Werewolf in Seattle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Consequently, she’d become a blubbering idiot, for which she was embarrassed. She wasn’t a crier, had never been one, so far as she could remember. She’d shed tears over Geraldine, and that was to be expected. But she wasn’t the type to tear up over a bouquet of flowers and a misplaced endearment.

  She couldn’t blame it on stress, because she’d had far more stress than this in her twenty-seven years of life. So she’d blame it on lack of sleep. One thing she wouldn’t blame it on—falling in love with Colin MacDowell. That would be the stupidest thing she could possibly do.

  “Did you still want to see the picture of your grandparents’ house?”

  She’d forgotten all about it. Sharing a kiss with Colin in a deserted aisle of a bookstore could do that to her. Being alone with him in a hotel room would likely have the same effect. “I’d like to see it,” she said.

  Taking out his phone, he pushed a few buttons and handed it to her. “There it is.”

  “Wow.” The stately two-story was white with hunter-green shutters. “It looks like a mansion.”

  “They’ve done well, but they’re turning the whole thing into offices for the foundation and temporary housing for homeless Weres, so they won’t be living there much longer. That was all on the foundation website.”

  “Any pictures of them?”

  “There might have been a couple of small ones, but I don’t know how well they’ll show up on a tiny screen. Want me to try?”

  “Sure.” She gave him the phone, although it might not matter whether she could see the pictures or not. She’d nearly made up her mind to meet them tomorrow, so she’d get an up close and personal view then.

  “This is the best I can do. I’ve magnified it as much as I can.” He passed over the phone again.

  Luna already knew from pictures of her mother that she looked almost exactly like Sophie, so she didn’t expect to see much family resemblance in the two seventy-something people gazing back at her from the small image in the phone. Instead she felt the shock of instant recognition.

  Edwina’s chin was like hers, rounded and yet firm and strong-looking. As for Jacques, his ears were small and close to his head, exactly like Luna’s. Sophie’s had stuck out a little bit, which was why she’d always worn her hair long.

  The light on the screen faded, and Luna punched a button to bring it back. She couldn’t stop looking at those two people. Their blood ran in her veins.

  “Can you see it well enough?” Colin leaned closer and started to take the phone. “Maybe I can—”

  She maintained her grip on the phone. “I can see it fine.” The picture was a posed studio shot, and so she couldn’t get a real sense of what they were like because they seemed a little stiff. But they were both smiling, and they had wonderful smiles, although that part wasn’t familiar. Luna’s smile was pure Sophie.

  Edwina’s hair was a combination of blonde and silver that looked natural. Jacques had a receding hairline, and what was left of his hair was quite gray. He had the kindest eyes and a bushy mustache.

  “I think I would like them,” she said softly.

  “Everything about them seems positive.”

  “I know.” She finally lifted her gaze from the screen. “But I can’t forget that their son died because of my mother’s behavior.”

  “More than twenty-seven years ago,” Colin said. “They’ve had twenty-seven years to come to grips with what happened and learn to forgive.”

  “Or twenty-seven years to grow more bitter about losing their only child.”

  Colin sighed. “I won’t tell you that’s impossible, but if they were bitter, why would they start this foundation? I think there’s a better chance that they would embrace you as their granddaughter.”

  “I want to see them, but I want to go with a cover story. Will you help me with that?”

  “I’ll do whatever you need.”

  That was all she had to hear. “What if we call on them to suggest using the opening weekend of Whittier House as a benefit for their foundation?”

  Colin stared at her. “That’s bloody brilliant, lass!”

  “It is? Don’t forget it will reduce our profit that weekend.”

  “I may be a Scot but I’m not stupid. Tying in with a charitable cause will mean cross-promotion, both for them and for us. Guests are able to say they were at the opening of Whittier House Inn, and they contributed to the Byron Reynaud Foundation at the same time.”

  “I mostly wanted an excuse to see them other than announcing I’m their long-lost granddaughter.”

  He frowned, clearly disappointed. “So you’re not going to tell them that?”

  “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

  “But…what about your name?”

  She’d been wrestling with that problem, the only real glitch in her scheme. “We may be able to gloss over that. For one thing, I’ve always thought the MacDowell name should be on all the literature about the inn. Your title will impress everyone.”

  “But won’t they expect me to be around all the time if my name’s on the brochure?”

  “I’ll say you jet back and forth between your two homes. That will sound worldly and extravagant. We’ll put a welcome letter from you in each room, and, I know! We’ll put a portrait of you, wearing a kilt and whatever else goes with that, in some prominent place.”

  Colin groaned. “I really hate that plan.”

  “Do you have a kilt?”

  “Not with me.”

  “But you do have one. And that other thing, the pouch deal.”

  “A sporran. Aye, I have that, and the proper cap, the whole outfit.”

  She grinned at him. “When you talk about it, your brogue gets stronger. Maybe in addition to the portrait, we should have a video of—”

  “No, by God. I’ll not be making a video as the Laird of Glenbarra, strutting around in his plaid.”

