The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (60 page)

“So you think he was there? Watching the house?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw him.”
And smelled him.
She didn’t really feel like explaining that part.

Dez sat back and frowned as she took another bite of her
tortilla española
. “Don’t you think that’s kind of creepy?”

Beatrice had never told Dez that Giovanni broke into her house at least once a year to leave plane tickets and occasionally grab a photograph. “Um … no, it’s not really. I mean, it is his house. It’s not creepy to me. I was mostly just pissed off that he didn’t come to the door.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dez took another sip of the sangria and silently munched on an olive.

“What?”

“
What
what?” Dez asked, the picture of innocence.

“You have something to say, I can tell.”

She didn’t deny it but folded her hands on her lap and sighed a little as she looked across the table.

“You need to stop going there.”

“I am. I told you, I’m done.”

“I know you have friends there, and I know how much you love it, but it just…you’ve got to move on from this guy.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Did you not hear me? I told you, I wrote him in the journal and told him—”

“Yeah, you told him you were done. Got it. You told
me
that, too. Remember?”

Beatrice pursed her lips and looked away, biting her lip as Dez continued in a quiet voice.

“You told me you were done with him three years ago. And then you went back. And then two years ago, you said the same thing. And you still went back.”

She bit her lip to keep the tears at bay as her friend recounted the last five years of an obsession she knew she needed to abandon.

“And then last year, even though Mano practically begged you not to go, you went again.”

“I know—”

“I’m not sure you do, B. Because he and I are the ones who have to put up with your moody-ass, depressed behavior for a month afterward every time you go down there and get your heart broken again.”

“My heart is not broken. You’re being melodramatic,” Beatrice muttered and took another sip of her water.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “Whatever you want to tell yourself. But stop, okay? For real. When you get the ticket in the mail next time, toss it. Donate it. Change it to a flight to the Bahamas and take your boyfriend, but do
not
go chasing that ghost again.”

Beatrice swallowed the lump in her throat and clenched her jaw as she contained her tears. “I know,” she whispered.

“Do you? Really?”

“Yes, I’m done. I’m…moving past it.”

“You know I love you,” Dez whispered. Beatrice could see the concerned tears in her eyes.
 

“I know.”

“And I’m only saying this—”

“It’s fine.” She nodded. “I get it. Really, I do.”

“You have an amazing man in your life, one who wants a future with you. That wants to move forward. Not everyone gets that, you know?”

Beatrice sniffed and brushed at her eyes. “And some people never know because they won’t ask the person who’s perfect for them out on a single date.”

Dez straightened up and a flush rose in her cheeks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Beatrice De Novo.”

“Oh,” she said with a smile, happy that the conversation had turned. “I can’t imagine. Did I mention I saw my lovely neighbor,
Matt,
yesterday? Yeah, he was sitting on his front porch working on his mountain bike. It must have been hot, because Ken—I mean Matt—wasn’t wearing a stitch more than a pair of little biking shorts. It was quite the view, I’ll say that.”

“He is not a Ken-doll,” Dez muttered and threw an olive at Beatrice. She caught it and popped it into her mouth.

“You do some investigation about whether he’s anatomically accurate, and I’ll consider changing my opinion of him. Until then? Ken-doll.”

Dez huffed, “Why do you even—”

“And you’re a total Barbie. Librarian
Barbie. Do you know how many naughty fantasies poor Ken—I mean Matt—has probably had about you already? You’d be putting him out of his misery. Besides, Ken and Barbie
belong
together,” she said with a wicked grin.

“I hate you,” Dez said in a prim voice, “and I hope someone scratches your ugly black motorcycle in the parking lot.”

Beatrice reached down and threw an olive at Dez, but this time, her friend caught it and threw it back, hitting Beatrice right between the eyes. She snorted and then belly laughed at Beatrice’s shocked expression.

“Forget Librarian Barbie,” Beatrice muttered. “I’m going to go with Big League Barbie instead.”

The two friends finished lunch and made plans to meet the following weekend for brunch at one of their favorite hangouts near the beach. Beatrice hopped on her bike and returned to the Huntington to finish the translation of the mission letter she’d been working on before lunch.

As the hours passed, she fell into a steady rhythm, speeding through not one, but two complete letters before Dr. Stevens called her to the reading room.

She packed up the document she’d been working on and moved it to one of the library tables in the quietest corner of the room. Dr. Stevens had asked her to be available if the group needed help, but she didn’t really expect to be interrupted.

She was looking up a Latin noun she thought might have been misspelled when she heard the quiet footsteps. The smell of smoke reached her nose before she could look up into the green eyes that had haunted her for five years. An enigmatic smile flickered across his face before he spoke.

“I’m looking for Miss De Novo.”

Chapter Two

Los Angeles, California

October 2009

“Hello,
tesoro
,” he whispered.

Giovanni had expected her anger, but he hadn’t expected the sheen of tears that touched her eyes when they finally met his own.

She stood, her fury palpable when she responded.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” she hissed before she looked around the room.

“I’ve introduced myself to everyone,” he murmured, “shaken everyone’s hand. You don’t need to worry about anyone paying us any attention.”

“So you used your mind voodoo on my boss and colleagues. Thanks.”

He smiled a little. “I didn’t want to be interrupted. Librarians can be such sticklers for rules.”

