ten times more suggestive.

  As luck would have it, Cynthia and Luke returned to the table before she’d regained her composure.

  Luke looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

  She fanned her face. “Bryce and his jokes. My brother knows how to make me blush.”

  “It’s a talent.” Bryce stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready to call it a night.”

  Mr. Thatcher pushed back his chair. “So am I. But I’ve certainly enjoyed the evening.”

  “You and I will do this again sometime,” Luke said. “Maybe not in this particular setting, though. I expect to be persona non grata around here very soon.”

  Bryce stood. “You might be more welcome than you think. I have a hunch Benedict Cartwright will be happy to have you as an honored customer after you turn over the deed.”

  “He might, at that.” Giselle liked the idea of her brother being a key player in potentially ending the feud between the Cartwrights and the Daltons. His time in Vegas had turned out to be more valuable than she ever would have dreamed.