Werewolf in Las Vegas (28 page)

“She likes you, too.” He gathered her close and gazed down at her. “She asked if I believed in soul mates. I said I didn't know. She told me if there was such a thing, you were mine.”

Her breath stalled. “And what do you think?”

“I think she's onto something.” He leaned down, his mouth nearly touching hers. “Will you be my mate, Giselle? My soul mate?”

She was like a balloon full of helium, ready to fly, but she didn't want to leave this place, this man, this moment. “Yes,” she whispered. “Because, you see, I already am.”

•   •   •

Not long afterward, while Luke was in the midst of a deep kiss that would inevitably lead to more than a kiss, he became aware of approaching footsteps.

Apparently the rest of the party had finished exploring the playground and were walking back up the path. Then the footsteps stopped, as if all four had realized they'd come upon an intimate scene, one they didn't want to interrupt.

Luke stopped kissing Giselle long enough to turn his head and hold out his hand. “Whoever has the remote to that revolving wall, give it to me, please.”

“Right on.” Seconds later, Benedict placed the remote into Luke's outstretched palm. “Don't lose it, dude.”

“Thanks. I won't.” Luke shoved it in his jeans pocket. “We might be a while. You can all go home.”

“Don't forget to close up,” Benedict added.

“We won't!” Giselle promised from the depths of her sweetheart's embrace.

“Yeah, like she's really focused on that,” Bryce said. “Not.”

Luke chuckled. “Don't worry, Bryce. I'm the responsible type. Ask my sister. And besides, I still own the place. See you all in the morning.”

Then he went back to kissing the love of his life, who also happened to be a werewolf. As he was beginning to understand, that was going to make this love affair one hell of an adventure. And it would begin now, very aptly, in the middle of a make-believe forest.

Dear Reader,

I've loved cavorting with my sexy werewolves, but every once in a while a girl likes to try something new. In my case, it turned out to be three novellas gathered under the banner of
The Perfect Man
. Haven't we all dreamed about such a guy and wondered if he really exists?

Well, so have three close friends—Melanie, Astrid, and Valerie. In college they were sorority sisters, and now they're working girls living in Dallas, a city known for billionaires and cowboys. Over margaritas at the Dallas hotspot called Golden Spurs & Stetson, the three friends fantasize about their ideal mate. Is he one of the city's sought-after bachelor billionaires? Or is he a virile, chaps-wearing cowboy? If the sky's the limit, maybe he's both!

I've had great fun throwing these sassy ladies into situations where they come face-to-face with hot guys who challenge them to rethink their vision of what constitutes the perfect man. The series was published as three e-book originals last summer, and the response was wonderful! But these stories were meant to be told together, so now you can get them all in one volume.

This September, come join me in a hunt for the perfect man. Believe it or not, I found three excellent candidates, and I dare you not to fall in love with each of them. I sure did!

Warmly,

Vicki

“To Paris!” Melanie Shaw lifted her margarita glass and grinned at her two best friends in the world, Astrid Lindberg and Valerie Wolitzky.

“To Paris!” they both echoed as they touched the salted rims of their glasses to Melanie's.

Melanie sipped her full drink and set it down carefully in front of her. Good tequila should be savored not gulped, and Golden Spurs & Stetson served the best margaritas in Dallas. “I still can't believe we bought plane tickets today. We're actually going.” She gazed across the round table at Astrid, her petite blond friend whose family had more money than God, and Val, a sassy redhead who was one of the best young lawyers in Dallas. “I mean,
Paris.
Do you realize we've dreamed about this since college? I can remember sitting in the sorority house late at night talking about this trip.”

Astrid smiled. “Me, too. And it always had to be just us experiencing it for the first time together. Edward couldn't understand why I refused to go with him last spring. He didn't get that I was waiting until the three of us went.”

“That's what I love about you,” Melanie said. “You could have flown to Paris anytime, but you waited for us.”

“Of course I did! Besides, I'd much rather tour Paris with you two than Edward.” Then she blinked. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“'Fraid so.” Val studied her over the rim of her glass. “You do realize that half the women in Dallas want your guy. Good-looking billionaires don't exactly grow on trees.”

“I know.” Astrid sighed. “I just . . .”

“I think Astrid prefers a Stetson-wearing man.” Melanie winked at her. Astrid had defied her wealthy family's wishes and become a large-animal vet, a job that put her in constant contact with cowboys.

Astrid picked up her margarita. “Okay, I'll admit that Western wear gives a guy a certain rugged appeal.”

“Doesn't it, though?” Melanie had been raised on a ranch and had dated cowboys almost exclusively. Her current boyfriend, Jeff, wasn't particularly adventurous. For instance, he had no interest in going to Paris. But he sure was pretty to look at. “I'll take a broad-shouldered cowboy over a billionaire any day.”

“Why settle for one or the other?” Val glanced across the table. “As long as we're dreaming, why not order up a billionaire cowboy for each of us?”

“The best of both worlds.” Melanie nodded in agreement. “The perfect man. Why not?”

Astrid raised her glass. “Billionaire cowboys for all. It's no more than we deserve, right?”

“Right!” Val said.

Laughing, they finished their margaritas and ordered another round. Tonight, with their long-awaited trip to Paris finally becoming a reality, nothing seemed impossible.