“Why are you here?”

“For you.”

Her mouth fell open before she finally sputtered back, “Well, you’re about five years too late.”

She bent over her desk and began to gather the letters she had been working on. He stood, watching her, taking in her appearance, and drinking in her welcome scent. He couldn’t stop the smile. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

She glared at him and glanced around the room.

“They won’t remember us talking?”

He waved a careless hand. “No, they’re barely registering my presence right now.”

“Good.” She walked around the table, drew back her hand, and slapped him across the face. “
You
missed
me
?” she spit out. “
You
don’t get to say that.”

She turned and picked up her materials to take back to her office, leaving Dr. Stevens in the reading room with the oblivious scholars from USC. Giovanni enjoyed the view of her walking away from him for a few moments before he followed.

“Beatrice?”

“Go to hell,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way through the halls of the institution. She had changed in subtle ways he hadn’t been able to detect in photographs. Her figure was fuller, and she carried herself with a grace and confidence she hadn’t known five years before. Her walk was more assured, and the almost imperceptible lines that touched her face only added to the depth of her dramatic features.

She was absolutely stunning. And really,
really
pissed-off.

Her scent was the same, a sweet melange of honeysuckle and lemon that made his fangs descend when he thought of the single taste of her blood he’d enjoyed years before.

“Beatrice,” he called again. “I’ve already told Dr. Stevens you’ll be helping me on my project while I’m doing my research here.”

She whirled around at her office door. “Well, you can just use that voodoo to change her mind then, can’t you?”

He came to stand in front of her and took a deep breath, staring at her mouth, which was pursed in displeasure. “I could.” He shrugged. “But I won’t.”

Beatrice looked like she wanted to slap him again, but her hands were full of documents and books, so he reached behind her and opened her door, scenting her as he leaned over her shoulder.

“You still smell like honeysuckle,” he murmured before she shoved him aside so she could enter the office.

“Go away,” she said. “I don’t want to see you.”

He closed the door and leaned against it. “Well, that’s certainly understandable.”

“Why?” she asked again as she put her work away. “Why are you here? Why now?”

Giovanni couldn’t help but smile at her, despite her anger. He had to resist the urge to walk across the room and kiss her senseless; he had a feeling bodily injury would result. “I already told you. I’m here for you.”

She paused in her work, and he could hear her heart begin to race, but her angry expression did not waver.

“Well, you can’t have me. So what else are you here for?”

He let her entertain the notion she was unavailable for the time being. “I’m doing some work for a client who’s looking for a journal that was carried to the new world in one of Father Junipero Serra’s first missionary journeys in California.” He smiled innocently when she looked up in shock. “I was told there was a very bright librarian here who could help me translate some of the Spanish and Latin correspondence from the era.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

“She came very highly recommended by a mutual friend,” he said with a wink.

“Remind me to call Carwyn and bitch at him later.”

“Do I hear you’re riding a motorcycle now?” He looked her up and down as she grabbed her backpack and helmet, staring at her legs in an obvious manner. “That, I really need to see,
tesoro
. Very sexy.”

He smiled when he realized he had rendered her speechless again.

“I’m leaving now,” she finally said.

He glanced at the clock above her desk. “Look at the time. I should finish up my meeting with Dr. Stevens before I go. After all, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Beatrice shook her head. “You bastard,” she muttered through a clenched jaw.

He held open the door, but his arm shot out when she tried to walk past him. His hand curled around her waist, and he felt the familiar frisson of electricity run between them when they touched for the first time in five years. His temperature rose when he leaned over and murmured in her ear.

“I’m back, Beatrice. I’m back for
you
, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re not a girl anymore, so run home for now but know that I’ll see you again tomorrow. And I’m not leaving you again.”

She turned her head to meet his green eyes and her mouth was only a breath away.
 

“What if I ask you to go?” she whispered. “Are you just going to hang around and be a nuisance forever?”

He paused, the words almost catching in his throat. “If you ever had any feelings for me, give me a chance. Please.”

She didn’t respond, pushing his arm away from her body before she rushed down the hall. He heard her pass through the reading room to say goodnight to her boss before she exited out the glass doors. When she left the building, the energy fled with her, and he slumped against her office wall.

“This is going to be harder than I thought.”

He finalized plans with Dr. Stevens before he left the Huntington that night, strolling the four blocks to the large Tudor-style home he’d purchased the month before. He was still getting used to the layout of the house but had been charmed by the dense trees that surrounded the property and the tiered gardens and ponds that filled the yard.

As he walked through the front doors, he looked around and listened for the activity that should have been going on in the library on the first floor. He heard nothing except the bouncing of a basketball behind the garage. Laughing under his breath, he turned and walked silently through the kitchen and out the back doors.

The boy was bouncing the ball in a pool of light that shone from the back of the garage. He was bent over, dribbling through his scrawny legs, his attention focused on the rhythmic bouncing of the orange ball in his hands. Just then, he crouched down and shot up, tossing a precise shot toward the basket mounted over the garage door.

“He shoots…he scores!” the boy shouted when the ball sailed through the hoop. “And the crowd goes wild for Ben Vecchio, lead scorer of the—” He turned then and spotted Giovanni, leaning against the wall.

“Scorer of the what?” Giovanni asked with a raised eyebrow.