“I don’t think this one will work for me either,” Maxwell said before Chloe had even had time to hand him the glossy A4 she had prepared with all of the house’s features listed in neat bullet points.
“No?” Chloe was starting to worry. Handsome or not, if Maxwell was wasting her time and she spent an entire evening in the freezing night air for nothing instead of in her fluffiest dressing gown, she would be seriously pissed off. In a very professional and courteous way, of course. “It’s got six bedrooms, a tennis court, a pool, views of the valley…” she trailed off. “But if it’s not for you, I understand.”
“Sorry,” Maxwell looked apologetic. “But it’s not for me. The cream and gold, it’s all a bit too…” he searched for a word. “Showy. Kind of place you’d expect a reality TV star to live.”
If she was honest, Chloe didn’t entirely disagree; the gold sinks in the bathroom and Versace wallpaper were pushing the boundaries of good taste. But plenty of people loved that kind of thing if the number of showings she had booked for the place the following weekend was anything to go by.
“I see,” Chloe said tightly, clutching her binder. “Well, I’ve only got one more house to show you.”
“Third time’s the charm,” Maxwell offering her that smile again that made Chloe almost forget that a) he was a client, b) he was a very picky client, and c) she didn’t have time for dating anyone.
“I hope you like it,” Chloe said. “Otherwise, I could contact some other local agents. Maybe there’s something Katoomba or even Blackheath that would suit you better—”
“No,” Maxwell said firmly. “It’s got to be here.”
“I see,” Chloe said, biting back her very dear desire to tell him that even her brother couldn’t conjure the perfect house out of thin air. “Is there anything more you can tell me about what you’re looking for? That might help me get a better idea of what else I could show you.”
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Maxwell said, the corners of his eyes crinkling. That wasn’t helpful, even if it was charming.
“Right,” Chloe said, frowning. “You weren’t keen on the windows in the first house,” she said slowly.
“No,” Maxwell agreed. “I don’t like too much…” He seemed to be searching for a word.
“Sunlight?” Chloe suggested. She thought back to her conversation with Julia. Was it possible that he was a vampire? He had wanted to meet her at night, she thought. And he hadn’t liked the floor to ceiling windows in the first house, despite the fantastic views. He sure didn’t seem to feel the cold. Chloe knew that shifters were more impervious to the weather than regular humans, but she had no idea if the same was true of vampires.
“Yes. I know that’s strange, but—”
“Not for Crowley Lake,” Chloe said, choosing her words carefully. The whole deal would definitely be off the table if she was wrong. But her instincts were usually correct, and with a warlock for a brother and a best friend who periodically became a snow leopard, she should know a vampire when she met one. “Crowley Lake attracts a lot of people who are a little…different.”
“So I’ve heard,” Maxwell said, sounding cautious. He wasn’t looking at her, but Chloe suspected he was only pretending to examine an enormous white leather ottoman that could have happily seated the whole Brady Bunch.
“I don’t know if you know much about the history of Crowley Lake,” Chloe ventured. “But it was—”
“Founded by Lord Elliott Bailey and his wife Pandora,” Maxwell cut in smoothly. “Acolytes of Aleister Crowley. They believed the lake was a centre of mystical energy and named the town to honour him. Which made sense, given he was a famous mystic. Or at least, he pretended to be.”
“You know all about it, then,” Chloe said approvingly. Usually, the only clients who knew about the town’s founders – and the many rumours about the town being a centre of mystical activity – were painfully earnest hippies intent on buying scrubby plots of land where they could park an armada of campervans. That was definitely another tick in the “reasons why Maxwell might be a vampire” column. He certainly wasn’t a hippie.
“I like to know the history of the places I choose to live,” Maxwell said modestly.
“Most people don’t know about the history,” Chloe went on. “The rumours about the people who live here.”
“Mm,” Maxwell said noncommittally, and suddenly, Chloe had a flash of inspiration.
“Have you seen the mirrored backsplash here?” she pointed at the kitchen. “It’s really something you should look at before you decide—”
“I don’t need to see it,” Maxwell said, but Chloe noticed he kept his distance from the kitchen. Like he didn’t want her to see his lack of reflection. “I know this place isn’t for me.”
Chloe paused for a moment. She shouldn’t say it. If she was wrong, she was about to embarrass herself horribly.
“You’re a vampire, aren’t you?” The words left Chloe’s mouth before she could stop them. Goddamn it, she really shouldn’t have done that.
Maxwell stopped in his tracks, staring at her. They stood there silently for a few moments, and Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she was right.
“Is that a problem for you?” Maxwell asked finally. “I wouldn’t want you to be scared; I’m no risk to you. But if you know what I am, you probably knew that already.”
“Like I said, Crowley Lake does attract certain kinds of people,” Chloe said. “I mean, my brother’s a warlock, and my best friend is a shifter, so—”
“So you’re familiar with my kind?” Maxwell asked, looking almost as relieved as she felt.
“I’d say more acquainted than familiar,” Chloe conceded. “But, you know, it’s not a problem. Not at all. I wish I had known before; I wouldn’t have shown you that first house. But I get that it’s not the kind of thing you can put in an email.”
“No,” Maxwell agreed, and when he smiled at her, Chloe could almost imagine the fangs she knew were hiding behind that charming smile. And goddamn it, why was that thought more than a little exciting? She needed to focus; Maxwell being a vampire might explain a lot, but it didn’t make it any easier to find him an appropriate house. “I appreciate your understanding. I knew that Crowley Lake was home to plenty of people like me, but I didn’t realise that would extend to real estate agents.”
Chloe let out a nervous laugh. “Well, you got lucky with me!” Immediately, she regretted her words and felt her cheeks turning pink in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. “I mean, that I know about this stuff. So I can help you find the right place to call home.”
“Of course,” Maxwell said, and Chloe was glad he was polite enough to pretend he hadn’t noticed her unfortunate double entendre. “Lucky me.”
Clutching the binder so tightly that the plastic cut into her hands, Chloe nodded slightly. “Well, I should take you to the next house, then.”
“Oh please, lead the way,” Maxwell said as Chloe turned off the downlights that illuminated the gold-encrusted living room.
Fighting hard to keep her composure, Chloe reminded herself that she had a job to do. Vampire or not, handsome or not, charming or not, Maxwell was a client. And she had to be professional.
Even if something about Maxwell was setting off a lot of highly unprofessional thoughts in her mind.