  “Aw, Colin. It would be so great. We could have it on a continuous loop in the library!”

  “You’re having me on, aren’t you?”

  She reached over and stroked his cheek. “A little. Y’all were so horrified at the idea of a video. But I really want to play up the laird angle and minimize my role. I’m just Luna Thisbe, the one who runs the office.”

  “Who?”

  “Thisbe is my middle name. My mother got it from a story about two ill-fated lovers.”

  “I know the story.”

  “I’ve always hated that middle name. As if Luna isn’t unusual enough, she saddled me with Thisbe, too. But it works as a last name if I want to cloak myself for now. I can even tell the staff I’m dropping Reynaud so people don’t get confused and think I’m part of the foundation.”

  Colin gave her a wry smile. “It would be so much simpler if you just told them.”

  “Too risky. I realize eventually the word may get out and I’ll have to deal with that, but if we have Whittier House off and running by then, it may not matter who I am, especially if you’re the visible part of the operation.”

  “You do know I won’t be particularly visible at all, don’t you?”

  “I know.” He wasn’t even gone yet and she was already imagining how desperately she’d miss him. Enough. She’d already had one bout of tears today, and that was one too many. “But you could be, if you’d make that video!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Colin wasn’t about to push Luna to reveal her identity to her grandparents. His instinct was always to face problems squarely and then take whatever came of that, but it wasn’t his fight. She had to decide, and for all he knew, she was right to postpone the confrontation.

  But if her grandmother was George Trevelyan’s aunt, the fat would hit the fire eventually. Colin didn’t like surprises, and he didn’t think Luna’s grandparents would appreciate stumbling upon the information some time in the future. Besides that, Luna would have to live with a sword hanging over her head, knowing the moment of truth could come at any time.

  But for now, he was happy to be
out of the cab, through the hotel registration process, and stepping into yet another express elevator with her, this time headed for the penthouse of a hotel owned by Trevelyan Enterprises. He should have guessed that George would reserve the penthouse for them. Yes, it was a generous gesture, but it was also a display of wealth and power. As a pack alpha, Colin knew all about that.

  “I felt a little funny checking in with only two shopping bags full of clothes, a bouquet of flowers, and a double grocery bag full of old books,” Luna said as the elevator started its smooth glide upward. “Especially when they gave us the key to the penthouse. That George is something else.”

  “He’s an alpha Were, is what he is. Some day he’ll call in his favors,” Colin said. “It would be rude to reject his generosity, and his help has been invaluable, but there will be a price, and I can’t believe a round of golf at St. Andrews will settle the bill.”

  “Are y’all worried about it?”

  “No, but I’ll stay alert.”

  She lifted her chin. “Then I’ll stay alert, too. I’m learning something about pack politics. You’re the first pack alpha I ever met, and George is the second. Is that a representative sample?”

  He couldn’t help smiling. She was the most entertaining female he’d ever come across, Were or human. “I couldn’t say. But there is often a similarity in how we operate. For example, those two big cushy chairs in George’s office are designed to put the visitor at a disadvantage.”

  “I did feel sort of small and short when I sank into one.” Her eyebrows lifted. “So that’s why you didn’t sit down.”

  “George didn’t sit down, either, but even if he’d gone back to his desk chair, he still would have had the superior position because the desk chair would have kept him at a higher level than the other two chairs.”

  “Fascinating. If I ever go in that office again, I’ll perch on the arm, too. There’s no reason I have to sink down into that chair and be swallowed up like quicksand.”

  “True, but you’re not an alpha, so you don’t have to worry so much about it.”

  “I don’t like the idea of being intimidated, though. And can’t females be alphas if they want?”

  He blinked. “Well, yes, they can. There are several females who run their packs. Recently Nadia Henderson took over the reins of the Chicago pack. But…” He paused, realizing that what he’d been about to say might not be true anymore.

  “But a half-breed can’t be an alpha?”

  He took a deep breath. “That used to be true, but two alpha males from the Wallace pack in New York have taken human mates. Logically, one of their offspring might end up leading the pack someday.” That sobering thought hadn’t occurred to him until now.

  “Really?” She gazed at him as the floor numbers flashed by on the display. “I’m guessing you’re not totally on board with that program.”

  “It worries me. So much could go wrong.”

  She nodded. “I suppose so. But thanks for telling me about the Wallaces. Now I feel less freakish.”

  Guilt assailed him. “Luna, you’re not—”

  “You’re right. I’m not at all freakish. That’s a bad choice of words. But I have felt unusual, and it helps to know that I’m not. There’s so much I don’t know about the Were world, and I’ve been afraid to ask and expose my ignorance.”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Anything?”

  “Whatever you have a question about.”

  “Then I have a question that I could only ask a male, and you’re elected. What’s your favorite female body part?”

  As he started to answer, the elevator slid to a stop, and a mellow chime sounded as the doors rolled open with the barest of whispers.

  “You’re not saved by the bell, either, Your Much Honoured Sirness.”

