Dead on the Dance Floor by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

be confused between left and right.
    They were doing a box step, for God’s sake. A simple box step.
    â€œNo, Quinn, your left foot goes forward first. The same foot we’ve used the last twenty-five times.” Was her voice showing strain? Once upon a time, she’d been known for her patience.
    He hadn’t lied when he said he had two left feet.
    â€œWe’re just making a square—a box. Left foot forward, right side…a box.”
    â€œYeah, right. A box. So how many teachers are there here, actually?”
    â€œAre you afraid that I can’t teach you, Mr. O’Casey?”
    â€œNo, no, I just wondered. You’re doing fine. I was just curious as to how many teachers you have.”
    â€œBen Trudeau is teaching full time now.”
    â€œTrudeau?” he said.
    â€œHe used to be married to Lara. They’ve been divorced for several years. He was mainly doing competitions and coaching, but he decided a few months ago that he wanted to take up residence on the beach. He’s an excellent teacher.”
    â€œHe must be devastated.”
    â€œWe’re all devastated, Mr. O’Casey.”
    â€œSorry. I can imagine. She must have been something. So accomplished, and such a friend to everyone here, huh? Doug told me she taught here sometimes.”
    â€œShe coached,” Shannon told him.
    â€œMust be hard for all of you to have the studio open and be teaching already.”
    â€œWork goes on.”
    â€œSo all the teachers have come back?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWho are the rest of them?”
    â€œJustin Garcia and Sam Railey, and Jane Ulrich, who teaches your brother, and another woman, Rhianna Markham.”
    His foot landed hard on hers once again.
    â€œSorry—I told you I had two left feet,” he apologized.
    Shannon drew a deep breath. “We do want to get you to where you can converse while you’re on the floor, but maybe if you didn’t ask so many questions while we were working, it might be better.”
    â€œSorry. Just want to get to know the place, feel a little more comfortable here.”
    â€œThat’s what the practice sessions and parties are for,” she murmured.
    â€œParties?”
    â€œAnd practice sessions,” she said firmly. “Beginners come on Monday, Tuesday and Friday nights, sometimes even the other weeknights if we get busy, and learn more steps in groups. Then you hone those steps with your teacher.”
    â€œDo students have to come?”
    â€œOf course not. But individual sessions are expensive. The group sessions are open to all enrolled students. You learn a lot faster and make a lot better use of your money by attending the group classes.”
    â€œAnd the parties? When are they? Are they for all the students?”
    â€œWednesday nights, eight to ten, and yes, beginners are welcome. You should come.”
    â€œI will.”
    His foot crunched down on hers once again. Hard. She choked back a scream. How much longer? Fifteen more minutes. She wasn’t sure she could take it.
    She looked around. Jane still hadn’t returned from her appointment. Rhianna was working with David Mercutio, husband of Katarina Mercutio, the designer who shared the second floor of the building with them. She was wonderful—specializing in weddings, with one-of-a-kind dresses for both brides and wedding parties. She had also learned the special requirements for ballroom-competition gowns, and had made some truly spectacular dresses. Just as it was great for the studio to be right on top of the club, it was a boon to have Katarina right next to them.
    David was a regular who came twice a week to work with Rhianna. He had also known and worked with Lara. He and Rhianna were deep in conversation as they twirled around, working on a tango. She knew they were probably discussing Lara. Sam Railey, however, didn’t have a student at the moment. He was putting his CDs in order.
    Quinn