“My dad thought it was way too blah. All that soft lighting and greenery wasn’t for him. Or maybe he just didn’t like it because Harrison did.”
Giselle had loved the way it used to look and feel. The lobby had been an oasis of tropical plants and waterfalls, thick carpets and soothing birdsong. She remembered walking in from the hubbub outside and sighing in relief.
Now the place was filled with glittering surfaces, marble floors, and crystal chandeliers with lights so bright they hurt her eyes. The sound of flowing water had been replaced with rock music that bounced off the mirrored walls and made her want to cover her ears. Conversation and laughter seemed twice as loud because nothing absorbed the noise.
“You don’t like it.”
She opened her mouth to say something diplomatic.
He put a hand on her arm and shook his head. “Don’t bother. I didn’t expect you to like it. You were the one who nearly fainted in a crowded elevator.”
“What I think of the lobby shouldn’t matter, anyway.”
“That’s true, but you got that look on your face as if you wanted to spare my feelings. You don’t have to worry about that. I was younger when my dad remodeled the lobby, and I thought it was awesome. But lately it’s been getting on my nerves. Too noisy and glaring.”
She laughed. “Luke Dalton, you’re turning into an old fogy.”
“Could be, and that’s not a good thing. The marketing people have conducted exit surveys, and most guests love the lobby. One woman said she felt as if she’d stepped inside a giant tiara.”
“Perfect description. I’ve never wanted one, giant or otherwise.”
“No? I thought most women loved tiaras.”
“Not me.” And she wasn’t a woman, either, but that was beside the point. She knew female werewolves who liked those things, but she’d never yearned for one, not even when she was a little kid.
He studied her. “I guess that makes sense. You aren’t wearing any jewelry, either. I hadn’t noticed that before. Are you allergic?”
“No. I’m just not attracted to the idea of wearing it. One more thing to worry about.”
“That must be frustrating for any guy who wants to buy you a gift.”
She smiled at him. “Not if he has some imagination.”
“Mmm. Interesting challenge.” He gestured toward the revolving door that led to the sidewalk. “Shall we?” He followed her out.
As they started north toward the Bellagio, she was jostled by the crowd. Not much, but enough that she temporarily lost track of Luke. She figured he’d have no trouble finding her, considering her height and red hair, so she kept walking.
Besides, she didn’t want to waste time looking for him when she’d caught the unmistakable scent of a Were nearby. With so many competing smells, she couldn’t identify Bryce for certain, and he wouldn’t be the only werewolf walking along the Strip.
Yet the breeze carried the scent back toward her, and she noticed a tall, broad-shouldered male ahead of her. His hair was black, not red, but if Owen was right and they’d disguised themselves, then it could be Bryce up there. She hurried, trying to catch up with him.
A strong hand closed around her upper arm. “I almost lost you,” Luke said. “Maybe we’d better—”
“Just a sec.” She kept her attention on the tall figure walking about twenty feet ahead of them. Definitely a werewolf. Besides the faint scent, she could tell by the way he moved.
With the breeze blowing in her direction, he wouldn’t be able to scent her, which gave her the element of surprise. She slipped out of Luke’s grip and grabbed his hand. “Come with me. I think I see Bryce.”
Chapter 7
“Which one are we following?” Luke scanned the crowd and tried to ignore the warmth created by their interlaced fingers. Holding hands was a good idea in this mob, especially if they had to try to catch up with her brother. There shouldn’t be anything personal about it, but holding hands with Giselle as they hurried down the sidewalk felt extremely personal. He liked holding hands with her way too much.
“It’s that tall one up there with the longish black hair. See him?”
“Yeah, but what makes you think that’s Bryce?”
“He’s the same height, and Bryce has shoulders like that. If he’s disguised, like Owen thinks, then the black hair could be a wig. Doesn’t that look like a wig?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m no expert. Is there a woman with him?”
“I can’t tell. Somebody’s walking on his left, but from my vantage point, I can’t see whether it’s a woman or not. You’re taller. What do you think?”
“Hard to say. I think it’s a woman, but she has on a bulky coat. I don’t recognize it, by the way, so if that’s Cynthia, she’s wearing someone else’s clothes.”
“Or she bought some new things for her disguise.”
“I guess that’s possible, too.” He wanted to believe that was her because he would love to end this ridiculous charade she had going. He gave Giselle’s hand a squeeze. “Let’s catch up with them. Stay behind me. I’ll run interference.”
“Go.”
Years of playing high school and college football came in handy sometimes. He kept a tight grip on Giselle’s hand, and she tucked in behind him as if she’d played the sport herself. When they reached the corner, he was close enough to tap the shoulder of the person walking on the tall guy’s left. “Cynthia? Is that you?”
The person turned. He wasn’t Cynthia and he obviously wasn’t happy to be mistaken for a woman, either. He stopped and scowled at Luke. “You looking for a problem, buddy?”
“Sorry. Mistaken identity.”
The guy puffed out his chest. “I’m thinking you need your eyes checked, mister.”
“Forget it, Stanley.” The tall guy, who didn’t look anything like Bryce Landry, jerked his head toward the MGM Grand. “We’re gonna miss the poker tournament if we don’t get a move on.”
“Yeah, okay.” Glaring once more at Luke, the shorter man turned and followed his friend across the intersection.
Giselle sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry. I thought there was a good chance it was them.”
“Hey, it was fun.” He grinned at her.
“It was?”
“Absolutely.” Tugging on her hand, he started across the street. Might as well go before they lost the WALK signal. “I got a little adrenaline rush thinking we might actually catch them. Didn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
He glanced over at her. “Just maybe?”
Her apologetic expression changed and she smiled. “Actually, yes. I was trying to decide what I was going to say to Bryce as we shoved our way through the crowd, and my heart was going a mile a minute.”
“And what were you going to say to him?”
“Something simple, probably. Like, ‘Let’s talk.’ I—whoops. That was a phone just now. Might have been mine.”
“Then let’s stop a minute and get over to the side so you can check.”
Pulling her phone from her coat pocket, she clicked on her message. “It’s a text from Bryce.”
“And?”
“‘Gotcha, Sis.’” She looked at Luke. “He was watching all that! I wasn’t wrong that he was nearby. I just picked the wrong candidate out of the crowd!”
Luke turned and scanned the area. “Okay, if they’re following us around, I need to get Owen involved.”
“What good would that do if they’re in disguise?”
He blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I just . . .”
“Hey, you said you were having fun a minute ago.”
“That was when I thought we were following them. It’s not quite as much fun imagining them following us.”
“Because you like to be in control of the situation?”