Colin wasn’t about to push Luna to reveal her identity to her grandparents. His instinct was always to face problems squarely and then take whatever came of that, but it wasn’t his fight. She had to decide, and for all he knew, she was right to postpone the confrontation.

But if her grandmother was George Trevelyan’s aunt, the fat would hit the fire eventually. Colin didn’t like surprises, and he didn’t think Luna’s grandparents would appreciate stumbling upon the information some time in the future. Besides that, Luna would have to live with a sword hanging over her head, knowing the moment of truth could come at any time.

But for now, he was happy to be out of the cab, through the hotel registration process, and stepping into yet another express elevator with her, this time headed for the penthouse of a hotel owned by Trevelyan Enterprises. He should have guessed that George would reserve the penthouse for them. Yes, it was a generous gesture, but it was also a display of wealth and power. As a pack alpha, Colin knew all about that.

“I felt a little funny checking in with only two shopping bags full of clothes, a bouquet of flowers, and a double grocery bag full of old books,” Luna said as the elevator started its smooth glide upward. “Especially when they gave us the key to the penthouse. That George is something else.”

“He’s an alpha Were, is what he is. Some day he’ll call in his favors,” Colin said. “It would be rude to reject his generosity, and his help has been invaluable, but there will be a price, and I can’t believe a round of golf at St. Andrews will settle the bill.”

“Are y’all worried about it?”

“No, but I’ll stay alert.”

She lifted her chin. “Then I’ll stay alert, too. I’m learning something about pack politics. You’re the first pack alpha I ever met, and George is the second. Is that a representative sample?”

He couldn’t help smiling. She was the most entertaining female he’d ever come across, Were or human. “I couldn’t say. But there is often a similarity in how we operate. For example, those two big cushy chairs in George’s office are designed to put the visitor at a disadvantage.”

“I did feel sort of small and short when I sank into one.” Her eyebrows lifted. “So that’s why you didn’t sit down.”

“George didn’t sit down, either, but even if he’d gone back to his desk chair, he still would have had the superior position because the desk chair would have kept him at a higher level than the other two chairs.”

“Fascinating. If I ever go in that office again, I’ll perch on the arm, too. There’s no reason I have to sink down into that chair and be swallowed up like quicksand.”

“True, but you’re not an alpha, so you don’t have to worry so much about it.”

“I don’t like the idea of being intimidated, though. And can’t females be alphas if they want?”

He blinked. “Well, yes, they can. There are several females who run their packs. Recently Nadia Henderson took over the reins of the Chicago pack. But…” He paused, realizing that what he’d been about to say might not be true anymore.

“But a half-breed can’t be an alpha?”

He took a deep breath. “That used to be true, but two alpha males from the Wallace pack in New York have taken human mates. Logically, one of their offspring might end up leading the pack someday.” That sobering thought hadn’t occurred to him until now.

“Really?” She gazed at him as the floor numbers flashed by on the display. “I’m guessing you’re not totally on board with that program.”

“It worries me. So much could go wrong.”

She nodded. “I suppose so. But thanks for telling me about the Wallaces. Now I feel less freakish.”

Guilt assailed him. “Luna, you’re not—”

“You’re right. I’m not at all freakish. That’s a bad choice of words. But I have felt unusual, and it helps to know that I’m not. There’s so much I don’t know about the Were world, and I’ve been afraid to ask and expose my ignorance.”

“You can ask me anything.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Anything?”

“Whatever you have a question about.”

“Then I have a question that I could only ask a male, and you’re elected. What’s your favorite female body part?”

As he started to answer, the elevator slid to a stop, and a mellow chime sounded as the doors rolled open with the barest of whispers.

“You’re not saved by the bell, either, Your Much Honoured Sirness.”

“I don’t need to be.” He picked up the bag of books, supporting it from underneath because it was threatening to rip. “Can you get the other bags?”

“Sure.” She picked both up in one hand and kept her grip on the flowers with the other.

He tilted his head toward the open elevator doors. “After you.”

She went out, but turned back to him. “So what’s your favorite female body part?”

He stepped into the foyer. He could hardly wait until she turned around and saw the view they had, but she seemed intent on this question of hers. “My favorite body part, particularly in your case, is your…”

“My what?” Her eyes lit up with anticipation.

“Your mind,” he said.

The merriment in her expression changed, and her face glowed with obvious pleasure. “That’s not what I thought you’d say, but it’s a great answer.”

“What did you think I’d say?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “I’m not telling. We can talk about it when we’re naked.”

That was all it took for him to decide to set the books down right there, in the foyer. Time to get on with the festivities. “I’m looking forward to that, but first, you need to see something.” Stepping toward her, he grasped her shoulders and turned her gently around.

