‘Yes.’ I cleared my throat. ‘She did mention that you might call to set up an appointment. Would you care to schedule one for later this week?’ I inhaled a deep breath and tried to remain professional.
I was so nervous my stomach contracted, my hands were sweating, and my knee twitched. I’d always had a fear of small spaces and something about this situation gave me that same closed-in panicky feeling. He had done nothing obvious to make me afraid, but my entire body felt as if it was waiting for some other shoe to drop. He radiated danger. Almost raw power.
‘Would it be terribly inconvenient for us to meet now, since I am here?’
That voice. Maybe he was a hypnotist and he knew how to use it to put people under. It was so soothing, I could stand there and listen to it all night.
I felt myself sliding down that slippery slope again and rallied. I needed to get this guy out of my office before I made a complete fool of myself.
If I’d known I was going to have a mental breakdown today, I’d have pencilled it into my appointment book.
‘I was just leaving. It would be much better if we could schedule another time—’
He reclaimed the step he’d given up and stated, as if the outcome was already a foregone conclusion, ‘I would appreciate very much the opportunity to speak with you about Midnight. I am concerned about her.’
Through the candyfloss that had taken up residence in my brain, the voice in my head screamed NO! but my mouth said, ‘I guess I could give you a few minutes. Please come inside.’
Please come inside? Hey, wait a minute – that isn’t what I meant to say. Where’d that come from?
I backed away from the door, drawing it open so he could enter, leaving it ajar so he wouldn’t be encouraged to make himself too comfortable.
I was about to invite him to sit down when I noticed he’d already seated himself in the chair I normally used. I realised he had no way of knowing that was ‘my’ chair, but it still annoyed me.
‘Would you mind filling out a little paperwork for me?’ Force of habit had me handing him a packet of papers on a clipboard.
He took it. ‘My pleasure.’
I sat across from him and studied him while he wrote. His hands were artistic-looking, with recently manicured nails trimmed close. He had very pale skin with a lovely translucent sheen to it, which gave him an ageless quality. It wasn’t often that I encountered someone with skin lighter than mine. His bone structure brought to mind the word chiselled. Perfect features. Almost too perfect.
Midnight was right: his eyes were extraordinary. They were indeed aqua and beautifully shaped with long, dark eyelashes. I was surprised that his eyebrows and eyelashes were dark because his hair was so light, but the combination was very appealing.
His thick, lovely hair flowed down over his shoulders to mid-chest. It looked soft and silky and very touchable. And his mouth . . . Studying his soft, full, generous lips caused a visceral reaction in me. I imagined the feel of them against mine.
What the hell? Take a breath, Kismet. You’re in your office. This is a professional situation. Have you lost your mind? What you’re imagining is beyond inappropriate. Stop daydreaming about what you want to do to those lips and pay attention.
As I raised my gaze from his mouth to his eyes I found him watching me with an amused expression, apparently finished with the paperwork. Embarrassment warmed my face as I reached for the clipboard. For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off him long enough to even glance at the forms he’d filled out.
Why am I acting so weird?
I took a slow breath and struggled to regain control of myself. ‘What concerns you about Midnight?’
‘Before we speak of that, would you mind if I ask you a question?’
‘Well, you can ask. I can’t promise I’ll answer.’
‘Do you believe in vampires?’
‘What?’ Surprise radiated up my spine and I stiffened in my chair. The buzzing in my ears got louder and I was suddenly very thirsty.
He toyed with a beautiful antique medallion on a chain around his neck. ‘Do you believe what Midnight has been telling you?’
Okay. Maybe he has a suggestion about how to help Midnight move beyond her vampire fantasy. He might be crazy, but maybe he can help.
To steady myself, I stood and walked over to the small refrigerator in the corner of the room and selected two bottles of water. I set one of them in front of Devereux, opened the other for myself, took my seat and drank deeply.
Breathe. Just breathe. This can’t be hot flashes. I’m too young.
‘I can’t discuss anything that Midnight may or may not have talked to me about – it’s all confidential. But generally speaking, I can tell you that I’ve never seen any evidence to support the existence of vampires or any other supernatural beings.’
‘Ah.’ The corners of his lips quirked up. ‘You are a scientist. Do you wish to see evidence?’
I was getting that claustrophobic feeling again. Maybe this handsome man really was a nut-case and I’d allowed myself to be distracted by his obvious assets instead of following my professional instincts. I switched into the noticeably calm voice I used to soothe disturbed clients. ‘Is it important to you that I believe in vampires?’
He threw back his head and laughed with pure delight. ‘I have never been called insane in such a lovely way ever before. I can assure you that it is of no importance whatsoever to me if you believe in vampires or not, but I think the information could prove useful to you. What if I told you that everything Midnight has shared with you is absolutely true?’
Oh, geez. He’s a loon.
‘Since we can’t talk about anything Midnight might have said, I can only suggest that you tell me directly what you want me to know.’
‘I am a vampire.’
Uh-huh. Of course you are. ‘Tell me about being a vampire.’
‘As you wish.’ Still clearly amused by me, he gave the full weight of those eyes again and my breath caught in my chest. ‘Until I can convince you of the truth of my words, I will be the good therapy client and follow the rules.’
He seemed to find me very entertaining. Hmmm. Inappropriate humour. That’s a symptom in several diagnoses. I wonder what he’s basing his role on? I’ve never seen a movie vampire who goes around telling people he’s a vampire. Isn’t that the point? To avoid the stake-in-the-heart thing? Maybe that’s why he hangs out with teenagers: he’s mentally unbalanced. Maybe I could just rattle his delusion a little bit.
‘Why do you want me to know you’re a vampire? Isn’t that supposed to be a secret?’
His gaze was stilled locked on mine. ‘I want you to know about me because I have a feeling about you. I believe you have a crucial role to play in my life.’
My stomach clenched and I broke eye-contact. A crucial role in his life? This sounds like stalker material.
This was definitely getting out of hand. Maybe I should rework my idea about counselling vampire wannabes. These folks were much more delusional than I thought, and it wasn’t going to be as simple as I first imagined. I’d assumed all my pretend vampires would be similar to my alien abductees: creative, needy, acting out and harmless. I hadn’t considered the possibility that this subculture might be populated by psychotics. That would require a totally different treatment plan.
No problem. This is good. I need to know what I’m dealing with.
I glanced over at the clock, thinking of ways I could gracefully end the conversation.
‘Shall I show you one of my vampire abilities?’ he asked, his voice deep.
‘I don’t know.’ My stomach tightened. ‘What kind of ability is it?’ I half-expected him to tug a long scarf out of his fist or spread a deck of cards on the table.