Werewolf in Las Vegas Read online

  “Well, shoot.” A tall redhead with green eyes walked into the office. “I was hoping you’d have some insights.”

  Luke stared at her. He was very afraid his eyes had widened, but he managed to clamp his jaw so it wouldn’t drop. As he took in the sight before him, all rational thought ceased. This Giselle Landry had to be the most beautiful, sexy woman he had ever seen. She was exactly his type—long legs, adorable freckles, and fiery hair. Looking at her, he felt a wave of desire that almost knocked him over.

  But one Dalton mixed up with a Landry was more than enough. He wasn’t about to make it two for two.

  • • •

  Giselle hadn’t thought to ask Vaughn to describe Luke Dalton. Vaughn wouldn’t have given her any significant information, anyway. He’d probably have said Dalton had dark blond hair and blue eyes. He might have mentioned that the guy was about six-two.

  Those facts wouldn’t have prepared her for this man with broad shoulders, a chiseled jaw, and the mesmerizing gaze of a movie star. His slightly unkempt, almost shaggy haircut only added to his sex appeal. A cotton dress shirt, open at the throat, and a snug pair of jeans signaled his disinterest in traditional business attire. This was the kind of guy who could, if he chose to, use his looks to get anything he wanted from a woman. And possibly from a Were who wasn’t against Were-human sexual connections.

  Which she was. She didn’t allow herself to be attracted to human males because she was opposed to cross-species mating, so why even go there? Her libido might not like that restriction, but too bad.

  The guy who’d brought her into the office glanced at Luke. “Holler if you need anything.”

  “I will, Chuck. Thanks. Close the door on your way out.”

  “Right.” Chuck pulled the door shut behind him.

  After it clicked into place, Luke leaned his palms on the surface of the desk, which made his shoulders look even more muscular. “So you don’t know where your brother is right now?”

  “I assume he’s with your sister.” She noticed he hadn’t asked her to sit down. “Where is she?”

  A trace of vulnerability touched his blue eyes. “I don’t know.” Then he covered that immediately with bravado. “But my people are on it.”

  “I see.” She wasn’t fooled. Worry for his sister was tearing him up inside, but he didn’t want her to know that. “Do your people have a plan of action, then?”

  “Of course.” His gaze didn’t waver.

  She doubted that he had everything under perfect control or he wouldn’t have made his earlier comment about hoping she’d have some insights. But he was a poker player, and a damned good one, apparently. Aside from that first unguarded comment, he wasn’t going to let her see him sweat.

  The truth was that she needed this guy and his people, whoever they might be. Although Vaughn was sympathetic to her situation, Bryce had hooked up with a Dalton. At this point, no Cartwright, including Vaughn, was particularly enthusiastic about saving Bryce from himself, and they were thrilled that Luke’s little sister was causing problems.

  Giselle decided diplomacy might be the right way to go. “Look, you obviously have resources and connections that I lack. I’m very eager to find my brother and convince him to come back to San Francisco with me.”

  “Then our purposes are aligned, because I want him on the next plane bound for ’Frisco. I think he’s responsible, directly or indirectly, for this latest move of Cynthia’s. He’s a bad influence on my little sister.”

  Diplomacy might not be the answer, after all. “It takes two to tango, Mr. Dalton.”

  His glance was assessing. “Do you tango, Ms. Landry?”

  “Some.”

  “Then you’re aware that the man leads and the woman follows.”

  He’d hit upon one of her pet peeves about ballroom dancing, the tango included, but she managed a comeback anyway. “That presumes she already knows the steps.”

  His gaze locked with hers. “Ah, but an experienced male dancer can encourage an inexperienced female dancer to try things she’d never attempt on her own. How old is your brother, Ms. Landry?”

  “Thirty.”

  “What a coincidence. So am I. So I can speak with some authority when I say that your brother’s experience with the dance between a man and a woman is far greater than that of my little sister, who is only twenty-two. He has an unfair advantage.”

  Giselle fought to control her temper. “My brother would never try to convince your sister to do something she didn’t want to do. If she’s pulled a vanishing act, then it was entirely her—”

  “Who told you that?”

  She’d prefer not to reveal her connection to the Cartwrights, but neither did she want to get caught in a lie. And Luke Dalton had people, so eventually he’d learn where she was staying and figure it out. But she’d postpone that moment as long as she could. “It’s all over town,” she said.

  “Is that so? When did you arrive?”

  “Today.”

  “Then you must have been swinging on that grapevine from the moment you hit the tarmac at McCarran. Come on, Ms. Landry. You have a connection here in town, somebody who gets the local dirt and filled you in. Who is it?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “That’s up to you, but I’ll find out sooner or later. You’ve implied that we might want to join forces, and being evasive with information isn’t a good way to build trust.”

  That made her laugh. “You aren’t about to trust me. You’re convinced my brother’s leading your sister astray, so don’t make it sound like we’re going to take some Fellowship of the Ring oath of solidarity.”

  A flash of amusement transformed his hard features for a brief moment and gave her a glimpse of someone else, someone she might like much better. But then it was gone and the poker face reappeared.