She gasped and dropped her bags to the floor, although he noticed that she still maintained a death grip on those flowers. He wondered if she’d crushed the stems by now. With an arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The drapes were open to the view of the sparkling blue Sound, but more drapes ringed the entire curved boundary of the living room. Colin suspected that windows circled the entire top floor and provided a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree panorama. He was eager to find out, because he thought their plans for the evening were about to change.

Luna resisted him as he urged her toward the view. “Don’t forget I have a touch of acrophobia.”

“What about the helicopter? You seemed fine during the flight.” With Knox in charge. The green monster reared its ugly head again.

“For some reason, that doesn’t bother me, maybe because I’m strapped in. Here I’m free to fall out.”

“No, you’re not.” He tightened his grip. “I’ve got you.”

She relaxed slightly. “Okay. Just don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

“Do I have your word as a MacDowell?”

“You do.”

“Then let’s see this view that George gave us.” The tension left her body and she walked easily toward the tall windows.

Her trust humbled him. She had put all her faith in him, and not only to keep her from falling from a great height to the pavement below. She’d trusted him with her body, and on some level, with her heart.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d given it and wouldn’t ever take it back. Luna Thisbe, indeed. He didn’t want her name to seal her fate, but all the signs pointed to that very thing.

As Luna approached the window with Colin’s strong arm securely around her shoulders, her heart raced, but with exhilaration instead of fear. She’d secretly been a little nervous about going up in the Space Needle because she’d seen pictures of the observation platform, and it looked something like this, with people standing right next to the abyss.

Yet here she was, gazing out across the Sound from such a height that the boats looked like toys in the water, and because Colin held her close to his side, she was not afraid. “It really is spectacular,” she said.

“George is showing off, but I don’t care. I have a suggestion, though.”

“You want to moon passing airliners?”

He laughed. “No, but go ahead if you want.”

“I suppose they wouldn’t be close enough. The passengers would have to use binoculars to see us.”

“The truth is, nobody can see us up here, unless maybe from a passing helicopter, but even that’s not likely. I think we could run around naked up here without a soul noticing.”

She glanced up at him. “I sense this has something to do with your suggested change in plans.”

“Aye. But I need to know if your heart’s set on eating at the top of the Space Needle.”

“I doubt we could do that naked.”

His lips twitched. “That would be frowned upon.”

She scanned the horizon and pointed off to their left. “Isn’t that it, right over there?”

“Yes.”

“It is somewhat taller than we are. And you did say that alpha males like to seek high ground.”

“I did say that. But this is very high ground right here, and more than that, it’s exclusive high ground, which counts for a lot in an alpha’s world.”

“I see.” She enjoyed listening to him make his case, even though she’d already chosen.

“But if you really want to see the most spectacular view in Seattle, we should go to the Space Needle.”

“You’re quite sure we can’t eat there naked.”

He glanced down at her with a smile. “No, we cannot. No shoes, no shirt, no pants, no underwear, no service.”

“How restrictive!”

He nodded. “Quite restrictive.”

“Then I’m thinking, who needs it?”

“See that, lass? My favorite part of your body just made me a very happy Were. But if I’m going to cancel our restaurant reservations, I’ll need to let go of you to do it.”

“I feel like I’m riding a bike with training wheels, but let’s find out whether I panic when you let go.”

He gradually released her. “How’s that?”

“So far so good.”

“How about I take those flowers?”

“Oh.” She glanced down at them and realized she’d been holding them very tightly. “I think I choked them to death.”

“Look on the bright side. If I cut off the mangled part of the stem, they’ll now fit in a water glass.”

“And judging from this place, the glasses will be Waterford, so I suppose all is well.”

“It is, Luna. It definitely is. If you think you’ll be fine here, I’ll make the call and organize your flowers. Otherwise I can guide you back to the sofa.”

“Now that’s ridiculous.” She flapped her hand at him. “Go. Make your call. Fix the flowers.”

“I will.” As he stepped back and consulted his phone, she began edging to her left, crablike. She’d never stayed in a penthouse before. She’d cleaned plenty of them, but she’d managed to do that without standing right next to the windows that always seemed oversized in a penthouse. She supposed that was the idea.

Eventually she reached the spot where the drapes were still drawn. But being a clever female, she’d already figured out that the drapes disguised what was essentially a goldfish bowl of a suite. Walls divided up the circle into wedge-shaped pieces, but the edge of the bowl was all glass.

Without Colin here to steady her, she would have hated it, but he coaxed her to stretch, to push her boundaries. Grabbing hold of the rod hanging at the edge of the drapes, she began to pull as she sidestepped along. If she kept looking out instead of down, that helped. Fools who didn’t mind leaning against windows would have a view of the street below, but Luna saw no percentage in that. Gazing out, however, made her feel like a hawk in flight, and that was a sensation worth having.

