“That’s Lily in a nutshell: a pretty and serious girl who has a shared delusion that she’s a vampire,” I said. “Now, you as a vampire, that’s far more plausible. Are you mad with the desire to bite my neck and drink my blood, Ian?”

His lips parted and he let out a soft breath as he stared at me. I felt like a deer who’d run into the road on a dare and was now paralyzed by the oncoming headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. Finally Ian said, “The Grants fully anticipated that when they established the conditions for our interview.”

I felt myself grow hot, and I looked away. He had charisma, and that made me mistrust myself around him. I said, “Back to Lily, I’m very fond of her, especially since I think she’s a natural gardener. I wish she would focus more on horticulture and less on headshrinking.”

Ian reached out and put his hand over mine, making me want to rip off my glove so I could feel his skin.

“She told me about this therapy,” he said, and moved his hand to the rough fabric of my sleeve, making the smooth pink scar on my arm throb hotly in response. “Is she protecting you from your sensuality, or others from its effects?”

My voice came out as a whisper as I said, “What do you think, Ian?”

His lips turned up in a dangerously sexy grin, and just then I heard heels clicking on the floor. I turned to see a stunning, tall, thin woman in the doorway, and Ian moved his hand off my sleeve.

The woman’s straight, waist-length hair had a gold-over-silver luster. She wore skinny white pants, spiky electric blue sandals, and an ice blue silk camisole that matched her ice blue eyes.

“I am tired of the waiting for you, Ian,” she said with some sort of European accent. She gazed at me and made a tcha! sound. “How ugly the clothes.”

“Milagro, this is my friend Ilena,” Ian said. “Ilena, that was a very thoughtless comment.”

“It is indisputable of the fact,” she said with a moue.

I plucked at the fabric of my shapeless pants. “It’s okay. These clothes are hideous.”

Ilena puffed out her lips and said, “Why is the chubby little pickle always in need of your attention, Ian?”

I looked at Ian to see if he understood what she meant.

He said, “I have a passion for gherkins.”

I thought it would be rude to say that no one had a passion for pickles. “I’ll mention it to Edna and maybe she can serve some at dinner,” I said. “Do you know Edna?”

“Yes, I’m well acquainted with all of the Grant family,” Ian said. “I think we’re done here for now. It was a pleasure spending time with you, Milagro.”