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dark sunglasses from the front of his shirt and placed them down next to him so he could cross his arms over his chest.
    “Just look at him,” Darrak continued. “Does he look like the kind of person who would believe you? Or would you tell him that you’re possessed by a demon and he might pat your head, say he understands, and then send for the doctors in white coats who deal with crazy people? Believe me, I’ve dealt with this situation many times before. Humans don’t want to believe that this sort of thing is possible. It frightens them.”
    “I can see why it would,” she whispered.
    Ben looked confused. “Pardon me?”
    “When humans are frightened or they don’t understand, they’ll subconsciously choose to ignore what they see,” Darrak said. “They close their minds off to anything that isn’t within their understanding of ‘normal.’ I guarantee if you tell the cop what’s going on, he won’t believe you and he will assume that you’ve lost your mind.”
    Of course he was right. Eden already knew Ben was a skeptic about the supernatural. This was about as supernatural as it got. What proof did she have that she was really possessed? The ravings of a lunatic—or at least that was how it would sound. Ben was already iffy about her psychic abilities. He’d dismissed it earlier as mojo and hocus-pocus, hadn’t he?
    She couldn’t tell him. She’d have to handle the situation on her own.
    “I’m fine,” she finally replied and then forced a shaky smile onto her face. “Really. I just need a good night’s sleep.”
    Ben studied her for a moment with concern. “Well, that’s very good to hear.”
    The fake smile stretched Eden’s cheeks uncomfortably. “Was there, uh… anything else you wanted?”
    He cleared his throat. “Well, actually there was.”
    “See?” Darrak said. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
    “Shut up,” she murmured.
    Ben looked at her. “What did you say?”
    “Uh—” Her gaze darted around the room, empty except for the two of them. “Would you care for a-a donut?”
    He glanced at the box of pastries next to the coffeemaker that she waved at as though she’d magically turned into Vanna White’s awkward sister. “I thought you just told me to shut up.”
    “No!” She laughed lightly. It sounded just this side of hysterical. “I talk to myself sometimes. My inner voice seems to have a mind of its own.”
    Literally , she thought.
    He moved toward the box of donuts and looked down at them. “I’m not all that hungry. Actually, that’s why I’m here. I wanted to ask you something.”
    “You’re romantically interested in the cop, aren’t you?” Darrak prodded. “I can tell. But he’s obviously not good enough for you. If he was you’d be able to tell him all about your problems and be certain he’d believe whatever you said.”
    She tried to ignore him. “What is it, Detective?”
    “I thought I asked you to call me Ben?”
    “Right… Ben .” She felt incredibly angry that what should have been a kick-ass moment was tainted by Darrak’s invisible but very audible presence.
    “I know our dinner plans were ruined for tonight, but maybe if you’re not doing anything later this week—”
    “I think you should ask him to leave,” Darrak said. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at you. It’s very ungentlemanly.”
    Eden sighed with frustration. “Just go away , would you?”
    Ben blinked. “Oh. Got it.”
    Her heart sank. He thought she was talking to him, dismissing him and his invitation completely. After all, why wouldn’t he think that? There was no one else in the room.
    He gave her a tight smile. “Hey, I can take a hint, don’t worry about that. I won’t bother you again.”
    “No, wait! Ben—” Eden held up a hand to stop him, but it was too late. Without a backward glance he slunk out of the office and went directly to his car.
    She let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I hate you.”
    “Are you talking to me?”