Read Online Dead on Her Feet (An Antonia Blakeley Tango Mystery Book 1) by Lisa Fernow - Free Book Online

supposed to do that but with Bobby it was a matter of self-preservation.
    “Just walk,” Antonia said.
    Shawna turned to Antonia and pointedly raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you have a class to teach?”
    Seeing Christian was well in hand Antonia waited until the tune ended and went to start the class. “Is everyone warmed up? Sorry about the sauna, the air conditioner guy can’t come ’til next week.”
    The students groaned.
    “Today we’re going to cover sacadas. A sacada is a displacement. It looks like you’re pushing the woman’s leg out of the way with yours but that’s just an illusion.” She invited Shawna to help demonstrate as she walked the class through the move. “Leaders, as your follower takes an open step, you step in towards your partner’s center, taking the space that she leaves. Watch where you put her weight and don’t kick her leg out.”
    She took questions, cued up Di Sarli’s stately and sultry “Cuando El Amor Muere” and directed the class to try the move to music. “We’ve got more women than men today so, followers, rotate after each song. Make sure you let someone in who didn’t dance the last time.”
    Roland took Barbara in his arms. After a few weight changes he led her in a simple walk and repent step. As he led her forward to his right he stepped towards Barbara’s center to initiate the sacada, but midway through the step he looked towards the door and shifted back on his heels, taking Barbara off her axis.
    Antonia followed Roland’s gaze to see what had broken his concentration.
    Oh, for heaven’s sakes.
    “Hellooooo, everyone.” Nathalie LeFebre posed in the doorway and wiggled her fingers. Black leotard, pink flounce skirt, spike-heeled silver shoes with open toes. Bubblegum lipstick. Everything about her outfit screamed ballroom competition.
    Nathalie made her entrance, the mirrors reflecting and multiplying her image, and Antonia felt the energy in the room electrify like the air right before a thunderstorm. Nathalie’s star power was such that everyone stopped and stared; the men frankly interested, the women disappointed it wasn’t another man. Bobby just blinked like he’d found dinosaur remains in the wrong geologic period. Christian’s face lit up and Antonia uneasily remembered how flustered he’d gotten over Nathalie at El Abrazo.
    What in the world was she doing back in Atlanta? She was just here. So she said, cheerfully, “Take five, everyone,” as if she’d planned a break all along, and went to intercept The Interloper. Roland, trailing closely behind, seemed to have the same plan.
    “Hi. How nice to see you again,” Antonia said, not meaning it.
    “Hello.” Nathalie offered her a limp hand to shake. Antonia gave it a good hard squeeze.
    “What are you doing here?” Roland said under his breath.
    “I couldn’t wait, darling,” Nathalie said and planted a smooch on Roland’s mouth.
    That’s no courtesy Hollywood peck, Antonia thought. Glancing at Shawna she saw her friend had put on her airline face: the persona that enabled experienced flight attendants to carry on in the face of air rage, bawling children, and groping drunks.
    “Are you joining us today?” Antonia asked Nathalie.
    Roland quickly said, “I mentioned you were teaching a class.”
    Nathalie picked a stray grain of mascara off one eyelash. “Roland said you’d studied in Argentina so I thought I should give you a chance.”
    The temptation to toss Nathalie out on her tutu was nearly irresistible but Antonia knew that would disrupt the class even more, so instead, she gushed, “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to see you out on the floor at Trasnochando,” keeping a straight face as she remembered how Eduardo had frog-marched Nathalie out of the milonga.
    By that time Shawna had collected herself, walked over and extended her hand, taking up Antonia’s cue with the aplomb of a cold war diplomat. “We met last month. I’m Shawna Muir.”
    Nathalie tilted her