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painted frescos depicting angels at peace tower over our heads. Buns laces her arm through mine and walks with me to the other side of the room.
    “It’s s o beautiful in here,” I breathe , while she depresses a hidden panel insert in the back wall. A hidden door opens. Folding it back, it exposes a room filled with the most lavish items I’ve ever seen. An old phonograph stands on a n antique table next to a not so ancient jukebox.
    Look ing further back in the room, I spy dresses of every cut, c o lor , and style dating back at least a couple of centuries. Most of them are swath ed in clear garment bags hanging along the wa lls.
    “This dress would look so good o n you, Evie,” Brownie says, picking up a silver flapper- style dress that looks like it ’ s straight out of the roaring 20’s . “It wou ld go well with your gray ey es. How tall are you?” she asks , holding it up to me.
    “Uh…five-nine ,” I reply absently, still looking around at the trunks that line the walls, but I’m distracted from opening any of them when Buns gi ve s a little squeal of pleasure next to me.
    Coming closer to the jukebox, I peer through the glass front, seeing an eclectic selection of music from classical to solid gold oldies. “Zee said he hasn’t really used this house since the sixties…I thi nk it shows. Oh! Look! Jerry Lee Lewis — Great Balls of Fire !” she squeals , plugging in the jukebox and watching it light up. Pressing buttons, the ar m of the jukebox moves and a record drops . T he pou nding lyric s of the song belts out something about nerves shaking and brains rattling .
    “SOCK HOP !” Buns says , grabbing my hand and pulling me toward s the ballroom floor. Showing me dances that s he must have learned in the fifties, I grin as Brownie joins in selecting songs by Elvis and ‘ The Big Bopper , ’ whoever that may be .
    A fter dancing for an hour, I go to the French doors, opening all of them to get the cool breeze to filter in. Looking out at the dark sky I close my eyes, breathing in the damp, tr opical air as the rain continues to pour down outside. Heari ng another record drop, I wait to hear what Buns will select next. The haunting strains of a song I’ve never heard before beg i n s to fill the room. Feeling butterflies taking flight in my abdomen, I know that it’s Reed who just wrapped his arms around my waist.
    “Will you do me t he honor of a dance?” Reed asks in a sexy tone t hat makes my heartbeat pick up.
    “I don’t know…I’m angry with you,” I reply , turning around and looking at his perfect face that is now marred by a cut on his cheek an d a split lip. Biting my own lip at seeing the marks on him, I raise my finger s gently to his cheek. He closes his eyes briefly as I rest my hand on his face. Then, taking my hand in his, he le a d s me to the middle of the ballroom floor. Feeling his hand rest gently on the small of my back, he begi n s to lead me confidently around the dance floor .
    I follow him , surprised at how easy it is to dance with him to the soft, rhythmic music floating around us. It’s effortless…like a dream. “What’s this song called ?” I ask , enthralled by the soulful , romantic melody.
    “ Pavane. It’s by a composer named Gabriel Faure,” he replies , gazing into my eyes. “It reminds me of you… beautiful and haunting, filled w ith grace and elegance… and a hint of sadness …longing…” he breathes near my e ar, causing a tumult of desire to rush through me . His masculine cheek brushes against mine, spark ing every fiber in me to attune to him.
    “Is tha t how you see me, Reed?” I ask , continuing to follow his elegant movements around the floor.
    “You have s o many facets, Evie,” he replies , h is eyes growing dark with desire as he lifts his head to look at me . “I thought that I could never love you more than when you were a fragile, brave girl just beginning to change into an angel. You were so courageous then, y ou