Read Online Dead Man Dancing by Marcia Talley - Free Book Online

off a bookshelf and on to the floor, smashing the glass and scattering shards every which way over my hardwood floor.
    â€˜About those extra lessons,’ I said, as I set the picture back on the shelf, lowered the broomstick, and applied its business end to the shards of glass. ‘Maybe we can manage one. How much?’
    Ruth paused mid-spot turn right and said, ‘One hundred dollars.’
    â€˜That’s $1.66 a minute,’ I said, calculating quickly. ‘But cheaper than repairing the damage to my house.’
    â€˜Oh, thank you, Hannah!’
    Damn Ruth. Once again, she’d gotten her way.
    I’d learned how to waltz, foxtrot and tango before I first clapped eyes on Jay. He’d been out of town on business, according to Chance, the dishy dance instructor, who also passed on the information that Jay was looking into opening up J & K franchises nationwide. ‘He wants to play with the big boys,’ Chance told us when Paul, Ruth and I showed up for our supplementary lesson. ‘You know, Arthur Murray and Fred Astaire.’
    â€˜Aren’t they dead?’ wondered Paul aloud.
    Chance nodded, grinning. ‘Ages ago, but their franchises live on. Ballroom is mega big right now. Jay hired a bunch of consultants who tell him to strike while the iron is hot, so he’s figuring on tap dancing all over those old fogies, pumping some new blood and new ideas into the industry.’
    Riding high on that stream of clichés, Chance excused himself to cue up the music. Once it began, Ruth tangoed off with Chance, and Paul and I were practicing our progressive side step – quick, quick, slow – when a man slipped through the sliding glass doors leading from the office on to the dance floor – Jay. I recognized him from the photo on the cover of the DVD. As he headed in our direction I stumbled, and tromped all over Paul’s toes.
    I don’t know what I expected the man to look like. Taller than Kay, certainly – he was at least 6' 2'' to her 5' 8'' – and supernaturally slender, of course.
    But, Jay was all that, and more. Where Kay had the fair, pink skin of a porcelain doll, Jay looked like he’d just spent a month investigating franchise opportunities on a beach in Cozumel. The man was beautiful, evenly bronzed, his dark hair slicked back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. The quintessential Latin lover, from the dark brows, arching quizzically over eyes of liquid chocolate, all the way down to the tips of his black, highly polished dancing shoes.
    Until he opened his mouth. ‘Ahm pleased to meet chew,’ he drawled after we introduced ourselves.
    Hispanic heritage, I decided, but raised in one of the border states. Texas, maybe, although I couldn’t imagine how he’d ended up with an Italian name like Giannotti.
    I extended my hand, and Jay shook it firmly. His full lips parted in a smile, revealing straight, impossibly white teeth. After a moment, he turned that smile full-throttle on my sister. ‘And you must be Ruth. Kay’s been telling me about you.’ As Jay squeezed Ruth’s hand, he glanced around the studio. ‘I don’t suppose your fiancé is here? There’s something I’d like to discuss with the two of you.’
    Ruth reclaimed her hand. ‘Oh? Can you tell me?’
    â€˜It concerns both of you. Is he coming tonight, then?’
    â€˜Now you are arousing my curiosity,’ Ruth purred. She stared at Jay, a sly smile on her lips, as she took in (who could help it?) his open-neck poet’s shirt and slim, belt-less black pants.
    Arousing.
Exactly the right word, sister.
    Jay turned to us. ‘Are you enjoying the lessons, then?’
    â€˜Very much,’ I cooed.
    â€˜More than I thought I would,’ Paul added. I hoped he was being truthful.
    Jay smiled, nodded in acknowledgement, and then turned back to Ruth. ‘So, you never answered me,
señorita
. Will we be