The Last of the Red Hot Vampires - By Katie MacAlister Page 0,1

pointed out as we drove slowly through the small village, avoiding dogs, geese, and the village inhabitants who had a disconcerting habit of stopping and staring as we drove past.

"I brought you on my research trip because Anthony refused to leave his bird-watching group for what he called 'yet another excuse to spend money in foreign countries,' and also because I thought exposure to real psychic phenomenon would do you good. You're too hidebound, Portia."

"Uh-huh."

"You are so set on demanding proof of anything before you believe in it, you're positively rigid."

"Right. So understanding the building blocks of our universe is hidebound, not just healthy curiosity."

"But most of all, you're going to be forty soon. You need a man."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're a romance writer, Sarah. You want everyone to be madly in love with someone else, but it's just not practical for me. I was married to Thomas for three years and gave it the best shot I could, but things didn't work out. I think I'm just one of those women who is comfortable going through life without a permanent partner. At least of the human, male kind. I would like a cat..."

Her blue eyes considered me carefully as I drove slowly up a long hill. "Well, I agree with you about the Thomas Affair. I didn't think anyone could be more analytical than you, but he was positively androidlike."

"Honestly, I'm perfectly happy as I am now. I have male friends. There's a researcher at a local software company with whom I get together occasionally."

"Geek boy."

"And I've gone out a couple of times with the vet who lives next door to me."

"In the brown house? I thought those were Wiccans?"

"No, other side, the yellow one."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Ah, him. Nice enough personality, but ugly as sin."

"Looks aren't everything, O ye of the blond hair and blue eyes. Some of us have to make do with more mundane appearances. But just to point out I appreciate eye candy as much as the next girl, there's Derek."

"Who's that?"

"Fireman. We bumped carts at the grocery store. There was a line of women following him around the store."

"That good-looking?"

I flashed her a grin. "Oh, yes. We had coffee. He is a bit intense, but so easy on the eyes."

"Hmm." She looked thoughtful as we crested the hill. "But none of them really knock your socks off! What you need is a handsome, dashing foreign man to sweep you off your feet."

"Who says I want to be swept up?"

"Oh, come now, every woman wants to be swept up in love! Every man, too! I mean, who doesn't want to be loved? Not even you want to spend the rest of your life in loneliness."

"Of course I don't, and I want to be loved just as much as the next person, but I don't intend to be swept up on the sorts of grand passions you write about. Love is simply body chemistry, in the end. People are compatible because their particular physical makeup jibes with someone else's. Pheromones trigger sexual excitement, endorphins generate pleasure from the contact, and voila! You've got love."

Sarah's mouth hung open a little as she gawked at me. "I cannot believe I'm hearing this! You think love is just a...a chemical reaction?"

"Of course. That explains why people fall out of love. The initial chemical reactions fail, leaving the relationship cold. Why else do you think the divorce rate is so high?"

"You're insane, you know that?"

I smiled as I turned to the left. "Why, because I popped your romantic bubble about being swept off my feet? Ah, here it is - the Tattered Stoat. One authentic English pub with rooms to let above the bar, milady. Watch out for the ducks when you get out. They seem to be interested in us."

"You've gone too far this time," Sarah said slowly, getting out of the car carefully so as to avoid the small herd of ducks that descended upon us from a nearby soggy field.

I stopped in the process of pulling our luggage out of the trunk. Sarah sounded offended, and although I spent just as much time trying to point out rational explanations for things she insisted were unexplainable, I wouldn't for the world want to hurt her feelings. Sarah might insist on believing in the unbelievable, but she was still my oldest friend, and I valued her company. "I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes, Sarah. I know you truly do believe all those