This Same Earth: Elemental Mysteries Book 2 (4 page)

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 snorted 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 smirked 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 smirked 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 an amused smirk.

“Um…of the top college in the country, which I will be getting into with no problem because I already finished my math and my Latin translation?”

“Reading?”

“Done before you woke up tonight.”

“History?”

“Well, not quite…”

“Composition?”

“You know, you’re back a lot sooner than I thought you’d be.”

“How about piano?”

Ben’s mouth gaped open and his shoulders slumped. “It hasn’t even been delivered yet!”

Giovanni frowned. “I forgot that part. Did you call the movers today?”

Ben nodded. “Yep, they said that it’d be here next Thursday at the latest and to make sure that we had room for the truck.”

“Excellent. Toss me the ball then.”

“Pass, Gio.
Pass
the ball.”

“Fine, whatever,” he muttered as Ben passed the ball to him. He dribbled it, then tossed it toward the backboard, where it bounced off the rim before Ben ran over to catch it. He bounced it back to Giovanni.

“Okay, you need to square up your shoulders with the basket before you shoot. Try again.”

Giovanni dribbled the ball a few more times before he tried again, squaring his shoulders like Ben had directed. “You know, if you put half the concentration into your composition that you do into this game—”

“Game, Gio. Remember? We’re supposed to talk about non-school stuff when we play.”

He rolled his eyes and shot again, this time getting slightly closer to the square behind the hoop.

“There,” Ben encouraged. “That’s better.” The boy rebounded the shot and took some time dribbling it before he tossed it toward the hoop, where it sailed in. “So, did you talk to her?”

Giovanni watched as the boy ran around the small court, shooting baskets and chasing rebounds. His lanky limbs and awkward gait seemed to disappear on the basketball court, as he exhibited the natural confidence that had brought him to Giovanni’s attention when he’d seen the boy in New York over a year ago.