He was more than fine with it, in fact. He loved her. And she loved him back, even if she’d never tell him so. She couldn’t have him forever, so she’d make the most of the short time they were together.
With the cabin as their hideaway, they spent the rest of the day making love and sharing the chicken and coleslaw dinner Cynthia had left for them. Because Giselle had dry clothes, she went outside and found the extra wood stored beside the cabin. That allowed them to keep the fire going, which added to the romantic ambience.
She doubted that she’d ever smell wood smoke again without thinking of these hours with Luke. Lying on the futon with him, she gave him an edited version of her childhood because he asked. She knew he sought a clue to the problem she refused to discuss, but she was practiced at evading critical questions. She’d been doing that ever since her parents had allowed her the freedom to mingle with humans.
Although she longed to tell him the truth, she also knew that wouldn’t go well. Humans had been taught to fear werewolves, and countless books and movies had added to the misconceptions. Most people believed that Weres were monsters who passed on their beastly tendencies by biting the humans they attacked. On top of that, humans tended to view the concept of shape-shifting with revulsion. Luke praised her beauty when she was in human form, but how would he react if she transformed into a female wolf with a thick coat of dark red fur? Would he love that version of her? Giselle wasn’t ready to find out.
Inevitably, the hour arrived when they had to leave if they expected to be at the penthouse by eight.
“I could text Cynthia and change the time.” Luke had begun putting on his clothes, which were now dry and smelled of wood smoke. “I think ten works as well as eight.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Giselle zipped her jeans. “Sticking with her time frame indicates we consider her important enough to accommodate her wishes. Once we start fiddling with the time, she could see that as a lack of commitment on our part.”
Luke sighed as he put on his shirt. “You’re right. But I hate leaving. Nothing’s been settled about . . . us.”
“Yes, it has,” she said softly. “Assuming this four-way discussion goes well, Bryce and I will fly back to San Francisco tomorrow.”
He held her gaze. “Okay. Then I’ll come up there for a few days.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Damn it, Giselle!” Frustration was etched on his handsome face. “I—”
“Don’t say it. That won’t help. You have to take my word that we have no future.”
He stared at her for a few seconds. Then, with a muttered oath, he finished dressing.
They rode back down the mountain in silence, which tore at her, but she had nothing helpful to say. They’d had their idyll in the woods, and now came the tough part—putting those special moments behind them and getting on with their separate lives. He’d expected her to crack and reveal everything. That wasn’t going to happen.
Finally, as they stood in the private elevator and it began its ascent to the top floor of the Silver Crescent, he broke the silence. “No matter what happens from this point on, I need you to know something.”
“Luke . . .”
“You don’t want me to say it, but this may be my last chance, and I damn well will say it. I love you, Giselle.”
She gazed at him as her heart broke.
“You won’t say it, but I know you love me, too. It’s there in your eyes.” His voice shook with emotion, and his blue eyes flashed fire. “I don’t know what the hell it is that you refuse to tell me, but it better be the sort of secret that would endanger the entire free world if you let it get out. Anything less would be bullshit.” He looked at her, obviously waiting. When she said nothing, he turned away. “Okay, then.”
She hurt so much she had to clutch her stomach to keep from doubling over. She’d never wished to be human instead of Were, but heaven help her, she wished for it now.
Luke behaved like the perfect gentleman as he ushered her through the elaborate double doors into the penthouse. Bryce and Cynthia were there, sitting on the butterscotch sectional, sipping from wineglasses. When Giselle and Luke walked in, they both stood.
Reluctantly, Giselle admitted that her tall, red-haired brother and Luke’s tall, blond sister made a striking couple. They looked almost like movie stars standing together. But unlike poised Hollywood celebrities, they appeared nervous.
Giselle decided to break the ice. She walked over and gave her brother a hug. “I didn’t get to do this yesterday,” she murmured. “It’s good to see you.”
He hugged her back. “Same here, Sis.”
Giselle turned to Cynthia. “I’ve seen you dancing Cynthia, and I just want to say I very much admire your talent.”
“Oh.” She seemed dazzled by that statement. “Thank you so much.”
Giselle’s heart went out to her. Although Cynthia was only six years younger, she seemed much more vulnerable than that. She, too, had lost her overbearing father, and she must be feeling an unsettling combination of grief and freedom.
Behind Giselle, Luke cleared his throat. “I’ve never officially met your friend, Cynthia.”
“Guess not.” Cynthia seemed to regain some of her poise. “Bryce Landry, this is my big brother, Luke.”
Bryce stuck out his hand with an assertiveness that made Giselle proud. “Glad to finally meet you, Dalton.”
“Same here, Landry.” Luke stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye with Giselle’s brother. They were the same height and of a similar build. A fight between them would draw even odds.
Giselle prayed there would be no fight. Her loyalties would be hopelessly divided. But after what appeared to be a bone-crushing handshake, the two men separated.
Luke adopted a take-charge attitude. “Obviously we need to talk. I see you both have a beverage. Giselle and I should probably get something, too.”
“I’ll provide whatever you require, sir.” Mr. Thatcher appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Giselle snuck a quick glance at Bryce, to see his reaction to Mr. Thatcher.
Bryce winked at her.
Giselle ducked her head to hide a smile. At the moment, the Weres outnumbered the humans, not that the humans would ever find that out.
“Excellent, Mr. Thatcher.” Luke looked at Giselle. “What will you have?”
She considered champagne, because she hoped they’d be celebrating a reunion of siblings, but she wasn’t completely confident that would happen. “A glass of wine works.”
“Red or white, madam?” Mr. Thatcher asked.
“Red, please.”
Luke turned to Mr. Thatcher. “Make that two, please.”
“And cheese and bread, please, Mr. Thatcher,” Cynthia said. Lifting her chin, she faced her brother. “Mom and Dad always used to have cheese and bread with their wine.”
Luke’s expression softened. “Yeah, they did. Good call, Sis.”
Once Mr. Thatcher left, the four of them stood staring at each other.
Luke took a deep breath. “Let’s all sit down. Giselle, the sectional’s all yours. I’ll get a kitchen chair.”
Giselle picked a spot where the sectional curved, so that she was at right angles to Bryce and Cynthia. Luke walked into the kitchen, grabbed one of the chairs, and brought it back, positioning it on the far side of a glass coffee table. Instead of sitting in it, he spun it around and straddled it.
Very macho, indeed. Giselle worked hard not to smile at the tactic, which made Luke seem far more cool than Bryce, despite her brother’s attempt to lounge on the sectional as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Although one of the males in the room was Were and one was human, their maneuvering for dominance wasn’t all that different.