“Oh, she’s smart, all right.”
“So is my brother. But what if he’s trying to help straighten this out between you two? Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“Not if I have no effing clue what she’s talking about! This isn’t communicating. It’s taunting.”
“But if we solve the riddle, we might be getting somewhere.”
“All right.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Go ahead, Ms. Riddle Expert. Solve it.” He waited for her to admit she had no clue, either.
Instead she brightened. “She’s talking about Excalibur. That’s what the sword-in-the-stone reference is about. What if the number is a room there? What if the two of them have checked in and that’s where they are?”
Luke shoved out of his chair, refusing to admit how surprised he was by the ease with which she had cracked his sister’s code. “I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t like it at all. I know what goes on in hotel rooms.”
“Luke, she’s twenty-two. She’s been away at college. Surely you don’t think she’s still a—”
“I don’t want to discuss it. But I am going over to Excalibur to see who’s in that room. Are you coming with me?”
“Sure.” She stood and put on her leather jacket. “We’ll go on my motorcycle.”
That brought him up short. “Your what?”
“I rented a Harley to get around while I’m here. It’s what I’m used to back home, and it’s parked in Howlin’ at the Moon’s patrolled lot. Or did you want to walk?”
“No. Takes too long. The valet can bring my car around.”
“We’ll get there faster on my Harley. The rental company insisted on giving me an extra helmet. They seemed to think I’d have a passenger sooner or later while I was here.”
Luke hesitated. He wasn’t in the habit of surrendering control of his transportation.
“Cynthia won’t expect you to be riding around on the back of a motorcycle.”
He had to admit he liked the way she thought. “Okay, yeah. That’s a good point. She’s not the only one who can play games.” He grabbed a denim jacket from the coat tree by the door and followed Giselle out of the office.
As they walked together through the noisy bar toward the front door, Luke stopped to fill Chuck in on the proceedings. Chuck agreed to monitor the bar situation while Luke was gone.
He turned back to Giselle and discovered that she was inspecting the decor with obvious interest. “Ever been in here?”
“Years ago with some friends. You must be happy about owning such a Vegas landmark.”
“I expected to be happier about it.” He surprised himself by saying that.
“You mean because of this business with your sister?”
“That doesn’t help, but after all the drama of the poker game, the actual ownership of the bar turns out to be anticlimactic.”
“Maybe it hasn’t sunk in, yet.”
“Maybe that’s it.” He started toward the double front doors with their oval insets of etched glass. Giselle walked beside him, and he couldn’t help noticing that they moved with a similar rhythm. She was tall, about five-eight without the two-inch heels on her boots. But he was taller by about six inches.
He’d always liked that ratio. Any woman who was shorter than five-eight seemed small to him, probably because his mother and Cynthia were also around five-eight. In any case, he liked having some height advantage when he dated someone.
Not that he was dating Giselle or ever would. He’d help her corral her brother, and that would be the end of that. She’d called him a throwback, and that wasn’t so far off. He still believed in protecting those who were smaller and weaker than he was. The meant all children and most women. It definitely included Cynthia. He was still debating whether it included Giselle, especially after he saw the motorcycle. Any woman who blew into town and rented a black Harley might not need his protection.
As he strapped on the helmet and goggles she handed him, he admired the practiced way she tucked her hair under her helmet, adjusted her goggles, and climbed on the bike. Okay, he admired her ass, too. Was that a crime? Not in his world.
“What about you, though?” he asked as he swung up behind her. “Won’t your brother suspect you’re on a motorcycle, if that’s what you always drive?”
“Bryce doesn’t know I’m here.” She started the engine.
“Ah.” He’d assumed she would have warned him that she was on the way. Knowing she didn’t telegraph her punches was valuable information and increased his respect for her. “Planning to sneak up on him, are you?”
“I guess you could say that. Ready?”
“Anytime you are.” Now was not the time to admit he’d never been on a motorcycle before. All his buddies had either owned one or had at least ridden on one, and somehow he’d missed the experience. Once the teenage years had passed, he’d lost the urge to try it. But it couldn’t be that hard.
“You might want to hang on.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.” She zoomed into traffic and he damned near fell off.
Grabbing her around the waist, he straightened. Holy hell, but the woman could drive this sucker. He wouldn’t say she took unnecessary chances, but she did some impressive maneuvering through traffic.
It was an exhilarating ride, but if he hadn’t been holding on to her, he might have been left somewhere in the middle of the road. To be fair, she’d warned him, and he’d been too macho to listen. He might not want to make that mistake again.
Chapter 4
After parking the bike, Giselle finger combed her hair as she walked with Luke through Excalibur’s lobby toward the elevators. Her Were senses were on overload. She’d forgotten that regular casinos were extremely loud and exceedingly smelly. Humans loved their perfume and shaving lotion, and for some reason they loved it more in Vegas than anywhere else. She’d forgotten that.
The only time she’d visited, she and her friends had stayed at the Silver Crescent, so they’d been surrounded by other Weres, who used only light scents if they used any at all. The slot machine noise had been muted there, too. Now that she stood in front of the elevators at Excalibur, she remembered touring the Strip with her buddies. The noise and heavy perfume had driven them out of each casino after only a few minutes.
Now she was about to step into a crowded elevator, something she avoided even in San Francisco, although the humans didn’t seem as fragrant there. Maybe the cool breezes blew it all away. Not so in Vegas. Taking a deep breath, she held it as she got on the elevator with Luke. Then she prayed for a fast elevator that didn’t stop at every floor. Her prayers went unanswered.
Eventually she had to breathe or pass out, and when she sucked in a lungful of whatever all the humans had splashed on themselves or sprayed in their hair, she grew dizzy. She must have staggered, because a strong arm came around her shoulders and supported her against an equally strong body. Taking shallow breaths, she gazed at her feet and leaned against Luke.
That sensation almost made up for the smelly elevator. She’d bet good money that he had a top-notch workout room at the Silver Crescent and he paid regular visits to it. Because she hung out with werewolves, she was used to well-built males. Weres seldom allowed themselves to get soft.
But she couldn’t help being a little fascinated by the muscle definition on this particular human. She didn’t often have a chance to check out that kind of thing. Maybe she could consider it research.
Weres liked to imagine that they were physically superior to humans, and most times that was true. But Luke Dalton rivaled the physique of the male Weres she’d known. Not only that, he smelled good. In this swampland of artificial smells, Luke gave off a clean, refreshing scent with a subtle underlying note of male musk.