Free The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes by Shelley Madden Page A

and
charged across the foyer toward the long hall on the far side of the mansion.
    He slid around the kitchen corner and before he knew what
hit him, ran straight into Bonita, who was naturally carrying a silver tray
loaded with glassware.
    Yesterday certainly wasn’t his day. Today wasn’t looking
much better either.
    Newly washed crystal vases rose high into the air. They
somersaulted above the stunned pair and came crashing down in a rainbow of
silvery orbs. He grabbed the housekeeper at the last moment, and pulled her
into the safety of the doorway.
    They watched in silence as the vases hit the mahogany floor
and shattered into a million glittering pieces. Bonita stared at the mess, her
mouth opening and closing as a fish out of water might.
    “Bonita, where is Harmon?” He was reaching his breaking
point, there was no time to dance around and fret over a set of miserable
broken vases. Harmon must be found.
    “Those are thousand dollar vases. He’s going to have my job!”
The ashen woman moaned.
    He took her by the shoulders. “Never mind the vases. Where
is Harmon?”
    “In the study.” She was unable to tear her eyes away from
the mess on the floor.
    “Get Hawk, and meet me in the study. Something may be wrong
with Harmon!” He left her standing, reeling in shock, and sprinted down the
dark hallway.
    * * *
    Heaven opened her eyes and gazed about the room.
    Seems all she did since she came to this place was lay on
the bed, waiting to awaken. And, get herself into endless predicaments for
which she there was no logical explanation for.
    She studied the strange room and its unfamiliar furnishings.
Dark green curtains hung on the far wall, obscuring any trace of light that
might be trying to filter through. Hopefully, there wasn’t a large window made
from colorful glass behind them. She shuddered at the thought. She would be
sure to stay far, far away from the curtained pane.
    She peered through the darkness, searching for a sign of
familiarity. This room also had a small room with running water attached to it.
But this wasn’t her room. She sighed and sat up.
    Her head hurt. She raised her hand to her temple and rubbed
it. She winced in pain the moment her palm touched her forehead. Almost afraid,
she willed the courage to gaze at her hand. It was covered in tiny red
blisters. She raised her other hand. It too was covered in small, painful
lesions.
    A chair sat empty near the bed. Usually when she woke, Bice
or Harmon would be sitting next to her. But that wasn’t her chair, because this
wasn’t her room.
    She leapt from the bed and raced to the door. Her blistered
hands burned in pain as she tried in vain to twist the knob. She yanked her
hands away as if the metal itself was made of super-heated iron. She stared at
her hands once more. Angry red wheals now covered them from fingertip to palm.
She was helpless to try to force the door open.
    She slowly backed away from the door and screamed.
    * * *
    Bice threw open the study door.
    It swung back with such force, it hit the wall behind it
with a thud. The nearby display case which encircled one of Harmon’s many gold
records swayed back and forth on its hook from the impact.
    He watched helplessly as it crashed to the floor. The
glittering disc was held prisoner no more. It spun madly in place a moment, and
finally fell atop the shattered glass case. He didn’t care. It probably wasn’t
real gold anyway.
    He gazed at Harmon. The musician had fallen asleep on his
desk. Heaven was wrong after all. He’d nearly killed himself rushing to his
aid, only to find the man dozing. He realized with anger the girl had tricked
him. She was probably upstairs, laughing and giggling in glee at nearly getting
him killed on the staircase. He’d have her ass for this.
    He quietly walked to the desk, taking great care not to
disturb the musician. If there was one thing the singer couldn’t stand, it was
being disturbed while he slept. Which, up until Heaven had entered