A Dangerous Dance by Pauline Baird Jones Read Free Book Online

Remy Mistral,” she said, giving him a smile that she hoped was both sexy and slightly intimate, but could have very well been goofy. “And all your listeners, as well.”
    “How does it feel to be back?”
    She wanted to shrug, but didn't. Instead, she drew out, “It feels...right. I'm sure my father would be pleased.”
    She looked up at the portrait on the wall between them.
    “You visited Verrol Vance in prison two days ago. Was that why you came back to Louisiana?”
    “Well, it was certainly one of the reasons.”
    “I'm guessing you asked him who hired him to kill your father. Did he tell you?”
    “No, but he was going to.”
    “You seem quite sure.”
    “I'm a million dollars sure.” Dorothy paused. Remy's eyes widened. She probably should have mentioned it, but she hadn't wanted to kill the spontaneity of the interview. And he might have tried to stop her. He didn't ask the next question, so she answered it anyway. “That's how much I offered him to tell me.”
    Remy made his recovery. “Not much use to him in jail.”
    “I also promised him a pardon.”
    “Really?” He was trying not to look annoyed now and mostly succeeding. “To deliver a pardon, you'd need to run for governor...or support someone who would deliver on your promise.”
    Dorothy nodded in what she hoped was a thoughtful manner. “If he hadn't been murdered, one of those scenarios would certainly have been necessary.”
    Remy started to look amused. “Does Vance's death mean you're no longer interested in Louisiana politics?”
    She had to admire the delicacy with which he drew out the moment.
    She waited for a count of five before answering him. “Not at all.”
    “This brings us to the million dollar question...and another commercial break.”
    As she and Remy stared at each other, in the background she could hear someone talking about a must-have bed, followed by the amazing properties of garlic, then there was a flurry of bad commercials about some local businesses. Behind the commercial chatter, was the discreet buzz of the curious around them and deeper than that, the gentle hum of the desire that fueled the gossip.
    “A million bucks?” Remy gave her a crooked grin, because the cameras were still running. “That's a lot of money.”
    “I had a lot of time to save it up.” Dorothy smiled back.
    Through his smile, he muttered, “I wish you'd given me a little warning before dropping that little bomb. That was almost an offer of money for information.”
    Dorothy arched her brows. “Really?”
    That was all they had time for, before the program resumed again. Remy leaned toward her, his face turning serious.
    “So, Dorothy, could you answer the question that most of Louisiana is buzzing with? Are you going to run for governor?”
    He'd told her to count to twenty before she answered. It wasn't easy. The silence screamed to be filled. Eighteen...nineteen...twenty...
    “No, Remy Mistral. I'm not.”
    “Is that a huge sigh of relief I hear rippling across the state from the hopeful throng?”
    “I hope not,” Dorothy said. “Because I'm hoping that you'll accept my support for your run for governor of the State of Louisiana. And I'm quite sure I'm not the only one, am I callers?”
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    FOUR
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    Darius Smith was a tall, rather sinister man. Both height and aspect suited him, as he preferred being feared to being liked. His skin was pale, stopping just short of albino and his eyes were icy blue. He had very thin lips and long, thin fingers and toes. He was cold inside and out, and he made all his decisions from a neutral place and based completely on expediency.
    He had no knack for endearing himself to the electorate and no desire to do so. It was, therefore, no surprise he worked mostly behind the scenes. It was power he craved, power he sought assiduously. When it flowed to him, he was content, when it flowed away, he became dangerous. He had a variety of methods for getting