  “I don’t need to be.” He picked up the bag of books, supporting it from underneath because it was threatening to rip. “Can you get the other bags?”

  “Sure.” She picked both up in one hand and kept her grip on the flowers with the other.

  He tilted his head toward the open elevator doors. “After you.”

  She went out, but turned back to him. “So what’s your favorite female body part?”

  He stepped into the foyer. He could hardly wait until she turned around and saw the view they had, but she seemed intent on this question of hers. “My favorite body part, particularly in your case, is your…”

  “My what?” Her eyes lit up with anticipation.

  “Your mind,” he said.

  The merriment in her expression changed, and her face glowed with obvious pleasure. “That’s not what I thought you’d say, but it’s a great answer.”

  “What did you think I’d say?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “I’m not telling. We can talk about it when we’re naked.”

  That was all it took for him to decide to set the books down right there, in the foyer. Time to get on with the festivities. “I’m looking forward to that, but first, you need to see something.” Stepping toward her, he grasped her shoulders and turned her gently around.

  She gasped and dropped her bags to the floor, although he noticed that she still maintained a death grip on those flowers. He wondered if she’d crushed the stems by now. With an arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  The drapes were open to the view of the sparkling blue Sound, but more drapes ringed the entire curved boundary of the living room. Colin suspected that windows circled the entire top floor and provided a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree panorama. He was eager to find out, because he thought their plans for the evening were about to change.

  Luna resisted him as he urged her toward the view. “Don’t forget I have a touch of acrophobia.”

  “What about the helicopter? You seemed fine during the flight.” With Knox in charge. The green monster reared its ugly head again.

  “For some reason, that doesn’t bother me, maybe because I’m strapped in. Here I’m free to fall out.”

  “No, you’re not.” He tightened his grip. “I’ve got you.”

  She relaxed slightly. “Okay. Just don’t let go.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Do I have your word as a MacDowell?”

  “You do.”

  “Then let’s see this view that George gave us.” The tension left her body and she walked easily toward the tall windows.

  Her trust humbled him. She had put all her faith in him, and not only to keep her from falling from a great height to the pavement below. She’d trusted him with her body, and on some level, with her heart.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d given it and wouldn’t ever take it back. Luna Thisbe, indeed. He didn’t want her name to seal her fate, but all the signs pointed to that very thing.

  As Luna approached the window with Colin’s strong arm securely around her shoulders, her heart raced, but with exhilaration instead of fear. She’d secretly been a little nervous about going up in the Space Needle because she’d seen pictures of the observation platform, and it looked something like this, with people standing right next to the abyss.

  Yet here she was, gazing out across the Sound from such a height that the boats looked like toys in the water, and because Colin held her close to his side, she was not afraid. “It really is spectacular,” she said.

  “George is showing off, but I don’t care. I have a suggestion, though.”

  “You want to moon passing airliners?”

  He laughed. “No, but go ahead if you want.”

  “I suppose they wouldn’t be close enough. The passengers would have to use binoculars to see us.”

  “The truth is, nobody can see us up here, unless maybe from a passing helicopter, but even that’s not likely. I think we could run around naked up here without a soul noticing.”

  She glanced up at him. “I sense this has something to do with your suggested change in plans.”
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  “Aye. But I need to know if your heart’s set on eating at the top of the Space Needle.”

  “I doubt we could do that naked.”

  His lips twitched. “That would be frowned upon.”

  She scanned the horizon and pointed off to their left. “Isn’t that it, right over there?”

  “Yes.”

  “It is somewhat taller than we are. And you did say that alpha males like to seek high ground.”

  “I did say that. But this is very high ground right here, and more than that, it’s exclusive high ground, which counts for a lot in an alpha’s world.”

  “I see.” She enjoyed listening to him make his case, even though she’d already chosen.

  “But if you really want to see the most spectacular view in Seattle, we should go to the Space Needle.”

  “You’re quite sure we can’t eat there naked.”

  He glanced down at her with a smile. “No, we cannot. No shoes, no shirt, no pants, no underwear, no service.”

  “How restrictive!”

  He nodded. “Quite restrictive.”

  “Then I’m thinking, who needs it?”

  “See that, lass? My favorite part of your body just made me a very happy Were. But if I’m going to cancel our restaurant reservations, I’ll need to let go of you to do it.”

  “I feel like I’m riding a bike with training wheels, but let’s find out whether I panic when you let go.”

  He gradually released her. “How’s that?”

  “So far so good.”

  “How about I take those flowers?”

  “Oh.” She glanced down at them and realized she’d been holding them very tightly. “I think I choked them to death.”

  “Look on the bright side. If I cut off the mangled part of the stem, they’ll now fit in a water glass.”

  “And judging from this place, the glasses will be Waterford, so I suppose all is well.”

  “It is, Luna. It definitely is. If you think you’ll be fine here, I’ll make the call and organize your flowers. Otherwise I can guide you back to the sofa.”

  “Now that’s ridiculous.” She flapped her hand at him. “Go. Make your call. Fix the flowers.”