“How’s it going?” Colin came up beside her. He’d taken off his sport coat and rolled back the sleeves of his shirt. He looked…totally hot.

“It’s going good.” She gave him a tentative smile. “If I can stay in this room for three or four weeks, I’ll probably cure myself of acrophobia.”

“Was your mother bothered by it?”

“No, although New Orleans isn’t known for its skyscrapers. But I used to panic if she took me out on a balcony in the French Quarter.”

“Considering that, you’re doing very well.” He glanced behind him. “I don’t know if you noticed the wet bar, but there’s champagne chilling in a bucket and a plate of strawberries and finger sandwiches. Someone must have whisked it up here while we were checking in.”

She clutched the drapes. “Do y’all want some?”

“I do. I feel like celebrating.”

“What?”

“Not what. Who. I want to celebrate Luna Reynaud.”

“Luna Thisbe.” Although she corrected him, she was thrilled by his extravagant comment. No one had ever suggested celebrating her.

“You can be Luna Thisbe tomorrow if you insist upon it, but tonight, be Luna Reynaud, the Were who convinced me to hang onto a piece of my past.” He held out his hand.

“All right.” She placed her hand in his strong, warm grip, and he drew her away from the window into a somewhat cozy area that contained a curved sectional covered in ivory leather. A wet bar had been placed behind it, and she saw the champagne bucket and munchies he’d mentioned.

Nothing in this penthouse could truly be called cozy, though. Even with the drapes closed, she would still know that the fishbowl was just behind the curtain.

But Colin had shortened the stems on her daisies, put them in a whisky glass, and set the glass on a black granite coffee table tucked into the curve of the sectional. The daisies brought warmth and hominess to what was otherwise a rather intimidating space.

“Sit right there.” Colin pointed to a spot on the sectional. “I’ll bring you champagne and something to nibble on.”

“What if I want to nibble on you?”

He laughed. “That can be arranged.”

Settling onto the ivory leather, Luna took off her sandals and slid them under the coffee table. The chocolate brown carpet under her bare feet was thicker and softer than any she’d stepped on. She might never be in a place like this again, so she might as well make the most of it.

Colin walked around the end of the sectional and deposited the food plate on the coffee table before handing her a flute of champagne with the bubbles rising merrily to the top.

“That just looks like a party.”

“George didn’t spare any expense. This is top-of-the-line bubbly.”

“I can see what you mean about him showing off. What do you suppose he wants?”

“He told us.” Colin came back with his own glass and sat down next to her. “He wants in on Whittier House. I think he would have liked to establish a Were resort himself, and you beat him to it.”

“I got ahead of a pack alpha?”

“You did.” Colin raised his glass. “To Luna Reynaud.”

“I don’t think I can drink to myself.”

“Yes, you can. We’re all alone in this insanely expensive penthouse, so we can do whatever we bloody well feel like.”

She laughed. “I like your attitude, your lairdness.”

“If you don’t stop calling me that, I’ll start thinking that’s right. So are we drinking to you?”

“We are.” She touched her glass to his. “To Luna Reynaud, who dreamed up a concept that’s the envy of a pack alpha who’s richer than God.” She took a sip of her champagne. “That even tastes rich.”

“Trust me, it’s as rich as it tastes.”

She took another sip. “I could get used to this.”

“Don’t. That’s what he wants. I’m sure this is all an elaborate bribe to convince me to let him have a share of the action.”

“But why? He obviously has more money than he’ll ever need, so why mess around with a little inn on a remote island? It wouldn’t be worth his time.”

“He can’t stand the fact that someone’s launching an interesting and potentially successful business in his own backyard and he’s not part of it.” Colin picked up the plate of food and held it out. “You’ll like this, too, but don’t get used to it.”

“Should we pack up our things and take a cab to the nearest cheap sleep?”

“That would be a deliberate slap in the face. We stay the night, enjoy ourselves…” He paused to wiggle his eyebrows at her. “And thank him profusely for his hospitality. But when he asks again to have a share in Whittier House, we tell him no.”

“And then what?” Luna bit into a strawberry. “Oh, my God, this strawberry is so sweet it should be illegal.”

“That’s because George gets the best. And he can see that Whittier House is going to be the first, and no doubt the best, Were retreat in the Pacific Northwest.”

Luna wasn’t sure she liked the idea of going head-to-head with the likes of George Trevelyan. “You didn’t answer my question. What happens when he asks again, after treating us to this posh penthouse, and he still gets the cold shoulder?”

He gazed at her. “I don’t know. I guess that’s why I’d like you to clear things with your grandparents soon. I don’t want George to insert himself into that situation. He might be a nephew, but I think a granddaughter trumps a nephew.”

Luna’s tummy began to hurt, so she drank more champagne, which helped. “This isn’t a game.”

“It is to George.”

She gazed at him. “Not to me.”