Kismet Knight, Vampire Psychologist 3 - Dark Harvest by Lynda Hilburn

me until I was all the way in. Damn, she was strong.
    “Hey! No pushing! You’ll wrinkle my favorite suede coat.”
    She circled around the front of the car and slid behind the wheel.
    “Sorry,” she said, not appearing sorry at all. “Are you saying my Jeep’s not slick? I’ll have you know this vehicle has gotten me out of more tough spots than I can count. Take a look behind you.” She clicked on the inside light, twisted in her seat, reached into the back, and lifted a blanket.
    I shifted in my seat and goggled. The back of the Jeep was filled with an assortment of shovels, tools, food, cold weather supplies, a tent, outdoor cooking equipment, flashlights, candles, what appeared to be sharpened stakes, and weapons—guns and knives.
    Guns. Knives.
    I slowly turned my eyes to hers, my stomach tightening. “What the hell, Maxie? Are you some kind of survivalist? Why do you have guns? And what’s with the stakes? I thought you’d never encountered a real vampire?”
    “Chill, Doc. You’ve obviously led a very sheltered life. In my line of work, I deal with all manner of slime bags. Before I figured out the degree to which I needed to take care of myself, I barely escaped from some dangerous situations. It’s impossible to be a reporter if you aren’t going to follow the vermin into their holes. And, as far as the stakes, they’re amazingly effective at scaring off vampire wannabes. I’ll use whatever works.” She replaced the blanket and reached into a storage box between our two seats. She pulled out a strip of leather and tied it around her hair, making the longest ponytail—or, rather, horse tail—I’d ever seen. She saw me watching her and smiled.
    “Still fascinated with the white hair?”
    “No. Well, yes, but I was wondering how you deal with hair that long. Doesn’t it get in the way? Isn’t it heavy?” I thought about the relentless weight of my own hair and mine was only half as long as hers.
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    “Nope. I’m used to it. It’s just another one of my many charming idiosyncrasies. Besides, my significant other likes it this way.”
    “Significant other? The plot thickens. You didn’t mention anything about that before.”
    She slanted a glance at me and gave a mysterious smile. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She started the Jeep, shut off the inside light, and pulled onto the road.
    “What makes you think I have something to tell?”
    “Let’s just say that it isn’t easy for an incredibly gorgeous, wealthy man to avoid being stalked by reporters and the paparazzi. Even in Denver. Showing up on his arm once might have indicated a casual friendship. But there were repeated sightings. And then you moved your counseling practice into his building. The only business on the premises, I might add, that isn’t owned by his international conglomeration. Demented little inquiring minds want to know, Doc, and my rag of a newspaper intends to supply the answers. Devereux is an incredible man. Odd, though, that there’s no mention anywhere of a last name. He’s quite the mystery man. You wouldn’t happen to know what his last name is, would you?”
    I glared. “Are we back to interviewing me, Maxie?”
    “Mea culpa,”she grinned. “Old habits die hard.”
    I had to hand it to her. That was a smooth move. She wasn’t any better at turning off her professional persona than I was.
    “Okay. So you know about Devereux. It’s not a secret. What about you? Who’s your … person?” I never made assumptions about anyone’s sexual orientation.
    “That was very politically correct of you, Doc. I happen to be a flaming heterosexual. I’ve always had a healthy appetite for energetic cocksmen. And right now I’m hopelessly mad about a man who’s too busy to pay any attention to me. He travels a lot for work.”
    “Will I get to meet this energetic … man?” No wonder she felt so alone.