Read Online Werewolf in Las Vegas by Vicki Lewis Thompson - Free Book Online

think much of Harrison Cartwright, but he had good taste.”
    â€œCan’t argue with that. Wait’ll you see the view from the penthouse.” The thought came to Luke that he’d never brought a woman up here.
    Well, that would be because he hadn’t become involved with anyone since his dad died. Duh. Too damned busy. But he certainly
intended
to bring women up here at some point in time, when his life settled down and his sister stopped giving him fits.
    With his mother’s blessing, he’d renovated the master bedroom and bath so it no longer resembled his parents’ bedroom. He was happy with the way it looked, although he wouldn’t be showing it off to Giselle.
    But how ironic that the first woman he invited here was one he had no intention of sleeping with. The only people who had seen the final result had been Cynthia and Owen. His sister had liked it okay but thought it needed more color. She’d compared the suite to a hospital room, which wasn’t the effect he was going for.
    Then Owen had seen it the day he’d supervised an update of the penthouse security system. Owen, a guy of few words, had said it was “nice
.
” That didn’t tell Luke a damn thing. Owen wasn’t exactly Martha Stewart, but Luke would have liked a little more commentary.
    When it came to color, he was no expert, so he’d stuck with white. Even that had been trickier than he’d thought. Who knew there were so many shades of it? But he’d found one he liked called “linen,” and then he’d matched everything to that.
    The suite resembled his image of heaven, with the pillows and quilts reminding him of fluffy clouds. He’d found some pictures of Greek temples, also white, and put those on the walls, which were also white. It all blended in beautifully. But it might be too monochromatic. He just wasn’t sure.
    They stepped off the elevator, and he used a card key to open the black enamel, silver-edged double doors into the foyer. Then he moved back and let Giselle go in ahead of him. He did like the way she moved.
    He wondered if she’d taken dancing lessons as a kid and maybe dreamed of making it a career. That would explain her defense of Cynthia. Maybe he’d ask her sometime.
    They walked through the elegant foyer with its chrome tables and quarter-moon mirrors on either side. Fresh flower arrangements provided by his staff perfumed the air.
    He left the envelope containing Cynthia’s picture in the foyer. He’d deal with it later. Right now he was interested in Giselle’s reaction to the penthouse. This was his home now, and he realized that he wanted her to like it. Why he even cared about her opinion was a question for another time.
    He’d kept the living room decorated exactly as it had been when his parents had lived there. Muted lighting revealed soft leather sectionals in butter yellow. Pillows in every color of the rainbow were scattered around. Maybe that’s what Cynthia had meant. He needed some of those little square pillows in his bedroom.
    The open floor plan included a linen-draped dining table on the left side of the room. Not long ago he’d taken out the two leaves to create a cozier setup. He didn’t intend to hold the kind of large-scale dinner parties his parents had enjoyed.
    The kitchen was through an arched opening to the right, and the bedrooms were also to the right down a long hallway. Most first-time visitors missed those details.
    Usually they were captured by the floor-to-ceiling windows that provided an unobstructed view of the Strip. His father had said the panoramic vista was worth all the effort of winning that lawsuit. Luke didn’t agree, considering it had shortened his dad’s life, but the view was spectacular, especially now that the sun had set.
    The windows lined the west and north walls. Unless he was there to deal with the shades, a maid came in and raised them on the west