  “All right.” His tone was mild, but the look in his eyes was intent. “Maybe it doesn’t matter how you found out about my sister’s plans.”

  Oh, yes, it does. But if he was willing to let it drop, great. Time to go on the offensive. “Why did she decide to disappear?”

  That seemed to take some of the wind out of his sails. He started to sit down and stopped himself, as if only then realizing that she remained standing. “Please, sit down. I should have invited you to do so earlier.”

  “Perhaps you weren’t sure whether you would end up having me thrown out.”

  He sighed and gestured to one of two upholstered chairs in front of his desk. “I would like to think I haven’t descended to that level.”

  She took the right-hand chair. “What level?”

  “Throwing a woman out of my office.”

  Her feminist instincts wouldn’t let that pass. “Have you ever thrown a man out of your office?”

  “Once or twice. But—”

  “Then if I offend you, feel free to throw me out. I’d consider it a matter of principle and would be upset if you didn’t.”

  He stared at her as if she were speaking in tongues.

  She groaned. “Lord help me, I’m dealing with a throwback. I should have realized it when you started describing the whole dancing routine. You truly believe that men were created to lead and women were created to follow, don’t you?”

  His poker face disappeared. “No, damn it! I was just trying to explain how a guy of thirty could easily influence a young woman of—”

  “Have you seen the research on maturation, Dalton? Females mature much faster than males. I’d say a twenty-two-year-old female is operating about even with a thirty-year-old male, if not slightly ahead of him.”

  Abandoning his stoic expression completely, he leaned across the desk and pointed a finger at her. “Screw your research. I know my sister, and she’s not all that worldly. She may be a semester away from graduating magna cum laude, but she doesn’t know squat about—”


  “Magna cum laude?” Giselle realized she might have to take this potential matchup more seriously. Bryce loved brainy females. “From where?” She hoped it was some no-name college with a total enrollment of five hundred.

  “Yale. But that’s beside the point.”

  “Actually, it’s not beside the point at all.” Giselle became more worried by the second. “She must be very goal-oriented.”

  “Trust me, she is. Her goal used to be graduating with honors from Yale so she could make our father proud. Now that he’s gone, she doesn’t want to go back. She says that was his dream for her, and even attending classes there now would be too sad and painful.”

  “Poor kid.”

  “That’s what I thought, too! I was ready to cut her some slack. I figured if she gave it a few months, she could manage to go back for the fall semester. She was so close! But she said no, she wasn’t going back at all.”

  “She could change her mind.”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it.”

  Giselle made a calculated guess. “You’re thwarting her new goal, aren’t you? And that’s why she’s disappeared.”

  He looked as if he’d been Tasered. “My God.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he stared at a point beyond her left shoulder. “That’s it.” Slowly his gaze returned to lock with hers. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged. “Good guess.”

  “Brilliant guess. You don’t even know her, and you’ve hit upon the most important part of her personality. What are you, a shrink?”

  “Accountant.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “No kidding? You don’t look like—”

  “Spare me. Accountants aren’t all skinny nerds. And they’re definitely not all male.” Hacking her way through this guy’s jungle of stereotypes would take some effort, but he had resources and it was clear his sister could pose a real threat to the future serenity of the Landry pack.

  She was also in desperate need of more information about said sister. “Out of curiosity, what are you denying Cynthia that she wants so desperately?”

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, some background. Here’s this kid—smart as a whip, straight-A student, and my dad doted on her.” He picked up a pen and laced it through his fingers. “She got into Yale, and he busted his buttons over that. Told all his cronies she’d be president someday.” He worked the pen through his fingers as he talked.

  Giselle wondered if he even knew he was toying with the pen, but he had amazing dexterity as he wove it endlessly through his fingers. She found that sexy as all get-out. She brought her attention back to the subject, his brainiac sister.

  “Turns out she doesn’t want to be president. Or a molecular biologist, or a corporate lawyer, or an astrophysicist.” He tossed the pen on the desk. “She wants to be a showgirl. She wants me to give her a job dancing at the Silver Crescent.”

  “And she’s no good.” Giselle pictured a bookworm who secretly longed to be onstage wearing glamorous outfits but had no natural rhythm or coordination. If that were the case, then Cynthia wouldn’t be Bryce’s type after all. He liked a female with brains, but he wanted her to be poised and confident, too. Maybe Cynthia wasn’t the threat Giselle had feared. Perhaps Bryce only felt sorry for her.

  “Oh, no, she’s a great dancer. But I thought it was a hobby, something she did for exercise.”

  “So what’s the problem? Is she too fat? Too unattractive? Too short?”

  “She’s beautiful.” Luke grabbed his phone off the desk and clicked it a couple of times with his thumb before turning it to face Giselle. “That’s her.”

  Giselle looked at the smiling blonde on the screen and saw her worst nightmare. All that and outstanding grades from an Ivy League school? Bryce probably thought he’d hit the jackpot.

  “You haven’t mentioned your mother. Is she alive?”

  “She lives in France.” He said it as if France might as well be Mars.

  So Luke had no support or guidance from that quarter. He was fighting this battle alone, and that touched her. She’d just seen how Vaughn had been emotionally rocked by the unexpected loss of his dad, but at least he had backing from his mother and his mate.

