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Chapter One
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The Librarian
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COUGHING ON the burning air, Annabel stumbled backwards, her ankle twisting. The ground was breaking up, the lava flow widening, bright orange blood welling out of the lesion in the earth. The undergrowth beside her combusted, blooms of hungry fire consuming crackling leaves and reaching for her.
There
was nowhere to run. Behind her, a steep cliff rose up behind the impenetrable
tangle of jungle. There was no way she was going to be able to scramble up that
vertical face, let alone get to it. The trees would soon be torches, like the bracken
flaring up around her.
This
was it. Already the heat was burning her legs. She was going to die here, thousands
of miles from home, in unspeakable agony.
“Annabel!”
Sebastian!
His voice surged up out of the heat and light like wings of hope.
No, Sebastian, no! Go back … it’s
too dangerous!
There
he was, across the widening gap. Sebastian, the love of her life, who would
never know it, because she’d never found the courage to tell him how she felt.
Now
it was too late. She was going to die alone. Alone!
I’m not going to let him die with
me.
“Sebastian,
run! You can’t save me! It’s too late!”
“No,
I can make it!”
He
gripped the vine they’d used earlier to jump across the stream—before the
volcano erupted.
“You
can’t! We’ll never make it back across!”
He
didn’t listen. Heart in her throat, she watched as he made the leap, swinging
through the roiling air.
He
landed and swept her up in his strong, sure, bunched arms. Suddenly it seemed
like the whole world was contained right there between them—no lava flow, no
raging fire, no jungle swamped with dangers, no sinister German agents sent to
retrieve the lost treasure of the Incas—
Hanging
to him for all she was worth, they leapt as the rock crumbled beneath their
feet into the hungry lava.
Touching
down on the other side, her feet on firm ground again, she went to pull away. She would swallow up her feelings again,
because things were just too complicated.
But
Sebastian wasn’t letting go.
“How
did you know you could save me?” she asked breathlessly.
His
answer made her heart light up brighter than the lava’s sinister glow.
“Because
I love you!” he whispered, pulling her tightly to his sculpted chest. “I love
you!”
“I
think we need to run,” she breathed. “You must let me go.”
“Never.
I’ll never let you go!”
—“MELISSA!
Customer!”
Melissa
groaned and made to re-bury her nose between the pages.
Not now! This book is just getting
good!
“PATRON,
MELISSA.”
Madge’s
voice was quite a bit louder now. That was probably because she was standing a foot
away and glaring down at her like a thundercloud.
Dropping
the book next to her half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich, five uneaten
carrots (neatly aligned from largest to smallest), and a just-opened carton of
milk (two percent), Melissa cringed and pushed her glasses back up her nose.
“I’m
on my lunch break,” she protested. “And my book is—”
“—And
there’s a permanent lunch break called unemployment
for daydreamers. I’ve told you not to eat at the desk! It makes a bad
impression! The least you can do is take care of this gentleman.”
“Fine
…”
The
“gentleman” in question seemed a little too rough around the edges to warrant
the word. His jeans were scuffed, his shirt buttoned only about halfway under
his open leather jacket, the fabric rumpled. Long, dark blond hair hung on
either side of a chiseled face with just a tad too much stubble. And dirt.
Unkempt.
Melissa did not approve.
The
“gentleman” shrugged impatiently, and her dislike of him instantly deepened.
“Well,
c’mon Mary Sue!” he urged through his teeth with a thick Southern accent.
Mary Sue …! Who’s he calling Mary
Sue? So rude.
Nose
in the air, she calmly collected herself. She approached the desk and quickly scanned
his DVDs, one after the other.
“Ain’t
you even gonna say hello, Missy?”
“My
name’s not Missy,” she answered, glaring in his blue-grey eyes. “And you didn’t
say hello.”
“Sure
it is.” He pointed at her nametag. “Missy’s short for Melissa, en’t it?”
She
shrugged shortly. She’d be through with this scruffy hassle in just a
minute. And then she could find out what
was going to happen to Annabel and Sebastian.
“Whatcha
readin’?” he asked conversationally.
Josh Trevor was the name on his library card. It sounded like
somebody who belonged in Grand Theft Auto,
not in a library, and not interrupting her lunch hour.
“A
book,” she answered unhelpfully. She gave him a closed-lipped smile and
smoothed back her hair. “You’re all done. Thank you.”
She
handed him the DVDs.
He
closed his hand over the discs, but didn’t take them. “Wanna grab a cup of
coffee sometime?”
Coffee—!
She
gawked at him stiffly.
He has GOT to be kidding. Pffft. He
doesn’t want coffee. He wants a quick lay. And he’s rude to boot.
“Well?”
he demanded.
Touchy too.
“I
don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“
’Cause you’re rude. And you’re not my type.”
“What’s
your type then?” His eyes shifted to the cover of her book. “That your type, Missy?
Someone like that, built like a brick sh*t house?”
Melissa’s
brain automatically put an asterisk in the profanity, and added “foul-mouthed”
to the list of charming adjectives to describe Josh Trevor.
“Yes,”
she answered pointedly. “Someone not you.”
“You
don’t know a damn thing about me, Missy. If you knew what I’ve had to do today,
you wouldn’t be so quick to think as you do. But I know something about you.”
“Oh,
and what’s that?” she shot back, and was surprised to feel her cheeks burning.
“You’re
wound up. You’re never gonna get with a guy like that. Not ever.” He gestured
at her hair. “Not with that.”
“My
hair? What’s wrong with my hair?”
“And
that blouse … and your lunch tray over there. Did you actually organize your
carrots?”
“What’s
my lunch got to do with it?”
“Ah,
hell.” He gave her a dark look out of the corner of his eye and snatched the
DVDs off the desk. “You figure it out,” he muttered, and marched for the door.
Melissa
stared at his receding back, speechless.
~~*~~
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