  Luke didn’t have that, and yet his sense of responsibility toward his immediate family seemed as strong as any Were’s would be. When Cynthia had chosen to disappear, Luke’s protective instincts had been thwarted. Giselle understood his visceral response to the situation. It was werewolf-like in its intensity.

  Giselle contemplated the situation. Cynthia wanted to be a showgirl, and from the looks of her, she could handle that job just fine. Her older brother, however, couldn’t. By objecting to her plan, he’d sent her into rebellion mode. Cynthia and Bryce could easily have bonded over the subject of dealing with unbending family expectations.

  Giselle couldn’t decide where to start to untangle this mess. “It’s obvious that you don’t want your Ivy League–educated sister to become a Vegas showgirl.” He had no right to meddle in her life to that extent, but Giselle decided not to mention that. She didn’t think Luke would take it well when he was so upset.

  “Damn straight. One of the last things my dad said to me was, Watch out for my little girl. If I put her in the chorus line at the Silver Crescent, he’d be spinning in his grave.”

  Dear God. A deathbed promise, no less, one that Luke was taking to heart. It made him even more appealing to her. She was certainly vulnerable to pressure from her folks.

  Luke was convinced he was doing the right thing. She had a fair amount of sympathy for his position, despite his somewhat patriarchal mindset. The poor man had no idea that letting his sister try the showgirl option would have been the safer bet than forcing her into this rebellion. Because he’d denied his little sister, she’d hooked up with a werewolf.

  Chapter 3

  Luke couldn’t deny that Giselle impressed him with how quickly she’d hit on the main issue with Cynthia. Although he had plenty of eyeballs to keep track of Cynthia’s whereabouts, they were all guys. They thought like guys.

  Now he realized he could use a woman’s perspective. And as he’d said earlier, he and Giselle wanted the same thing. Or almost the same thing. They both wanted to separate Cynthia from Landry and get his ass back to ’Frisco.

  After that, Luke still had to derail Cynthia on this showgirl thing. Because Giselle had figured out the problem right away, she might have some ideas for changing Cynthia’s mind. Giselle had pegged her as a goal-oriented person. All he had to do was subtly direct Cynthia toward a more suitable goal.

  His cell phone pinged, signaling a text. He picked it up, checked the screen, and glanced over at Giselle. “We might have some news.”

  “That would be great.”

  He read quickly. “According to my guys, Cynthia’s Corvette and Landry’s rented SUV are parked side by side in a public lot near the Strip. Either they’ve rented a different vehicle or they’re on foot. My guys are checking the rental agencies.”

  “The rental agencies will give them that kind of information? I thought that was against the law.”

  He looked up from his phone. She really was a straight arrow. He’d have to keep that in mind. “Technically, that’s true.”

  “But they’ll bend the rules for Luke Dalton?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on who’s working the desk. My dad knew a lot of people in this town, and he made sure they understood that I’d be stepping into his shoes someday. I didn’t expect to have to take over this soon, but they’re treating me the way they would have treated him, and I appreciate that.”

  “How old was your dad when he died?” Her tone was gentler than it had been a few minutes ago when she’d chewed him out for his views on men, women, and dancing the tango.

  “Fifty-six.” His chest tightened. His dad had loved contemplating the grandchildren he’d have so
meday. Luke had figured he had plenty of time to give him some.

  “Not very old.”

  “Nope. It was his heart. I lay a lot of the responsibility for his condition at Harrison Cartwright’s feet.”

  “He also died young.”

  “Yeah, but he’s the one who created the problem. If he’d turned the deed over right away instead of making my father get lawyers involved, they might both be alive today.”

  “Have you asked her why she wants to be a showgirl?”

  “No.” But as he looked into Giselle’s green eyes, he realized that would have been a good move. Yeah, he really could use the female perspective as he worked through this problem. “I just assumed it’s because our mother was a dancer and Cynthia always thought that was cool. So what? It’s still a terrible idea.”

  “Your mom was a dancer?”

  He nodded. “My father saw her performing at the Sahara thirty-two years ago, and that was it for him. He never looked at another woman. She never looked at another man, either. They were crazy about each other.”

  Giselle’s expression softened. “Is it any wonder your sister wants to be a showgirl after hearing a romantic story like that? If she wants a guy like your dad, she’s not going to find him working in a microbiology lab.”

  “You think that’s her motivation? To find the man of her dreams?” Luke hadn’t thought of that. Cynthia probably wouldn’t want to hook up with a nerdy scientist or lawyer. She’d want a charismatic gambler like her dad had been. Unfortunately, Bryce Landry fit that profile.

  “I have no idea if she’s hoping to re-create what your parents had. As smart as she is, that’s probably only a small part of her thinking. But you would know for sure if you asked her.”

  “Which brings us back to the so what part of this discussion. No matter what her motivation is, being a showgirl is still a lousy idea. She could attract a psycho stalker just as easily as Prince Charming. Easier, actually.”

  “But she wants to work in your casino, which means she’s putting herself under the protection of you and your staff. That’s extremely smart, don’t you think?”